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Talking about television
Come the evening and audiences across Pakistan settle down for some hours in front of the telly. Flicking through the options, they may pause at one of the many Urdu-language entertainment, music and news channels, watch a few scenes and then change the channel with mumbled comments of “terrible quality.” Or, if the programme commands attention, it may hold their attention for the ten-odd minutes broadcast before the advertisements cut in even, unbelievably, before news headlines. A dozen ads later, they will have lost interest and will be convinced more than ever that the standard of local programming is going from bad to worse.
Unfortunately, it is a fact that as Pakistan’s television channels multiply, so deepens the perception that quality is declining at an equal rate, particularly in entertainment programming. Arguably news programming, particularly the increasingly popular talk show format, is in many ways easier and cheaper to do when the priority is filling the airwaves rather than producing true quality – but that subject I’ll leave for later. In terms of the entertainment programming, however, critics point to poor scripts, sloppy direction and low production values, comparing the fare on Indus Vision or ARY Digital, for example, with non-Pakistani channels such as Star World or the Comedy Channel.
Is this comparison even fair? A great number of professional writers for local programming think not, arguing that in other parts of the world, a panel of writers works in close association with the director and producer to come up with a single episode. It is quite possible that the perception of quality loss can be blamed to some extent on the effects of globalisation – there can be few points of comparison between Pakistani or other programming given that the local industry as it exists now is barely over ten years old. Pakistan’s entertainment television industry is still in its nascent years and lacks sufficiently trained writers, directors, lightmen, cameramen and editors etc.
Then, it is worth pondering whether the perceived quality of productions past, such as PTV’s ‘Andhera Ujala’, ‘Tanhaiyaan’ and ‘Alif Noon’, is the result of a certain sort of nostalgia and romanticism. Given the sheer volume of the programming on the air today, perhaps the good productions are simply drowned out. On the seven major Urdu-language entertainment channels, for example, seven different shows are broadcast every night during just the prime time slot. In other words, viewers choose from a list of 49 different prime-time programmes every week, and this does not include sitcoms, soaps, independent series or mysteries. So are viewers even noticing the praiseworthy productions?
That said, however, much of the programming on air today displays a palpably increasing drop in aesthetic and technical standards. This can be traced to two major factors, that of finances and of sudden expansion. The constraints within which programming is produced, particularly by private production companies, are such that a certain loss of quality is virtually inevitable.
A core issue is that the television industry grew faster than people were trained. Opportunities for employment became available too fast and as a result, people are today making their mistakes on air instead of in the classroom. The hard reality is that the entertainment industry has to produce enough material to fill the airwaves round the clock, in a country where until recently, it was impossible to get formal training for anything from screen-play writing to acting or lighting and camerawork.
Compounding this problem is that of low pay-scales. On the average, the director of a privately produced 25-minute programme is paid 10,000 to 15,000 rupees per episode, which is abysmally low given what the channels earn in revenue as well as the 24-hour nature of the director’s job – which includes everything from working with the script writer to getting the actors on set and fixing the editing. Payments for actors, writers and technicians are even lower. Quality is bound to suffer when someone being paid 12,000 rupees is editing a production worth two crores. And, furthermore, because the channels often refuse to pay fair prices for the software, production houses are forced to cut corners on sets, costumes, light and post-production work. Most of the private production houses are very small and given the investment they have on the line, they are anxious to sell. An expensive programme will often not find a buyer. One of the results of the low pay-scales is that that everyone in the industry has to aggressively multitask and therefore cannot develop the focus and concentration that comes with exclusive projects. To take a scripting example, quality has to do with the amount of work a writer is handling. A person focussing on one or two projects at a time is likely to turn in better quality. Someone who must juggle five in order to earn the same amount of money will end up stretching himself too thin. Similarly, if an actor is doing three different sitcoms a week in relatively similar roles, how much distinctiveness can he bring to the characters?
Low pay-scales combined with a large industry mean that professionals take on a number of projects simultaneously in order to make ends meet. In this situation, the loss of quality is virtually inevitable. Great power is wielded by channels’ marketing departments and in may cases, an unusual idea or one that does not boast a star cast is often rejected because the marketing people want a product that advertisers are certain to zero in on. As a result, many original ideas and credible concepts are lost.
