| KaraFilms
Friday, February 06, 2009 by Harris Khalique We used to live on the Garden Road in the 1970s and 80s, on the part that connected M A Jinnah Road with the Zoo. The strip was not that long but had trees on both sides whose thick foliage would stretch relaxingly to meet each other and give shade to pedestrians and onlookers.
The cars and minibuses plying on the road underneath were also saved from the hot summer sun by some old neems and banyans which had a large presence, whether they were on the left or the right side of the road. The place had more than half-a-dozen cinema halls at walking distance. Reno, which showed cheap, near-rated films to students during the matinee and rickshaw drivers and small traders in the evening, was just off Garden Road. Across M A Jinnah Road were Bambino, Scala (with a smaller screen) and Lyric. Turning left on M A Jinnah would take you to Prince, Nishat and Capri with Naz on the same side as Bambino. In these cinemas, the best of popular Hollywood was shown besides box-office hits from Pakistani cinema. Films, good or bad, were screened, liked, disliked and discussed.
Except for an all-male Reno, it was a family affair. Love birds would also be seen in the stalls and boxes above or beside us and we would eavesdrop and giggle before being snubbed by an aunt who would be more interested in Humphrey Bogart than the young banker sitting behind her with his first date. I was particularly privileged because my father would get passes to some of the premieres or otherwise. Big-screen cinema for free. What a treat for a youngster. I know, if not to the extent of what it was like in Karachi and Lahore, other cities had similar facilities. I remember being taken to Hilltop and Chandni cinemas whenever I visited my uncle and aunt in Hyderabad.
My father was a filmmaker specialising in documentaries. His primary medium was 35mm with prints sometimes available in 16mm as well. A few of his own films were first shown in Bambino, Scala and Nishat. Sometimes we would have tea with chicken patties and sandwiches from Pereira’s bakery afterwards. Those were the times when film festivals from countries like Turkey, Iran, Poland and the USSR were also hosted in some of these cinemas. We would go there and watch. I found it a little disturbing as a child because of my struggle with subtitles. But my father took me along to many of these events. I also remember him taking the extended family to watch Hasan Tariq’s Umrao Jan Ada in a cinema hall called Nayab in Nazimabad. Rani was at her best in that film and we were enthralled by her dance performances. The entertainment was not for the rich alone and most cinemas were multi-class public spaces with families enjoying themselves.
Enough has been written about what happened to public life in Pakistan, how we came to the stage where we are now with the onus to be put squarely on the shoulders of the indifferent, corrupt and myopic elite and affluent middle class. The older generation becoming less scrupulous in their pursuit of profit and the younger becoming more modern but less civilised.
In this scenario, hats off to my dear friend Hasan Zaidi, himself a talented filmmaker and a leading social commentator, who with his team has established the most amazing KaraFilm Festival, the seventh being held these days. This recognised international film festival, which also travels at times to Islamabad and Lahore, has enriched the cultural life of this country. The festival is kept alive after two cancellations in 2007 and 2008 due to civic unrest and Benazir’s assassination. Hasan was ditched at the last moment last year by a leading company, one of the main sponsors. He faced lukewarm response of the incumbent government till the end. KaraFilm Society still needs support but Hasan, his wife Tahira Hasan, Maheen Zia and Adnan Malik have made us proud by not giving up.
The writer is an Islamabad-based poet and rights campaigner. Email: harris@spopk.org |
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