Powerplay, screenplay

To understand the significance of Sunday8217;s screening of Mughal-e-Azam in a public theatre in Lahore, we would need to remember that over four decades have intervened since the last Indian film was publicly screened on Pakistani territory.

It would be wrong to read this as a concession that Pakistan is making to India, just as it would be unfortunate if it were to be construed as a triumph of India8217;s cultural hegemony of the subcontinent. The spheres of culture and sports are, by their very nature, open, democratic and not constrained by the quid pro quos, assiduous balancing acts and careful negotiations of official diplomacy. It can therefore be shaped by the instincts and investments of ordinary people, uninhibited by the limits imposed by 8216;national interest8217;, as construed by the respective governments of both countries. In fact the official India-Pakistan peace track has followed a distinctly erratic course ever since Atal Bihari Vajpayee boarded that bus to Lahore in February 1999, with sullen spells interspersed with bouts of effusive bonhomie. What has been far more sustained and consistent has been the thawing in the cultural and sporting fields, despite occasional attempts by political and cultural commissars in both countries to stymie forward movement.

Performers in both countries have had to face bans and protests for trying to breach the India-Pakistan boundaries 8212; and sometimes from their own people. A popular rock band like Pakistan8217;s Junoon has experienced not just the hostility of groups like the Shiv Sena in India, but the wrath of the Pakistan government for having the courage to state that the way forward in India-Pakistan relations is not through nuclear fusion but cultural fusion. Both countries need such voices, such free spirits, because they help reduce popular fear and prejudice of the Other, and celebrate the common ties that bind.