By Ayesha Fazlur Rahman
I was asked by the US Embassy to moderate the session on Art and Cultural Diplomacy at the Islamabad Literature Festival (ILF) 2015, since I often moderate sessions and make announcements at PUAN events.
It all began in 2007 when I was a graduate student on a Fulbright scholarship, in the US. My advisor Sally Schwager, at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, once rightly pointed out to me that the only way to get over my fear of public speaking was to do public speaking – not read about public speaking or talk about it, but just do it. And to this day, I have been stepping forward to volunteer for tasks that involve a live audience. Taking her advice, I went on to enroll at the Kennedy School of Government in a public speaking course that promised a lot of opportunity to practice, and Professor Tim McCarthy took care of the rest. And that is how I ended up moderating this session.
There were four panelists on this session. In order of seating, from right to left: US Embassy Cultural Attaché Judith Ravin, author of The Scatter Here Is Too Great Bilal Tanweer, ‘Theatre Wallay’ Director Fizza Hassan and Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Tinkers Paul Harding.
Fizza, my once long-time colleague from middle school-teaching days, brought a whiff of nostalgia, while Judith from the Embassy was a reminder of my post-Fulbright life, a more varied and multi-cultural experience. Bilal spoke to the budding writer in me; meeting a Pakistani author gave me hope that I may one day come out with my novel too and go beyond the newspaper blogs that I have contributed to, or the accidental short stories that I had published in my student days. And then there was Paul.
A bit of my background before I go on. I come from a family of writers, which can mean many different things: My mother loves writing letters to the editor; my father wrote a book on Islam; my maternal grandfather left behind a manuscript on Sufism, yet to be published.
So writers, especially award-winning authors and Pulitzer Prize-winning authors, have special meaning for my family. While we pooh-pooh wealth and power, education and the written word hold a world of glamour for us, a world to admire and aspire to. Paul was an embodiment of that world for me. I feel humbled to not only have been able to meet these distinguished folks, but to have the opportunity to share the stage with them and pose them questions.
For this and for many other reasons, a note of thanks before I continue with the narrative. J. William Fulbright, for coming up with the idea of the Fulbright Program. US Embassy Islamabad, for creating PUAN, with its vibrant network that holds us alumni together, and channelizes and nurtures our potential through variegated exposure. Shahid Waseem, for having faith in me and always approaching me for tasks that I wouldn’t dream of offering my services for on my own, thinking I may not be capable to do them full justice. Not to be forgotten, thanks to my friend ‘Supportive Salma’ for turning up at the event and for her lovingly constructive feedback, and to my cousin ‘Reassuring Rukhsana’ for giving me her necklace and earrings that I donned for the occasion!
On the morning of 26th April I tweaked the stage setting and checked the microphones. I noticed that the number of audience participants probably ran in single digits. It was Sunday morning, after all, and ours was the only session scheduled at that time, I consoled myself. The next time I turned around after rearranging the chairs on stage, I saw a hall that was almost full! Later on, I happily noticed some big names sitting in the audience, including Madiha Gauhar!
And so the session began, introductions were made and the questions rolled out. We wrested with the nature of truth and what it means for an artist, be it author or theatre producer. The thoughts that flowed out are now a kaleidoscopic mesh in my mind. It was said that truth has to be pried out subtly, much as a beloved would be approached. That truth is not a concrete mass but an amorphous entity that comes into being during the creative process and that surprises even its creator; there is no single truth, no single narrative that can claim supremacy over other narratives. That is what Fizza Hassan’s then-ongoing play, Voices of Partition, did: it gave a voice to the multiple perspectives on the 1947 Partition.
Judith spoke on the pervasive nature of all art and how it seeps into places where other forms of diplomacy run into dead-ends. Hence the power and reach of cultural diplomacy; it unites and informs, pulls down barriers and builds bridges. The recent Music Mela event by the US Embassy saw Pakistanis enjoy contemporary American and Polish music, as both Pakistanis and foreign visitors swayed to Pakistani folk and Sufi rhythms.
Panelists agreed that art cannot be a tool used to change people, but it does impact its consumers; the power of that impact stems from how authentic it is. While one writer may choose to make his characters introspective, as did Paul in Tinkers, with the socio-political milieu providing the backdrop only, for Bilal the topical reference to terrorism in Karachi was the center-piece around which he carefully clustered the tales of several characters depicting the different segments of society in the metropolitan.
Either way, it all has to come together and take the audience with it. Fizza shared the powerful moment during a performance when all are swept up in a theatrical wave, when the characters and the audience all feel as one, that brief elusive moment when the truth of the drama resonates with the truth of the audience.
As the discussion rolled on, discreet Oxford University Press volunteers in their red T-shirts flashed time-reminders, telling me when it was time to take questions from the audience and when there were just five minutes left. These helpful little gnomes positioned themselves cleverly where only I could see them!
The session was over, thanks were exchanged all around and a group photo was taken and there it came to an end. Or did it?
As I stepped out with my friend ‘Supportive Salma’, I came across the Desi Writers’ Lounge folks. Here it was, a space for me to fill with my words, my written word. I bought their magazine ‘Papercut’, chatted a bit and continued browsing the stalls. I came across Shandana Minhas’ Survival Tips for Lunatics, which I bought. Every night as I read the refreshingly original book about a magical world of dinosaurs in Balochistan, I feel the author in me just might get past the budding stage and actually dare to bloom, as did the public speaker hiding inside me.
Thank you, Sally. Thank you, Tim.
