People whose bread and butter is entertainment programming are looking worried these days, and no wonder. They’re amongst the people who are suffering the most the after effects of all the myriad changes that have taken place in Pakistan over the past year and a half. While the rest of us are celebrating the return to democracy and speculating about exactly how much belt tightening will be required in the coming months and years, those poor television producers and their staffs are already feeling the pinch.

It’s a situation difficult enough to make strong men quail. For one thing, the shift in the way the country’s economic policies and prospects are conceptualised and managed – the move away from the Shaukat Aziz government’s consumerist approach – have hit the television industry’s budgets hard. Professionals in the field say that advertisers are already cutting down on how much they’re willing to spend to convince people to buy this or that product, which is quite understandable given that a fair few are finding that their petty cash boxes are not as full as they had previously thought. As a result, television channels are facing shrinking revenues, which makes them far less willing to hand over hard cash for a new sitcom or series, no matter how good. With 24 hours of airtime to fill up per channel, the focus seems to be turning towards quantity rather than quality. And this is bad news for private producers and their teams in particular, since the rates at which their products were being bought by the channels were far too low even in the good years. And, meanwhile, some channels have already had to fold altogether, while a few others are facing imminent closure. That means, of course, that there are fewer avenues to air entertainment programming.

But the salt on the wound is the fact that over the past year and a half, viewers have become hooked on to news programming and have had little leisure or desire to be amused. Since the Musharraf government tried to forcibly remove the country’s chief justice last March, it has been a roller coaster ride for this country. Every day brought new twists, turns and tragedies, and keeping up with events was about all that the bemused citizenry could do. For obvious reasons, few people were watching soaps or sitcoms on May 12 last year, or on October 18, for example. The head of the country had literally declared war against anyone who dared disagree with him, and the roads were filled with tear gas and protestors. Citizens were being beaten and arbitrarily arrested, their leaders were being publicly humiliated and the institutions of the state turned against the very ones whom they were created to protect. And let us not forget the assassination of Benazir, a tragedy that even the most hardened of cynics could not fail to recognise.

Things appear to have calmed down a little since the elections and Musharraf’s retirement, but we are very far from being a nation that can sit back and enjoy the show – unless, of course, one takes the political circus as the entertainment of the day. The manner in which things have unravelled since the change in government show, quite clearly, that the Musharraf dispensation had been holding it all together with spit alone. A growing number of people are actively being pushed below the poverty line, a civil war of sorts is under way and all of us, even the most privileged, are feeling the pinch. Sadly for the makers of entertainment programming, few people are in the mood to watch what they are producing.

There may be a lesson in this, though. It could be that the time has now come for television shows to reflect more accurately the lives and times of the viewers. Perhaps people are not watching entertainment programming because they have tired of a glamourised, idiot box version of events. The time may be ripe to create programming that reflects the concerns of the citizenry in a meaningful way.

— hmumtaz@dawn.com

As buildings go, they often don’t have much to say about themselves. Who they’ve housed; what they were used for, anything. Buildings make for poor storytellers. They could say much, they’ve witnessed a great deal but as Goethe said of architecture being frozen music, seemingly a building’s voice is as still as its form.

In Melody Market if you ever happen to pass by the old cinema there, you wouldn’t really know its story. With neither sign nor notice, (for there is no longer any need) it can almost be missed, I am sure very few of us remember it’s even there. As old as Islamabad, the cinema for better or worse had been in service often to only a handful of patrons. In 2003, the owner Attique Khattak decided to spruce up the place and started screening the latest movies. Audiences came in their droves.

But on October 6, 2003, the building met a fiery end. Sparked by a sectarian killing, incensed students from the local madressah went amok, vandalizing Melody Market. The Food Street was overrun; a petrol station was trashed and in a moment of misdirected ire or possibly even deliberately, the Melody Cinema was torched with the loss of one of its employee’s. Though it did not burn to the ground, the cinema itself was gutted. Unfortunate as this event was, it was the death knell of the cinema and it closed its doors to the public.The Earthquake of October 2005 wrought devastation on a scale that was biblical. It struck suddenly and reduced towns to rubble in minutes. The might with which it struck was humbling and reminded us how Acts of God are so very often the worst. Through this tragedy though, one thing that shone throughout were the people. If ever ones faith in people was restored especially that of Pakistanis, it was in the moment’s right after the quake. The outpouring of help, of sentiment was simply remarkable. Selflessness had been unfurled and the way it swept the nation was often enough infectious. Thousands of volunteers came pouring in, devoting their time and money in anyway possible. Foreign or domestic, it would not be a stretch to say that the peoples response was greater then that of governments.