If we are to reverse this trend, it is essential that channels review their payment policies and focus on quality content. Channel owners must themselves take an interest and monitor the quality of the programmes aired, while a formal pay-scale must be developed so that minimum remuneration amounts are set according to the seniority of actors, writers or directors.
— hmumtaz@dawn.com
Butchers establish their own writ in Peshawar
OWING to the negligence of officials concerned and lack of mechanism to check the illegally established slaughterhouses, the residents of Peshawar are forced to consume substandard meat.
Let alone the illegal butcheries, condition of the two official slaughterhouses located at the Ring Road and at Charsadda Road is also very pathetic and unhygienic. There is no arrangement to cover the meat, which is transported uncovered in Suzuki and Datsun pick-ups to markets.
During a visit the slaughterhouses it was learnt that only two sweepers were working at the Charsadda Road slaughterhouse and maximum of the water taps were damaged.
There is no proper time for slaughtering of animals and the process starts from morning and continues till night without any check by the veterinary doctors. The blood and offal are thrown near. The drainage system is also faulty, which the miseries of the residents of the area.
During the visit no doctor was found to check the animals or meat and the butchers had a free hand to continue their activities in violation of the prescribed rules.
In other provinces the government has set specific rules for slaughterhouses. According to these rules not only the weight and age of an animal is checked before slaughter but the meat is also examined by doctors. The butchers are also directed to cover the meat while transporting it to the market. But in Peshawar, no such rules have so far been implemented.
It was observed that most of the animals were either underage, underweight or extremely aged which could hardly walk. The trend of slaughtering health animals is very rare in the city. The butchers, after paying the Rs10 tax to the officials of concerned towns, were stamping the meat themselves.
There is no check on the substandard meat and the officials are only interested in collecting tax, a resident said.
It was learnt that the doctor posted at the Ring Road slaughterhouse had been transferred one year ago and a veterinary assistant had been performing the duty.
The veterinary staff told this scribe that old magistracy system was very effective, but after the devolution of powers the butchers had established their own writ and no official could dare to check them even in the market.
The municipal health officers, when contacted, said that they had not official vehicles to visit various markets in the city regularly.
Dr Syed Luqman Ahmed Shah and his colleague Lal Mohammad Khan said that due to cut in their budged all the facilities like telephone, vehicles and vaccination had been withdrawn and they were unable to regularly visit the markets except on complaints by consumers or on directives from the high ups.
The admitted that the butchers made stamps and were stamping the meat after slaughtering animals at their shops, which was totally illegal and in violation of the municipal rules.
The said that at many areas like University Town, Nasir Bagh, Shah Dand, Bostanabad, Akhundabad, Charsadda Road, Karkhano Markets the animals were being slaughtered illegally but they were unable to conduct raids there owing to the lack of facilities and proper enforcement force.
They said that labourers working should be also medically checked in order to ensure that they were healthy and not suffering from any kind of infectious diseases. Some of the fatal diseases, they said, could easily be transmitted to the people, who consumed the meat.
Dr Luqman said it was necessary to medically examine the employees at the meat shops and then vaccinate them if having any disease. But there was no budget for vaccinating them, he said. The meat supplied from China, India and other countries is also on sale in the markets, but there is no check on its quality, he added.
There is also check on the rate of meat. It is observed that some butchers are selling meat with bone at the rate of Rs120 per kilogramme while others are selling it at Rs130 and Rs140 per kilogramme. Likewise some butchers are selling mutton at Rs220 per kilogramme while others are selling it at Rs240.
Nawab Ali, the town municipal officer of Town-II, when contacted, said that officials concerned were checking the markets and the reports were regularly submitted to the district coordination officer.
Town-III TMO was not available for comments. Twon-I TMO Azmatullah Wazir said he had recently taken charge of his office and had asked his staff to visit the markets.
Bilawal and the beautiful bride
A LARGE chunk of our young female population need not lose their sleep over the headline above. The bride here is used as a metaphor for Islamabad to describe how decked up — in a manner of speaking — the city was this past week.
