Blogcritics Author: Mayank Austen Soofi

Book Review: Lonely Planet Afghanistan

Mayank Austen Soofi — Tue, 9 Oct 2007 15:12:13 EDT

Finally, a detailed travel book on one of the world�s most dangerous countries.
It's your chance to finally wind through its highways, stroll through its cities, sleep in its mosques, dine in its chaikhanas, buy burqas in its boutiques, smoke hashish in its poppy fields, pluck pomegranates from its orchards, and hopefully return home – alive. Lonely Planet recently launched its first travel guide on Afghanistan....

Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Book Review - Indian Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire by Alex Von Tunzelmann

Mayank Austen Soofi — Fri, 10 Aug 2007 20:32:42 EDT

This first book by a 30-year-old Oxford historian is full of scorching insanity and shimmering evil. London and Delhi, Buckingham Palace and Birla House are the settings for its dramatic narrative where the consequences would exceed the worst nightmares.Indian Summer follows a now-fashionable school of history writing where dates and numbers are considered slightly less important than details like what the kings ate and the queens wore. Be seduced by a beautiful British heiress whose craving for profound love distracts her from the attractions of a glamorous husband to the intellectual charms of an Indian Prime Minister. A Shakespeare-quoting lawyer breaks up a country by scaring fellow Muslims of Hindu dominion; a half-naked fakir breaks up marriages by persuading the wives to renounce sex. Underneath echoes the birth pangs of two infant nations whose dream of independence gets distorted into a nightmare of terror.This is a book about the other side of Midnight. On the stroke of midnight, on August 15th, 1947 as "clock hands joined palms in respectful greetings", a 57-year-old handsome man with soulful eyes and readymade smile stood up to utter, in pin drop silence, the most memorable lines of his life: "Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny. And now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge; not wholly or in full, but substantially. At the stroke of midnight hour, while the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom."The speaker was Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India. A lonely Cambridge-educated widower who could never bring himself to love his ailing uneducated wife, Nehru was besotted with Edwina Mountbatten. She was the restless spouse of India's last British viceroy Lord Louis Mountbatten. With Britain surrendering the jewel of its crown, Edwina would soon leave Delhi with her husband and go away from Nehru, because "duty has to be put before desire." Their intimacy would grow stronger. Exchanging letters for the rest of their lives, Edwina would confess of not being “interested in sex as sex” while Nehru would send her photographs of erotic sculptures of Konark’s Sun Temple.However, during that fateful summer the highbrow love pair rolled in the hay even as dark forces crept in. While these two romantics drank tea, discussed socialist ideas and stayed up late all alone, a ghastly dance of passion unfolded in the unromantic world of the subcontinent. A fiery hate was heated up to sear this ancient land forever. The consequent fire helped turn many mortals into immortals – Nehru, Jinnah, and Mountbatten being the more prominent beneficiaries.It all started in August when the monsoon was ending, humidity was high and the simmering heat smothered the air. India had just earned its freedom after making a final dig through a snake pit of bruised egos, nasty politicking and shortsighted perspectives of its native leaders.Tall and slender Muhammad Ali Jinnah, a barrister who daily smoked fifty Craven A cigarettes, ended up smoking out India in pursuit of a homeland for its Muslims. One of the best-dressed men in the British Empire (according to the New York Times), his suave persona perhaps envied the magic spell that a mere loin-clothed man named Mohandas Gandhi had so effortlessly cast upon the fellow Indians. Early in his political career, Jinnah was a foremost