LOCAL DISCONTENT OVER FOREIGN CONTENT: THE INSIDE STORY

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Foreign Content on Pakistani Television, its impact on local industry, and the positive percept


There is a lot of panic, pandemonium, and press conferences. The Pakistani Television Drama Industry (PTDI) has ‘united’ and ‘unanimously’ demanded a ban on foreign content (Indian, Turkish, Spanish, and so on) on local television during prime time. There is an immediate need to save and rescue the PTDI or it will collapse within a year. Thousands of jobs will be lost and it will be years before our drama recovers. This trend will cause a chain reaction so putrid in its nature that the whole space-time continuum …..

Wait! This can’t be real. We’re talking about an industry, not a house of cards. There must be method to this madness. And there is. On closer inspection, this ‘crisis’ appears to be so deep that one can dip a matchstick in it and the level would still be below its head.

First off, most of the industry believes this is a boon, not bane. What we need is positivity, not panic. The identical arguments and repeated phrases meant to help us appreciate enormity of the calamity are so frail that they can’t hold water.

Well, they can’t even hold air.

All this started midyear last year when Urdu 1 started airing a Turkish play – already an international hit - dubbed in Urdu. Alarms went off when it reached TRP (Target Rating Points) of 10 as most local plays struggle at 4 or below. For the uninitiated, TRP are the industry standard through which channels and advertisers assess popularity of a show and decide whether to extend or end it.

At least in theory.

Overnight, phones were ringing in Turkey and eager employees scouted for the next ‘Isk-e-Memnu.’ Eventually, Liras changed pockets and teasers for several ‘foreign’ plays for primetime went on air. Primetime means more money and absence from primetime means less money and for the ‘initiated’ this meant ‘Our Drama’ had to be ‘saved’.

By creating panic.

Able minds of PTDI went numb with fears as they were fed ‘what-if’ scenarios. They asked ‘what if people stop watching local plays?’ instead of wondering why would that happen? Is it because our stories have become monotonous or because the content of some of our plays has become obnoxious? Is it because same faces appear in different mix across all channels or because we attach more value to production than content?

Are people attracted to it because it’s ‘foreign content’ or because it has ‘content?’

We worry about invasion of alien cultures but are we depicting our culture in our plays? Since when has crass language, objectionable plots, and offensive characters become our culture?

And then there is the most arrogant argument of all: foreign plays are popular because of semi-nude women and we don’t have a ‘level-playing field.’ At best, it insults intelligence of our viewers by implying they neither have the sense nor sensibility to choose what to watch: show them a little skin and they’ll drool. And they’ll keep drooling for the next 200 episodes. If this argument had any substance, why these plays would become major hits in country of their origin as they must be used to this ‘nudity?’

Secondly, it entails our viewers have no sense of story and they just want to watch beautiful people driving expensive cars living in luxurious villas. At the heart of every popular show is a conflict so engaging that people can’t help but root for the good guy and berate the bad guy. Humans have an innate need for an emotional journey they can relate to at the caveman level. Characters they can like, conflicts they may have craved, issues they want addressed.

Even more appalling were the videos that went viral on social media stating characters in foreign plays drank, wore skimpy clothes, and acted immorally. The promoters of these videos pleaded we don’t have permission to show all that. Subtext: what we can rather show you is an amorous 50-year old chasing his daughter’s best friend. Or a husband pursuing his sister-in-law. Or a mother forbidding her son from sharing bed with his wife thereby causing tension of the sort that’ll make Lolita appear safer in comparison.

Rumor has it channels are scouring Iranian markets for drama. What will we have to say when viewers get hooked on to hijab clad women living in smaller houses than ours and discussing issues that plague the world, not just them?

Some believe it’s a passing fad but recent popularity of ‘Fatima Gul’ and ‘Minahil Aur Khalil’ has proven otherwise. Turkish plays have exposed a major flaw, a void in our system that has long existed and grown over time: we’ve turned this business into fast food. Writers are expected to write at jet speed, talent and technicians are required to shoot 25 to 30 scenes a day, serials that take 18 weeks to air are shot in 4 weeks. Investors have replaced the ‘+, -, and ÷’ buttons on their calculators with ‘X.’ It’s all about profits, economies of scale, and collusion.

Well, mostly.

There are exceptional individuals whose vision, drive, and determination is inspiring. Private producers like Abdullah Kadwani, Abid Ali, Asif Reza Mir, Humayun Saeed, writers like Anwar Maqsood, Faiza Iftikhar, Umera Ahmed, Zafar Mairaj and freelance directors like Kamran Khan, Mehreen Jabbar, Shahid Shafa’at, Usman-Zulfiqar and countless others have given us such remarkable, memorable shows that we all feel proud, secure, and sure about the future of PTDI.

