After disembarking from the bustling train of professional life, I find myself seated alone, embracing the freedom of my thoughts and the photo albums that carry the essence of my life’s journey. As I embark on this voyage back through months and years, a wave of emotions engulfs me—satisfaction without regrets, for I possess a treasure trove of golden memories.
Reflecting upon the history of “Lens and Life”, I am reminded of the milestones that paved the way for our modern visual storytelling. In 1860, the first recorded sound in history echoed through the air as a woman sang “au clair De La Lun.” Eighteen years later, Edward Maybridge immortalized motion on film, capturing the galloping hooves of a horse. The year 1888 witnessed the birth of celluloid film, while the first-ever photograph was taken in 1826.
In today’s world, social media and the fast-paced nature of life have left their mark on village communities, causing cracks in the fabric of their unity. Relationships have been strained, transforming rural life into an urban lifestyle that often leaves the villagers feeling alienated and irrelevant. Amidst this change, let me reminisce and share the memories of my childhood in the village.
Village culture naturally fosters close-knit communities where people truly know one another. Evenings were spent together, a respite from the burdens of the day, a chance to recharge for tomorrow. Gathered for gossip and discussion, the elders would regale us with their stories and boast of their achievements. I was always captivated by those tales, eager to explore new horizons rather than dwell on tales of failures.
Allow me to introduce a remarkable character from those days, Late Chaudhary Saleem “Leehmi,” may his soul rest in peace. He was older than us and would gather us outside our homes, captivating us with his tales and stories. Our village, Saeela, nestled near a thick jungle on the riverside. At night, we would observe numerous moving lights, and as Leehmi continued his narration, our young eyes remained fixated on the direction of those lights. It was believed that jinns, mythical beings, were on the move. In reality, they were the military dairy farm workers, avoiding the daytime heat by carrying out their duties under the cover of darkness.
Listening to Leehmi’s tales, we would gaze at those lights, once believed to be jinns, sharing with one another our own eerie interpretations through subtle eye contact. The famous story of “Ghappi,” an archetypal character full of ideas, comes to mind. In one tale, Ghappi took flight in the skies, riding the floating clouds, only to find himself stuck in the mud upon landing. He returned home to retrieve tools to free himself. In those days, we had not yet discovered cartoons, but our imaginations ran wild, believing every tale as present-day fiction. Such stories, shared by our mothers, grandmothers, elder siblings, and village elders, offered invaluable lessons about the world around us.
Even in prehistoric times, drawings and pictures found in caves depicted hunting scenes and the training of tribesmen. In our agricultural society, devoid of television, young men working in the city or attending cinemas would share stories of the movies they had seen. Abdul Latif, a bricklayer from a wealthy family in our village, stood out as the best storyteller. He would captivate us with his dramatic effects, mimicking music, delivering dialogues, and following up on the story’s development. These storytelling sessions would pique our curiosity, pushing our young minds to venture into the cinema houses of Jhelum city, unbeknownst to our families who disapproved of such activities.
Venturing into the cinemas, we would immerse ourselves in the poster gallery, constructing intricate narratives based on the displayed images. We would discuss the stories and possible dialogues, driven by our own imagination. Though only a few people owned radio sets, upon the release of new movies, the radio stations would broadcast special programs, summarizing the stories and dialogues to entice the public. These programs fueled our creativity, inspiring us to form our own movie-making crew.
With our growing interest in movies, someone reinvented the magic of “Cinema” in a matchbox. Crafting a small hole on the front and pasting colorful paper on the back, we filled it with tiny colorful and shimmering papers. By shaking the matchbox and peering through the hole, each individual experienced abstract art, weaving their own stories through the scenes. Interestingly, when attempting to share their descriptions and inviting others to experience the same scene, the images would differ. Each tremor during minor earthquakes would rearrange the mountains into rivers and the trees into mountains. It became evident that our perceptions and perspectives shape the way we view the world, urging us to be mindful as we pass down a marvelous legacy to our loved ones.
Among the street vendors was one who lured youngsters to see “Bara Mun Ke Dhobun,” a rare and abnormal picture, displayed in a big tin box with multiple holes. By rolling pictures with the handle, he mesmerized the crowd. Those were sensational days, and every new experience felt like an adventure.
