Fashionistas Get In The Last Word, And It's Oops!

So I'd hoped someone else on this blog would write a word or two about the Fashion Pakistan Week (FPW) which took place recently in Karachi. It had left me utterly conflicted between satisfaction that high profile events were continuing to take place in gloomy and precarious times, sympathy for the organizers who obviously were labouring in the face of dire security circumstances and global perceptions, and irritation at the over-the-top hype built around the event as the definitive answer to the Taliban on the other.

The Taliban must be cowering in their caves (Source: Outlook India)

As Faiza S. Khan wrote here:

"It was with some bewilderment that one read in the papers the next day of the display of a bare back and some thigh hailed as “snubbing the Taliban”, regardless of the fact that it was done in a private, carefully contained environment filled with people who were not remotely like the Taliban, i.e. socialites, designers, buyers and the inevitable twerp in gigantic sunglasses in the dead of night. There was the de rigueur cliché of how daring it was to see skimpily dressed models in a society where women generally cover up, entirely omitting to mention that distinctions exist between those people who cover up and those who don’t, and fashion models fall quite clearly into the latter category. One scribe wrote of how heroic it was to show exposed navels while war is simultaneously waged in Waziristan, as if these two are somehow connected, as if, perhaps, the navels were being bared in Waziristan or that the war would be won should the military choose to spend its budget on tank-tops rather than tanks."

Generally, however, all agreed that the fault lay with the gora war correspondents who had been drafted in to cover the absence of "real fashion journalists" who had pulled out of the event fearing their Pradas would be blown to smithereens in Pakistan. Obviously, the reasoning went, these guys could only see things in light of their own single-issue reason for existence in Pakistan - the war against militancy. So what is to make of this piece in India's Outlook magazine by Ayesha Tammy Haq, the CEO of Pakistan Fashion Week?

You can go and read the full article (bizarrely titled: Nargis...Let There Be Light), but the operative parts I shall reproduce below:

"To tell the truth, though, the Fashion Pakistan Week was not staged as a conscious act of defiance against any group, extremist or otherwise. Yet, showcasing the first-time event in these troubled times was truly an act of defiance. It was an act of defiance by an industry which, through Fashion Pakistan Week, was sending a message loud and clear—we will continue to work, generate jobs, provide livelihood. This is a message both pertinent and comforting in today’s Pakistan, considering our army is engaged in a war against an ideological enemy so that we can live and work with safety, in peace.

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"Fashion week is really a trade show—no doubt, it’s glamorous but it isn’t entertainment. To become a serious business, it needs to be taken seriously. We articulated how Fashion Pakistan Week was all about the business of fashion, about jobs, exports, about earning foreign exchange and building a better Pakistan. An industry like any other, albeit with a higher glamour quotient.

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"Security in Pakistan is an everyday concern, but naturally it’s more so with an event like the fashion week, high-profile as it is. Precautions were taken to mitigate risks. We kept the venue a secret and did things like printing different coloured cards for each day. But then the army general headquarters in Islamabad was attacked, making not only our international guests anxious, but leaving even those at home numbed with nervousness. We postponed the event from October 15 to November 4, and shifted our exhibition space. Karachi, our venue, was put on high alert. The security situation didn’t improve—but our morale did. Instead of postponing the event again, we decided that the way forward was to hold Fashion Pakistan Week. We advised all our international guests against gracing the event. We were more than compensated—instead of the editors of Vogue Italia, Vanity Fair and Velvet Magazine, newsrooms worldwide pulled their war correspondents out of Afghanistan and northern Pakistan and sent them to Karachi to cover the event.

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"And as the curtain fell on the event, the night of November 7 became an emotional one for me for another reason—before the packed hall, Faiza Samee asked me to be her showstopper. Since this was a first for me, I was extremely nervous. But the audience was amazing; I loved it. I made my transition from corporate lawyer to fashionista the moment I stepped on to the ramp." 

So, basically, what we learn from Ms. Haq is the following:

1. It was FPW that told the international guests not to come (sorry, "grace the event"); otherwise they were of course almost buckled into their seats on the flights here.

2. Having war correspondents cover the FPW was a GOOD thing, since those connected with international fashion might have focused on inconsequential things like enhancing "jobs, exports and earning foreign exchange."

3. The gora war correspondents were not just coming up with the 'defying-the-Taliban' line all on their own; FPW worked hard to get the message across, as evidenced by this article.

4. Ms. Haq herself was brave not just once but TWICE. Not only did she defy the Taliban, she also overcame her own insecurities and viewers' expectations by walking the ramp.

Sometimes, you know, it's better to leave certain myths unexposed.

Meera and the Media

I was planning on writing something about the despicable hypocrisy and shallow classism of the media's handling of the Meera controversy, where the Pakistani actress' personal troubles with a man alleging to be her husband have become fodder for regular, snide reports on television. But Faiza S. Khan has beaten me to it on an Indian web magazine, so I will just reproduce it below.

But before you read Faiza's analysis (which I happen to agree with), do also take a look at some examples of what I am talking about.

