Instead of regulating the electronic media, Pemra applies a stranglehold on the electronic media and that, too, only on one medium, TV channels
A TEENAGE boy approached his grandfather, a stalwart of the Pakistan Movement, and asked, “Dada, I like Sunil Shetty and Hrithik Roshan’s films. Does that imply I do not love my country?
The perplexed grandfather replied, “Better ask Pemra.”
After challenging your patriotism in the newspapers, Pemra is no more an enigmatic abbreviation. It stands for Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority. Everyone in Pakistan had believed that first of all Pemra would clamp a ban on cigarette advertisements from radio and television. Serious studies suggest that cigarette smoking is the initial step towards heroin addiction. Pemra lets cigarette advertisements go on air from radio and television. The educators in Pakistan had hoped that Pemra would insist on allocation of at least one-fourth of airtime from radio and television for informal and non-formal education, and for supplementing and complementing formal education at all levels. The hopes of the Pakistani people in Pemra were dashed.
Instead of regulating the electronic media, Pemra, in fact, applies a stranglehold on the electronic media, and that too only on one medium, TV channels. They have never ever bothered about radio. Their cool and detached attitude towards radio belies the universally accepted verdict of media guru Marshal McLuhan that radio is a hot medium. Radio in Pakistan has achieved universal coverage. Dry cell-operated cheap radio sets have spread radio broadcasts to every nook and cranny of the country. Television is available to a small segment of the society. Pemra doesn’t bother about radio broadcasts received in Pakistan from abroad. It is overawed by the glamour of television.
In the scheme of the Supreme Creator, men living in different geographical territories are bestowed with different distinctive qualities of head and heart. The physique, colour of skin and eyes, hair, language and culture differentiate communities from one another. Some communities are proven submissive and meek. Some communities happen to be aggressive and arrogant. Some countries excel in innovations in the field of science and technology. Some communities exhibit prowess at the highest level in histrionics, arts, performing arts, visual arts, choreography, cinematography and music. There are communities in the world that have given mankind philosophers, thinkers, scholars, writers and poets, who perpetually influence generations after generations in the quest for the ultimate Truth. This is how the Almighty has so arranged the array of mankind.
Thus, we are exposed to unsavoury truth of grading in human beings according to the qualities of head and heart. The grading exists among everything and anything animate or inanimate. How would you rate Taj Mahal among the world heritage of historical monuments?
Do you think qualitatively all mangoes are just mangoes? In the grading system, Choansa is considered the best mango among the variety of mangoes grown in Pakistan. In the opinion of the connoisseurs, Sindhuri and Anwar Ratol, too, are equally good in taste, and together three qualitatively best mangoes dominate the national and international market. Although horses are horses, but in rating and grading Arabian horses are unanimously considered the best horses in the world. How can we deny that human beings are exempted from rating and grading according to their performance in the field of science and technology, arts and performing arts, and literature?
The dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945 not only culminated the Second World War, the savage act devastated the culturally rich Japan. For five years, up to 1950, the Japanese nation was in trauma. Meanwhile, we carved out our country, Pakistan, from British India in 1947. During the next five years, from 1950 to 1955, the Japanese rose from the ashes and commenced the reconstruction of their great country. The age of post-war Japan actually begins from 1955. Pakistan’s age begins from 1947. Hypothetically, modern Japan is eight years younger to Pakistan. Should we undertake comparison between the two countries and make a laughing stock of ourselves?
For fear of being branded an Indian agent, I would not compare the quantity and the quality of films annually produced in India and Pakistan. I would not discuss the number of theatres, cinemas, art galleries, performing arts’ institutions, colleges and the universities that teach music, choreography and cinematography in our country and India.
In 1962, the forerunners of Pemra had banned showing of Indian films in Pakistan on the pretext of saving our film industry from competition. Performance improves when faced with tough competition. During the competitive years, Pakistan’s film industry had produced some superb films like Ghunghat, Neend and Susral. Has the performance of our film industry, qualitatively and quantitatively, improved during the last 40 years? Our deserted cinema houses collapsed. Thousands of families earning livelihood from the cinema houses plunged into poverty. Our rich cinema culture withered. A handful of bureaucrats in Ayub Khan’s era deprived the entire Pakistani people of the entertainment they had enjoyed from pre-Partition days.
Now, Pemra has redefined the parameters for assessing patriotism of a Pakistani. It is simple. If you watch Indian TV channels, you will put your patriotism in jeopardy.
The bewildered grandfather walked up to his grandson, and asked, “Pota, I enjoy listening to the melodious songs of late K.L. Saigol, Jagmohan and Mukesh. Does that in anyway imply I do not love my country, the one I had struggled for?”
The grandson smiled, and said, “Better ask Pemra.”
