Shada Islam

YES, laughter is the best medicine, and thank heavens for the Beygairat Brigade. Aalu Anday rips through Pakistan’s grim smog of self-righteousness, revealing a country where some people, sometimes, can still laugh out loud — and publicly — at men and women in power.

The song has of course gone viral on YouTube. I heard about it first from an Indian friend and colleague. Only days later, the Beygairat Brigade was in The New York Times. Since then, believe it or not, even Belgium’s French-speaking TV website has carried a reference to the three young men and their ‘revolutionary’ breach of Pakistan’s cultural taboos.

The New York Times has called the band and their satirical song, a rare voice of the country’s embattled liberals. Oh, the relief of it all. I am old enough to remember Pakistan’s love affair with satire and self-mockery: the Pakistani comedians of yore, the inspiring poets and writers — and even politicians who had a sense of humour.

Laughing about the follies of the establishment is of course still common in Pakistan. Like in other nations struggling to survive tough times, humour offers succour and respite from daily trials. It is a wonderful tonic and a great coping mechanism.

As the Libyans, Syrians and the Egyptians know only too well, laughter is the best medicine. And certainly the current crop of Pakistan’s military and civilian leaders is perfectly cut out to inspire cartoonists, satirists and comedians of all shades and colour. I’ve been queried endlessly about the Beygairat phenomenon by friends and colleagues who, having heard nothing but depressing news about terrorist attacks and violence in Pakistan, are genuinely surprised that people in the country still have a sense of humour.

They also appear quite relieved that being Pakistani does not mean being tediously conservative, intolerant and self-important. I tell them that Pakistan has a long history of satire and that people have always laughed at themselves, their leaders and at society. After all, the flirtatious Begum Nawazish Ali offered a similarly unusual insight into the surprising love of comedy which has survived in a country now in the grips of an ultra-orthodox, prudish and moralistic mentality.

Outsiders looking in cannot be blamed for being confused. If the country is diverse and multifaceted, why is intolerance on the rise? Why can’t people live and let live? Why are liberal politicians like Salmaan Taseer killed and their assassins hailed as heroes? Why didn’t the murder of Shahbaz Bhatti trigger indignation and shame? As Aalu Anday points out, how is it that all the local heroes are terrorists, murderers and criminals?

And when it comes to its official image, does an Islamic republic have to be stern and humourless? Certainly there is nothing funny about Iran or indeed about Saudi Arabia. For sure, Iran has an underground culture of satire and laughter which thrives despite the grim men calling the shots. But as far as I can tell, Saudi Arabia is certainly a land without laughter.

That’s what makes Pakistan — and Aalu Anday — so special. From Ziaul Haq to Pervez Musharraf to Ashfaq Kayani, no grim military ruler and/or chief has been able to curb the true spirit of the people. And neither of course have the hapless and often bumbling civilian leaders.

I am especially grateful to the three young men for mentioning Abdus Salam, who won the Nobel Prize in 1979 for his work in the domain of theoretical physics but who, as an Ahmedi, never received the respect and honour he deserves in Pakistan.

Salam has always had a special place in my book of heroes. But he is not alone. There are other men and women who remain similarly unrecognised because they are not in line with the prevailing conservative mindset in Pakistan.

The Beygairat Brigade deserves credit for bringing Pakistanis face to face with their moral contradictions.

Also, while they are part of a Pakistani tradition where singers and satirists ridicule and castigate politicians in their music and lyrics, the previous generation of critics could only reach out to a national audience — and then only to a small elite. Thanks to modern technology, the talented Beygairat trio are reaching a huge global audience.

Their YouTube clip is a sensation in the West and in Asia, with fans — thanks to somewhat erratic English subtitles — able to appreciate the satire and humour across the linguistic barrier. The clip is also widely talked about — and shared — on social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook.

Technically slick, with a catchy beat and cute guys (despite The New York Times depiction of the lead singer as ‘goofy’ looking), the clip has what it needs to breach cultural frontiers. After all, this is the year of the Arab Spring, the Indignados in Europe and Occupy Wall Street in the United States.

Intelligent people — especially young people — are sick and tired of lies, conspiracy theories and being taken for a ride by corrupt politicians and rich fat cats. I have no doubt: Aalu Anday will do more for Pakistan’s struggle to correct its international image than any speeches, television appearances and wordy communiqués issued by the globe-trotting president and prime minister or their even grimmer military counterparts. Who knows, even Imran Khan may have met his match.