Category: self-authored

my review: a woman under the influence

‘a woman under the influence’ is absolute genius. the writing and direction by john cassavetes is seamless, compacted, organic. gena rowlands, who is at the center of the film, is fearless and original – an erratic woman on the verge of a mental breakdown. she finds an equal partner in peter falk who delivers a surprising performance as her violent, temperamental husband. he misreads her unfailingly, and all he can do when he gets frustrated is to yell or strike. she on the other hand, resorts to over the top, neurotic behavior. it’s as if they lack the social vocabulary to express themselves and communicate with each other.

it’s also that mental health was seen quite differently in the 60s and 70s. same time frame as ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ when electroshock therapy was common.

the kids are incredible. their scenes with rowlands beautiful, filled with immense tenderness and intimacy.

i was shocked to find out later that the film is 2 hr 26 min long. one is so caught up in the chaos onscreen, that time flies. as it often does in real life.

intl women’s day 2023

on international women’s day, a thank u to the woman at the center of my life. my mother. a lifeline for all four of us growing up in brussels, islamabad, quetta, karachi, lahore, and then many cities in the US. three of us women, all of us expected to excel, to go to competitive schools, have careers, be able to support ourselves, to fight for our rights and the rights of others. the struggle continues. thank u ammi <3

back in new york

it’s difficult to leave pakistan. to leave family and friends and their extraordinary warmth and generosity. people have hard lives in pakistan. it’s not an easy place to navigate or survive. yet it’s saturated with vibrant colors, sounds, textures, tastes, smells, stories, music, poetry, languages, complicated histories, legacies, and constant human contact. the air is filled with this polyphonic mishmash and emotion. it’s something one lives and breathes. returning to the west feels like being stripped of rich human drama, a thick sensorial ether, the full-throated experience of life’s ebb and flow. everything uncluttered, systemized and scrubbed, but lacking soul and connection. antiseptic. oh, i know pakistan can drive one crazy. i know i will get used to the ease and conveniences of the west again. but right now, i feel loss.

art and cafe beirut

yesterday pakistani art at artsoch contemporary and ejaz gallery and then a delicious lunch at cafe beirut in gulberg. we had mutabal (an eggplant dip with a smoky flavor, sprinkled with pomegranate seeds), arayes (grilled pita stuffed with spiced ground beef, onions and parsley, a street food), and om ali, which i fell in love with in oman (it means mother of ali, a traditional egyptian bread pudding, layered with puff pastry, milk, and cream, flavored with rose water and sprinkled with lots of nuts). in the evening i took my parents and daughter to see a play at alhamra. more about that later.

badshahi mosque

badshahi mosque, lahore fort, and lunch at cooco’s den in old lahore with my bacha. the mosque is so beautiful it moved me to tears. commissioned by mughal emperor aurangzeb. built between 1671 and 1673. majestic. grand. but in constant dialogue with its surroundings. every arch a different framing of the mosque and courtyard. the proportions perfection. the artistic taste level divine. breathtaking beauty.

always in my heart dear zainab

pyari zainab, i cannot believe that you left us so soon. i am heartbroken dearest. you will always be a sweet girl to me. the one who brought her girls over, whenever i was in lahore. you wanted us to be close, even though we lived across oceans. how will i meet you this time?

i know there were struggles. i know how much you missed your dear mom and dad, our smiling phuppo aunty iffie and our soft-spoken phuppa. it will be so hard for your daughters. you were the center of their universe. for once, i have no words. just infinite sorrow.

inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un. surely we belong to god, and to god we return.

adania shibli in lahore

back at the lahore literary festival. wonderful to hear palestinian writer adania shibli talk about her stunning book, minor detail. not sure about the panel – she was paired with william sieghart, a british entrepreneur, publisher and philanthropist, who kept talking about the ‘conflict’ and how dialogue can solve all problems.

so glad adania addressed the use of language and her issues with the word conflict. it’s colonialism, she said. she explained how language can become complicit in a crime, how it can disappear it, and that there is no dearth of dialogue between palestinians and israelis – there is constant contact but it’s a certain kind of interaction, based on power differentials, where palestinians are forced to confront and challenge power structures day in, day out.

adania spoke about her love for the arabic language, how playful, free, and open it is. how important it is to palestinians. ‘adab’ in arabic means both literature and ethics. she also spoke about translation and how it’s essential, even in english, to create a scarred language with a memory of arabic.

finally, she talked a lot about narration and silences. the impossibility of narrating. the linear structure (beginning, middle, end) is not accessible to palestinians, therefore she can only imitate coherence. it’s better to accept silence rather than put words in someone’s mouth. we come to language from two sides of silence – both the reader and writer engage with language in silence.

my favorite session so far.

lahore literary festival

landed at the lahore literary festival today (thx for letting me know saira). went to alhamra to listen to daisy rockwell whose translation of “tomb of sand” by geetanjali shree won the booker prize, historian corinne lefèvre whose book “consolidating empire: power and elites in jahangir’s india (1605–1627)” resets the history of jahangir’s rule, mohsin hamid who talked about “the last white man” (a book i have read), and finally nobel laureate abdulrazak gurnah who discussed his work in: across centuries and continents, colonialism and the fate of the refugee in the gulf between cultures and continents.

obviously, i was thrilled by a discussion on decolonizing literature and history, and so i wanted to ask mr gurnah about writing in english and the complications of producing decolonial literature in an imperial language. i referenced ngugi wa thiong’o’s “decolonizing the mind” and how he describes the disconnect between a colonized person’s mind and body – the mind functions in the colonial language while the body remains stuck in its native tongue. as colonized people ourselves, here in south asia, i was hoping to engage in an interesting discussion, but mr gurnah became defensive. perhaps he thought this was a personal attack on his work. he didn’t really address my question, saying simply that he didn’t agree with me or with ngugi who was welcome to do his own thing. i was hoping for more nuance and engagement.

anyway, later in the day i was approached by a woman who didn’t seem to be pakistani. she recognized me and said my question truly spoke to her and her husband, esp the idea of the mind-body split. they are french-speaking algerians and understand what it means to think and write in the language of the colonizer. there was an immediate connection between us. we talked about the algerian war of independence and frantz fanon. finally.

mohsin hamid being interviewed