Here's Geo's 'news report' giving its "unbiased" opinion on the developments of the Meera story:




Here's Geo showing its professional ethics by not only continuing to film after the subject (that would be Meera in this case) specifically asked for the cameras to be turned off, but then broadcasting the unauthorized footage:




Now, this is hardly the entire story. Geo's anchors have been the worst (unfortunately, I could not find the clips of the anchors' comments on youtube), using language and innuendo hardly appropriate for news presenters and offering their unsolicitied personal opinions on the issue, usually to make fun of Meera. Among the lines I have personally heard used in the headlines (Headlines!) are "Bakray ki maan kab tak khair manaye gi" ('How long can the lamb escape slaughter', announcing the discovery of the alleged nikahkhwaan) and "Urdu tak tau baat saheeh thi lekin Angraizi mein train pathri se uttar gayi" ('Matters were all right in Urdu, but English derailed the train', announcing Meera's statement to reporters outside the court). In other instances, channels have used the song "Jhoot Bolay Kawwa Kaatay" as theme music for their segments on Meera, and even implied that her protestations about the matter are just a big drama.

The question here is not whether Meera is being truthful or being disingenuous or even of her "moral integrity." The question is one simply of why the media has chosen to relentlessly attack her, sometimes for her alleged crime,  sometimes her personal morality, sometimes her language skills, and sometimes her "bold" scenes in films across the border. Could it be, simply, that Meera is a 'soft' target without power and influence? One who can be counted on not to be able to strike back, legally or otherwise?

One may well question the media wolf-pack whether they have ever been as biting on television about illustrious politicians, military generals or other public figures with far more egregious personal lives (I can think of many, many who have led far more scandalous lives but who receive utmost respect on our channels!). Or would they think it's fair game if they themselves - as public figures - were ridiculed and mocked in the same way for any of their indiscretions? What do you think, macho-man Javed Iqbal? I'd like to hear you speak some proper English myself.

In any case, on to Faiza's analysis:

A Girl Called Meera

By Faiza S. Khan

Meera’s story challenges the hypocrisies of the liberal-minded swish set in exactly the same way as Rakhi Sawant’s does.

News on the drawing room circuit this week revolves around the private life of a local media personality: the statuesque, achingly beautiful actress Meera, who, like Cher, goes by just the one name. Meera is a Lollywood film star, in so much as one can be a Lollywood film star. The Lahore-based Pakistan film industry hasn’t enjoyed anything resembling brisk trade since the ’80s and hasn’t seen quality cinema since the ’70s. Currently, a percentage of their talent is culled from sex workers. In an odd reversal, if you’re going to find successful actors and thoughtful directors, it’s most likely to be on television. Meera’s tried her luck that side of the border (where film sets are paved with milk and honey) but so far it’s come to naught. Well, almost naught. She was picked up by Mahesh Bhatt (for a movie, I hasten to add) in 2005. Her controversial kiss with co-star Ashmit Patel in Soni Razdan’s steamy Nazar made it to the international press due to the now customary death threats from lunatic extremists. While it remains unconfirmed, there are suspicions that some of the threats may have come from film-goers irked at having spent good money on a clumsy remake of The Eyes of Laura Mars.

It doesn’t really matter that the film was a turkey; Meera is not known for her acting and draws a sizeable income from advertising campaigns and personal appearances. She is known by the in-crowd primarily for her novel use of the English language. ‘Meera-isms’ regularly circulate at parties, a running joke being the time when she was asked what her favourite feature was and replied, ‘my ass’, obviously meaning her eyes, Meera announcing she has a headache in her stomach, and so forth. That she largely works in Pakistan and is fluent in both Punjabi and Urdu makes no difference. And if it isn’t bad enough being tittered at by pretentious socialites (many of whom think ‘rocking’ is an adjective), for not having had the opportunity to attend a Grammar School, there’s the most recent scandal that shows up an even uglier quality in society at large.

The rumour, which in itself isn’t terribly interesting, involves a Dubai-based businessman claiming to be Meera’s husband, complete with photographs of what appears to be their nikkah, attempting to take possession of the house she lives in, which he alleges belongs to him. According to Meera, he has threatened her with physical harm. She has responded by swearing up and down that she has never been married and will tell anyone who’ll listen that an opportunistic plot has been cooked up to use her fame to seize her assets.

I don’t particularly care if it’s true or not; like I said, not very interesting. I am however taken aback by the utterly disgraceful treatment meted out to her by the media. She’s presented as comic relief, shown as an exhibit at a zoo, worse yet, a contestant on a reality show. She’s patronised by smirking, smug little news anchors, who appear to forget that they’re not in fact opinion-makers, closer to human teleprompters. She constantly confronts hostile questions, has been filmed secretly having an off-the-record conversation and the footage of her crying at a press conference has been set to a jaunty little tune on YouTube. A particularly nasty blog included the comment, ‘I feel so bad for that man. All these bazaari women marry men for their money.’ Ah yes, as opposed to all those eminently respectable girls from ‘good families’, well, obviously money has never crossed their noble minds, which is why we see so many of them eloping with the milkman for love.

All the liberals (and we have many who wouldn’t be considered broad-minded if there weren’t the Taliban as a point of comparison), fully cognizant of the fact that women are particularly at risk in Pakistan, are too busy sniggering up their sleeves to care. There’s a self-satisfied air in the re-telling of Meera’s misfortune, a sense of justice that an upstart of dodgy origins, who flaunts her new money and her outrageously large Versace glasses, should be brought down a peg. The unsubstantiated suggestion lingers that some of her newly acquired wealth may have come from the world’s oldest profession. Here’s the deal: you create a society where women are neither permitted nor equipped to make a substantial living, a society where, out of sheer politeness, you’re supposed to be born and die on the same social echelon. Then you hate people for finding ways around this.

You’d think a country aged 62, itself a parvenu in the global arena, would be more forgiving, perhaps even encouraging of social mobility. Apparently not.