Nisbat, Beadon, Hall

I head out to Nisbat, Beadon and Hall road, to check out lighting gear. It takes a lot to ask questions and even more to get any real answers about anything and everything. A few hours in the heat and your day is done. My friend Ustad Anb Jogi dropped by at night on his way to Islamabad.

Light from Nisbat

After a bit of calling around, I learned that Sunday was the day that different markets sold cut piece or smaller pieces of cloth. I don’t know why the many shops I asked never offered up this information, but that is the way much of the information gathering for this project has been.That saved me a lot of needless travel in the morning. I did some small video tests with my available lighting and camera equipment. I researched some lighting options locally, thanks to help from an LED specialist I had met in Los Angeles, who is from Pakistan. He had given me the local manager of his business’ number in Karachi. I called him, mentioned his boss and he helped me right away. I sent him specs on a simple LED light I had, and he looked up the closest match. Not only that, he found a retailer with a reasonable price. Based on that, I found one here in Lahore with the same price, then went and picked it up.Afterwards, we grabbed some food at Gawal Mandi, the so called “Food Street”. A bit of walking in traffic after, followed by a rickshaw ride back and the day was done. The new light is pretty good. Of course it is missing a nut, so I need to ask about it or find a replacement nut, but it is pretty bright. I think if I can pick up one more and find some lamps for the photo bulbs I brought, I should be covered for lighting. The alternative would be to rent higher end gear, but I like these lights for being light, portable, battery operated, not prone to heating up and sufficient to light the small area needed for this puppetry film.

A history of puppetry?

After a good deal of rest, we head over to NCA. Hanan sahib and Naveed sahib helped us clean our computers with a small blower. It was like a mini version of a leaf blower. To think that it took so much effort to get to this point. Partly because I was looking for the disposable kind, only to learn that that does not exist here and then it took me a while to learn what was used instead in Pakistan.With that information, a simple call and the kind folks in the multimedia department at NCA graciously helped us out. I felt like the computer is a bit better, but it is still heating up a bit on one side. I really need this machine to work through the end of shooting this film at least.It was nice to go to NCA. There were a few students around for evening classes. Security as always was notched up even higher than my previous visit and it makes me sad to see how much it has had to increase over the years.There was even a check waiting for me from my time teaching a few months ago. I needed to get the check opened in order to cash it. I went to several offices, only to be turned away. It is amazing how little some folks at these government jobs care about their work. I dress very simply so they really look at me like shit. Every little step of the way here can often be a dehumanizing process, and I think that is equally true for these office workers who then continue that vicious cycle. You need to go through someone that cares enough to try and help you get what you need done. These same people that gave me a hard time, would probably fall over themselves to cater to their personal guests.For me, when I walked into the second office I was sent to, with the paperwork required from the accounts office and asked about opening the check, the guy just looked at me. Then another guy comes into the office, grabs me by the elbow to turn me around then looks me up and down with this look of disgust, which is probably his default expression. These are the day to day steps it takes to accomplish the most minimal of things. I speak in Urdu, I dress simply. I can only imagine how much worse it is for others. To me, this is the rot at the core here. There are so many external and internal issues going on here, but at the most basic human level, the ability or willingness to do your job with a reasonable amount of care and to speak to people as human beings regardless of their perceived value to you is severely lacking in so many places.Each person asked why I was given a check, and I explained that I taught there. Then they kept repeating that I should open an account here. I explained that not being local, I could not and they past me down the line. Eventually I came back to Hanan sahib and he kindly took the paperwork and agreed to take care of it as the office workers had sent me back.In the evening, Kristeen cooked our first meal here. We picked up a bunch of vegetables, spices and fruit and a had a nice meal at home. Even making breakfast in the morning was a nice change from grabbing things outside. I relaxed and read the book on Rajasthani puppetry that she picked up for me in Delhi. It is quite fascinating to see how people have tried to piece together the history of this art form. I can only imagine how difficult it was to find anything that could be called an actual fact. Oral traditions are strong, but historical accuracy is not. Certainly not in the case of the puppeteers I met in Multan.The stories do have some common elements that leads one to believe there may be some facts amid all the legends. It seems that this form of puppetry can be traced back to the time of the Mughal Emperor Akbar. There are stories of Muslim and Hindu puppeteers. The court puppeteers were Muslim and they made their puppets from papier mache. They complained about a Bhat puppeteer who had not learned the art from any master and still dared to be a puppeteer for the general public. This fits in with the idea that specific tasks are delegated to particular groups of people and handed down through the generations.The Bhat puppeteer was called to the court, but gained the Emperor’s favor when he recited the Emperor’s geneology in poetic verse. A contest was arranged, and a puppet from the court and one from the Bhat puppeteer was suspended in a well for some time. The paper mache puppet from the court disintegrated, while the Bhat’s wooden puppet emerged more beautiful from being immersed in water.It’s a fun story, and there are bits that indicate other aspects to it as well. For example, the book mentions that puppeteers continued to pay tribute to the descendants of a Muslim family of someone who had taught them this art. This wasn’t something imposed on them, but out of respect and gratitude for sharing what was a sacred art. The way that puppeteers look at their puppets and art is with great reverence. This was true in Multan as well. Modern commercial needs have eroded away this sentiment, but I think it remains, however diminished.All examples of stories told through this puppetry seem to be about the same as what I recorded in Multan. A king’s court opens. Dignified guests enter and a multitude of trick puppets are announced and perform one by one, with short comedic skits. Sometimes the king is Akbar, or Shah Jehan or the same story revolves around Amar Singh Rathore. There were some puppets mentioned that I have not seen, but in terms of detailed storytelling, there did not seem to be any hard evidence to suggest that it was a part of past performances. People mentioned that it was, but could not be verified. People say a lot of things.

