A walk through Lohari

I went for a morning walk through Lohari in the walled city with my friend Imran. We had some nihari. I wanted to be a bit adventurous and ordered the brain nihari. Ok, never again. It was kind of rejuvenating to walk around the city. Afterwards, I head back with Imran to his place and we discussed possible approaches to the puppetry in “Risalo”. There are a lot of logistical and artistic decisions to be made.He offered me a room in his home to shoot the film. Not only that, but he called up several of his friends who work in film to assist me in this project. It really helped to boost my own energy levels to get some outside input and begin the process of connecting to more ideas and possibly resources here in Lahore. There are so many possibilities. Time to explore.

Back to the NCA Hostel

I shifted to the NCA hostel, to be closer to resources that I need to work on. My relatives were very sweet, and things like food and laziness were very easy for me there, but I need to get things moving. I walked all around Mall road and the surrounding areas. At one point it started to rain and I kept going. It felt good to be out. I walked until my legs shook with exhaustion. Then I stopped at a dhaba that served only daal and rice by where all the movie theaters are. It was fun to see all the movie billboards. Perhaps one day “Risalo” can screen here.I needed it the walk and the physical exhaustion. I made my way back to the hostel, filled with observations, and ideas from which new stories grow. I was ready for a good nights rest.

On and on it goes

Butts are peoples too.

There are many days where I sit and bide my time. I can’t make things move faster, nor can get things to happen without a constant effort. Many days pass, weary in the heat, just trying to keep myself motivated. I need to constantly look for that next piece that will bring the next step in this process a bit closer.I knew this would not be easy. I did not know it would be so difficult. Butt, I do enjoy that Butt is a name here and you see it everwhere. Yes, I am still 5 years old.

Reading and waiting

I’ve been reading some great Sindhi short stories translated to Urdu in a book gifted to me by Najib sahib. The short story tradition here is very rich. I see a gold mine of material waiting to be adapted in various mediums. Other than that I am waiting to get on the other side of town and begin looking for resources needed for the next steps on “Risalo”.

Mini DV dilemma

It has been several days here in Lahore and while resting and editing has been mostly what I have been up to, I also need to digitize about 30 mini DV tapes of recordings from Jamshoro. Once again, I am told over and over that this is an obsolete format, and most places don’t have equipment to work with it. Those that have equipment, don’t use it as the machinery is long worn out.I called up a shop that sells and rents audio and video equipment here. I found them online and they even had a VTR listed. They really did not want to talk to me. I asked about renting a VTR and they asked me where I was from. I told them the city I was in. They obviously wanted the name of some large production company. After that they hung up on me. The equipment is imported, expensive, and not easily replaced. I understand that, but it’s also a pain that there is no legitimate way for me to pay and use equipment unless I know the right people or am part of a large production company. If I was working at a large production company, they would not care about doing a project with traditional puppetry and Sindhi music. This is why I have to beg for help and contacts at every step of the way. I am nobody. I don’t want to be any body either, but wish I could get proper information and access to services instead of being shut out.A couple of contacts suggested some shops on Hall road could digitize the tapes to DVD. That is really the only option I have right now. Now I have to go there, and convince them to give me the files on a hard drive and with the settings I want. I am already dreading this a bit, because asking people to do something even slightly different than what they normally do feels like asking them to move mountains. This is certainly not unique to here, but I am dealing with a lot of this right here at the moment.

Parts and arts

I spent the day visiting relatives. Along the way we stopped at the auto parts bazar behind Data Darbar. It is a fascinating spot where apparently a lot of stolen cars end up as untraceable parts. There are stalls full of transmissions and all manner of other parts, each in its own shop. People hand refit and refurbish parts that are no longer available using all manner of tools. It’s quite incredible.With the relatives, it was sweet to see some of my cousins who have grown up over the years and are really into drawing. I shared what advice I could, and enjoyed seeing the creative murals they had made in their home.