One such volunteer was Ms Nafeesa Khattak. Having started a collection point of relief goods at her home, she along with her friends and family had mobilized within hours of the quake, sending aid to the affected areas. As was common knowledge at the time, hospitals receiving the injured were overwhelmed. The sheer number of patients and the range of their injuries were too much for many of the local hospitals. Above all, there was concern for those who had suffered spinal injuries. The majority were women who at the time of the quake were indoors and were caught under collapsed roofs and walls. These women were in a particularly precarious state. Even though many had been operated upon, they were still in need of vital post–op care.

Paraplegics are especially prone to complications and a little carelessness or even ignorance can have fatal results. Visiting PIMS, Ms Khattak realized this. The hospital was unable to cope and similar cases were coming in by the day, something had to be done. Where these patients could be taken?

Since the arson attack, Melody Cinema had been vacant, an empty husk of a building with only its charred walls as a reminder of what had happened. Ms Khattak thought why not take these women there? Conferring with her son, Attique and her brother-in-law, Hasan Ahmed Ozgen, the trio agreed to the idea but the building itself was still decrepit. It had to be cleaned up and made livable. It had to be furnished, it had to be staffed. Within days of their decision, volunteers came rolling in. Ali Omer Alvi, an architect offered to restore the building and do so on his own dime. Mr Ozgen provided all the furnishing enough for more then a hundred people. 2 weeks later the centre was up and running and on October 22, 2006, the centre, christened Melody Relief and Rehabilitation Centre (MRRC) took in its first patients.

The idea behind it was to provide these women with the right post-op care as well as assist in their rehabilitation. The centre was run like any other hospital with trained nurses, a doctor (Ms Farah Tabassum), physiotherapists (Milestone) and a host of consulting medical professionals and practioners.

One such individual was Dr Asif Malik who paid all the lab expenses of the patients for the time that they were there. Others such as Husein Qureshi, Col Iqbal Qureshi, Azra Tariq, Shabnam Ahmed, Mr Aqeel, Mr Abrar, Dr Fareed, the Poor Patients Welfare Society and scores of others also helped a great deal. At its peak, the centre provided for 72 patients who each had a family member staying with them as an attendant. In some cases whole families including males (around 40-50) were staying with the patients and were cared for by the centre. Medicine, food, clothing, even daily massages by senior volunteers (women in their 50s and 60s) were given. The patients themselves were given the utmost treatment, even being bought sewing machines and given vocational training. Tutors were also hired for those that studied. It was an all-round effort and no expense was spared. But it too had an end. From the Prime Minister down to various Ministers as well, all had paid a visit and promised much to the patients but delivered little. It was later on decided that the patients must now be taken under the government’s wing and on February 11, 2006, the government took charge of the patients and transferred them to the National Institute for the Handicapped. It was worth mentioning that the arrangements made at the institute were so lacking that the MRRC had to provide almost all the necessaries for the patients for up to two months but then that is of course a separate story in itself.

If you are wondering who supported this centre and how it treated the patients so well then the answer is: you and me. Everyday people who wanted to chip in and help. Local businessmen like Mr. Ahsan Imtiaz Bhatti and Mr. Mohsin Hyatt provided two meals daily for all the patients for almost 3 months. Groups of Sikh Yatrees visited and donated money to the patients themselves. Various foreign missions donated on a monthly basis. Pakistanis from all over the world came in their groves to volunteer and contribute. Even those who could only spare a hundred rupees gave. It was heartfelt. But these were not the only instances of humanity. There are almost too many to mention, nameless Samaritans who devoted themselves to these patients. Special acknowledgment though must be paid to Ms Khattak and Mr Ozgen. The latter, owner of Rahat Woollen Mills took a leave of four months from his responsibilities to administer the centre. Day and night, he would be there often forgoing family commitments and even spending Eid day with the patients instead of his family. Ms Khattak, tireless in her resolve spent almost 14 hours a day attending to the patients and the centre in general. She was the real heart of the centre and in recognition of her efforts was given a Presidential award. Over the 4 months that the centre was open, it was able to rehabilitate 22 of its patients who partially recovered, those who were permanently paralyzed were taught well enough to function independently.

Through these efforts, the centre garnered international acclaim with media coverage from the likes of the New York Times, BBC, CNN, MTV, the Oprah Winfrey Show, Al-jazeera International and dozens of others.

Even George Bush Sr. on his tour of the affected areas had schedule a visit but was later on cancelled due to security concerns. It was a much-lauded endeavor. But as Mr Ozgen puts it, ‘we were recognized more by the media abroad then here’. Even after 3 years, on the anniversaries no less, no mention was given of the centre. Their efforts and their sacrifices were ignored.

All those, especially those of Islamabad failed to earn a single mention. Though their labors were not made for gain or celebrity it is upon us to remember them for that are more important then mere applause. We must remember all those who responded to the affected with altruism and dedication. They are spread across this city and they are its unsung heroes.

So next time whenever you happen to chance by Melody Cinema, think of it kindly for those bare walls were witness to much.

The writer is a freelance contributor and can be reached at: ides_of_march@hotmail.com