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Symbolism was out. How could a progressive writer hide behind a symbol? It was like a warrior hiding behind his damsel’s skirts. Truth had to be out in the open. And the more naked, the better, like a red painted terracotta pot resting on unswept earth There was a time when artists and writers got […]

Today since most parents show off their kids as if they were poodles they have become terribly self-conscience. To my bewilderment even four year olds expect their playful dabbling to be framed by the mother When I was seven years old, like most other boys of my class, I liked to paint, among other things,

Recently, I happened to visit Mohenjodaro again. To my overwhelming happiness, there it was, the little princess, the urn, as coy and young as ever, not a wrinkle, not an extra ounce of fat, eternally beautiful. For a moment mine alone but now forever part of the common heritage of man It is quite amazing

The expression of our leading artists has their own unique character. It can only be comprehended in the context of their aesthetic or social experience and engagements. The moment a critic tries to measure or compare achievements of our painters with western artists in terms and phrases employed by them, he seats our artist in

Faiz was essentially a romantic. Can anyone make a revolution without being a romantic? At the same time, can any one make revolution without anger? A far as reciting his own verse is concerned Taufiq Raffat was the worst poet in the world. Once on walking into the Lahore Television studios I was met with

There was a time when our women folk could move around the streets of Lahore at any hour without fear of embarrassment. A woman who felt even slightly harassed could beckon any of her passing brothers for help. It was considered to be her right and his responsibility Lahore today has lost its former glory

Presently nothing sells unless first it is converted into a commodity. Hasn’t man himself been transformed into a commodity or getting dangerously close to it? Rarely do we think well of a person who has let us, or someone, down. In reality the feeling may have more to do with our high expectations rather than

Buddha appeared to us with his eyes closed lost in deep meditation. After a while the torch was taken from the lap and placed on the left knee. I couldn’t believe what I saw. The Buddha opened his eyelids and seized us with an angry stare, probably for disturbing his peace In one of my

The awesome might of our two respective countries is demonstrated at the closing ceremony at the Wagah border, when the two national flags are brought down at dusk. It is much ado about nothing I cannot recollect who taught us English poetry. Obviously it needed to be taught by someone better. As far as the