proponent of the Hindu-Muslim unity but stung by Gandhi's Hindu spiritualism, he demanded Pakistan - whatever the cost. The cost proved to be so high that its magnitude went beyond the power of comprehension. Sir Cyril Radcliffe, a clueless British lawyer, who had never before experienced the horrible Indian summer, was appointed to draw the boundaries. He did so nervously while sweating in his high ceiling bungalow in the grounds of the Viceroy's House. Once the job was finished, he caught the first flight to home. He had inkling that the new lines would soon unleash a holocaust.Sir Radcliffe’s instincts were not misplaced. When Pakistan came crying into the world, Hindus and Sikhs celebrated its birth by butchering Muslims who returned the favor with equal fervor. Streets were littered with corpses; raped women had their breasts branded with their rapists’ names; children were burned alive. Vultures following the miles-long refugee caravans – millions were forced to migrate to Pakistan; equal millions to India - waited for the people to fall and die. In one instance in Delhi, rioters stormed into a high school where students were writing their matriculation examinations. Muslim boys were separated from the rest, taken into another room, and slaughtered like goats.The mutual hatred was so sincere in spirit that when the suffering Punjabi Hindu women, lucky to have crossed into India alive, saw Muslim mothers lying dead with dead babies clasped in their arms, they openly rejoiced with delight - ecstasy in the sweet stench of revenge. Not even the Viceroy's household could feign an indifference to the tragedy. A ceremonial banquet hosted for a visiting dignitary during that period consisted of cabbage-water, slices of Spam with potatoes, biscuits and small pieces of cheese. Edwina's kitchen had no need to exercise rationing but it did. More concerned than her viceroy husband, she would visit the refugee camps, arrange for medicines, and fearlessly confront the killer mobs. Meanwhile her intimacy with Nehru strengthened as they witnessed the horrors – both were often seen with hands held together while surveying smoldering villages and rotting bodies. If Garcia Marquez had written this book, the title would have been Love in the Time of Massacres.Millions were murdered that summer but the important deaths took place with the onset of the winter.One chilly January afternoon in Delhi, a Hindu fanatic who decided Gandhi was too soft on Muslims, shoot at him at pointblank range with a Beretta pistol. As he fell down on the ground, this old man who preached non-violence, advocated celibacy, and abhorred alcohol had his values rubbished in dust. His people were killing each other; his greatest disciple Nehru was flamboyantly un-celibate; and his son Harilal attended the funeral in a drunken state.Seven months later, on 9/11, Jinnah, who missed becoming a martyr due to several failed assassination attempts, succumbed to tuberculosis. His last word was Allah. Now fast forward to 1960. Lady Edwina Mountbatten, who conducted her extra-marital affair with grace and dignity, not least because of her supportive husband, died during a tour in Borneo. Nehru's letters were found strewn across her deathbed. Her husband, the poor Lord Mountbatten, lived to see his name linked to gay orgies (once he was discovered with a male photographer attempting to remove his trousers) before being blown to bits by a bomb planted by the Irish terrorists. Finally, Nehru, the only hero in the book, broken-hearted after Edwina's death and shattered in the aftermath of India’s spectacular defeat in the 1962 China war, died of heart attack - 15 years after making his midnight speech.With him gone, the drama ended and an era concluded. To this day countless millions mourn for Gandhi, Jinnah, and Nehru but not for countless millions who were killed that Indian summer. Perhaps Stalin was right – the death of one man is tragedy; the death of millions is statistic.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Book Review: King of Bollywood: Shah Rukh Khan and the Seductive World of Indian Cinema by Anupama Chopra

