Do read the review above and also try to watch the film if it is showing anywhere nearby. It was premiered at the Belgrade Theatre yesterday and an absolute treat to watch. It transports you into Lahore and a parallel world of state and society, and much, much more.
This post explores the representation of the Hazara community in popular culture, using the examples of a novel The Kite Runner, a TV talent show Sitara-e Afghan (Afghan Star), and a documentary Laila at the Bridge. Rabia Khan discusses the gradual change in perceptions about Hazara identity, especially in terms of community consciousness and individual agency, and highlights the manner in which contemporary depictions of the Hazaras reflect more intricate forms of engagement with the historical, political and social realities of the community.…
The Historical Context of Hazaras
The Hazara community is one of many ethnic groups from Afghanistan, but there are differences of opinion about whether they are of Turko-Mongol heritage, or are an indigenous community from central Afghanistan, an area known locally as Hazarajat. The late 1800s was a particularly turbulent period in Hazara history which saw the community massacred and enslaved at the behest of Abdur Rahman Khan, the Pashtun king at the time, who sought to conquer Hazarajat in order to consolidate his power. He did so by instigating a jihad against Hazaras who were perceived as ‘infidels’, due to their Shia beliefs in a predominately Sunni Muslim state. The insurrection of Hazarajat resulted in Hazaras being at the bottom of the country’s social hierarchy, and they were subsequently sold as the cheapest slaves at the time.
Discrimination against the community continued into the 20th century; however, the 1980s saw a significant reconfiguration of Hazara self-perception and community consciousness in Afghanistan. This was mainly due to the Hizb-e Wahdat-e Islami Afghanistan (Islamic Unity Party of Afghanistan), which was formed in the late 1980s and was led by Abdul Ali Mazari with the aim of representing Hazara political aspirations, resulting in a shift in Hazara visibility in Afghanistan. The first 2 decades of this century have also been pivotal in the community’s history, with their earlier status as peripheral subjects changing markedly in recent years, particularly since the fall of the Taliban regime in 2001. The Hazaras have since made great strides in the fields of politics, sports and music, with the country’s first female provincial governor Dr Habiba Sarabi being Hazara, as is Afghanistan’s first Olympic medalist Rohullah Nikpai, and the renowned singer Elaha Soroor.
I came across this article recently which immediately caught my eye because we rarely see these images kinds of images of women in the everyday, enjoying the public spaces the same way that men do.
Dipanjali Singh, ‘The Right to Rest: Women at Leisure’, The India Forum, 26 March 2021.
A woman at leisure is a rare sighting. Snatched at moments of rest between responsibilities, leisure marks the absence of prescribed duties and emerges as a space for expressing and curating subjecthoods beyond impositions and dictations.
Surabhi Yadav’s Instagram-based photo-project Basanti: Women at Leisure makes visible women’s leisure in all of its glorious heterogeneity. Surabhi writes about the “goddesses of small things” who find leisure beyond straitjacketed renderings of emancipation. In her work, women wash themselves off definitions which require them to act in this way or that, and are seen splayed out in the sun with a book-covered-face quieting the harsh rays, painting their toenails, posing meticulously for a candid picture, or simply letting down their hair while plonked up on a tree.
In her autobiography ਰਸੀਦੀ ਟਿਕਟ, Amrita Pritam, the poet laureate of Punjabi shares an anecdote.It was the time when Amrita left everything behind, even her love for Sahir Ludhianvi. She joined Imroz in Mumbai, they lived a very economical life, working hard and staying within one’s little means.Gurbaksh Singh Preetlari, the aged patriarch of Punjabi […]
Read this fascinating article by Jasvinder Kaur in The Tribune on the history of knitting in Punjab.
It is hard to believe that knitting, a favourite pastime of women in the subcontinent during winter, came to India only during the British Raj. Christian missionaries helped in spreading this skill as girls were taught knitting in schools. Gradually, it became popular among women and replaced spinning as more people starting wearing hand-knitted sweaters and socks.
In the 19th century, people in Punjab were not in the habit of wearing sweaters, even when it was really cold in the winter. The wealthy preferred Pashmina shawls and the poor used woollen lois — for wrapping around oneself, as well as for bedding. Baden Powell (in 1872) writes, ‘It is a remarkable fact that in the plains during the cold weather natives do not like woollen goods, it is only the poorer class that resorts to kambal or blanket. Everyone who could afford it, much prefers wearing several thicknesses of cotton cloth and coats padded with cotton wool are universally worn.’
Sir George Watt and Percy Brown also expressed similar thoughts in 1904 that, in general, cotton, rather than wool, was preferred throughout India. This has also been corroborated by other writers and gazetteers of the period. Hand-spun khaddar was thicker and warmer than mill-made cotton and women used it to stitch their suits. Men often used a khes as a wrap instead of a warm chaddar. This practice was common in Punjab even in the 1990s and might still be prevalent at certain places by the older generation.
Introduction In 19th-century colonial India, language was more than a tool for communication. It was also a marker of identity for communities. While language helped reshape identities in the colonial backdrop, languages themselves were also influenced by policies and practices. Given the diversity of languages and their varying functionality in a place like India, the […]