Lok Virsa and PNAC in Islamabad

Painting of my friend Jairam Jogi

Sadquein

We got up way too early and head to the train station. It was fun to watch the variety of people around us as we waited for our friend Sana, her sister and neighbor to arrive. They got there and we hopped on the train.It’s always pretty crazy sitting in the aisles as people squeeze past with luggage to try and figure out where they are seated. Bags and children are lifted through the windows by relatives seeing people off. You can’t get too bothered by every handbag and arm that bumps your head as people squeeze past. Once the train started, the aisles were still filled with people, but these were folks who did not have a specific seat and I think bought an open ticket. Such are the mass transport needs here that everything is packed. We were so fortunate and grateful that our friends had booked seats.Watching the landscape unfold was fun. Children wave and people in general stop to look as the train passes. You see old buildings, tents, piles of trash, long lines of traffic waiting to cross, and cleaner areas away from the cities, where large fields of crops become beautiful river landscapes with grassy hills and rocks. It was a long ride. Sana and her sister kept coming over with delicious food and tea that they had prepared with their relatives at home. We switched seats so we could chat with each other.All three of these friends are truly inspiring. Sana works with some of the most depressed communities. She manages a project that teaches women to make their own soap and shampoo with ingredients that they can afford, as well as how to make a safe stove. Her work is very hands on and these were some of the current projects she shared with us. The challenges I face when trying to work on my own projects here are but a drop in the bucket compared to those faced by people like Sana and her sister who in the face of virtually no hope at all, spend their days making a difference in the lives of people who have been all but forgotten by society. Generations have stayed in the same situation they started in and independence from the British and a succession of corrupt governments in Pakistan have done nothing to provide for the basic needs of any of these people. Most of them relegated to sanitation work which is a vital part of any society but is not given the respect it deserves.So many issues seem to revolve around those who can, within a community not extending their privilege to those who are less fortunate. Most people that I see on the ground doing work are not the ones who can do so with relative financial ease. Educating children and hoping to pull through even a few kids out of a cycle of poverty is a lifelong battle that people like Sana’s sister are doing, not because they are going to become rich or that they are convince that everything will suddenly change, but because despite the challenges of working with people, they know it is worth it to help one person.In my own way, as an artist, I try to create my projects in a fashion that can provide support for my fellow artists and culture. We seem to do this at the sacrifice of our financial futures as we don’t have the kind of safety nets society tells you that you must have. I think it is natural to question your own sanity when you look at it that way, along with just how difficult working with everyone can be. Yet when I don’t have to take a sweaty, bumpy bus ride crammed with weary bodies, and get to sit in a nice air conditioned car and eat a nice meal wherever you please or fly to a different country, it reminds me that things are far too imbalanced. Every one of these struggles to make things a bit better, even for one person is worth it then, because to do nothing is not an option. I have to remind myself of this each time I want to quit.It took about 5 hours to get to Islamabad. Most people got off at Rawalpindi, one stop earlier. The Pindi stop was a bit longer. Sana’s neighbor who is deeply obsessed and knowledgable of trains told us about how they were changing the engine. So we got off on the platform in Pindi and walked around. I saw the National Book store in front of us, so naturally I ran over there. They did not have any translations of books from KPK or Balochistan. There is an entire half of the country not represented in any of these books stores outside their own province. Representation of Sindh are limited in Punjab’s book stores but there is still a little bit. Part of my interest in doing work based on different provinces and languages of Pakistan is to create films that can in a sense connect people to one another, for I feel that is sorely lacking.We hopped back on the train and rode the rest of the way to the small Islamabad station. After haggling with taxi drivers, Kristeen and I went to find the Pakistan National Arts Council while the rest went to take care of some visa work that was the purpose of the trip we had tagged along on.Information is such a problem. I looked up the addresses to each of the spots I wanted to visit before coming. I told the taxi driver this, but they had decided that it was in a different sector. Not knowing the area, I said fine. We drove through the first area and did not find it. Then we drove to the area I had mentioned, and found it after several security check points. The misdirection was not out of any kind of greed to make more money. The taxi was at an agreed upon rate and not on a meter. It is just tough to get reliable information here.The PNAC museum building was beautiful. I am amazed at the kinds of institutions that can be put together with government support. Islamabad seems to have no rickshaws and taxis are only in certain spots. Public transportation is tough. Kristeen and I checked out the galleries. The paintings were beautiful, featuring a handful of well known Pakistani artists for the most part. We were almost done walking through the