Mayank Austen Soofi — Sun, 5 Aug 2007 16:01:27 EDT

He is a Muslim in a deeply divided, Hindu majority nation; he has spent penniless nights in Bombay; his sister suffers from permanent depression; his father died in a stinky cancer ward in Delhi’s nightmarish Safdarjung Hospital. Meet Shah Rukh Khan, the King of Bollywood.He is Time magazine’s cover boy; Korean fans wear T-shirts sporting his face; his posters sell alongside that of monkey god Hanuman in the holy streets of Benares; his Bombay bungalow is a sight-seeing tourist attraction; his bodyguard gets sex offers in exchange for closer access to him! From the Champs Elysees to Grand Central Station, he has been mobbed by adoring fans. What makes Shah Rukh Khan different from others? He is not the only Muslim superstar of India. His films are not the only box office smash hits. He is not the only one to lip-sync to super hit romantic songs. In fact, a thousand books could easily have been written if he had failed.For instance, his skin color is not fair; his acting skills are too loud; he is less muscled than neighborhood gym boys; and he is rumored to be gay! How did this Khan become a Sultan?Author Anupama Chopra spent more than three years interviewing more than 90 people - including Shahrukh Khan himself - in finding the answer. As a leading film journalist, she has written for India Today and The New York Times. Her earlier book on the classic film Sholay won the National Award for being the best book on cinema in 2000. She herself is a woman with connections. Her husband, Vidhu Vinod Chopra, is one of Bollywood’s top filmmakers. Her sister Tanuja Chandra has directed many flop Hollywood remakes. Her brother Vikram Chandra is an established, Berkeley-based author. Her book is now the talk of the town.“Whoever reads this book will have a clear and insightful understanding of Bollywood and, of course, me,” says Shah Rukh on the cover. The blurb is disconcerting, as authorized biographies always are. Could some of the anecdotes simply be myths (did he actually spent a hungry night in Bombay’s railway station?) encouraged by the superstar or his friends to spin his image? In spite of these doubts, The King of Bollywood excels in unraveling the early life of the king. The Legend of the KingPerhaps Shah Rukh Khan’s origins set him apart from his superstar colleagues. While almost all are good actors, some better than others, they happen to be beneficiaries of the film industry’s naked nepotism. As sons, brothers, nephews or grandsons of film legends, their little fists clutched on to credit cards and signed contracts even as they emerged from their mother’s womb. Shah Rukh’s father, in contrast, was a poor poetry lover who was, in his wife’s words, “an honest failure.” Born in Peshawar, Meer Taj Mohammad was trapped in Delhi following the Indian partition. Even though he later married for love, and had two intelligent children, his life was too disappointing and ended too soon. When young, he went to Bombay to become an actor but sensibly returned back to Delhi after a few days of humiliating struggle. Courtesy of dishonest partners, almost all his business ventures ended in loss with the family constantly shifting from one dowdy rented apartment to another. While dying of oral cancer, Mr. Mohammad’s body weakened, his tongue bled, and the proud Pathan could not go to the toilet by himself. That this man who could not afford a private ward in an inexpensive government-run hospital had a son who would one day become famous and so rich that he could buy an entire luxury hospital if he so wished, is surely the stuff fairy tales are made of.The fairy tale, some allege, is full of fairies. Although the star has two kids and is believed to be happily married to his childhood love, the rumors never dissipate and rumor mongers love connecting the dots of his supposedly queer life. As child, Shah Rukh imitated the coquettish mannerisms of the sexy actress Mumtaz; his first screen role was that of a gay college student; one of his closest filmmaker friends is openly gay; he himself once spoke of someday winning an Oscar for playing a gay role. He remains Lux beauty soap’s only male model in India! In a culture where alternative sexuality has no place and no honor, it is astonishing that this actor, the object of much speculation, can be accepted so heartily from grandmothers to granddaughters-in-law. Shah Rukh’s unique place in Indian filmdom becomes more curious because his defining successes went against the convention. He started his career by playing the crazed kind of villains who bumped off unsuspecting girlfriends from high-rises, murdered friends, and stabbed the luckless husbands of attractive women. His graduation to good boy roles was equally maddening. In a time when films were about college couples eloping to escape from frowning families, Shah Rukh’s character, in one celebrated classic, instead insisted on asking proper permission from the heroine’s angry dad. Such portrayals of a hip beer-drinking guy, thinking in English, and espousing uniquely Indian values (like not taking advantage of intoxicated Indian girls) endeared him to all those, in all parts of the world, who want to look modern but feel foreign with western sensibilities.Ms. Chopra is perhaps not being over-enthusiastic in linking the Shah Rukh phenomenon to the strange rise of modern India. The county is unshackling itself from poverty. Malls are mushrooming. Joint families flock neighborhood McDonalds for Happy Meals. Dating and divorce, long considered the playthings of the West, are becoming common. In 2005, the coveted middle class numbered over 250 million people – only 50 million less than the total population of the United States. Silicon Valley sits scared of being Bangalored. Truly, India is no longer a developing nation but an emerging superpower. Yet, there are glaring contrasts. Over 17,000 debt-ridden farmers committed suicide in one year alone. Poverty-stricken slums stand cheek-by-jowl with deluxe hotels. Thousands of Muslims are killed in communal riots and their murderers are voted to power by supposedly secular citizens. Daughters are smothered in the womb itself. Gay sex is outlawed. In such a schizophrenic society, the persona of Shah Rukh Khan – a guy who wears DKNY but obeys the parents; who sings in Manhattan but muses on Punjab; a heterosexual who could be a homosexual; a seductive dancer who never lip-kisses a heroine; a Muslim believer with a Hindu wife; a hearty heartthrob who never traveled to the West till 28 but gifted a gushing fan with a round-trip ticket to any destination in the world; a go-getter who became everything from nothing – is truly an icon of our times. Read this book and don’t skip his upcoming autobiography.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Open Secrets: Gay Life in Pakistan

Mayank Austen Soofi — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 13:10:22 EDT