So what is the silver lining?

Essentially the same situation existed between 2000 and 2006 when most of our viewers were hooked on to Indian soaps. Then came HUM TV with all the novelty and might of its drama, reinventing the landscape of local television. Consequently the industry grew so wide that hundreds of new actors, technicians, writers, and directors found innumerable opportunities to work and grow. Actors became millionaires and producers became production houses. This was possible not because of semi nude women, shiny cars, lavish bungalows but because of superior content.

There is an outcry for protection for the PTDI; industry that has had time to grow for almost fifty years. Its members, the most creative, most passionate, most dedicated people are being painted as a scared, anxious, and uncompetitive lot. Protection is for the weak, for the helpless, for six-month old babies. 


PTDI has a lot of self respect and pride. It doesn't need protection. It just needs focus. And unity.

All we need is to stop panicking, admit our mistakes, and cut down on number of productions. We should focus on content and revive industries in Lahore, Islamabad, Quetta, and Peshawar. Their local talents and technicians must be employed by channels and producers so we can offer ingenious indigenous assorted tales to our viewers instead of rehashing ‘Urban Karachi Stories.’ This is the only way to unite the PTDI and restore our drama to its former glory.  Otherwise, the only saving drama industry would need would be from us.

Story of the Heart

Following is the original text of the feature I wrote and the edited version of which was published in DAWN Supplement under the title 'The Other Side of the Quaid' on December 25, 2012. An online link to the published version appears here.

STORY OF THE HEART

            The kind of person Muhammad Ali Jinnah was

under the tough exterior

by

Jawad Daud

Muhammad. Ali. Jinnah.

Like his name, the life of The Great Leader also had three distinct chapters. Each one is richer, more remarkable, more inspiring than the one before. Several books have tried to describe a dazzling life through mortal words, stopped, and chosen to speak his legal and political life instead. Not much is known about his personal life probably because he was a very private person. But once in a while you chance upon a gemstone, pick it up, examine it, and can’t help but marvel at the fact that from Ali to Muhammad to Jinnah, he always had the makings of a statesman, a leader, and a gentleman. And below the frail exterior was a strong heart that knew how to love, how to lose, and how to find reasons again to go on.

          While he was young and living in Karachi, Ali avoided playing in the street with other boys of his age. Whatever games they played were physical and would cause a bruise, a fight, or stain clothes in the least. Ali being too meticulous and mature for his age liked to keep his clothes unspoiled and his hands clean. In 'Jinnah, Creator of Pakistan' published in 1954, writer Hector Bolitho interviewed several people that knew Ali as a boy. He recounts an anecdote that Nanji Jafar, one of Ali's neighbors from childhood, narrated to him. ' I was playing in the street when he, then aged about fourteen, came up to me and said, “Don’t play marbles in the dust; it soils your clothes and dirties your hands. We must play cricket.”' The fact that the boys dropped the marbles and followed him shows that Ali could be persuasive and he tried to make things better for people around him from an early age.

As destiny was about to tug him to London to further his studies, his mother asked him to wed Emi bai. While he would be in London, his mother would die and he would miss the funeral. Ali would not be able to see her face one last time before she would be buried and it would sting for the rest of his life. But for now, he complied with the wishes of his mother and let this be one of the very few decisions he allowed others to make for him.

          His stay in England would instill in him an Englishness of manner and behavior that would continue to his death. His imitation of the upper class Englishmen in India would be so accurate that it would make the English uncomfortable. But that would come later. For now in London in 1892, Ali didn’t indulge in pastimes or hobbies. He closed the doors on temptations of art and history. He voyaged between lectures at Lincoln’s Inn and debates in the House of Commons, ignoring the National Gallery on the way. He didn’t know he was creating a void in himself. He couldn’t know why he was creating a void in himself. 

He would know only when he’d turn 39.

Meanwhile, in London in 1892 in the evenings, Ali would invest his time and emotions into understanding – as opposed to reading – Shakespeare. This investment would pay off years later when he would enter the Indian politics and would have to deal with people who behaved as if they’d just walked off the pages of the Bard’s plays. But thankfully by then, with all its blessings, his first name will have become his second nature.

Ruttie Bai was 16 and Muhammad was 39 when they first met in 1916. With an active interest in politics and absolute love for poetry she was intellectually far more mature than other girls of her age. She would often recite from Oscar Wilde, her favorite. An aggressive supporter of India for Indians, Ruttie was an excellent horse-rider, attended all public meetings, and was passionate for all forms of arts. Cerebral, mercurial, ethereal: she was the kind of companion Muhammad had always sought. But it couldn’t have been love at first sight for love is blind to appearances, deaf to logic, mute to reason. It must’ve been something much more logical, much more rational. 

