The journalist wearing a custom made Pakistani fall dress, accepting her honor as she stepped up the Kodak Theatre stage, Hollywood, Sharmeen Obaid Chinnoy was all grinning as she spoke, “It is an indescribable feeling and is a dream come true! This is for all the budding filmmakers who think that their work will not be appreciated or recognized; if I can do it, so can you. Today, Pakistan was in the news for all the right reasons and I am thrilled that we are now recognized as artists and story tellers. Zakia, Rukhsana- this one is for you.”
Quite a feat with Dr Mohammad Jawed’s aid, a renowned British Pakistani surgeon and Daniel Jung’s coordination finally a Pakistani grasped the Oscar –something to feel when born with a golden spoon. I have to admit I have no affinity or personal liking for the prestigious Academy but it caught the eyes and swayed the heart when it soothed the ears that a Pakistani has done to deserve. Saving Face did turn out to be something encapsulating with new ventures and yet another dilemmatic fact unveiled to the world so dramatically.
Only about a year back, a friend of mine related how her brother succeeded in getting a students’ visa and that he’s currently doing Masters in Mechatronics from Tampa, Florida. Chit chatting laid-back on Skype, as she related (and literally laughed all off what she was yet to say as she continued) that an acquaintance approached him randomly asking about his previous whereabouts. Shocked or disgusted in his jeans, the South American commented, “Pakistan? You people throw acid on your women, right?”
Dumbfounded and shut up or smacked his head off the trunk, I sincerely don’t know but it did strike me into the ribs and my heart did shriek, like a kid’s persistently crunching your toe nails and you simply can’t do anything ‘cause his mum’s around. No, a better way to put it: somebody punching hard in your face and you can’t do anything about it ‘cause your own allies chained you down.
Yes, the perfect relation to squeeze my blabbering in a nutshell.
The effect a mere documentary inflicted was worth the applause and the Oscar alright. But the image on the projector nails Pakistan on yet another trivial affair a matter of immense heed –a dogmatic Pakistani psychology is painted in the foreign mind.
I disregard any perception taking birth in your brains that I refute further progress in this arena –never.
What I long to deliver is that Pakistan is a land of versatility, of prickly ranging contrasts: geographical, historical, rural-urban ration, literacy concentration, population web –even the human psyche –you name it.
This psyche being something I suppose you’ll render agreeable that it is all but displayed vastly all around the globe. Whether you tilt your head up and eye the Americans or lower it to the deplorable despondent Somalia compatriots, human psychology varies –and this includes treatment of women.
It wouldn’t raise any contradictions if I say that a woman is harassed in one part of the city and in another, many elites walk into this volunteering. Same is the case with a nation like mine. The story continues and yet the distinction is unavoidable.
Believe it or not, I myself am a Pakistani, a freelance writer and an outspoken heck of a girl and I’m quite sure no such notice to this effect will ever be issued to me and not to any of the civilized people I know.
Saving Face has projected an award winning thought, but the darker yet profoundly more visible side of the picture projects a wider unsafe face of Pakistan as a nation itself.