Meeting Judith Redding

Sometimes you meet someone outside a bathroom/washroom and have a marvelous conversation.
You've been dying for a good conversation and it happens right outside a bathroom-while you are in a queue.
That's exactly where and how I met Judith Redding last evening.

In the next 20 minutes we discussed Bollywood, Shahrukh Khan's nose, Legalization of sex work in India, 'Tales of The Night Fairies' and 'In the Flesh' vis-a-vis 'Born Into Brothels', appeal of the 'innocent East', the use of children as innocent subjects that fits so well in the west's perception of India, the march to Sundance, Oscars, Academy and more films about 'little brown people'.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1878067974/ref=olp_product_details?ie=UTF8&me=&seller=
I absolutely love the cover of her book 'Film Fatales' (Seal Press, Seattle, Judith Redding and Victoria A. Brownworth).
It is a collection of interviews with Independent Women Directors and spreads across 'Documentary', 'Experimental', 'Narrative' and 'Beyond the Director's Chair' sections.
Some of my favourites are there too- Pratibha Parmar, Su Fredrich, Trinh T. Minh-Ha, Mira Nair and Susan Seidelman.
The book is a reflection on the fact that apart from a rare Kathryn Bigelow why women directors across the globe run into a 'celluloid ceiling'. Spanning 32 interviews with some of the most accomplished independent women filmmakers, the book is my next read.

Judith tells me about the days she worked in Airline Security and with a laugh she says that with a name like 'Ambarien Al-Qadar' I invite suspicion and curiosity. Suspicion because it sounds so 'middle eastern' and curiosity because young women my age have no record of being terrorists. I tell her that's something I encounter quite often. And seriously, am a bit sick of thinking about it constantly. Not that something really major has happened but the urdu word 'khalish' perfectly describes the feeling- a slight tingling, a mild irritation.

This brings me to a facebook update by a friend some days back.
It read: If you are a Muslim, and an artist, is 9/11 the only framework granted to you?
My answer seems like a series of questions at the moment: you make art to be able to deal with the world and find your place in it. This is my rather simple, could be read as silly way, of understanding the motivations to make art.
This constant questioning, the constant reminding of who you are, where you come from, what clothes you wear, did you go to a Madarsa, does your mother wear a Hijab, does your father wear a beard, do they offer prayers, is your brother a willing fundamentalist, do you wear a scarf back home, the hows, the whys, the where.
So your art becomes a way of thinking through some of these questions.
My question remains in the spirit of a whim or a fancy-why am I asked these questions all the time? Why do people expect me to answer?
I guess its time we reframe this question and ask
'with what framework we; and by we, i imply myself and the rest of the liberals, the not so liberals, the secularists and the pseudo-secularists; do we view works made by artists/people who are Muslims. What is the lens we use to 'frame' them. How we see and feel about them in the everyday.

So much for today. I get back to editing.
Meet you Judith Redding soon. was such a pleasure!

The Linda Blackaby Workshop: The Film Festival Programmer's Confidential

Here is a list of what the pre-screeners are asked to look for in a film.
Pre-screening is the most preliminary stage in a festival.
Rows of DVDs and stacks of press kits are meticulously run over.
Anyone in the business of independent media making is familiar with the 'aura', the almost mythical nature of stories that surround the process.

I found this bit hilarious from Linda Blackaby's list :

1. At what point in the film did you laugh?
2. At what point did you lose the film?
3. At what point did the structure go haywire?
4. Why should anyone pay $10 to watch this film on an evening out?
5. When did you feel that despite the stunning cinematography, the subject matter lacked innovation?
6. Did you feel that the subject matter was done hundred times over?
7. Did the balance between 'good film' and 'good cause' go off the hook?
8. Did the film go too far in trying to do something too 'cool'?
9. Did you feel the filmmaker was trying to be gimmicky for no reason?
10. At what point you feel that the 'film on screen' and the 'film in the press kit' seemed like two different scripts?

Postcards from the Islamic Heritage Festival

but as I sat and swayed (read the previous post for the thread)
I wondered about the constant choosing of spaces and places.
As you transit, you make new nooks and corners.
That then becomes a way of seeking comfort and a way of being.
This search for that most comfortable place takes you to new places and newer ideas..
the comfort of mind and ideas, the freedom to say and be.
to this evening that I spent
as the breeze rose through me.

Islamic Heritage Festival by the Delaware

Soul Food, Lady Mahogany and Lady Mis-Understood have swayed me this evening.
This was at The Islamic Heritage Festival by the Delaware.
Lady Mahogany and Lady Mis-Understood are rap-performers.
As I sat munching over the delicious soul food by the river, the crowd swayed to their music.
I saw women wearing head-bands and head covers dance and sway to music.
In the world I grew up-a south asian Muslim home, such a free wheeling mixing of men and women was largely forbidden.
Fine fine..the women wore hijab and the rest.
But as I sat and swayed, I wondered what I had not experienced transiting through the male and female spaces as they existed.
Words strangely sounded familiar and so were names-Nasiha, Mariya, Parshaheen...
I want to meet Lady Mahogany and Lady Mis-Understood again.
I want to sit by the river and sway.

