On the Hijab Ban, Coke Studio Pakistan, and 'Kana Yaari'

Kaifi Khalil, Eva B, Abdul Wahab Bugti

Sometimes I write to remind myself that we are caught in a toxic relationship with the Indian state. We are navigating a pattern of consistent trauma that upends our privileged perches, destabilising our sense of self, identity and belonging. Yesterday I had begun to write with some hope about what was happening in Karnataka, the prognosis, and its roots. The support drummed up locally itself, was somewhat uplifting, and the images of fierce resistance and the coverage by alternative media seemed to suggest that the forces of democracy, and secular values, will prevail.

The news of the hijab ban was shared with me by my friend from Assam. India chod do baba, he said to me. He himself was jokingly telling me that he’d like to head back home, where he would feel safer. The fact that we can joke about these things suggests a kind of privilege in itself. But the humour has left these situations for some time now. We laugh simply to distract ourselves, like middle-aged parents seeing the antics of another’s children. The jokes now lie before us, shrivelled and smoking with the absurd violence of their implications.

It makes me especially sad to think of Mangalore as a place doused in the divisive politics of the right. Greeshma Kutthar’s fascinating series of articles on south Kanara, and the transformation wrought by the saffron cartel is highly recommended here - ‘How Coastal Karnataka was saffronised: the story of the rise and rise of hindu nationalism in syncretic south kanara’. This is an old series, but for those unfamiliar with the context of communal politics in Karnataka - especially South Kanara - and what role the Sangh has to play in it, it is quite well researched, and illuminating, carefully unravelling the designs of the political will that has gripped our country in the form of the ruling party today.

This is a force they cannot control anymore. While they attempt to maintain a smooth exterior, they quiver and shake, as the possibility of losing elections starts to become a reality. Many commentators talked about the decision to stall the farm laws, as a concession to the farmers, in light of the UP elections, and the possibility of losing a significant votebank. While the top leadership of the country can be seen as a monolithic entity, what is interesting, is that even the lower echelons, the small leaders, the political aspirants and moderates are going rogue in the hope that they will be noticed. This has been the source of many rifts in the past, and the united face of the BJP has started to show cracks - where the leadership is often caught in the fix of whether to reprimand its stooges for revealing their true instincts, at the risk of losing support from its core constituency of brainwashed loyalists, or to openly condemn rabid assertions and acts of Hindu terror. In these situations Modi has chosen silence or whataboutery or his favourite Saturday afternoon pastime - Nehru Bashing. The gloves have been off for some time now, but the real hatred is unleashed closest to the elections, where the clowns of our political circus start to dance about, with bloodstained fingers, and naked xenophobia, routinely attempting to insult our intelligence. When, in last ditch attempts to win public opinion, Modi says things like “We stand with Muslim Women”, consider the images of the brave women at Shaheen Bagh, and the fierce Muskan, who, faced by a crowd of bloodthirsty saffron goons (mostly students), refused to give in, and stood her own. (To be honest, I do derive some sadistic pleasure watching “bhakts” and islamophobic liberals squirm when they hear “Allahu Akbar”.) I have seen the opposite - haven’t you? - when everyday situations are weaponised by the generous spraying of Jai Shri Ram. What is disturbing, is that many right wing folks - teachers, uncles and aunties, shopkeepers and family members - have internalised this fervour, and taken it upon themselves to school the younger generation. In actuality, it is these misguided narcissists eager for some patriotic drama, who are the most pivotal force in maintaining the hold of the Hindu right.

The voice of the opposition is strong, and one hopes that the elections (EVM manipulation notwithstanding) will put the BJP in its place, but we must continue to resist. Do have a look at Meena Kandasamy’s open letter to the students “protesting” against the hijab, and the other collectives that are opposing this apartheid.

A great amount of energy goes into finding the right language to speak about trauma. I have noticed that the moment of discovery - when survivors of trauma find that the pain and disorientation that they face, has a name - is exceptionally gratifying. That others feel the way we feel, or that others stand in solidarity, serves as whetstone for the long fight.

Political entities have turned this into a religious question, but this debate also masks the notion of a woman’s choice. Modi’s pre-election rants, and other forms of political appropriation seek to hijack this intersectionality of resistance. When he says that he stands by Muslim Women, using the bogey of ‘triple talaq’, he is only affirming the thesis of how legal precedent can be misused against the very communities it seeks to protect.

But enough footage for the bully, nai? Mudde pe aate hain. The constant cry of ‘Go To Pakistan’ is ringing through the protests. Kasam se, I really want to. Call it romance, but when the torrent of hatred is overwhelming, I go to youtube comment threads to reaffirm my belief in humanity and the kindness of strangers. Coke Studio’s Season 14 was launched some time back. (Coke Studio Bangla (Bangladesh) has just been launched too) I was curious about what they will do this time - it seemed like the producers had reached the saturation point of their folk-pop-fusion positioning. Indeed, the innovation seems to be focussed on video production this season, rather than musical intricacy.

Curatorial decisions in this project are mostly taken, keeping in mind commercial success, but I am convinced that there is zehen and shiddat in the attempt. Zahra Sabri, one of the people who collaborated with Coke Studio, after pointing out discrepancies in the translation of lyrics from Persian songs in a ‘non-traditional’ platform, talks about the commitment of the producers and showrunners to retaining the authenticity of the cultural context from which these songs are sourced.

As it is, in season 14, the vision continues to be pretty generic, one of the associate producers talks about how even though one of its songs, Kana Yaari, is a Balochi song, it is a ‘pop’ song. “Gaadiyo mein bajni chahiye…mujhe naachna hain is gaane pe”. The Balochi singer-songwriter Kaifi Khalil recruits Eva B and Abdul Wahab Bugti in his rendition of a song about betrayal, and relationships that don’t last. The purists who bemoan the ‘cultural degradation’ brought on by Coke studio, would disagree about why this number, and ‘Pasoori’ has such a considerable fan following in India. Coke Studio has given the urban youth a language with which to encounter cultural strands that they are completely alienated from. After the initial sheen of production and catchy tunes wears off, as these audiences delve deeper into the lyrics and contexts from which these songs are drawn, a story emerges that is more resistant to the hegemony of global capital, and popular sentiment. Coke studio essentialises these narratives to make them palatable for the mainstream, but there is no debating the ideological impact of this work. One of the three artists picturised in Kana Yaari is Pakistan’s Balochi rapper, Eva B. In the interview shared below released by Coke Studio, she is asked the pointed political question of “How does it feel to be the first rapper of Pakistan in Niqab?”:

The element of spectacle is undeniable in this appropriation. I am not attempting to envision resistance within the catchy tune of Kana Yaari, a pop song about love and betrayal, sung by Balochi singers within a context where Punjabi and Urdu are the dominant languages. It is already there. But the zone of introspection that emerges with a viewership that is more familiar with Ali Sethi’s version of Hum Dekhenge, than Iqbal Bano’s, I believe, is particularly important. Ali Khan Mahmudabad, in The Quint, talks about the pressure on Muslims to remain silent. He makes references to the repeated instances of Muslim-baiting, communal hatred and intimidation by the dominant community in the recent past, and the convenient timing of these spectacles.

For the moment, I am able to discern in Kana Yari, possibilities of an identity politics that negates the gathering violence in the narrative of the right wing brigade whose event management seems to be losing its kick. Kana Yari Gadaari, Ishq e nah Mein ghaar eyda…

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