During my first trip to Pakistan in 2006, I found the country teeming with homosexuals. In the 20-hours long bus journey from Lahore to Karachi, a bearded missionary of Tablighi Jamat, an Islamic movement that advocates extreme austerity, advised me to convert to his religion. I politely nodded at his persuasions but was forced to vigorously shake my head when his hand started caressing my thighs. The massage was relaxing but the vibes were clearly sexual.Later while strolling in the early evening heat of Karachi's Clifton Beach, a charming kulfi seller got fixated on me. He promised to show me the "real" Karachi. I would have been game if not for his tendency to hold my arms a little longer than usual. Even that would have been fine, but the pressing and rubbing was just too disconcerting.These were just few of the queer moments of my Pakistan excursion. While returning back to Lahore on the Allama Iqbal Express train, a Bahawalpur trader suddenly confessed in the midst of our Musharraf conversations that he liked sleeping with boys! The ultimate was when an old Karachi Pathan, with kohl-lined eyes, escorted me to a seedy shop at Saddar Market and offered the pirated DVD of Brokeback Mountain at bargain rates. (I bought it!)Such experiences in Allah's own country appear unreal. After all, the website of the International Lesbian and Gay Association quotes the Pakistan embassy in Hague making it clear that "the homosexual is not accepted as a decent individual, and homosexual acts constitute an offense punishable with imprisonment for life or with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to ten years."Indeed it is difficult to conceive Pakistan as a place where individuals could be free to celebrate sex, and different sexual orientations. But that is what everyone seems to do. In his 2004 essay, appropriately titled The East is Blue, Sir Salman Rushdie claimed that more than 60 percent of Internet users in Pakistan visit porn sites. Unfortunately we do not have figures of Pakistanis who access gay porn sites.A few years back a news story in the Boston Globe concluded that across all classes and social groups in Pakistan, men have sex with men. "In villages throughout the country, young boys are often forcibly 'taken' by older men, starting a cycle of abuse and revenge that social activists and observers say is the common pattern of homosexual sex in Pakistan," the newspaper reported.In fact, in the conservative regions of North Western Frontier Province it is socially acceptable for Pashtun men to take up young boys for sexual pleasure. But don't rush to fancy the country as some liberal San Francisco outpost where life is all about celebrating individual choices. Many homosexual relationships here are not a result of two gay people wanting to make love but consequences of aggression and abuse by the strong on the weak. It is less love and more rape.In her acclaimed book The Dancing Girls of Lahore, British author Louise Brown, who established an intimate friendship with a Pakistani prostitute and her family, made the following observation:Homosexuality is derided in public, but it is accepted, provided it remains a secret. The men involved in homosexual acts don’t perceive themselves to be homosexual, and the men’s families won’t perceive them to be homosexual either...Having sex with other men or boys is not associated with stigma providing a man takes a dominant role in sexual encounters. It may even reinforce a man’s masculinity and status because he is sexually dominating others. It is the receptive partner who is despised and ridiculed.Obviously chivalry codes exist among gays, too. But even then if a homosexual lifestyle is a risky option for men, it is unthinkable for women. In June 2007, the Lahore High Court sentenced two ladies in love to three years imprisonment.Yet there are reasons to hope. Following the capture of Islamabad's bra-and-underpants clad Chinese masseuses by the dreaded burka-clad students of the all-girls conservative Islamic school Jamia Hafsa in June this year, Abdul Rashid Ghazi, who leads the men's school, drafted a new ruling. He declared, "If you want massage treatment, men should go to men, and women should go to women." Gay Pakistanis should gleefully catch the hint.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Book Review: The Diana Chronicles by Tina Brown

Mayank Austen Soofi — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 03:51:27 EDT

