When Icon last spoke to Khaled Anam for a feature on the lack of homegrown entertain-ment for children (Little People, Big Problems; September 8, 2019), he was infuriated with the entertainment industry in Pakistan. The list of naysayers and hinderers he had were long, if I remember correctly. Early last month though, he seems to have found a way to get even with everyone.

With no fake publicity or feigned fanfare, Anam has silently launched Ceep — an entertainment channel on YouTube, Facebook and Instagram for pre-school children. Without spending a dime on advertising, the channel has over 20,000 views, and 2,000 subscribers on YouTube. He tells me the numbers are quite good for such a low-key launch of a channel that has barely been out there for a month.

As we talk, Anam tells me that this is not the same project he had mentioned the last time we spoke.

“Basically Misbah Khaled [whom, he told me, he was working with at the time] was busy, and although she’s a lovely, dear friend of mine, but we just couldn’t sit together and start it off. The name — Ceep — is the same because I had chosen the name earlier, however, it’s not the same project. Initially, with Misbah, Ceep was [the abbreviation of] Children Entertainment Education Party, but I’ve changed it to Children’s Education and Entertainment Portal. The content and everything about it are new,” he clarifies.

With four decades of entertainment work behind him — most of it for children — Anam has had enough of people just talking about stuff, he tells me.

With four decades of entertainment work behind him — most of it for children — Khaled Anam has had enough of people just talking and doing nothing. He’s launched his own YouTube channel for children, Ceep

“I’ve been wanting to do something for children, I’ve been telling people to do something for children, but what prompted me, encouraged me, was when I was doing children’s theatre, and I noticed that there is so much you can deliver to children through entertainment,” he says.

“This way the message really hits hard, it really achieves the target, it really hits the bull’s eye. So, the philosophy behind Ceep [Seashell in Urdu], is that I believe our children, regardless of cast creed and religion, are the pearls of the country. Much like an oyster nurtures a pearl to create expensive masterpieces, I believe Ceep would embark on the same path, starting with pre-school children and teaching them numbers and songs through music.”

Ceep is beginning with the basics — a small, enjoyable collection of two-three minute songs on Urdu alphabets (Alif, Bay, Pay), numbers (Aik, Do, Teen), counting (Dus Peeli Battakhein), a cute, small elephant (Chhota Sa Haathi), cleanliness (Saaf Karein Pakistan) and beginning things with God’s name (Alif Say Allah).

With an animator bringing his songs to life, Anam plans to release one song every week. With over 3,000 songs ready to go (in numerical terms, that’s over 57 years of content to produce), he has a great big catalogue to put out … however, one shouldn’t think of Ceep as just a pre-school project.

“It’s a very far-reaching programme, so initially I’m going to start off with the seeds [young children], nurturing them, letting them sprout, and then we’ll move on to 10-year-olds, teenagers — I’ve got songs for teenagers as well.”

Teaching at universities (currently in sabbatical, he was the Head of Department, Mass Communication at Greenwich University) and meeting with big-wigs in the education sector, Anam feels that one should start with the basics, because the country doesn’t have uniformity in its education system.

“I’ve been stressing, talking to different people in education departments, on our need to have a very potent, singular, primary education commission. There is a divide. As children grow up, the divide becomes wider and wider, and wider. We’ve been hearing it from our childhood, that yeh English medium hai, yeh Urdu medium hai, yeh burger hai, yeh bun-kabab hai, yeh paindoo hai [he’s an English medium, he’s from Urdu medium, he’s from an affluent family, he’s a small town hick] — this is not right for a country. That’s why the basics need to be corrected,” Anum says, speaking about the broad significance of his work, and the societal norms he wants to correct though his endeavours.

Ceep also has another agenda, he tells me: the proliferation of Urdu.

“Everyone needs to learn their own mother language, their national language. Why should one feel degraded talking in Urdu? Why must one feel, ‘Oh, I’m so English medium’. Have you not seen people talking in wrong English rather than talking in Urdu? Let’s leave the common people aside, even our political leaders, when they go abroad, they look like dumb idiots trying to muster up words in English when talking to heads of states. They should talk in Urdu.”

