A conversation with classical dancer Tehreema Mitha

A Mind in Motion

Tehreema Mitha is among Pakistan’s handful of professional classical dancers. She has trained in the Bharatanatyam style with her mother and guru, Indu Mitha, herself an accomplished performer. Tehreema has performed, trained, and choreographed extensively, both in the United States and in Pakistan. In 2002, she formed the Tehreema Mitha Dance Company in Maryland, where she resides, specializing in classical dance and contemporary, modern Jazz.

NOTE: This interview was first published in the Summer 2005 issue of Chowrangi Magazine.

Tehreema, how were you introduced to Bharatanatyam?
From the age of three, I’ve been watching my mother teach. Wherever we [were posted] (my father was in the army), my mother would start classes. There were always women who were interested, either for their children or for themselves. People are still interested but things were so much more relaxed in those days.

I formally started my dance training [with my mother] at seven. I certainly didn’t think, for a long time, that I would ever have a career in dance.

"The problem of marginalization of Bharatanatyam exists on both sides [of the border]. [For example], a small segment of Indian society has a problem with my doing Bharatanatyam. Firstly, because I am a Pakistani, secondly, I am a Muslim, and thirdly, I am not doing Hindu mythology when I do it. From our side, because of Bharat, [people] think, 'This is all to do with India.'”

How is Kathak different from Bharatanatyam?
[They are] so different that visually, one can tell them apart in two seconds. Some [other] styles are closer [to Bharatanatyam]: Kuchipudi, Orissi, and Mohini Attam.

The whole premise of Bharatanatyam is based on the triangle of the body, whereas Kathak is much more upright and flowing. Its gestures are much softer, hand gestures are not so clearly defined, the elbows are dropped. In Bharatanatyam, the elbows never drop. The Kathak dancer is mostly standing with a slight bend in the knees.Then, there is the difference in instruments. Bharatanatyam is done to South Indian instruments, the mridangam, violin, and flute and vocals set to South Indian raagas. Kathak is done to the tabla and to North Indian music.

The content, however, is very often the same. If you see Birju Maharaj [doing Kathak], he would be doing the same story of Krishna and Radha that is done in Bharatanatyam.

Is Bharatanatyam associated with Hinduism?
All the dance forms that come from the Indian subcontinent [originally] came from Hinduism because that is the area’s oldest religion. All the dances started in temples. But because India has taken the word Bharat, the word Bharatanatyam is automatically linked to India. They call it their national dance.

The problem of marginalization of Bharatanatyam exists on both sides [of the border]. [For example], a small segment of Indian society has a problem with my doing Bharatanatyam. Firstly, because I am a Pakistani, secondly, I am a Muslim, and thirdly, I am not doing Hindu mythology when I do it. From our side, because of Bharat, [people] think, “This is all to do with India.”

If the name causes such controversy, do you educate people on its origins ?
It’s explained on our website and during lecture demonstrations:‘Bha’ comes from ‘bhaav’ (expression), ‘ra’ from ‘raag’ (melody), ‘ta’ from ‘taal’ (rhythm), and ‘natyam’ (drama).

Of course, there is also a belief that Bharat was the author of the treatise from which ancient traditional dance in the area comes, the Natya Shastra.

So the word doesn’t have anything to do with India [in particular], but with our common background [as Indians and Pakistanis].

"If you have something to say, you should dance. I have a lot to say!... If my dance is not saying something about human nature or history and the lives we live, then to me it’s meaningless.”

You have often performed in Pakistan.During General Zia’s regime in the 1980’s, there was a clampdown on dance and music. How did that impact you?
I did my Arangatram in 1986, …when your teacher presents you to the public as a serious student - traditionally,…a two hour solo. I presented mine at The Goethe’ Institut [in Lahore] because we were not allowed to dance anywhere that was considered Pakistani soil. So, we had to ask, beg, the Institut. My mother and I swept the place ourselves to get it ready for the performance.

To perform in Pakistan, you need an NOC (No-Objection Certificate), which is a difficult process. It all depends on which [helpful] police superintendent you know, etc. How often can you go through this?

[Though] we have often had to dance on what is considered non-Pakistani soil, we have never lacked an audience, never had trouble selling tickets. At the same time, there has been absolutely no support from cultural organizations in Pakistan. None! Producing a performance once in a blue moon is not [enough]. You need continuous support for the arts. There is a lot of talk but that’s all it is.