The Diana’s Chronicles is thinking man’s Diana trash. Tina Brown might be a gossip writer but she was also The New Yorker’s first female editor. All the juice is here and yet the reader would be spared of the guilt that usually swarms over while reading an Andrew Morton, Kitty Kelly, or a Paul Burrell. The details of the Diana years, not just Diana, are vivid, the anecdotes backed by 25 pages of notes, and the writing clever.This book has appeared ten years after the Princess passed away leaving England’s stiff upper lip perennially quivering in emotional extremes. Nothing fateful happened to the 'Firm' as was feared (or hoped) would take place following the unprecedented and embarrassing response to her death. Charles went on to marry Camilla, Her Highness continues to enjoy the respect of her subjects, and Tony Blair, the master politician who described Diana as the People’s Princess, has long ceased to be the People’s Prime Minister. Diana’s enigma, though, lingers on.If British royals -- with their antiquated tiaras, ornamental costumes, boastful titles, and country castles -- stood apart as members of a primitive tribal society, then Diana was definitely not an outsider. Her early years were equally regressive. She flunked the 'O' level exams; her career high was being a part-time nanny; her most important recommendation for being the future king’s bride was her allegedly intact hymen at 18, and yes, she produced the heir within a year of her wedding! If the House of Windsor had the “stale, curdled taste of a British rail cheese sandwich,” then its near-nemesis smelled no better than a two-day old Mutton chop. Therefore it becomes more fascinating that this same woman, who thought herself “thick as a plank,” after separation from her husband, set so successfully to “tend, promote, and conserve the Diana franchise.”Diana sympathizers fancy that a romantic teenager like her was unfortunately stuck up with a husband whose “spiritual age has always been somewhere north of sixty-five,” even though he was only twelve years older. Indeed, during their honeymoon aboard the royal yacht Britannia, Prince Charles insisted on analyzing passages of the complete works of the mystical travel writer Laurens van der Post when his bride’s intellectual tastes never went beyond Barbara Cartland potboilers. No doubt the couple was a misfit. But it was Diana’s fault too. To win the heart of the heir to the throne, the shrewd girl had pretended to be a shooting enthusiast. As Charles would narrow his sights on pheasants, Diana narrowed hers on him. To impress Charles, she would fake interest in fishing and “sit for hours on the riverbank as if her life depended on penetrating these mysteries.”While hunting, shooting, and fishing could be the perquisites for being a royal mistress, all these pretensions fizzled out once Diana married. Originally attracted by the cordial, mannerly, and handsome look of the Prince of Wales, she later fell for “younger, cuter, and far less burdened version of Charles.” The typical Dianaman were smooth, cutout kind of guys like Major Hewitt and bodyguard Barry Mannakee. In her equations with boy-boy lovers, Diana always strove to be the one with the power "to push the delete button." Like a spoiled super-rich society lady, Diana would treat her ‘toys’ as kept men. Though she merely played with the poor Dodi Fayed, her affair with the Pakistani doctor Dr. Hasnat Khan was more serious. She even considered converting to Islam to marry him and went to the extent of meeting his family at Lahore. But Khan, being a proud Pathan, would marry only a Pakistani Muslim girl which he finally did in 2006.One of the factors that eclipsed Diana’s married life was sex. According to Charles, their “first night was nothing special. She was painfully naïve.” How ironic! Diana’s virginity, so crucial in getting her to royal bedchamber, ended in a libidinous disappointment for the prince of her dreams. Charles liked things being done to him. He preferred being a passive partner. Author Barbara Cartland, who was Diana’s grandmother by her father’s second marriage, had this judgment on the reasons for the marriage failure: “Of course, you know where it all went wrong. She wouldn’t do oral sex.” Diana too admitted that sex “wasn’t up to much” and that Charles’s was a mere “roll on, roll off” performance. Don’t blame the woman for not trying. After the birth of her second child, she would seduce Charles by strip teasing in suggestive lingerie and soft music, but he is said to have only “mildly enjoyed” these bedroom antics. According to Brown, the Prince preferred his women to lead him, master him and mother him. Perhaps that explains the intensity he shared with that excellent horse rider Camilla Parker Bowles, the ominous, all-pervasive Rebecca De Winters of Diana’s life.However, what makes Diana’s story enchanting were not her lovers, rivals or her ex-husband, but how she survived the Camilla Parker moments of her life to become a great icon of our media-driven times. It would be tempting but dishonest to dismiss Diana's charitable causes as a free-floating global celebrity's part time hobby, her acclaimed "power of touching" merely a tabloid fantasy. The Princess was genuine in her concern and sensitive to the pains of strangers. She would pay regular hospital visits to dying AIDS patients and would meet their grieving relatives after their death.Diana’s transformation from an unhappy Mary Antoinette in Sony walkman to a Mother Teresa in Versace remains a fantastic biography of the late 20th century. This Oprah-free Oprah Winfrey Show lasted for 16 long years. From walking the aisle of St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1981 to stepping into the dangerous landmines of Africa in 1997, Diana shimmered in various kaleidoscopic moments. In July of 1981 at St. Paul’s Cathedral, she began her affair with the world in a wedding dress made of silk taffeta, ivory tulle and lace with a 25-foot long train. In 1997 in Angola, she made a deep impression in body armour over white cotton shirt, and khaki pants. In between, Diana became both a sinner and saint. She lied and loved, hunted and got hunted; experienced pleasure and pain; suffered low self-esteem and bulimia. Child of a broken family, her home too broke apart. Her dying hours were spent far away from two people she loved most - her sons. She now lies buried at Althorp, her ancestral home, in an island in the middle of a lake - as lonely in death as she was often in life.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Pakistan Tries Gagging Its Media