Call for an Actor/Actress

I have posted this call on JamiaLive and Jamia Nagar pages on Facebook.
This is a call for an acting opportunity in a film that I am directing in Zakir Nagar this July.
It is a love story about Irfan- a young man who lives in Batla House, Irfan has just lost his job.
Auditions take place on 25th July.
This is a great opportunity to build a portfolio if you are interested in directing/acting.
I shall also do a comprehensive skill development filmmaking workshop.
A reasonable payment is there.
No prior acting skills needed.
You need to be 18-28 yrs and willing to work this summer!If you are interested, please contact me at ambarien09@gmail.com.


After the success of posting calls for taxi drivers in subways and gas stations, I am convinced that this will work!
A special call is being put up at Le Femme, my mother's salon.
watch out.

Women and Make Up: A Story from Gilgit.

I woke up to a story in my inbox. A friend shared it. Thanks Yousuf.

It reminded me of many such stories I grew up listening.
I should say that the source of such stories was my equivocating cousin sister, Maimoona aapa.
Maimoona aapa would have us enthralled on summer afternoons with the genre of the horror/thriller.
She expected us, like her, to become devout muslim women who went to the 'Ijtamas', covered their hair and walked with dignity. But Maimoona, like many of us, had fire in her soul. On many occasions, she would chose not to do none of these things.

First the story: Somewhere in Gilgit. ( As an aside, I think that the age of globalization dawned on the Muslim world much before anything else. So, Dick Cheney in his report of 9/11 was not saying something new. We all grew up listening to stories of Baghdad, Iraq, Mecca and Gilgit.'

But first the story:

"O Believers of Allah and the Prophet PBUH, listen to this story from
Gilgit, and if you don’t believe me go to Gilgit and ask the people if
this did not happen. The incident was that a man was passing by a
graveyard when he heard a voice from inside a grave saying please take
me out I am alive.

People went to the local Maulvi and he said that no one living could
be buried in a grave and gathered a group and went to the graveyard
and began digging it up. After the grave was opened they found a woman
who was completely naked. She arose and said after you have removed
the dust please bring me clothes to hide my nakedness.

The clothes were brought and she put them on but after doing so ran
away from the crowd and locked herself into her house. When people
called she would not open the door. Finally she said only the
strongest among you should enter. Then a few strong men entered but
what they saw was horrendous. The woman had no hair on her head.

They asked why was her skull without hair? She replied that when she
was living normally she would go out of the house with her hair open.
Allah punished her for this and when she was in her grave the angels
came and began to uproot her hair one by one with their hands so that
even the skin came off.

Then the people asked her to show her face. But when she opened her
face the men fell down in a swoon. The upper jaw was there but there
was no lower jaw. All the teeth were showing but there was no lower
jaw and no lips. Think if we had lost out lower jaw would our family
come near us?

People asked how did this happen? She replied that when she was normal
she applied lipstick to her lips to look beautiful. When my lips were
being cut off a voice said we had not made you so ugly that you had to
show your painted lips in the market. Now this is your punishment.

When the people of Gilgit and Naran heard this they started crying,
which is good because Allah says when you see something like this it
is right to cry. If you hear the Quran being recited you can cry as
that inclines Allah to forgive your mistakes and sins.

O women, Allah made you beautiful but you have taken to putting powder
on your face and made yourself ugly. How can Allah like this? When you
cook and someone mixes too little salt in it would you like it? Allah
too doesn’t want you to spoil the gift of beauty he has given you. If
you abide by His rules he will build a palace for you in Paradise".

Many years ago, I guess I must have been 9, I was called in by my neighbours to translate an 'ijtama'.
The scene went something like this: none of the women in my neighbouhood at that point knew English.
A team of women 'ijtama' leaders was visiting from Australia.
If I remember correctly, I sat looking at these women, trying to translate what they were saying into urdu/hindi..not understanding a word.
because they said stuff exactly like this-if you show skin, it will be burnt black.
If you do not obey your husband, you can be whipped. If you do not tie your hair, you'd rise naked on the day of judgement.

I am sure that many of my friends ..those of us who grew up in Zakir Nagar-Sabina, Tayyaba, Naazo, Naseem, Arshi, Khamsa, Iffat, Parveen; all heard similar stories but did such different things. It was as if we were trying hard to prove that these stories were wrong. ..

The Gharara ,the Terrorist and many cities in between.

'Thousand and one Stories about the Gharara' was a facebook group I started a year ago.