One day, we embarked on our own cinematic journey, led by Late Chaudhary Leehmi and Yaqoub, our esteemed seniors and elders. The story centered around our friend “Bhalah”, “The Red Bull,” as I mentioned earlier. This was our priority, for love and friendship always took precedence among us. It’s worth noting that, except for the two who had already been to the cinema, none of us had ever set foot in one.
With the script ready, we were left pondering where to release our first movie, “The Bhalah.” Fortunately, Abdul Latif’s house came to mind. Although Abdul Latif and his family were bricklayers and lived in mud houses, they possessed radio sets and were comparatively better off than others. These bricklaying families would stay at brick stations for months at a time. Sneaking into Abdul Latif’s house, we drew pictures on paper for storytelling, creating a reel that would captivate our audience.
Their kitchen, devoid of doors and with a square hole, became the perfect makeshift cinema. During those days, people cooked on earthen ovens fueled by wood or dried cow dung, generating copious amounts of smoke that filled the air, especially during winter evenings. The day of our first movie release arrived, and we joyously gathered to celebrate. We clapped, shared jokes, and reveled in our emotional connection to “The Bhalah.” We made a collective decision to highlight Bhalah’s positive traits, appreciating one another’s efforts.
In our quest to improve the cinematic experience, we pooled our resources, and as luck would have it, we stumbled upon a vendor selling tin projectors with movie clips. Excitement overwhelmed us as we envisioned creating our own cinema theater. We offered whatever was possible as a team for this ambitious venture, with the working boys contributing the most. The momentous day came when we counted our pooled funds, amounting to sixteen rupees—the price of the projector and two movie clip reels. Ten boys embarked on a journey to the city, eagerly discussing our future plans and the responses we anticipated.
Upon reaching the vendor, our excitement was met with anger as he informed us that the price had increased to eighteen rupees due to the high demand. Disheartened, the village boys berated him with name-calling. However, one of our teammates, who delivered milk for his father’s customers, assured us that he would provide the remaining funds. Determined not to break his promise, he invited us to quickly visit the vendor before he sold the projector. With the money in hand, we purchased the projector, carrying it triumphantly as if it were a sacred relic. Laughter and conversation filled the air as we imagined the spectacle that awaited us.
Every constructive endeavor has its share of challenges in the beginning, and ours was no different. We promised our supporting friend to keep the projector with him until we found a suitable location, unbeknownst to our families. We decided to conduct a show at Yaqoub’s home while his family members worked in their field. In secret, we gathered, only to realize that the white walls were absent from the home built with mud bricks. Panic ensued as we searched for a solution, ultimately discovering a white sheet hidden in his mother’s box.
After hanging the white sheet, we placed an oily lamp in front, following the vendor’s instructions to project the pictures on the makeshift screen. However, a strange phenomenon occurred—the flickering flames gave birth to ghostly images, resembling jinns from the night. Fearful that these supernatural beings had returned to inflict harm upon us, some of us succumbed to panic, knowing that our clandestine activity would displease our parents. Although it was an early morning session, we collectively decided to install a bulb for better image projection, another option provided by the vendor. We found a slot and fixed the bulb.
Our generous host offered the only bulb in his home, but in a clumsy attempt to reach it, the only mirror in their home fell and shattered. Excuses were made, and our friends seized the opportunity to weave a dramatic story, presenting the tragedy to his family. While emotions ran high, our eager minds remained focused on the movie, and we decided to contribute towards purchasing a new mirror of the same kind. Pulling cables and fixing the bulb, we prepared for the show, piecing together the movie clips. This masterful task was skillfully performed by the movie enthusiast leading our project.
Suddenly, a voice called out, pleading for silence to fully immerse ourselves in the movie. Before commencing, we clapped and commended the directors for their exceptional work. However, our excitement turned to disappointment as the bulb grew scorching hot, setting fire to the tin projector and movie clips. Our director halted the show due to this mishap, determined to confront the seller with a complaint. In response, the seller informed us that we villagers should have read the instructions, specifying the use of a 40-watt bulb instead of the 125-watt bulb we had chosen.
Time pressed forward, and the Japanese introduced picture rollers, bringing images to life within the concept of a matchbox cinema. These rollers allowed us to manipulate the pictures by using both our eyes. The excitement continued with Eid cards featuring a blinking girl, creating a sense of wonder with every shake. Time kept on changing, and as revolutions took place in various aspects of our lives, our experiences evolved.