Not from here, there or anywhere

I had spent the better part of two days meticulously editing music. I needed a bit of a break. I spoke to my wife in India. She asked if I had read the news. I had not. I checked and after a bit of searching, read about an attack on a police station in Gurdaspur, Punjab in India. As always it is saddening and frustrating to read about violence anywhere and particularly near the Pakistan and India border.On top of that there is a lot of fear that I have to dissuade. My wife’s relatives tell her all the reasons why she should not go to Pakistan and to not call on the phone any more. Then, here in Pakistan is the other side of things. There are bigoted ideas flying around on both sides. It drives me mad. I feel like we play into these ideas of people of different religions and countries having particular human characteristics or flaws. I have not found it to be that way, but this is a popular narrative and to speak against it is absolute heresy.When people make bigoted statements, it is difficult for me to remain silent. Uncorroborated hearsay is treated as sacred fact. Dare I laugh at someone’s statement or question it, I am quickly cut down to size as not being Pakistani, or not being Muslim or if in the US, not being American. It is a tiring game to be told when convenient that you do not belong and have not association or validation in a particular context, not by strength of argument, but by cutting you down to size via your identity.Patriotism isn’t blindly following the status quo of your military establishment. Nor is it like cheering on a sports team. To me, it is about justice and not jingoistic nationalism. Justice for one people is not at the expense of another. If we gain from the subjugation of others, then realize that the system that mistreats one group today is unlikely to grant the rights of others tomorrow.It was a frustrating and disappointing day. At times like this, I just want to leave, but there is nowhere to go, where you are not followed by bigotry and people’s blind support for their country’s military it seems. All I ask is that people question. Your enemy is not a particular race or religion. It is those who take advantage of the masses with lies meant to divide us in the pursuit of power and profit.

Editing music

I continued editing music, this time going deeper into splicing out mistakes in the performance. When a singer messed up a line, they would wait for the next beat cycle and then repeat the correction. This way, I could splice out that beat cycle. It seems to work well. In addition, I needed to edit down a few pieces. For the most part, I was able to get the musicians to follow some of my timing cues, but there was one singer who did not follow any timing cues and two singers who despite repeated pleadings to sing each line a single time, could not manage to do so after several takes and so I had to just record the way they sang.Checking over one particularly beautiful piece of music, I noticed that two lines had been skipped. It had been sang out of sequence and with much repetition and was in Sindhi, so try as I did while they sang, I got completely lost in the script as I was following along. There’s nothing I can do about that. Thankfully it is a very beautiful piece, and people sing these verses in that manner too, so it should be all right. The other challenge is that I need to really edit the pieces for that section of the film down as much as possible. With all the repetition of verses, I can get beautiful pieces for music albums, but some of these scenes would suffer a great deal if they were stretched out so long.This takes a lot of meticulous care to find the right spots to cut and splice sections together and check if it all flows well together. On top of that, once I get the Sindhi version to a particular length, I have to get the Urdu version matched to that. Sometimes that means cutting out an introduction or taking out 25 seconds of instruments playing. It’s all a big experiment as I come up with the workflow for getting pieces to work as I go. Things seem to work pretty effectively thanks to editing on the sum or end of the beat cycle.

In the mix

Once I started, I just kept going, working on editing footage from the music recording sessions that I had managed to digitize before leaving Jamshoro. I started mixing tracks I had organized previously, starting with the dholak (percussion) tracks and working my way up to vocals, then adding just a touch of harmonium to sit under the vocals. It is interesting to bring out a subtle instrument and fit it just between other elements and listen to how the whole piece comes to life.

Friday

I spent the day resting and then thought about what I could do on my project. Every new setting takes some adjusting. Each time I have to refocus my mind on the tasks that I can readily work on. It was friday and I head to the mosque here which is part of the shrine of my relatives forefathers.Regarding work, I have to assess what tasks can be worked on at the moment, what blocks are keeping me from working on additional tasks and how I can balance all of this to get the most done concurrently.

Sunrise in Punjab

I didn’t sleep much on the bus over night. Between dosing off for bits here and there, I caught the sunrise over crops in Punjab. It felt good to be back in Punjab. The hours past slowly, with bits of Indian movies playing on the screen in the bus.We stopped off at different spots, where passengers could leave if this was their destination, or stretch their legs and use the bathroom. There was not much else to do. The good thing about the bus is that it takes only the time that it takes to actually drive the distance you are going, whereas I have been on slow trains that seem to stop forever or slow down. You can’t walk around on the bus, but if it takes 16 hours to get there, that is what it will take.After what seemed like forever, we got into Lahore. We passed alongside the canal on the outskirts, and the sky looked ready to burst with rain. My cousin’s driver was waiting for me at the station. Ali helped me load my things and we were off to my cousin’s place.