The seat of the federation is throbbing with excitement after the change in guard at the top. For the politically minded, the promise of February 18 is now giving way to what Dawn the newspaper aptly called a “rainbow” coalition.
But for the ordinary citizen glued to his or her idiot box, it has been a prime time week — lots of absorbing developments and a few poignant moments. Our once sleepy, but now wide awake, capital has been the cynosure of eyes local and global.
Pertinently, the attention grab has given birth to a positive outlook, restoring in the bargain, much of the country’s dignity among the comity of nations.
From Bilawal’s tears to the ubiquitous Jiey Bhutto cheers and from the chic fashion statements of dashing new women-elect members of parliament to the wild celebrations inside the residence of Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry (one TV channel ‘stole’ the march on others by immediately referring to him as the ‘chief justice’), Islamabad was pretty much the world’s stage.
No true blue Islooite can deny savouring what will hopefully, become cherished memories in a rather chequered history of this promised land.
It is a reflection of the changed landscape that even the mighty American arm twisters, John Negroponte and Richard Boucher, found themselves a little out of place in trying to push for the old order: loosely, the M word.
In response, the flavour of the season — Nawaz Sharif — shown as the ‘playing-hard-to-get’ star by raising the decibels on the P word (parliament) when the two were compelled to see him at his chosen rendezvous.
It was just one of those poignant moments in the week where poetic justice was beginning to sound like Pakistan’s new rhapsody.
But for a spellbound audience, the great television moment arrived when bespectacled 19-year-old Bilawal, seated in the parliament gallery, reflected poignantly beneath the crowning glory of a new leader of the house to remember whose shoes he was attempting to fill.
For the few seconds he lost composure, time appeared to stand still, and one suspects millions cried in their hearts along with Bilawal as thoughts drifted to the one missing person, who paid the ultimate price for the dream we share today — his mother and one of the bravest daughters of the soil: Benazir.
For a bruised nation, the transition to hard-earned democracy was a moment of great joy, but at the same time, tinged with sadness.
For many present inside the august House and outside, the tears had still not dried when PM-elect Yousaf Raza Gillani ordered the immediate release of incarcerated judges and their families.
Before we knew it, live television — which in this country has become both a harbinger of a soft revolution and topnotch entertainment — was back on familiar territory: street theatre.
Scenes outside and inside the residence of Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry were nothing, if not, sensational. Heaven knows Islooites have had enough of chaotic theatre in the streets this past year, but the latest twist in the drama spanning one Ides of March to another was one of palpable relief.
Ever since the draconian November 3 measures following the imposition of Emergency, barbed wires, concrete blocks and heavy police presence have greeted wannabe adventurers leading up to the Judges Enclave.
Batons, sticks and tear gas were a staple diet for those attempting the impossible in Battleground Islamabad. Not that it stopped them from trying.
However, the resplendent evening of March 24 broke the shackles, leading to a storming of Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry’s residential compound — and a much anticipated guest appearance a little while later from you-know-who.
The media, particularly the enterprising electronic kind, was straining to get the best view and in the bargain, reinforced the impression that there’s no business like show business (the show here being different in connotation from the more renowned version depicting the arts and fashion).
A friend living in Japan, who is currently here on a vacation and whom one met after more than a decade was a little bamboozled at the general air of excitement in Islamabad. This led one to explain how political soap and judicial soup now offered more exhilarating entertainment than any conjured up by commercial interest.
And that live television in chaotic situations or anything resembling a crisis attracted more viewers than maybe even the fortunes of our cricket team, something which is fast losing its lustre as the first love of Pakistanis.
While the print and television coverage was focused on the serious business of election, selection and the odd deflection, a few women-elect MPs were painting the town red in their own styles.
Camera-friendly Sherry Rehman, Kashmala Tariq, Hina Rabbani Khar and Sumaira Malik competed favourably with a host of young entrants but even seasoned ones like Dr Fehmida Mirza, the first woman speaker, and Nilofer Bakhtiar rose to the occasion. But to return to the subject, if Bilawal was the hot-stepper of the week, the bride (Islamabad) was just as beautiful.
The writer is News Editor at Dawn News. He may be contacted at kaamyabi@gmail.com
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