Mayank Austen Soofi — Wed, 6 Jun 2007 08:34:44 EDT

Those with fond memories of General Zia-ul-Haq, Pakistan's last true dictator, can sit back and wink. The two-skinned President-General Pervez Musharraf has crawled out of the pretensions of being a despot-democrat. No longer would Karachi socialites have to undergo embarrassments of discussing the intricacies of "genuine democracy." Lahori 'intellectuals' too could dump the concepts of "enlightened moderation" to their rightful place – trash bins. Hapless viewers are rid of maddening talk shows on uppity TV news channels. On 4th June, the deeply unpopular Musharraf killed a genuine reform his regime had helped blossom. New restrictions have been imposed on electronic media. Amendments were introduced to the Pakistan Media Regulatory Authority (PEMRA) Ordinance, 2002. PEMRA can now suspend the licences of TV channels if they operate illegally or violate PEMRA rules. Under a new section, the PEMRA authorities have been authorised to make new regulations without informing parliament. The new laws also deprive the media of the right to be heard at a Council of Complaints before being punished for violations.The ordinance raises possible fines for violations from Rs 1 million to Rs 10 million (about $400,000). It also brings Internet Protocol TV, radio and mobile TV under PEMRA regulations. The new ordinance came into force at once. In a promising start, the government suspended the transmission of two private television channels - Geo TV and Aaj TV in major parts of the country.No one must be surprised. The media had it coming. Taking Mr. Musharraf's macho graciousness for granted, it sought to cross the limits by uninhibitedly broadcasting unprecedented public protests following the General's dismissal of an independent-minded Chief Justice early this year. His government, or let's say just him for the government hardly matters in the scheme of things, had started frowning over the increasing tendency of the press to criticise him, his policies, and worse, the army – Pakistan's holiest cow.Noisy talk shows asked Musharraf to throw away his army uniform. He protested that the dress "has become part of my skin". (Soon enough a newspaper column appeared mischievously titled Must we now learn how to skin?) TV Channels broadcasted a fiery Superme Court seminar in which the dismissed Justice observed, "power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."In spite of Mr. Musharraf strongly urging "the media not to politicise a purely judicial and legal matter," the excited journalists refused to take the hint. Worse happened when Dr Ayesha Siddiqa, a military writer, recently published a book titled Military Inc - Inside Pakistan's Military Economy. Taking on the army for its corporate entanglements, the talk-of-the-town book was denied a launch, as scheduled, in an Islamabad club. Stranger things happened. The book was sold out on the first day itself – an honor not enjoyed by the General's 2006 ghost-written memoirs. Many suspect state funds were acquired to buy the entire first edition so that 'gullible' people remain unaware of the goings-on in the cantonments.With the stifling of TV channels, print media fears it could be their turn next. They need not worry. Once a tiger has tasted blood, it won't settle for grass. Pakistanis have seen too much to be lambs again. They just need to roar, a little louder than usual, and Mr. Musharraf would scurry away – his tail tucked between his legs.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

The Pink Purdah of Pakistan

Mayank Austen Soofi — Thu, 31 May 2007 18:55:56 EDT

In Pakistan it must be easy for homosexual women to avoid punishments for adultery -- penetration being essential for imposition of Section 377 of the Pakistan Penal Code. Even then, Shumail and Shahzina, two women married to each other, are not to be envied. They have been sentenced to three years in jail.Shumail Raj, 31, and Shahzina Tariq, 24, were cousins from Faisalabad, a city in Punjab. Shumail had gotten rid of her breasts and uterus in two sex change surgeries some 16 years ago. Although the operation was not done properly, Shumail at least had beard sprouting out on her face. The cousins later fell in love even as Shahzina was aware of Shumail's condition. They then hastily married in 2006 since Shahzina's family was planning an arranged marriage for her.Inevitably, relatives started harassing the newlyweds, asking for their marriage to be annulled on grounds that it was against Islam for women to wed each other. The couple, unfortunately, resorted to an action they would rue later. They approached the Lahore High Court this May to seek protection.Things did not turn out as they might have wished. The court-appointed doctors examined Shumail and decided she was still a woman. The judge, Kahawaja Mohammed Sharif, sentenced them to three years imprisonment for lying, besides imposing a fine of 10,000 rupees ($200). However, the charge of committing the act of unnatural lust was dropped."Neither Islam nor our law allows marriages of the same sex. This mistake cannot simply be overlooked," Mr. Sharif said in his verdict. He also ordered a criminal investigation into the surgeons who operated on Shumail.Stung by the verdict, the surprised couple, who had approached the court hoping for succour, clasped each other tightly before the police pulled them apart. They have now been separated. Shumail is undergoing punishment in the (women's) wing of Lahore's Central Jail, Kot Lakhpat, while Shahzia has been sent to Faislabad district prison."We're not homosexuals. Ours was a love marriage," a distraught Shahzia said before being led away from her lover.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Pakistan's Soul is Not for Sale