Aapi!

After days with cute, but hard to handle children, I was ready to step back into an adult filled world of hard to handle, childish adults. Of course there was an adorable toddler in the seat ahead of me on the bus, who kept turning back to look around. I couldn’t help but smile at her, cringing at the thought of her turning  like the other children had.Poor kid had a bit of a cough. The stewardess was very sweet, taking her to hang out in the front for bits here and there. The little one started calling her “Aapi” (big sister) and you could hear her call for “Aaapi!” up and down the aisle.

Badshah ka supai

Another wild day with the kids. I taught them how to play exquisite corpse, where one person draws the head, then folds the paper and covers it, so the next can continue with the body, folding over when done, and finally the last person draws the legs. Once you unfold it, you get some pretty fun characters.The three additional kids had come the day before, but they had been very shy in the beginning so things are calm and I was safe. Of course, that did not last and these kids got over their shyness and unleashed their naughtiness. Sometimes I played dead (slept), while one kid crawled under the charpoy and pushed the netting from underneath me. Another kid hovered over me, peaking into my closed eyes. It was funny to hear them talk about whether I was really alseep or not.Later, the kids taught me a game called Badshah ka supai. It was repetitve, but easy enough. You create a bunch of papers with different roles, including badshah (king), supai (soldier) and a few more more. Each paper is folded and placed in a pile. Everyone chooses a paper. The king asks who the soldier is, the soldier replies and they have to figure out who the thief is. Yeah. Anyway, we played that way too much. The little boy who is a bit young to understand the concept of rules kept jumping up excited saying "I won! I won!". This was usually before we even started a round.

Daewoe

It was another lazy day in Nawabshah, spent with the little cousins. I went over to visit an uncle. Other than that I rested, ate good food and cleared my mind more or less. At night, I was taking a bus out of town. The bus left from Moro, which was about 80km away from Nawabshah.We had arranged for a my uncle’s in laws to pick us up and go early. As usual, things got late. My uncle ended up renting a car and driver to load up my things and we were off. Somehow we got there in an hour. I had booked my seat as usual in advance over the phone. As I walked in to pay for the ticket, the man at the counter told me it had been cancelled and even if I had come much earlier that would still be the case. I already had one ticket cancelled by them via text message and now this?Daewoo has been pretty reliable in the past, so I don’t know what happened here. I bought the next available seat for the day after tomorrow. We got some water from the store, then made the long journey back to Nawabshah.

Motorcycle ride

Early morning, after some tea, Moeez and I head out on his motorcycle. He had asked if I would be interested in checking out a landscape that was a bit different. Sure I was. It was a long motorcycle ride, but well worth it, to just get away from the city and see all the beautiful mud homes, thatched roofs, desert plants, sand dunes, lakes and mountains. These landscapes of course make me think about the stories that I am working on with my film “Risalo”.Trips like this bring those words to life when I see people who have lived the same way for centuries, regardless of freedom from the British, separation from India and an ever revolving door of leaders running governments that have never really made a positive difference on their lives.The rest of the day was spent just hanging out, and eating food. I think I needed this rest. I am still amazed that I am able to sleep so much during the day and still at night too.

Eid in Nawabshah

I did not take this tipsy photo from a low angle.

the most feared child in all the land

gol gappas…more daring than crossing the freeway in Jamshoro

dinner

I woke up for Eid and Moeez and his family had ironed a nice shalwar kameez for me. I got ready and my little cousin Yusuf was all dressed up too. The three of us walked over to the mosque for Eid prayers. Little Yusuf held my hand on the way there, which was sweet. It was nice to be with family on Eid.After prayers, men greeted each other. I really did not know anyone, but Moeez introduced me to a few people and some of them knew of my grandfather, mother and aunts, so that became a reference point. The old maulvi at the mosque, it turned out was the son of the maulvi who used to teach my mother and her sisters Quran.We walked to a cemetery behind the mosque afterwards and said prayers for my maternal grandparents, and Moeez’s grandfather. There were many people standing around graves, saying prayers for departed loved ones.A short walk and we were back home, ready to eat, and wait for a steady stream of guests to arrive. Similar to old times, I imagine, people came and sat with the head of the household outside, or in the drawing room. Women came inside to greet the family. I didn’t really know anyone, so I was free to hang out, relax, sleep or do whatever.

