Filmmaker Ayesha Ali focuses on the story of Pakistan’s religious minorities

By Shadab Zeest Hashmi

Picture Pakistan’s flag, and let the image dwell on the white part, the part on this sad flag that signifies the promise of a home to minorities too, the part that is a reminder that we are not whole as a nation unless the minorities are fully recognized, the part that has largely been absent from our lexicon all these years.

Picture other icons related to the minorities, famous Pakistani figures: Chief Justice of Pakistan Supreme Court A.R. Cornelius, cricketer Yousuf Youhana (now Muhammad Yousuf as a Muslim convert), journalist Ardeshir Cowasjee, comedian Ismail Tara, fiction-writer Bapsi Sidhwa, pop-singers Benjamin Sisters.

Besides producing a handful of celebrities, how have the minorities fared in Pakistan since 1947? What is their real story?

In comes Ayesah Ali, a Pakistan-American filmmaker. Ayesha is making a film on Pakistani minorities. It suddenly strikes me that the enterprise that Ayesha has set out to undertake, is quite a daunting one, that she is a pioneer of sorts. And I’m not surprised because that’s the kind of person she always has been: original and courageous, imaginative and grounded.

Flashback to the time Ayesha and I were students together at Kinnaird College in Lahore, Pakistan: She is a teenager of searing wit, a lightning-quick mind, and an aesthetic sensibility all her own. She is also someone with an aversion to high heels, (which she expresses vociferously, sporting khussas, or Kolapuris, those minimalistic, flat leather sandals) and an affinity with all things artistic.

As opposed to the rest of us who fall into groupthink, though we consider ourselves free spirits, she follows no philosophy or fashion until it makes complete sense to her, and questions the most commonly accepted traditions as much as fads and trends. She is tethered to a dream like many of us, but hers is likely to be realized because she values the energy it gives her and knows how to persevere.

It’s been a while since our gobhi-gosht hostel days punctuated by treats from “The Pastry Shop” ended. Ayesha finished up at Kinnaird, went to London School of Economics and earned her Masters in Media and Communications, moved to the US, got married, became a parent and is currently enrolled at NYU.

Our present dialogue started when I saw a short film of hers called “Reimagining Donna Marshall.” I was impressed by how masterfully she maneuvered the different elements to bring attention to the subject – the lighting, the camera-work, and the music were seamlessly assembled. I wanted to know more about her creative process and about the new film she is making:

Zeest: Tell me about yourself as an artist – about your creative process and the works that have shaped your idea of a good film.

Ayesha: Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon in my house to receive letters from my parents who were sitting down the hall from us. It’s how they expressed and I think, in my mother’s case, literally signed off on, both their pride and their concerns. I’ve been very lucky in that I was encouraged to write from a very young age. My father was a wonderful writer and my mother wrote poetry, more for herself than anyone else. So for me writing is always the first step in whatever I undertake.

Working as a journalist, that was a given, but now that I’ve segued into film making, it’s still how I organize and verbalize my thoughts and really thrash an idea out. I constantly make notes about how I see the visuals coming to life, the imagery, the sounds, the mood. The story will be told by the story-tellers, that’s their part – that’s the prose, the visuals will be the poetry and that’ll be my contribution to the film.

To be honest I can’t think of any one or even a couple of documentaries that have shaped what I would categorize as good over any others.  Marian Marzynski, the Polish documentary film maker once said that there is no such thing as a bad documentary. I think when you set out with honest interest to convey someone’s personal story, their unique struggle, you just can’t go wrong – shaky camera, bad lighting, microphones in the frame, whatever else goes wrong, you’re being privileged with access into someone’s life – you can’t go wrong with that. For me that’s enough to make a good film. 

Zeest: Why the subject of minorities?

Ayesha: As is often the case with a lot of what we tell ourselves we do for others, this is as much about me as it is about them. My father was a diplomat and I grew up as a serial minority till I was 15 and I live as one now in this country, so I relate to the experience and am familiar with it. But the religious minorities in Pakistan are in a singularly unique position, they are minorities in their own country – in a racially homogenous country they are still recognized as ‘others’ because of their faith.

When race sets you apart, the ways and means to deal with it are more obvious, when it’s your faith that differentiates you, the coping mechanisms and integrating have to be more subtle just as the discrimination is more subtle.

I find it interesting that they’ve chosen a somewhat hostile environment to call home and to take part in it’s citizenship and to make contributions to their communities and country in ways that most people, most Pakistanis, aren’t even aware of. Any one of these communities could just have easily chosen to go elsewhere, Jinnah’s promise notwithstanding, they all knew that they were choosing to stay in an Islamic state at the time. 

I won’t even get into what direction the country is going in now. And yet... and yet, for the most part, they’re still choosing to stay. Let’s hear their story already! Let’s hear how they’ve fared, why they stayed, why they continue to call Pakistan home, what they’ve done for Pakistan and what Pakistan has done to and for them. I think there are great stories there and we’ll try and capture them.

Zeest: What obstacles are you facing as the project evolves?

Ayesha: The only real obstacle I’m facing is myself. I’m getting greedy. When I started thinking about making the documentary, I had limited myself to one religious minority group, the Parsis and to one city, Karachi. But as things happened, I couldn’t leave the Christians out, and then the Hindu community and then I wanted to look at the incredible organization of the Shia sub-sects, the Aga Khanis, the Khojas the Bohris.

Once I got greedy with people, then came the locations - though Karachi is, in my opinion, the only truly religiously diverse city in Pakistan, Lahore, Pindi and Quetta too have their small communities.

So, to answer your question, my only obstacle is me having to contain myself. I think the antidote to that will be the reality check that only time and monetary constraints can provide. 

Zeest: What do you find most rewarding about making this particular film?

Ayesha: I’m not going to pretend that I’m doing something life changing here for anyone other than myself. Religious minorities in Pakistan don’t need me to tell their story, I just need to hear them. So far, even just in the research phase, I’ve met such interesting people, and been privy to such incredible insights that I think even if at the end of the day I have nothing to show others, I’ll be happy with what I’ve seen myself. I know that sounds somewhat insane - but it’s how I deal with pre-production anxiety. And at the end of the day, I think we’ll all be better off knowing and celebrating our fellow-citizens.

Zeest: What is that one magic ingredient you wish for your final product to have?

Ayesha: More than anything I want and need for it to do justice to its subjects, to show their struggles without being sensational, and to show their achievements without hyperbole. I want the people in the film and the communities that they further represent to be able to really see themselves as they really are and not as a version of what I or you may think they are or what they ought to be.  And then I’m going to try and work a dance number in there. Or not!

Zeest: Anything else you want to add? 

Ayesha: I do wear heels sometimes now, so I’ve personally left that minority group!

High heels or kolapuris, it isn’t easy to walk in Ayesha’s shoes, but she has a vision, and a tenacious spirit to keep her going, and I can’t wait to see her new film!