Mayank Austen Soofi — Fri, 18 May 2007 10:45:27 EDT

There comes a time in the life of every country when it has to grapple with its destiny. With 40 dead in the recent Karachi clashes, Pakistan is stranded yet again on the cross roads. Diverse forces, consisting of a trinity of extraordinarily heroic individuals, are pushing it into dissimilar paths, each having a final destination that is dream for some and nightmare for others.The Wayward GeneralGeneral Pervez Musharraf has drifted from his stated desire to rid Pakistan of corrupt politicians, Islamist extremism, and democracy. According to Transparency International, Pakistan's score at the 2006 Corruption Perception Index (CPI) remains at 2.2, same as it was in 2002, the year of the coup. Again, it was under his watch that Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal (MMA), a conservative Islamic party, acquired power in two provinces for the first time. As for genuine democracy, the percentage of those who voted in the 2002 referendum in favour of Mr. Musharraf for another five-year term of presidency was 98%!Pakistan's soldier-president had the potential to be a statesman but he has slipped. Each new day of his presidency is a trauma to the nation.The Uncertain Daughter of the EastThen there is Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan 's most electrifying leader-in-exile and the Islamic world's first democratically elected woman Prime Minister. Her life-portrait is also the story of her nation. Belonging to a privileged feudal family, father was hanged, brothers were killed, husband was jailed, she herself banished. Luckily for her, the allegations of corruption in her prime-ministerial tenures have not dented the charisma. But when it comes time to strike, the lady appears confused and hesitant - contemplating secret deals with Mr. Musharraf; planning conspiracies with fellow-exile and former Prime Minister Mr. Nawaz Sharif.Mrs. Bhutto should have already been holding rallies in Karachi and Quetta, instead of gracing the seminar halls of New Delhi and Washington DC. No one knows what she want - partnership with the army house or sending the army back to the barracks?The Case of the JudgeWhile Mrs. Bhutto has yet to make her mind, the impatient nation is laying the red carpet for the controversial former Chief Justice Iftikhar Mohammed Chadry who was dismissed by Mr. Musharraf over unsubstantiated accusations of misconduct. As the new superstar, the suspended judge is attracting great number of (un-rented) crowd in road shows. His each drive into the street is akin to making a political statement against the regime.Are we witnessing the blossoming of a political leader or an apolitical crusader? For better or worse, Mr. Chaudhry has become another reason of discord in the Pakistani establishment. Does he want to be merely reinstated as the Chief Justice? Should Ms. Bhutto see in him a rival or a friend? As obligation to his supporters, Mr. Chaudhry must soon make public his future plans.Signs of HopeAmidst such crucial moments, Pakistanis, unfortunately, will only have ringside view as their heroes and villains would roll up sleeves (and bangles) to squabble for the country's destiny. But all the big players must know that Pakistan's soul is not for sale.On the brighter side, Pakistani media and journalists have shown resilience and maturity that they are no longer afraid of threats and continue to speak the truth. The recent mobilization of public opinion in favour of the rule of law would not have been possible without the influence of media and its stark reporting. The emergence of a strong and vibrant reporting culture has been the upside of the current crisis.Many in Pakistan and abroad had written off the chance for public protest and political mobilization thinking that the people were all too ready to live under authoritarian rule. But this hypothesis has been proved to be false. More and more Pakistanis from all classes and areas have aired their support for the supremacy of the law and the need for an independent judiciary. This is unprecedented development in a country where military rulers could pack the courts and fire judges. Not anymore.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

The Joy of Indian Classical Dances

Mayank Austen Soofi — Thu, 17 May 2007 01:59:11 EDT

When they talk, fingers flutter, eyebrows quiver, heads sway, and feet shift restlessly. Recipients of prestigious awards, they are generous in sharing the secrets of their excellence. They are India's most celebrated classical dancers and they are New Delhi's best dance teachers.Who will learn Bharatnatyam or Kuchipudi instead of Salsa and Macarena in this rapidly westernizing society? How can the MTV Generation be lured to Kathak and Odissi when not even a single Indian television channel is dedicated to the Indian classical music? "In spite of the war on their psychology, people still opt for classical dances," Kathak danseuse Shovana Narayan declares. "They may enjoy the mall-multiplex dazzle, but there is a latent subconscious in many to know one's own culture."Indian classical dancing is not merely about coming home to the roots. Any classical form, dance or music, is an intellectual domain with a very rational approach of transmission of knowledge from the guru (master) to the shishya (disciple). It combines science and art beautifully with the ultimate goal of attaining spiritual bliss. Birju Maharaj, Kathak's living legend, considers dancing to be a form of Yoga, where dhyan (meditation) could be reached through the path of anand (joy). Kuchipudi dance maestro Raja Reddy believes it makes one calm, focused, and at peace with oneself. Kaushalya, his dancer wife, shares the beauty tip that a regular dance practice keeps the body supple and the skin glowing. Anjana Ghosal, a young student in Delhi who learned Kathak from acclaimed dancer Vaswati Misra, finds it fascinating that although classical dances work within well-defined parameters, they give the artist freedom to create, innovate and experiment with the form.While the training in these schools is priceless, the fees range from Rs. 200 ($5 USD) to Rs.1000 ($24 USD) each month. Such advantages must be exploited in a trying city like Delhi where mind is often stressed and body frequently tense. Bharatanatyam dancer Geeta Chandran discloses, "The day my students come to dance, they eat, study, and sleep better. Our dance forms help in dissipating the negative forces." Divya Morghode, a B.Com student enrolled in a Kathak class, says, "When I do riyaz (practice), all thoughts became pure. Besides dancing, our Guru also teaches us how to live life and confront problems."A strong motivation drives these busy performers to invest time and effort in educating young artists. Apart from regular income, it provokes fresh insights into their seen-it-all mind. "By teaching, lots of nuances become clear as I struggle with a student's grasp and his potential," Odissi dancer Sonal Mansingh says. Birju Maharaj equates the joy of teaching to that of a gardener savouring the nurturing of a growing sapling.The reputation of the artists need not intimidate amateurs from approaching them. "Not all aspire to be professionals," Shovana Narayan agrees. "I believe I'm preparing good seeds for the future generation. If nothing else, they would become keener audience." The dancers are selective in picking students, however. Interviews are held to find the student's aptitude as well as examining body expressions, hand gestures, and the flexibility of the face. Those fortunate to be chosen are transported to a different world. With dedication and discipline, these students are filled with rasa (juice of art), which overflows and reaches the people around them, too.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com