Those used to be my shoes...

On the last day of fasting for the month of Ramazan, I rested. I woke up for a bit, then slept again. I chatted a bit with relatives, played with little cousins then fell asleep again. After all that stress, running around, dealing with madness and taking in the support of good friends, I was completely finished.

Leaving Jamshoro

goodbye Jamshoro

hello Nawabshah

It was still hard to believe that the recordings were finished. I felt a need to leave Jamshoro as fast as possible, after being stuck there for such a long time. Optimistically, I had hoped to finish all my work by the end of June, which based on the work load seemed feasible, but I also knew that working here could take much longer for all the wrong reasons. It was mid July and I was halfway done.I was exhausted, as I packed up things and went out to meet a few more friends and thank people before I left. Darya sahib and a friend of his drove me to Radio Pakistan in Hyderabad. I spent some time with Ustad Anb Jogi, his father Bhiko Jogi, Ustad Sodho Jogi and a few others.We ate some lunch, then Anb and I head over to the bus stand. His wife had knit a pillow cover for me, which I put in my bag. I hopped on a van with my things and I was off. I watched the landscape change from dusty little towns to desert landscapes and back.Eventually, I reached Nawabshah. It is a city I have seen since I was very young, yet each time I return there are many changes. I went to my mother’s childhood home as usual and met my relatives as well as a few new additions, in the form of small cousins born since last I visited.It was time for food, rest, playing with tiny tots and catching up with relatives.

Last day of music recording?

early morninhg dhaba breakfast scene.

Ustad Anb Jogi, our music director, translating my story direction into beautiful music.

Rashid Haideri singing sur Yaman Kalyan.

Arbaab sahib on dambura.

Farzana Bahar singing sur Sohni.

Ustad Anb Jogi, our music director, accompanying Shahid on Sitar.

Zulfikar Ali Gopang, the recording engineer I depend on.

Saqib Syd, the man behind the camera on most of these session photos.

I woke up, got ready, then head out with Nisar sahib to get some breakfast at a dingy little dhaba. We got back and I grabbed my gear then walked over to Sindhology. As I walked through the gates, I saw Aarab sahib, the dambura player I had requested Ustad Anb Jogi to include in today’s recording session. I had seen him perform at the Sewan mela and then talked to him at Radio Pakistan a few days later. He is a humble musician. At over 80 years of age, he has played with all the greats of yesterday and today in Sindhi music.He loves to perform and is always such a humble and kind presence. I saw him sitting by the canteen, bright and early around 8:30am as I arrived. I walked over to him and sat down. He remembered me from the radio station. He asked if I worked at Sindhology and I mentioned that I was doing the recording sessions today and had especially requested him. Sitting with him certainly had a calming effect on me.We chat for a while, then I picked up some water bottles and head up into the building with him. As we walked up the stairs, he named practically every legendary Sindhi musician whose photo lines the stairs in the museum. He was not reading the names, as there were perhaps 2 or 3 that he did not recall. He had played with almost all of them. I knew that I was the one privileged to have him in this recording session that day.After getting to the top floor, we sat down for a bit as the recording room was being cleaned, then went inside and began setting up with Zulfiqar sahib and Afzal sahib. One of our singers for the day, Rashid Haideri arrived. I setup my camera and recorded short introductions for both musicians. A short while later, Ustad Anb Jogi and Shahid Amjad sahib, the sitar player arrived.That was enough for us to record the first half of what we needed to finish that day, and by about 10am we started. We rerecorded Sur Kalyan and Sur Yaman Kalyan. This is the first scene of Risalo. It was important to get it right. As we were well into the piece, our other singer, Farzana Bahar arrived with the musicians for her portion. This was perfect. Things moved along and we continued with her. She was there to wrap up Sur Sohni, which she sang beautifully. Basically, we recorded music for the very beginning and end of the film. Having Araab sahib, the dambura player there allowed us to connect both parts musically.This happenstance was the result of many delays and problems prior to this, and yet it somehow worked out. We took a short break and said goodbye to most of our musicians. We had two hours left and I was amazed at how things had actually worked out that day. There had been a few short power outages, but musicians got there on time, and things were working. We actually finished the script which was a huge milestone. That left us time to record some fantastic solo sitar pieces with Shahid Amjad. He had practiced and planned out a few pieces the night before. It was amazing. I was free to just sit back and enjoy the performance. Everyone in the room was entranced. I am very excited about putting all of this music together over time.We had some lunch after the session, then I head back to Darya Khan’s place where I was staying. Saqib as always took lots of great photos during the session and was there to help in every way possible. I felt so relieved. I could leave Jamshoro at last and stop thinking about the project for a few days. I was well past exhaustion with the work, but extremely thankful for how well things had turned out despite endless challenges.I made calls and plans to visit friends to say thanks before I left and to return borrowed things. Many times when I have been working like crazy to finish something, there is a lot of excitement and some feeling of not knowing what to do all of a sudden when it is done. I didn’t feel that this time. Things had been so extremely difficult that I was glad to clear my mind and not think about doing anything.Several friends dropped by to visit and then I dropped in to see a few that were headed to another friend’s wedding. After that, Saqib and I head over to see Mehboob Ali Shah sahib, the wonderful sufi friend who had shared so much wisdom with me in our many visits together. We went to his bhaituk and waited with several people. He came out and it was really sweet to see him. For my benefit, he spoke in Urdu. He congratulated me on finishing the music and asked about what I was doing next. I shared my plans and then as always he shared some precious thoughts and wisdom through storytelling. He is a master storyteller.He talked about the importance of Haq or truth and how it was more valuable and rewarding than any type of monetary achievements. Though one may suffer a great deal for it, truth was the ideal to strive for above all else. I thanked him for his time, wisdom and encouragement in what had been a very challenging process for me in Jamshoro. I felt utterly humbled when he thanked me for coming to visit and for sharing. Honestly, it is such a deep feeling of love and gratitude, like a cup endlessly overflowing with water that I can’t even put into words. Here is a fantastic human being to whom countless people come to hear the wisdom he shares on Shah Latif’s poetry and his father’s. Yet he takes such an interest in everyone and has now qualms in learning from everyone around him.As always, his words of encouragement and praise and appreciation for my efforts had me bowing my head and just blinking and murmuring thanks. His words have a way of lifting you up as only someone who genuinely cares can do. It did wonders to strengthen my resolve to continue with the next phase of “Risalo". I always leave there with riches beyond my expectations, from the humility and grace of a man who embodies the beauty of Shah Latif’s poetry and message.Saqib and I hung out for a bit at my room, before he head out and I fell asleep.