Let’s talk about your dance company here in the U.S. Are you doing a mix of classical Bharatanatyam and modern dance?
Well, let’s clarify one thing, [which I] explain to audiences as well. I don’t do a mixture of modern jazz and Bharatanatyam, [but] two clearly different styles of dance. One is pure classical Bharatanatyam, but done to North Indian music and with our own themes. The other is the contemporary style which is my own. Our performances are not what you [would] call ‘fusion,’ with a little bit of classical and a little bit of modern dance mixed together.When you produce a dance that comes out of you, yourself, and your body, I don’t call it fusion.

Our music, [however], is definitely fusion because we are consciously putting things together [that] don’t belong to the same culture.

How do you select your dancers? Do you have your own musicians?
We have auditions. I have six dancers right now. I would like to add a few more but I am very picky. [Many] dancers find it hard to switch between the two styles. Those who are trained in Bharatanatyam are very often too stiff for anything else. Then people who are trained in modern jazz look at Bharatanatyam and say, ‘Gosh, that hurts!’

I work with different musicians, depending on the type of performance. I usually find them through word of mouth or when I see someone play at a show and like them.

Mostly, for classical pieces the music is pure classical and the musicians and I compose it together. For contemporary pieces, I mostly use classical but sometimes mix it with a folk instrument. In one of the last dances we premiered, In the Fabric of Being,. a dhol is coupled with a surbahar and a dholki is played with the sitar. We have a wonderful time creating the music and we do a lot of new things.

Who are your mentors? Who inspires you?
My mother. She is one of the most educated dancers that I know of, certainly from Pakistan, but even from India. She has done her Masters in philosophy, read widely in both Urdu and English, understands rhythm and music. She [has] a lot of humility. She learned dance pre-partition, initially in the Uday Shankar style, then went to Kalakashetra, came back to Delhi and learned from Lalitha Shastri, the first South Indian dance teacher for Bharatanatyam to come to North [India]. My mother is 75 now…and still teaching.

What is the future of classical dance among the younger generation, both in Pakistan and the diaspora? Is your work appreciated by the Pakistani- American community?
[In Pakistan], if certain people don’t wake up and start finding ways of supporting it, there is no future. The educated, upper middle class are very blasé about what’s happening. With MTV-style [satellite] TV becoming so dominant, classical music and dance are dying. A [recent] new channel wanted to show something [classical]. But if we haven’t nurtured something for the last twenty five years, what do we have to show? Nothing!

[In the U.S.], there are very few segments of [Pakistani- American] society who take dance with any respect. Otherwise it is entertainment [for] a charity show,…to make money,…or to celebrate some particular day. There are a few people in every community who understand…quality dance, and they’ll try to introduce something like our group. But that’s rare.

There are more than enough [teachers in the U.S.]. In D.C. alone, there are many teachers and styles of Bharatanatyam. A few parents have consulted me and I always refer them [on]. Last year, I heard of two [Pakistani] sisters who did their Arangatram with an Indian teacher. They tried to do new things [like] performing to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s music.

But we [usually] get e-mails like “I would like to learn to dance in four days” or “I would like you to come and dance at my brother’s wedding.” [People] think that they’ll pay a $100 and you’ll come and dance for half an hour. I often suggest a bhangra group to them because that’s more of what they’re looking for.

I have worked with the Pakistani embassy in the past, [but] they have not been too responsive. The beautiful new embassy, with a courtyard and fountain, looks like a place that’s meant for music. I’ve suggested…beautiful performances [to embassy personnel], with Pakistani musicians who are living right here in the States, but never heard from them.We have a long, long way to go [and] we can’t do it alone. The more we perform the more people will get to know us.

Why is it important to you to keep this art alive?
Junoon hai, pagalpun hay thoda sa (It’s my passion, a bit of madness too). Our dance is very emotional and topic-based. If you have something to say, you should dance. I have a lot to say!

Dance is about more than just love stories. It doesn’t always have to be ‘boy chasing girl’ or the traditional [theme of] ‘Sanyaan mujhe chhor kay chala gaya (My lover has left me).’ That drives me crazy because we are past that stage. We have much more assertive women now. Then, you have the exact opposite, [which is] that everything has to have a feminist slogan. That also I can’t stand because dance cannot be a slogan.

One of the classical dances [I have done] is about the environment. It has a mother and daughter (its one in which my mother danced with me so it’s very precious to me). The daughter says to the mother, “All my life, I have been hearing you tell me about this hill that you lived on when you were a child, the trees that are there, the water that hits the stream, and how you played in it. Well, take me [there] now. I am grown up.” So the mother takes her daughter to this place and she is devastated because the hill is half gone away and the water is polluted and the trees don’t exist anymore.

