I have been watching India’s Dancing Superstar airing on Star Plus with great interest. This dance reality show has no limit of age or dance styles for its contestants. The amount of talent and creativity visible in the initial rounds was just incredible. Watching teenage girls and boys performing traditional dance forms such a kathak and bharatnatyam on contemporary tunes and melodies was an elevating experience. The amount of energy and passion that went into each performance of solo dancers and groups as big as 28 members could actually be felt through the TV screen. Although many contestants were perfect in their moves, some copying Michael Jackson so well you would think his ghost was there, judges chose only those who wowed them with their creativity. I was deeply moved and quite impressed how Indian culture elevated dance as a respected art form and unleashed immense talent among its people. Not so in Pakistan.
I grew up in a fairly conservative family, where everyone liked to watch dance, but made it a point to condemn it as un-Islamic. Chitrahaar, featuring songs from Bollywood flicks, was hugely popular with the young and old alike in the 1980s. But whenever an elder in my family wanted to express his/her religiosity, he/she would discourage watching Chitrahaar, because most songs featured dance sequences. Chitrahaar attracted an even bigger audience in Pakistan because General Ziaul Haq had banned dance on the state-owned Pakistan Television, which was the only television channel of Pakistan at the time. I grew up believing that most performing arts — acting, dance, singing — were sinful. However, it was hard to resist the allure of the arts. I thoroughly enjoyed stage plays at my school, auditioned to become part of the school choir, and was enthralled by the disco performance of my classfellow who is now a major in the Pakistan army. My entire family, like other normal people, loved PTV dramas. I grew up on a healthy diet of music on TV, cassettes and radio. Imagine what would happen if all music disappeared and nobody was allowed to sing or dance. Without these most basic expressions of inner joy, happiness and creativity, which are found in all cultures all over the world, people would probably go insane.
There has been a longstanding tradition of dance in areas that constitute Pakistan. Happy occasions are celebrated with ludi, bhangra, dhamal, jhoomer, attan, etc. However, these are all collective dance forms. There has been no tradition of individual expression, barring a few noble examples. One of them is Beena Jawad, who learned and taught kathak in an atmosphere where the state actively discouraged performing arts. I remember interviewing her for a magazine a few years ago. Her deep insights about dance as an artistic expression opened new avenues of thought about performing arts and their power in my mind. She said that Muslim rulers of the subcontinent treated dance as a pastime, not as an art. They liked dance, but looked down upon dancers. The double standards of Muslims were inherited by Pakistanis after the partition. We like to watch dance, but do not allow our children to pursue it seriously or make it a profession. The conflict of what we are really attracted to with our social values had grave consequences.
A society in which people suppress their inner voice and do not express their natural instincts and urges becomes sick. “We suppress ourselves for fear of social disapproval. If you do or avoid something out of fear, you’d not be psychologically balanced, nor would you have self-confidence. It is very important to express ourselves,” said Ms Jawad. Whereas Indian dancers performed internationally and earned respect for their country as an art-loving nation from around the world, an entire generation in Pakistan grew up without appreciation of dance as a creative expression. Could there be a link between the spread of violence, intolerance and extremism in Pakistan’s society and the suppression of the performing arts? It is quite possible, because expressing oneself creatively connects us to our inner self. When we lose touch with our inner self, we get lost in the maze of external dictates. We Pakistanis seem to have got lost in that maze and become extremely angry and irritated. Still we are so afraid of diving within ourselves and discovering what lies there.
I remember attending a function on Women’s Day in Lahore when Pakistan was experiencing the backlash of the Lal Masjid operation. Participants expressed concern about the rise in suicide bombings. When it was Salima Hashmi’s turn to speak, she said it was such a critical time, we should all perform dhamal and immerse within ourselves. I was stunned by her insight. An artist herself, Ms Hashmi understands that the gigantic problems of Pakistan cannot be addressed through cosmetic measures. Angry and irritated people, who have lost touch with their inner selves, cannot bring any change. These problems demand creative solutions. Creativity can be unleashed when we encourage it to surface through the arts. An artist not only relishes her connect with her inner self, she also elevates and inspires the onlooker. Art neutralises negative energy and creates organic changes in thinking patterns. All prophets used one or the other art form to convey their message and inspire their followers. But how can we be creative when we are so trained in suppressing ourselves?
It is time we educated our youth that there is nothing wrong in following your heart. We cannot live our lives by following others’ wishes. We must creatively express our desires and recognise our true selves. It is indeed time to perform dhamal.
The writer is a freelance journalist based in Washington, DC. She tweets at @ishrats and can be reached at [email protected]