Recording a second Jogi Album

Saqib Syd taking session photos and video.

Ustad Anb Jogi

electricity out break.

with Jairam Jogi and his son.

Recording days are always busy. There is a lot of preparation and much to handle throughout the day. Logistically, I always hope that people will get there on time, and that we can be productive during a stressfully short time frame available at Sindhology. There is also the danger of people making things more difficult with petty factions and groups within the institution. Besides that, the electricity could go, or old equipment could give out. All of this nonsense makes for a very difficult time recording.One thing I did not have to worry about for this session was the script. Today’s session was just to support a few groups of musicians to create music albums, rather than record for “Risalo”. There was a group of Jogis with whom I had worked before, a few marwari singers and assorted instrument players. We wanted to record albums for both groups and a solo album on dholak with Ustad Anb Jogi. It was an ambitious amount of recording to do, but since people were performing what they already knew, it was not impossible.We started by recording a few solo pieces. Somehow things invariably take longer than expected. Though we were unable to record material for 3 albums, we did get 2 albums worth. The musicians really have no idea how much work I am going to put into this in order for them to, I hope, receive more money from sales. Perhaps if they did, they would not apply so much stress and pressure during the process. Each is being paid more than most tv channels around here pay. I’m doing my best, but there is a general attitude here that people push for extra money as hard as possible, without being able to have empathy for those they are working with. I try and explain the ground realities and risks that I am taking, and what it means to my own future to make these sacrifices now. It does not matter.These are not bad people, but everyone is still responsible for how they respond during given circumstances. It makes me less excited to push myself so hard to put together the music and promote them, yet they too are a product of their society. If anything, they are being crushed at the lower end, but unlike many have, worked to develop skills that are unique and beautiful. At some point, my efforts become more about trying to do my small part to build a better future that keeps this culture alive. If things can get better, perhaps people’s mindsets can change a bit.We shared a nice meal at a dhaba down the road, thanks to Darya Khan’s suggestion and transportation help.