I am delighted to share that, during my college days, my late father gifted me a video camera in the early 80s. This precious gift, coupled with my father’s own passion for photography, allowed me to see the world through his eyes. He was one of Dubai’s pioneering photographers in the 1960s. Overwhelmed with joy, my childhood team gathered to plan our future endeavors. Taking the lead, I quietly translated English dramas, writing scripts that received praise and appreciation from my peers. This recognition motivated me to delve deeper into literature and articles, leading various projects. Countless hours were spent discussing lines, characters, and even the female roles that were scarce in our society. Late Shehzad, a young school-going boy, fearlessly accepted the challenge of playing the female characters, while our friend serving in the Pakistan Army declined, fearing it would tarnish his image.
Despite the challenges, we created masterpieces that garnered admiration. These accomplishments encouraged me to venture into wedding videography, earning a respectable income. However, despite the financial success and recognition, I chose to leave the world of moviemaking behind, seeking a better future abroad.
Throughout our creative journey, we assembled a team that included the talented Chaudhary Saleem, our cinema hero. Though he grew old, he always portrayed the roles of a Chaudhary or an elder, seamlessly transitioning between serious and comedic characters. His versatility and talent were remarkable, but it is only in his absence that I realize how his true potential remained unexplored during that time.
Our beloved Shehzad, a young and cheerful member of our team, joined the Pakistan Army but succumbed to cancer at a young age. Always agreeing to our terms and volunteering for any role, he left a lasting impact on our hearts. Looking back, I now understand the kindness and affection that em anated from him. He was destined to leave us early, seeking to leave an indelible mark on our lives.
My younger brother, Late Naeem, with his fiery temper during his youth, expertly portrayed the role of an angry young man. Other friends also played crucial roles within our crew and performance team. We taught acting to new members, attracting people with our work showcased in local video shops and rented cassettes.
Let us now join together in prayer for the souls of these four departed individuals—Chaudhary Saleem, Shehzad, Naeem and my own father. May the Almighty bless their souls to rest in eternal peace. Our endeavor was always to entertain and bring laughter to people’s lives. I firmly believe that good characters never die; they remain with us, immortalized in our memories and prayers.
Today, I am proud to see my sons become professional writers and cinematic photographers, running their own media marketing company. Engaged in creative media, they produce documentaries that shed light on social issues, aiming to make a positive impact on society.
I have always encouraged my children to pursue their interests and have equipped them to see the world through their own lenses. Although we always had a few different cameras at home, it was when I purchased an expensive camera for my younger kids that my late father asked why. I replied, reminiscing about how he had gifted me cameras, inspiring me to explore the world. I had participated in photo exhibitions, earning recognition. Now, it was my turn to inspire my children, to let them see the beauty of our world with their own eyes.
Through the lens of the camera, our perspective and perception of the world transform. Life is a beautiful theater, a creation of the Almighty. Though there have been moments of agony and pain, I have always focused on the positive and beautiful aspects of life. Thanks to this outlook, my approach to a good life has remained positive, allowing me to experience the world around me with awe and gratitude. Life’s challenges and shortcomings serve as guiding lessons, urging us to rethink, redefine, and embrace change for a better future.
In this remarkable journey, we must not forget the sincere efforts of our dear parents, teachers, friends, mentors, and colleagues. Their unwavering love and unity are priceless assets in our lives. Thus, even after the passage of time, I remember them with grateful smiles, cherishing the days of harmony and togetherness. The love we shared for them and for “The Bhalah,” our childhood hero, still resides in our memories and prayers.
As I conclude, I believe that the effort and investment we put into creating something that makes a difference, though it may result in losses, ultimately brings us gains. Life is a journey with its ups and downs, and how we navigate it matters most. There is no failure or success, only the continuous pursuit of improvement and finding our true purpose. Our setbacks serve as catalysts for growth, encouraging us to chart new paths towards a fulfilling and meaningful existence.
As I gaze through the camera lens, I am reminded that we are the time travelers, witnessing the rapid changes in the world around us. This serves as a reminder to tread carefully and leave behind a marvelous legacy for our loved ones. Each moment we capture is a testament to our journey and a chapter in the grand story of life.
With gratitude and a zest for life, I reflect on the moments of joy, the sacrifices made, and the boundless potential that lies within us. Let us embrace the changing tides, armed with knowledge, education, and a positive mindset, ready to face life’s challenges head-on. As we continue to capture the beauty of the world, let us remember those who have touched our lives and express our gratitude for their everlasting love and support.
By : Mohammad Ifrahim Butt Oct. 2020
