Adil Najam

This post should really have Owais Mughal’s by-line at the top. You will see in a minute why it does not (I wanted to talk about him and other ATP authors).

First, about the picture. Owais took this in Karachi last week and it beautifully combines his enduring passion in rickshaws and an interest in the unusual. We wondered what the appropriate title may be. One thought was ‘The Blind Leading the Lame’ (the ‘blind’ referring to the daredevil driving attitude of some rickshaw drivers; although this one seems to be not so!). Another thought was: ‘Rickshay pay ricksha, darr ricksha.’ Readers, any suggestions?

And now to some nice news about this and other Pakistani blogs.

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Adil Najam

If this was not so horrific and heart wrenching as it is, one could go on and on about the pangs of love and all the poetry about how lovers have to be ready to bear the pain that society would inflict upon them. But because this is as sad a story as it is, all I can think of is “cheeti doRReiN way tabeeba…” (come fast, my doctor).

This is a painful story. So, if you are weak of stomach, stop reading. This is not a story about religion or about custom or about culture. It is a story about jahaalat… nirri jahalat. The roots of this are exactly the same as the roots of our earlier post about how Shagufta got killed.

According to the Daily Times (4 January, 2006):

Armed men cut off the ears and nose of a man who married a woman from their tribe against their will, after he and his family refused to hand her over, police said on Wednesday. The attackers also chopped off the ears of the man’s brother, while severing his mother’s hand in the latest reported “honourâà ƒÂ¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¡Ã‚¬Ã‚? crime in the country’s conservative rural areas.

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Adil Najam

At various points and during various discussions on ATP readers have debated just when ‘pop music’ arrived in Pakistan. Some have suggested Vital Signs as the beginning, others have argued that the first step was from Nazia and Zohaib Hassan, and yet others take it further back to Alamgir and Mohammad Ali Shehki. Each, of course, was an icon of their time and shaped the music that was to follow them.

For me, however, the birth of ‘popular pop’ came with Ahmad Rushdi; especially when he teamed up with Waheed Murad. We have argued here that Waheed Murad might have been the very first ‘heart throb’ hero of Pakistan. Let me now suggest that Ahmad Rushdie defined ‘kool’ as much as Waheed Murad and that Ahmad Rushdie was the first real Pop Superstar of Pakistan.

More than that Co Co Corina – or is it Ko Ko Korina – is the definitive and defining Pakistani Pop song. Not only was it the first superhit pop song but it remains an icon for its generation and for Pakistani pop music in general.

I guess it should be clear by now that I really like this song. Take a look and listen; and hear and see why.

Waheed Murad, as you can see, is in his ‘Elvis Presley of Pakistan’ mode here. For another glimpse of that mood see the video in our previous post on Waheed Murad.

By way of a parting note, I should add that even though I have expressed my own bias against what I have called the ‘hilna jullna’ style of singing I am not only not averse to but am actually partial to a good ‘performance’, as long as the singing is not compromised by the ‘hilna julna’. This video is not just nostalgic but also meets that test of fun performance combined with good singing.