Like fate.

          As Muhammad became successful in politics, he also became increasingly religious. He offered his prayers regularly and studied The Quran and life of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). This added even more depth and wisdom to his arguments and vision. He spoke of the Prophet as “a great statesman, and a great leader.” Over time, he started quoting philosophies of the Prophet and adding religious angles to his speeches where appropriate.

Muhammad also became simpler in his taste of clothing and eating; only taking what he needed not wanted. His favorite food was curry and rice. He always smoked his favorite Craven A cigarettes, one of the finest and the most expensive at the time. His wealth gave him independence and freedom to speak his mind. Which brings us to another story about Mohammad from Bolitho's book: even at the beginning of his legal practice, he neither put up with improper behavior nor would tolerate a slight. During a hearing, an English magistrate found him to be overbearing and reminded him that he was addressing a first class magistrate. He was swiftly served a simmering reply by Muhammad that the advocate in him was of no lesser class.

The rapidly changing political scenario of 1930s slowly transformed Muhammad into Mr. Jinnah. With resolve, conviction, and integrity he earned the respect of even the most intense of opponents. Despite the differences and bitterness of political life he was considered to be a man without malice: unyielding but without malice. And he never minced words. Especially while addressing those in power.

Historians opine Jinnah was both strict and methodical whether it concerned small matters such as his monocle or large matters such as his belief in constitutional procedure. 

By late 1930’s, Jinnah had adopted the local dress but did not entirely give up his Western clothes. For a headdress he opted for a Karakul hat. He instinctively chose right clothes to make a cultural and a political statement and created a modern Muslim identity.

After Ruttiebai’s death in 1929, Jinnah’s personal life narrowed down to his daughter Dina. He loved her dearly and brought her up with the help of his sister, The Mother of Nation, Fatima Jinnah. Concurrently, he became more involved in politics and did not rest until he fulfilled his promise of an independent homeland to millions of Muslims and ‘died of devotion to his cause’ in 1948.

          Jinnah carried the lumber of leadership with grace until the end of his days. He knew he had to lead by example and he didn’t let even the slightest opportunity pass him by. As governor-general, he cancelled the orders for a Lincoln and an aircraft because Pakistan exchequer could not afford them. He would not install a lift in the Governor-General House despite his old age. He would also ensure that the lights were put out before he had retired to his bedroom.

          Jinnah was a visionary who did not allow personal problems to blur his vision. Still, there were two occasions when even he could not hold himself back. And they both involved his wife.

          The first time was at her burial where Jinnah remained silent and motionless throughout the ceremony, probably recalling their first meeting, the troubles he had to go through to marry her, the beautiful memories that both of them so freely gave each other, the time they had together, the time they could’ve had together.. When he was asked to bid his final goodbye to Ruttiebai by throwing earth on her grave, the human weakness probably took him over for the first time for he broke down and wept. 

The second time was in August 1947 when he visited Ruttiebai’s grave one last time before leaving for Pakistan . He had filled hearts of the Muslims with joy and lighted their faces with hope. But he had emptied his own personal life of any meaning.  

By turning his back to Ruttiebai’s grave, Jinnah left behind three of the most important things that would give any ordinary loving heart a reason to go on: his beloved wife Ruttie who remains buried in Bombay, his dearest daughter Dina who couldn't see how much her father had suffered already, and the Jinnah House on Malabar Hill where he had met life, shaken hands with it, and had embraced it with passion.

Even Shakespeare couldn't have envisioned a tragedy so intense.

Jinnah was indeed a rare man with an inspiring legacy as he ‘significantly altered the course of history, modified the map of the world, and created a nation-state’ but still found time to add life to moments.

Happy birthday Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

How kids become screenwriters.

Ever wondered how did you become a writer? Or if you have what it takes to become a writer? Or what is 'wrong' with your loved one that she became a writer? John August, screenwriter of such hits as Charlie's Angels, Corpse Bride, and Prince of Persia together with Craig Maizin endeavours to answer just that.

Listen to (or download  for future reference) by following the link:

http://johnaugust.com/2011/how-kids-become-screenwriters

PS: You may want to skip ahead to 10:33 on the timeline.

Never say die.

When you do the right thing and you keep doing the right thing a strong person is growing inside of you who would be able to handle the success and the rewards that will later come. This is what I am taking away from this video. 


How about you?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJ3C9SP8xRE&feature=share

Look free, do something.

Michelangelo's father, Ludovico Buonarrati, was as rich as he was ignorant of his son's greatness. He couldn't fathom his son's need to express himself, so he would beat Michelangelo. He couldn't see his child making a living by using his hands like a peasant. This taught Michelangelo to use his hands sparingly.

