Mera Zamana Meri Kahani
By Mahpara Safdar
Book Corner, Jhelum
ISBN: 978-9696624707
464pp.

It was sometime in July 2015. A routine drill in the event of a royal death was being held at the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) headquarters in London. Ironically, the staff were being trained to handle a tense situation on a day when the United Kingdom’s queen actually did go to the hospital for a check-up. High-ups were notified of the royal obituary rehearsal, but a reporter in the BBC Urdu Service was not. Glancing at the internal monitor which flashed the news of Queen Elizabeth’s ‘death’, the reporter went berserk, broke the news and hell followed.

This is just one of the many anecdotes in Mera Zamana Meri Kahani [My Era, My Story], the autobiography of renowned primetime newscaster Mahpara Safdar, one of the most well-recognised faces from the heydays of Pakistan Television (PTV).

Taking readers back in time, Safdar writes that she began her career as Mahpara Zaidi at Radio Pakistan in 1974 and spent the next 15 years shuttling between television and radio. In the interim, she married the famous poet Safdar Hamdani and, by 1990, moved abroad to work for the BBC Urdu Service in London. Her husband was employed in Japan at the time and so she spent some years alone in the UK with her children.

The first of Mera Zamana Meri Kahani’s three parts is an account of Safdar’s early years in Sargodha, followed by a section on Lahore, from where she completed her education. Safdar writes of her supportive parents, her television audition, Gen Ziaul Haq’s martial law and the social happenings of the time. Part three revisits her life outside Pakistan, her career at the BBC, the cultural differences she experienced in the UK and some memorable interviews and projects. The selected verses in the last few pages give readers a glimpse of her as a poet.

Renowned erstwhile PTV newscaster Mahpara Safdar’s autobiography is a must for those interested in the events of the 1970s and ’80s. But it can also be an inspiration for media students and young girls

One of six daughters, she writes of the ‘taunts’ her family was subjected to: “betiyon walay Zaidi Sahib” [Zaidi Sahib, who has all daughters] and condolences on the birth of yet another girl. But this only made her stronger and she credits her mother for ensuring all six girls pursued their education at a time when most other girls were discouraged from stepping out of the house.

Jogging her memory, she recalls the first martial law of 1958, witnessing a plane casualty of Squadron Leader M.M. Alam’s famous airstrike in the war of 1965 and the rise of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who visited Sargodha before the elections of 1970. By the end of the war of 1971, she writes that she could feel the divisions in society resulting from the ongoing ethnic and religious conflicts.

Safdar’s straightforward style of writing and references to famous couplets of prominent poets, even popular songs, grab attention. With her sharp memory and eye for detail in recollecting the ‘real’ stories behind major events of the day, it feels as though we’re watching a news bulletin, the course of events being explained in an unbiased manner. She was known for her immaculate spoken Urdu, and her mastery over the language translates adroitly on to the page.

She lets us relive several key moments in history, such as the infamous dupatta controversy that got Mahtab Akbar Rashdi sacked from PTV (Rashdi refused to cover her head), the flogging of political opponents and journalists by the Zia regime and the ‘careful’ efforts to reduce coverage of the Pakistan National Alliance (PNA) movement in 1977. In retrospect, they make one smile in appreciation of the people’s resilience. However, recollections of Gen Zia’s rise and fall, the Ojhri camp blast and then prime minister Muhammad Khan Junejo’s helplessness in its aftermath, send shivers down one’s spine.

PTV was used to complying with the diktats of the head of state (or government) even before Gen Zia took over. For instance, Safdar writes that, the day the Constitution of 1973 was passed, then President Bhutto failed to watch the daily bulletin because of his commitments. PTV re-aired a complete recording hours later to pacify him, when he could have simply watched it on tape privately.

Later, when Bhutto’s government was toppled on July 5, 1977, the morning radio bulletin gave news of the successful negotiations between him and the PNA, but the day ended with news of martial law being implemented.

Safdar also writes extensively on the dress codes mandated after Gen Zia’s ‘ascent to the throne’. Female news presenters had to cover their heads and, for a time, were even prohibited from wearing make-up — the ‘Khabarnama’ had turned into ‘Zianama’. The make-up ban was repealed after some backlash, but the dupatta rule remained and Safdar was accused of making fun of it from the way she placed it on her fluffed-up hair.

She unravels the story behind Bhutto’s downfall, Gen Zia’s referendum, the elections of 1985 and the rise of Bhutto’s daughter, Benazir. She mocks the censorship of the day, when certain names — including ‘Bhutto’ — were banned from the airwaves, and thus BBC Radio became the authentic source of news for people in Pakistan. When the removal of martial law was announced, Parliament House rang with thunderous applause and Safdar’s narration is so descriptive that readers will feel they can actually hear it.

She writes that, when news of Bhutto’s execution was to be announced, she was asked if she would be able to read it. As it was her duty to read whatever came her way, she did so professionally. However, she is bemused that, nine years later when Gen Zia’s plane crashed, she was kept from announcing it despite being in the PTV studios at the time.

Towards the end of 1989, Safdar was selected for the BBC Urdu Service, but her name had been put on the Exit Control List and much red tape had to be cut before she received clearance from then prime minister Benazir Bhutto.

One chapter is dedicated to generous praise of her colleagues at PTV. The tribute also paints a nostalgic picture of the ‘good old days’ when computers, and even teleprompters, were a dream yet to be realised. How news was gathered, the bulletin edited and the script and visuals matched were exercises in skill and technique worlds apart from the current era.

After moving to the UK, Safdar disappeared from sight, but in homes that tuned in to BBC Radio’s Urdu Service, she remained ever present. Over the next 25 years, she compiled special programmes for women and interviewed numerous celebrities and politicians. Memorable photographs in the book of her with such renowned personalities as singers Mehdi Hasan and Farida Khanum, Bollywood actor Dilip Kumar and politician Sardar Akbar Bugti speak volumes about her work.

She writes about a garden party at Buckingham Palace where she met Elizabeth II and, in attendance at a valima reception for a self-exiled leader from Karachi, her shock at the lavish arrangements for someone who was supposed to bring change in the lives of the middle class.

On the personal front, Safdar continued her educational pursuits, earning a master’s degree in Women’s Studies from the University of London. She also states her appreciation for her husband at every step and the book gives a glimpse of their marriage which, at 40 years, is still going strong.

Mera Zamana Meri Kahani is a must for anyone who would relate to the events of the 1970s and ’80s. It is also a guide for the younger generation, especially those who want to make a name for themselves in the media industry. And it will serve as a source of inspiration to any young girl who wants to break free from the shackles of tradition and patriarchy.

The reviewer writes on old films, music and loves reading books. He tweets @suhaybalavi

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, April 23rd, 2023