Hilal Ashraf
Could it be argued that providing the same platform to man and woman, the same audience to listen to their words, the same mic to amplify their range, the same pen to write their poetry, the same page to write it on, the same stage to stand upon, called being equal to them?
How often does the audience leave their ideology outside the venue and enter unbiased? How often is the audience a listener, a genuine non-judgmental listener? Is it possible for a man in the audience to have vaccinated his patriarchy and woman to not have systematically internalized the subtleties of patriarchy?
Impossible! Impossible! Impossible! Impossible!
The “Let Me Speak” open mic by Captured Illusions can be called upon on the same queries. Although the magazine cannot be held responsible for the views of speakers or audience but favoring a particular ideology, some absolute ideology, with a solution to every problem, a panacea to every social ailment, is a stance to be frowned upon, to be scrutinized, to be mended, especially when the ideology stifles the original thought and speech, as is a quality of absolutism.
When the idea is to provide a stage to voice one’s opinions in a free micro-environment to initiate a change, maybe, to explore and burnish the talent, to let the mini-narratives breathe and sprout and to allow the budding ones to take color, nectar, and fragrance from flowers of the garden- which one must appreciate Captured Illusion to be succeeding at to a large extent- a
voice is raised against the marginal narratives arising from the insecurity of the followers of metanarratives that challenge their ideologies.
A Masculine Voice. A Religious Voice. A Masculine Religious Voice.
A man seizes the stage to comment upon a marginal voice, a female voice, and places the blame of domestic abuse on the mother for raising an abusive man.
My friend next to me says, “I call all such women Kaukabs.” A character from Nadeem Aslam’s Maps for Lost Lovers has internalized patriarchal hegemony so much that she acts as its own agent. An Astaghfirullah is murmured, as if from the habitual turning of beads in a rosary, against a poet’s ghazal lamenting and complaining unto God.
But a Kashmiri Nazm “Be Kyah Chas” (What AM I?) ironically by a male poet with appealing metaphors exoticized a woman yet again transforming her into a muse, into an inspiration, denying her, her womanhood. Lo! A murder was committed.
An identity was denied. But the crowd roared! Demanded a rereading! Both men and Kaukabs. Language once again! A man once again! A woman once again!
Powerful! Superior! Victim!
However, the overall event was a success, not just for Captured Illusions, but for all. The speakers, the sponsors, the audience. Above all, for the community of Varmul in particular and in general.
The speakers were plenty, both Veterans ( Ab Khaliq Shams, Mansoor Muzaffar, Riyaz Rabbani, Sagar Sarfaraz, Bilal Mian) and not. Newcomers were graced with appreciation.
FURTHER… STRONGER…