Pakistan, as we all know after seeing sportspersons from so many other disciplines performing at the international level, is much more than just cricket, hockey and squash. The country has plenty of talented sports individuals who may not be very famous because of the government’s lack of interest in their sport or because of insufficient resources.

One such sport is parkour which, to those unfamiliar with it, is “the practice of traversing obstacles in a man-made or natural environment through the use of running, vaulting, jumping, climbing, rolling and other movements, in order to travel from one point to another in the quickest and most efficient way possible without the use of equipment.”

Ammad Parkour, as his name suggests, is a professional traceur — a practitioner of parkour — from Quetta. In fact, you may have seen him perform on screen a number of times, though not as himself. That’s because he is also a professional stuntman. He has performed stunts in movies such as Teefa in Trouble and Umro Ayyar and many advertisements.

“The movie experience was good,” Ammad tells Eos. “It was also fun to see the movie crew absolutely in awe of me performing stunts without any support.

“My team and I do not use any support. We were told by the stunt director that he had never filmed any stunts without precautionary measures, but his words fell on deaf ears. We can’t work like that, with ropes or mattresses,” he laughs.

What is the future of the sport of parkour in Pakistan? One of its most ardent practitioners provides the low-down…

“Actors like Sanam Saeed, Ali Kazmi and Usman Mukhtar were really amazed to see our back and front flips without any kind of support. Obviously, they are professional actors who know how the camera can be used to trick the eyes and simple manoeuvres can look like dangerous acts, but they had never seen real stunts being performed before them. It was something very new to them,” he adds.

Ammad wasn’t always a stuntman. He initially started his adventure as a Wushu artist when he was 13 years old. His favourite move while training for Wushu used to be the back flip. He first noticed the acrobatic move when he saw several senior students doing the flip at the club he used to train at.

“I had only seen such acts in Jackie Chan and David Belle movies, although I didn’t know much about stunt choreography back then,” he says.

Before switching to parkour completely, Ammad proved his mettle as an athlete by winning a gold medal in Wushu fighting at the 2014 National Championships held in Lahore, followed by two silver medals in the Jiu Jitsu Newaza national championships. He also featured in the Army Wushu Championships between 2015 and 2019.

“Let me make it very clear for you that parkour is not gymnastics. Gymnastics is just limited to a few flexible manoeuvres and has its set rules and limitations, whereas parkour is spectacular. It is beauty in action. And it becomes more and more beautiful to watch when you add more and more flips and stunts to it,” says Ammad, who tells Eos, that his Computerised National Identity Card only mentions his first name ‘Ammad’.

“Since I wanted parkour to become a part of my identity, I also made it my second name, so that anyone who Googles me or the sport finds the two synonymous with each other,” he says.

“There is not a single club in Pakistan which provides parkour training. I trained all by myself. It is all up to you, how you learn it. You often also get yourself injured while learning, and then figure out your mistakes and make yourself better, even perfect,” he adds.

“Many of us have had neck, back, shoulder and knee injuries. But if you choose to follow this route, you must overcome all of the obstacles and challenges. However, despite the parkour clubs’ seeming enthusiasm for progress and international recognition, it’s the lack of support that causes us all to become discouraged and return to our regular lives,” he says.

Ammad himself trained in parkour by watching YouTube videos and communicating with the regional online community of traceurs from Pakistan, Afghanistan, India and Iran, in addition to studying the fundamentals from his friend Mustafa Ahmedi of the Hazara Free Runners.

“As a subculture, we share advice and inspiration with one another,” he says.

“There are tales of people whose families supported them but, in the case of parkour, families are often unsupportive because they have not experienced such activity before. All they have seen are people with hurt shoulders, knees or backs and little to no income. I have made a small amount of money, but it has come in sporadic payments from my working as a stuntman rather than a regular salary or income,” he says.

“But parkour is in my veins and blood and I breathe parkour,” he says. “Our [Hazara] community is extraordinarily involved in sports, and in recent years, we have produced many martial artists. However, I understand that my family has valid reasons for not being supportive, because my wrists and legs do get injured regularly,” he shrugs.

“We have tried to talk to the members of the parliament from our area many times, but they fail to understand that we need facilities,” he says. “We get injured because we learn and practise outdoors. For newcomers, we need accessible training facilities, to prevent accidents and injuries,” he points out.

Ammad says that his real bread and butter is graphic designing but he gives full attention to his parkour club and would like to see the sport flourish in Pakistan. It means more to him than becoming famous himself. “Currently, we have 12 parkour artists, ranging in ages from 15 to 30,” he says.

“Despite the lack of a centralised platform for parkour in Pakistan, sponsors must step up, because the sport has enormous potential in both the local and global entertainment and sports industries. It is merely a skill that is in demand these days,” he says.

Ammad then brings up an incredible performance, a few months ago, by a well-known group in France that went about switching off extra lights while performing parkour acrobatics.

“It was a kind of energy-saving manoeuvre by a most energetic lot, climbing and bouncing off 13 to 15 feet high walls,” he announces, obviously very proud of his fellow parkours.

“According to the press, the organisation has claimed that every police officer they have encountered while on their rounds has endorsed the initiative, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone. Additionally, the city council has given them their full backing.”

Ammad Parkour can at least dream.

The writer is a freelance journalist, publicist and digital media strategist.

Published in Dawn, EOS, January 29th, 2023