Revealed in the Cold Light of Day: "Opening Line" Secrets of the New Yorker

Mayank Austen Soofi — Thu, 10 May 2007 06:15:10 EDT

Just how do great authors begin their immortal novels? How do their opening lines become so celebrated? What is it that aspiring novelists like me should learn in order to seduce readers? As always, one must turn to the New Yorker magazine -- the Bible of budding English-language writers -- for guidance. This blogger discovered whole new tricks of "opening lines" perfected by the magazine in its long 82-year history. But confessions first - it is not my discovery. I was tipped by an American friend! Perhaps a careful New Yorker reader is already aware of certain "New-Yorkerish" opening keywords popular among the magazine writers: "One night…"; "In the fall of 2001…"; "During the cold evening of…"; "In the seventeen-seventies…"; "After three decades of exile…"; "In 1947…"; "Recently..."; "In the summer of 1956…"; "Following the day after May 9, 2003…"; "In the cool, sunny day of…" Here are opening phrases quoted from the published articles archived in the magazine's website: Dept. of Popular CultureBanksy Was Here; by Lauren Collins May 14, 2007 "Around 1993, Banksy's graffiti began appearing on trains and walls around Bristol …"Dept. of ArcheologyFragmentary Knowledge; by John Seabrook May 14, 2007 "In October, 2005, a truck pulled up outside the National Archeological Museum in Athens ..." Annals of CommunicationsCritical Mass; by Ken Auletta May 14, 2007 "On a blustery, overcast day early this year, P.R. representatives from Sprint and Samsung stopped by the Washington bureau of the Wall Street Journal…"ProfilesThe Conciliator; by Larissa MacFarquhar May 7, 2007 "Begin in farm country, late last summer, no particular day." A Critic at LargeIn the Territory; by Hilton Als May 7, 2007 "November 29, 1967, a tart, sunny day in Plainfield, Massachusetts, some thirty miles north of Smith College, in the Berkshires..." Books Briefly Noted The Last MughalMay 14, 2007 "In 1857, after a number of high-caste Hindu sepoys rose up against their colonial masters..." Letter from London The David Kelly Affair; by John Cassidy December 8, 2003 "Shortly after 3 p.m. on Thursday, July 17, 2003, David Kelly, a fifty-nine-year-old scientist employed by the British government, walked out of his house..." CommentHell Week; by David Remnick November 7, 2005 "Last Monday, at the very start of George W. Bush's week of misery, Thomas M. DeFrank, the Washington bureau chief of the Daily News, published a story…" Letter from Europe Round One; by Jane Kramer April 23, 2007"Late one night toward the end of March, after a day spent listening to too many Frenchmen talk politics, I called room service..." The Financial PageIt's the Workforce, Stupid! by James Surowiecki April 30, 2007"In the nineteen-nineties, with U.S. corporations in the midst of what the Times called "the downsizing of America," a new term appeared…" If only The New Yorker had started earlier it could have helped the 19th century authors too. Of course, the celebrated opening lines would have been a little different. For instance:Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities "Not long ago, one cold day in the fall, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times… " Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice "During the flushed spring of an English countryside, it was a universally acknowledged truth that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace"One weekend evening in a bland, uptight St. Petersburg drawing room, Anna Pavlovna Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna conceded that Genoa and Lucca had become family estates of the Bonaparte's."Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights "On the evening after the rainiest summer day, I returned from a visit to my landlord - the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with." Jane Austen, Emma "Born in a winter night, around twenty-one years ago, Emma Woodhouse -- handsome, clever, and rich -- grew up in the world with very little to distress or vex her." But such tricks are not New Yorker copyrights. Many great writers remain guilty of fine-weather & day-time tricks. Sample these authentic opening lines: Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment "On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge." Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis "As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect." Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York." George Orwell, 1984"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." So whether it is a rainy summer afternoon of 2007 or a crispy evening in the winters of 1938, you can easily write that wow! first line of your debut novel. When I shared these startling discoveries with Gaurav, a fellow book-lover, he pointed out that the dates-day introduction provides immediacy to the piece. "It makes the reader feel close to the scene as if she is being made part of a secret," he said. But isn't it clichéd? Doesn't it make the writing formulaic? "But then standards to judge writing too have become formulaic," Gaurav said.

Mayank Austen Soofi owns a private library and four blogs: The Delhi Walla, Pakistan Paindabad, Ruined By Reading, and Mayank Austen Soofi Photos. Contact: mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com