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I have waited very long to talk about "THE BIGGEST NEWS EVENT OF THE CENTURY" because I didn't want to impinge on anyone's turf. So many people had to validate themselves first about what the Sheikh's Steven Segal-esque death meant for our country, people, identity and toilet sign culture that I felt it was prudent to wait.
Now that it’s done, let me have my say.
Isn’t it funny that whether you hate the ISI or love the ISI, you don't/can't believe the official narrative of what happened that fateful night in Abbotabad? (Most people do however accept @RealyVirtual's version, which considering his contradictory handle, is also remarkable.)
But what does it matter what your personal opinion is really?
I mean, other than the mirrors you set up in our social circle who reflect our own views, no one else even gets to hear it, and it's not going to affect a single thing any time soon, largely because we enjoy hearing the sound of our own voice more than believing in what we say.
Yet in our country, we think it's very important to not only have an opinion, but also the 'right' one. Anyone you speak to will always give you this smug low-down of 'what really happens'.
In the long run, being right all the time requires the most cynical, pessimistic outlook, because you can take a look at anything in this world, and spot a flaw, point to it, and use it to feel 'right'.
"Look! We won the world cup!" "Yes, but should we really be celebrating, considering the state of our education/morality/sovereignty/image?"
I suppose it should be a matter of pride for us that we have taken this sort of negativity to an art form, but as the Beatles said:
"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out. It doesn’t matter much to me."
It's not easy being Pakistani, I'll give you that. But don't take apart things just so that you can be right.
Take critics in Pakistan - they seem to think that you can't critique without criticising. That without pointing flaws, you won't be able to display your intelligence. With just a few days left before Coke Studio Season 4 airs, that nit-picking is out in full force.
And that bothers me.
It bothers me because I can accept arguments based on the music and performances - like whether the use of synths represents a leitmotif, or a resort to formula; whether a certain artist has been pushed beyond their comfort zone, and if they have managed to survive in that stratosphere.
But even with these there is a limit.
If I must discuss something that makes me feel, makes me react, makes me want to communicate and contemplate (whether it is positively or negatively) I want to understand its inspirations, its design, its process, its ambition.
Coke Studio is not entertainment; it is not your new ring tone, or your facebook status. It is not the way to measure cohesion or television ratings, it is not your pick up line or your method of battling extremism - although it is all of these things as well.
At the heart of it, it’s an event where our music is literally retransforming itself, finding itself in new voices and colors, being heard by new ears and new minds. Coke Studio is taking songs from across our collective consciousness and reimagining them, and that is something that is not merely significant, it marks a new epoch. It marks a time where we all bear witness to how our culture is taking on new forms, and exploring new avenues.
Forget the debate of which season was better. For starters, and indulge my pseudo-sociology here, the fans of the earlier season only champion it because most of them missed it, and caught on to it when it became 'cool'. But more importantly, where Season 2 went for the audacious big hits and scored huge, Season 3 dared its acolytes to resist their temptation for pyrotechnics and go even deeper into the Music. However Season 4 goes, it’s not going to be lacking ambition, it’s not going to be playing safe, it’s not going to be radio-friendly.
It's easy to think of a season and ogle at the stars, but what makes this show so much more is that there have been less obvious songs, less obvious singers who have left behind works that will last longer than the lease on your DHA plot. Think Moomal Rano, think Kuch Ajab Khel, think Na Raindee Hai, think Nawai Ney, think Rona Chor Diya, (and my guilty pleasure, Kaise Mumkin Hai.)
And at the end of the day, as much as it’s a show and an ideology and a manifestation of late capitalism and expropriation of subaltern cultures, it's music. Which needs to be heard and then heard again. In our much-maligned nation, music is what makes us feel, what speaks for us when we stay silent, what expresses our hopes and desires.
Music is what gives us beauty. Don't bore me with discussions of whether it's beautiful enough.
The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.
He tweets @karachikhatmal
