In the fourth part of this series, Dr Fouzia Saeed describes her commitment to women’s issues

People think of me as a writer, but I have never thought of myself as one. What I do acknowledge is that I am a pretty sound researcher. I think I am good at observing situations, making deep connections with people, getting loads of information from them, getting their perceptions and making inferences. All my senses are very quick to absorb information from every source available.

So at the beginning of my career, finding something that would allow me to indulge in research was important. I joined Lok Virsa in 1988 as the Deputy Director of Research. I had admired that hub of folk culture from the days of my student life. I joined on the condition that they would allow me to focus on women’s aspects, within the context of folklore. I was full of energy, yearning to serve and flooded with new ideas. The office used to start at eight in the morning and I was always there ten to fifteen minutes before the time. I thoroughly enjoyed my work and the company of my colleagues. Most of my close friends that I count on today are from my early Lok Virsa days. The quality of those friends is the same as those with whom I grew up. I still call Lok Virsa my ‘ meka ghar ’.

While there, I researched women in the entertainment business, traditional circus and folk theater. I was very conscious of the fact that things had not been recorded from a woman’s perspective in folk theater. So I undertook a research study and wrote a book on the subject. I went and explored all the traditional theatre artists and focused on this one brave woman named Bali Jatti.

I used to travel all over Punjab and some parts of Sindh chasing these semi-nomadic theatre groups and traditional desi circus groups. Their performances started at 9 in the evening and continued until the morning. In many of these mandis and melas I found myself to be the only woman among thousands of men. I roamed around the fairgrounds with a bag on my shoulder with a note pad and a small tape recorder. After the performance, I would find my way back stage to talk to the artists. I traced those actresses who had grown old and had left the field in different shanty towns and developed links with them.

By the time I met her, Bali Jatti was totally disillusioned with everyone around her. She did not want to meet anyone and was living in hiding. I gradually got her back on her feet and developed a very precious bond with her. During her career, Bali Jatti struggled and had the courage to be the only woman owner of a theatre company herself. Alam Lohar and Inayat Hussain Bhatti were her contemporaries. The public was crazy about these women when they performed, but behind the stage they were often beaten by their husbands, had their money snatched away and they were frequently publically humiliated. But isn’t that still true for so many of our women stars throughout South Asia.

After finishing my research I invited Bali to serve as a chief guest at the annual Lok Virsa festival. She stayed with my family and I made sure all the elite of Islamabad were at the opening of the festival to acknowledge her. She told me later that after that event at Lok Virsa she could die as she had been acknowledged for her contributions and her soul felt in peace. I was very anxious to have the government confer a Pride of Performance on her, but I could not. Lok Virsa is in the process of reprinting the book that resulted from my research.

During my time in Lok Virsa, I started to work on another study that traced the roots of many singers and musicians in the red light area ( Shahi Mohalla ) of Lahore. I left Lok Virsa when it went through some internal political turmoil, but I continued that study personally in between my other jobs because I was fascinated with the lives of the dancers and musicians in the Shahi Mohalla. After pursuing this research for eight years it culminated in the form of my second book which was named, Taboo: The Hidden Culture of a Red Light Area (Oxford University Press, 2001) .

I followed many individual and the dynamics of their relationships within their families and with the larger society. I never thought that I would write a book on it, I initially had more of an academic paper in mind. I later realized that it would be important to relate the transformational experience I went through while conducting this research. When I started, I held the same snobbish ideas as most Pakistanis about how good we people are and how morally degenerate those bad women are. However, that journey of eight years changed me for good. I began to question the concept of good and bad that had been socialized into me and I began to recognize the phony morals that this society so hypocritically propagates. I rejected the double standards for men and women in our society and I developed the courage of making my own moral standards.

During the eight years of research on Taboo, I worked for several organizations before joining the UNDP, where I met my husband. When I got married. Paul and I moved to the Philippines. It was there that I finished the final writing of Taboo. There was no way I could have finished it in Pakistan because I was too involved in too many other activities to have the discipline it takes to concentrate on writing.
 

Dr Fouzia Saeed and Javed Akhtar at the launch of the Marathi translation of ‘Taboo’ in Mumbai

In the lion’s den: during research in a traditional circus

Dr Fouzia Saeed in her research-based TV programme ‘Yeh kon log hain’ on Sundays 10am on PTV Home

Left to right: Ghazi Salahuddin, Dr Fouzia Saeed and Fehmida Riaz at the launch of the Urdu translation of ‘Taboo’ in Karachi