Years later, a prince ambled into Michelangelo's studio and found him staring at a single 18 foot block of marble. Then he knew that the rumors were true -- that Michelangelo had come in everyday for the last four months, stared at the marble, and gone home for his supper. The prince couldn't help but ask, 'What are you doing?'

Michelangelo turned around, looked at him, and whispered, 'sto lavorando' ..... I'm working.

Three years later, that block of marble was the statue of David.

Moral of the story: The artist is the alpha reader, viewer, and admirer. An artist's mind is at work even when the hands are at rest. 


So it is ok to look free if your mind is at work.

To do, or not to do?

Try again, fail again; fail better - Samuel Beckett


Try not; do or do not - Yoda


Sometimes, this is all the advice you can get, so take your pick!

Craving vs. Carving.

‘Stay on the path. It's not your concern. Stay on the path. It's not your concern,’ mutters Denzel Washington’s Eli in The Book of Eli whenever he comes across injustice, aggression, or an inhuman act being committed against another person. But these two seemingly ordinary sentences can be used by a writer (or by anyone in any trade) in less intense circumstances, Viz., to gain focus.

When I was young, I used to stay up watching TV until I literally ‘fell’ asleep. ‘Everything in the world is not for you alone,’ my father assured me almost every night. Hard to believe when you are young. What does he know? I would think. He probably doesn’t realize the catastrophic repercussions it could have on my future if I miss this episode of Mind Your Language.

When I wasn’t reading, TV was my best friend; it talked and I listened. On the subconscious level, I realized it was a major distraction. But I didn’t feel distracted; I rather felt hypnotized.

Fast forward to almost fifteen years later when I started writing for magazines and newspapers: reviews, interviews, coverage of cultural and social events. Then TV happened. The object of my obsession became the object of my passion. I wrote feverishly. Years of reading and watching combined with self-teaching came gushing out. I was consumed by this urge to write. I had finally found my calling in life and I just couldn’t stop answering.

This is who I am, I told myself. This is why I am.

Meanwhile, I realized that my reading and watching had trickled down to an almost zilch. ‘What did I tell you?’ My father’s eyes seemed to be asking. Uh, it’s just a, uh, temporary phase, I wanted to say. To defy his gaze and enveloped in haze I went on a shopping spree. I started buying books and DVDs by truckloads. I stashed them. Lined them in shelves. Put them in plain view as I worked. Unconsciously trying to fill a void. Consciously saving them for when I would have time.

‘When’ I would have time? But we ‘always’ have time!

Soon, the rabbit of habit hopped back in: while looking something up on the internet (turning pages of a paper dictionary or an encyclopedia seemed so last decade,) I found myself clicking on countless links, wanting to discover the origins, the usage, the variants. Knowledge is power and I wanted to feel more powerful. I read up everything and anything on the craft. I figured everything was being written to educate me, to inform me, to update me.

Me, me, me. Who are thee?

And then there was more: is e-publishing the future? What is a Vook? How to effectively use Redshirt characters? Which are ten of the best poisonings in literature? (One of them is in I, Claudius by Robert Graves. Read about the remaining nine here.)

Then I realized that I had always heard of bestselling ‘writers’ but never of bestselling ‘readers.’ So I took a long breath, and stopped.

I realized I was hoarding up knowledge and information, not putting it all to good use. To boot, all the information may become dated by the time I actually need it. I realized that I was using this craving for knowledge as an excuse to procrastinate. That I was fooling myself into believing that I was getting something done as I read up How to Salvage a Scene. That when I came back to my ‘scene’ and tried to ‘salvage’ it, I had to make changes that had The Butterfly Effect: change one thing, change everything.

So what did I do? I came back to paper dictionary and encyclopedia. I set aside 15 minutes each day to make a list. This list included tips and tricks that helped me with idea generation, planning, plotting, developing conflicts, writing, and editing.

Of course the list is exhaustive (and exhausting.) 
Of course it is bulging beyond limits. 
Of course it is like gardening where I often have to trim the hedges.

Of course I had to stop craving and start carving out a path that I would tread each day. 

I know there still will be distractions along the way: I will run into blog posts, self-help books, and facebook status updates written ‘especially for me.’ I will be thrilled by a news like ‘the last episode of LOST ever. "The New Man in Charge" is a little mini-episode that follows the events of LOST's series finale ….. with all the answers it hands us.’

On times like these, you and I and we and she can turn to Gary Whitta for the timeless advice, ‘Stay on the path. It's not your concern. Stay on the path. It's not your concern.’


So how do you create a balance between craving and carving? What do you do when the scales tip?