painting galleries, when a worker there came up to us and asked us to go back out to the lobby as they were on lunch for 15 more minutes.It was nice that he was so on top of things that he had not noticed anyone was there until just then. So, we walked up to a photo gallery upstairs about a project in Badin, Sindh where an organization was helping to provide clean water pumps, hygiene and nutrition to some of the most disadvantaged people. It was not really a photography exhibit though. It was clearly not about the people either. It seemed to be purely about showing that donor money had been spent on helping at least 2 families in Badin.After looking at the photos, I asked about puppetry as the PNAC apparently has puppetry shows. The Lok Virsa, who deal with the culture of Pakistan had no interest in puppetry when I called them, and had referred me to PNAC as the organization to talk to about that. I could not find a working number for them at the time, so gave that up. Since I was here, I figured I should talk to them. One of the museum employees took us though several corridors of offices to introduce us to the people in charge of performing arts at PNAC.I talked to them for a bit. I asked them about the puppetry programs at PNAC. They did not seem to know what the schedule was, so after a bunch of digging around they told me there was supposed to be a program that day, but there was not for some reason. That was as satisfying an answer as I have become accustomed to. I had seen a few photos of their puppet performances. The puppets look fun. They are not traditional marionettes like the puppeteers in Multan use. Instead they are rod puppets, with rods on the arms, manipulated from below. The posters showed large audience around the country, and if you looked very closely, you could see a bit of the puppets on stage. From that, I basically said “So, you have rod puppets here, not the traditional marionettes.” They said yes. They had no knowledge of the puppeteers I spoke of.I gave them the web link to the directory I created for the Multan puppeteers and encouraged them to support them and bring them over. I told them what state they were in. I don’t think they are going to call them. I remember the Lok Virsa folks had asked me to come for free to perform puppetry at their festival as they had no funds. I explained that I am not a puppeteer, but the ones in Multan would be excellent for this. They did need to be paid however and that Lok Virsa should send someone out to see how they live in tents, filled with sewage brought in from the rains. Nothing came of that either.After that, we looked at the last bit of the paintings gallery. We were told that photography was not allowed by the lunch guy after seeing no signs and of course photographing lots of work in the gallery. The facility is great and to see some of these pieces was incredible, but as with my experiences in Sindh, even this organization was no different. There is so much squandered potential. How can people collect a salary and put so much effort into doing nothing? Judging from the schedule there are music, dance and puppetry performances that take place there, so there is something, but once again I felt sad and disappointed at the state of things.We stepped out and since the taxi was not allowed to stay in the secure, hard to get to area where this public arts institution was located, we had to find another means of transport. We walked around until we found some buses. We hopped on a little van that would get us to the area where the Lok Virsa museum was located.After a very long and bumpy ride, where we watched a young kid learning the ropes of being a conductor, we were dropped at another bus stop. We walked up a long road in the middle of a beautiful forest, where clearly no one walked. It took us a while, but eventually, we got to the museum only to learn along with everyone else that was visiting, that though the offices were open, the museum was not.There were some stalls around with artists working, so we visited them. Dejected, we made our way outside. By this point, several people had insisted to us that there was no Islamabad station, though that is where we had arrived and that the only way to get back was to go to the Rawalpindi station, and we would need some time for that. Our poor friends were dealing with visa stuff. They had their visa, but the date stamped was wrong.I convinced a taxi driver who was dropping and staying for a family to at least take us to the main road. We got there and got a cab. Both drivers had insisted that there was no Islamabad station and Pindi was it. I asked the driver how much, and he said I trust you, you tell me. So I told him and he agreed. We drove a long way for less than I paid to get from the Islamabad station to the PNAC. He pointed out a few buildings along the way and told us about them.We got to the Pindi station and waited. It turned out, our friends were able to get to the non existent Islamabad station. They boarded there and were on their way to the Pindi station where they would get us aboard the right car. This time we were in a berth. They had spent the day waiting for the Visa, only to get it with the wrong date stamped. We had gone to Lok Virsa only to find the museum closed though the facebook page said it should be open, and then due to the “non-existence” of the Islamabad station, we skipped going to Faisal Mosque. This is all pretty typical.The ride back was exhausting. We were all tired and the ride was never ending. We shared snacks and dozed off as much as possible to pass the time. The best part of the trip was these wonderful friends. I don’t think I would go back to Islamabad. I’ve had enough disappointment with these arts organizations. I find more support and inspiration through good friends and their networks of people who genuinely care.Exhausted, we grabbed a couple of rickshaws and head our separate ways.