The piece of garment had evoked many love filled, abandon driven stories in the past.
For me, these stories were in dialogue with the ones I gathered about the Hijab.
Both were funny, hilarious at times.
But the ones about Ghararas went without a mention of how 'they' perceived us.
They were without a mention of that 'despite the hijab, we were liberal, we wanted education, we wanted to see the world.'
The ones about the Gharara evoked crazy sleepless nights of trying to hem glitzy sequins onto the spread.
of the many romances that took place right when those glittery beads were being bought in the bazaar.
of the many journeys that took women out of the house..on the pretext of buying 'stuff'.

Today, when I logged onto the page, I found a friend had posted information about his new book: 7/7 Muslim Perspectives.
It is a book written in response to the 7/7 bomb blasts in UK in 2005- a record of what ordinary men and women were doing when the blasts happened.
I was traveling with 'Elsewhere' (Delhi, Madrid, Documentary 28 minutes, Muslim Youth) and also visiting my brother who at that time was studying at the Cardiff University.
That morning when the bombs went off, we were bound for London. we were in the subway.
The plan was that we would see London together during the day and then he would see me off at Heathrow.
The panic and silence at the subway station was ominous.
I wanted my brother to get back home and he would not leave me alone at the airport.
I finally convinced him.
he left me at Heathrow well 18 hours before check in.
I called a friend of his to ensure that he reaches home.
the night was spent staring onto the brightly lit terminals at the Heathrow, guarding my luggage, browsing at Body Shop and wondering what could have happened.

So when I found the post on my facebook page, I was reminded of the oddly sitting together things-the glittery gharara and Terrorism. In many ways, I expect this collage like feeling when I meet Sameena this summer.
Sameena, the one who weaves brocade patterns on Ghararas in Azamgarh.
In news reports they talk of Azamgarh as the 'nursery of terror'.

Meeting Bina: New York, June 13.

I had expected it to be a dry day. When we left Brooklyn, we expected it to be so.
Earlier that night we has randomly talked about so many things.
In Will's living room, there is always space for conversations and you don't feel uncomfortable taking positions.
We looked at the glittering sky through the living room window.
The Empire State Building stood nice and straight.
Will fixed a dinner for all six of us-tacos with hamburger.
And we sunk into his couch for more conversations.
I had returned from shooting at the Times Square . It was dizzy.
In between I did some tourist like things too and attended a couple of art openings where wine and cheese flowed.
At the NYU campus we caught free snacks: courtesy Hare Krishna Foundation!
Chickpea in tomato sauce and lemonade: chole and nimbu paani.

I met Bina at 'Pick Me Up'.
She sat grand, beautiful and full of glitter. She reminded me of a time.
The title of her recent play 'Muslim Glitter' stuck on me like the glitter from her finger tips.
In between discussing my work, we spoke about her other recent performance titled 'Afghan Women'.
I told her that things are very different when you listen to both the sides.
It is one thing to take a position on the war on terror.
It is completely different when you are left with no positions.
When you are listening to both the sides, the dialogues is internal.
I can debate with the other but what if that otherness hides somewhere within me?
The evening was throwing many more questions than answers.

Bina asks me what I think of art.
I tell her that I am currently re-reading 'Evidence of Suspicion'.
I enjoy things that dialogue with me. I am sick of monologues.
She laughs and talks about her days trying to earn a medicine degree at John Hopkins and being totally unconvinced by it.
A large part of it had to do with dealing with death. She could not stand someone dying.
"it is strange that after all these years of trying to escape from it, I realized that come what may, it would catch up with you.
As an artist working in post 9/11 America, the question of the killer and those killed does not leave me".

Shooting in New York

I have been away for a long while. Moving into a studio and managing groceries apart from the semester end work rush was rather heartening I must say.

The film 'Notes on Leaving and Arriving' takes me to film in New York this weekend.
A city I had always wanted to shoot in. And shoot with a small camera.
Am filming at the WTC, Times Square, Houston Street Taxi Drivers in Subways etc.
Am also meeting Bina Sharif: the well known Pakistani theatre artist who wrote and performed immensely on what happened post 9/11. She is to play act testimonies that I had collected in Jamia Nagar some eight years back.

So, usually when I work these days in my apt, I put the recorder on and listen to them again.
Some of them are funny about not being able to hang out in the streets.
Some of them are about loss of love and freedom. All of them are about women who live in this place called 'Jamia Nagar'. All of them, like me, in some way, love the place.

Am still trying to work my way through the complexity of conveying experiences of a place like Batla House.
A place 'on the dark side' to use Dick Cheney's classification of topographies in post 9/11.
I have watched 'Sur Name Viet Given Name Nam' over three times now.
Am struck by the film so completely.

This brings me back to the Theatre Professor I am still looking for:
two months back he opened the door for me as I rushed for class. 'You look like a Terrorist, I must say. You'd play a brilliant one.!'. Let me find you dear Professor. We need to talk.

Work In Progress: A Diary Scattered in Time and Place.

A Diary Scattered in Time and Place. from Ambarien Alqadar on Vimeo.