This is a big undertaking, one that could have benefitted from governmental or institutional support. Anam had pitched the idea of launching a kids’ channel to PTV.

“I didn’t get any response from them. It’s been two years since I pitched them the idea for a kids’ channel — they had asked for it — but I’m guessing that it probably went over their heads.

“I remember when I used to be the national coordinator for the Duke of Edinburgh awards in Pakistan, working with Prince Phillip and Prince Edwards, our international trustee was M.A. Rangoonwala, who used to tell me in lovely Burmese-accented Urdu, that ‘Tumnay jab kaam kharab karna hoga, to tum government ko involve karlo [When you wanted to bungle up a job, involve the government]’.

“I’m sorry, but they don’t have any vision,” Anam continues, his voice getting worked up. “It’s an irony. They don’t know. None of the channels know. I’ve spoken to each and every channel. I’ve told them that I wouldn’t even charge you, just give me one hour daily, I’ll do it for free. They said, ‘oh, we can’t sell it’. I’ve told them: You can’t sell everything. Your children should not be for sale. This is for the future of your children. I really get angry. They’re stupid people. And this cliched line I get to hear:‘kuchh different karein, kuchh different karein’ [Do something different]. What do I do differently? Should I change alphabets, should I change numbers? Worldwide, children’s content makes billions. These goofs tell me that it won’t make any money. I don’t buy it,” he exclaims.

Anam is right. Pakistan has domestic versions of Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon, that are mostly running on old content, yet still they manage to rake in substantial ratings and advertisements. There is, figuratively speaking, a billion-dollar sweet, confectionary, fizzy pops and nutritional drinks industry specifically targeting children whose advertisements routinely find their way into soaps and dramas, so why can’t the same corporate sector invest in children’s slots in networks?

Our last investigation into the matter didn’t get us solid replies, so I’m assuming we’re still stuck on square one.

“I wouldn’t go to them,” Anam says about the corporate sector. “I can’t wait anymore. It’s high time. I need to put this on the track. It’s not a one-off thing. I want to make a way, traverse a path where people can follow. As soon as I launched the project, as soon as people got to know about it, as soon as channels got to know about it, I was approached by people saying: ‘we wanna do this, we wanna do this, we wanna do this.’ I’m sorry, you can’t. They’re all just big talkers, basically.

“I’m not looking for miracles. There’s no such thing as a miracle,” he continues after relaxing a little. “You just need to work hard. Ceep has been nicely received, mostly by Pakistani people living abroad with small children who want to stay connected with Urdu.

“Learning should be fun. We scare our children. For once, can’t we think like children? We’ve all been children once. I still am one inside,” he says, returning to the topic at hand and the bigger picture.

Anam says that we confuse sermonising with a child’s grooming and education. “Lectures at home, lectures in school, lectures in madressahs, then there are lectures from parents, from older brothers and sisters — get a life!

“My aim is to get people to love their language. With Ceep, I would soon be putting up alphabets, numbers and nursery rhymes in Punjabi, Sindhi, Balochi, Seraiki, Balti, Pushto. Things that have been passed down century after century. To do this tunes are integral. Through music you can learn anything you want to. You just have to rhyme it in a proper way,” he says.

For example, Anam sings a snappy snippet in the tune of Old MacDonald:

Chacha Fazloo kay gaon main, ballay ballay ho! Aik chhota bacha rehta tha, ballay ballay ho! Aur naam uska Babloo tha, ballay ballay ho! Babloo ka aik kutta tha, ballay ballay ho!

[In Uncle Fazloo’s village there lived a small kid whose name was Babloo and Babloo had a pet dog]

“If a child is listening to Baby Shark while eating, why can’t the same child hear Alif Bay Pay, why can’t they listen to Paanch Peeli Battakhein, or Aao mil kar saaf karein apnay Pakistan ko?”

Anam, however, doesn’t want to keep Ceep confined to the internet. He loves to teach, so as soon as things pick up pace, he will take his education to the hundreds of thousands of children living in poverty-stricken areas, where they will learn, and get something to eat, without pressure.

There will be no bombastic advertisement for it. “For Ceep, the VIPs are children,” he says. And with Khaled Anam’s staunch resolve to make a difference for children’s sake, it seems that this is the way it will continue to stay.

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2020