In the Fabric of Being is a dance about looking at somebody and saying ‘Is there really such a thing as a good person or a bad person?’ Because isn’t it true that both things exist in all of us ?Another is called Ay ri Maan (Oh, Mother). It has a beautiful raag. The daughter addresses her mother: “Mun mora hurly hay. O dukhwa kaa say kahoon ri. (My heart is heavy. To whom shall I tell my sorrow?)” The daughter’s lover has abandoned her and she finally tells her mother, “There is a seed within me. I am pregnant.” The dance is about [changing from a girl] into a woman overnight. Yesterday, she was having a romance. Today she has to make a [real] decision.

If my dance is not saying something about human nature or history and the lives we live, then to me it’s meaningless.

What would you like to say to Pakistani-Americans about supporting your art?
Call us. We want people to understand that to us dance is more than just dancing. It’s a reaching out.

Interview with Mehreen Jabbar

Mehreen Jabbar is a filmmaker who has an extensive portfolio at a young age consisting of work ranging from short independent art films to commercial serials and series for television. Her success as a director can be assessed by the fact that her work has appeared in many film festivals around the world including The Hong Kong International Film Festival, The San Francisco Asian-American Film Festival, and The Leeds Film Festival in U. K. to name a few. At home, in Pakistan, her unconventional style of story telling has earned her much acclaim and several awards. Much of Mehreen's work focuses on the everyday lives of Pakistani women and the conflicts they face from day to day... more on Mehreen Jabbar

(Interviewer's note: The following is an excerpt of an interview which was conducted mostly through telephone conversations, as well as, some e-mail exchanges. In the text below, unless otherwise noted, all references to film and television industries mean specifically the Pakistani film and television industries, all the cities and venues mentioned are those located in Pakistan, and words which appear in italics are expressions or titles in Urdu.)

Jazbah: What was the first play that you made?
Mehreen: I did my first play in '94. It was called 'Nivala' which was based on a short story by Ismat Chugtai (It was meant to be part of a series on works of South Asian Women writers). That didn't go on air because of the policy [of Pakistan public television], I think, they weren’t ready to run an Indian writer on TV back then. So, that play actually ran a year ago on a private channel.

Jazbah: What type of issues do you try to deal with in your plays?
Mehreen: I don’t really look at plays as issues, I look at stories. The stories that appeal to me are small stories, like conflicts within a household and conflicts between two individuals. More than social issues, that obviously plays a part, but I don’t direct to make a point.

Jazbah: Did you ever have an interest in acting? If not, why do you find directing more interesting than acting?
Mehreen: No, I've never had an interest in acting. I think it's an extremely difficult job and it's not for me! I find directing is my forte because this is how I love telling stories. Directing is like giving birth, creating, moulding. the high is incredible as are the rewards. To see all the elements come together from the script to the actors, to the camera work, to the crew and to see that produce something that was the original vision is irreplaceable.

Jazbah: Do you write some of your own plays?
Mehreen: No, I have not written my own plays but I work with the writers. We come up with a story, sometimes the writer will come up with something, sometime I will and then I sit with them and they write and we just take the whole script from start to finish, and then it is devleped from there on. So it’s a very collaborative process. I work with only a couple of writers.

Jazbah: And have you also made films? I know you have made short films.
Mehreen: I’ve made short films. I have not made a feature film. I plan to [do so].

Jazbah: Have you had any experience with the Pakistan film industry?
Mehreen: No, I’ve never worked in the film industry. That is in Lahore, mostly. But a group of us (independent filmmakers) have started the KaraFilm Festival which is Pakistan’s only international film festival. We started that two years ago and it was developed with the aim to encourage producers and directors to produce and
show their works at the festival and to enable people to view films from around the world and meet with other filmmakers.

Jazbah: People submitted their films and then you guys decided which ones to screen?
Mehreen: Yes. Last year we showed nearly 80 films, including documentaries and short films, from countries such as Germany, Russia, New Zealand, India, American, Great Britain, etc. Pakistanis right now are not really used to the idea of film festivals because it's never been done at this level. Therefore, it's quite a task to get sponsorship, to get people to understand what the whole thing is about. However the last year's festival response has been very encouraging and i think slowly the festival will be an important event in Pakistan.

Jazbah: So who are the audiences at the film festival? Does the general public show up?
Mehreen: Audience are very mixed. Two years ago, we started at the Alliance Francaise, which was obviously a restricted venue because it was the French cultural center. We had to do it there because Karachi really doesn’t have too many auditoriums. You get into a huge bureaucratic hassle if you put it in any neutral venue. Last year the festival was held at the Pakistan Institute of International Affaris which is very near Saddar and here we had all kinds of people walking in which was great because they were genuinely interested in what was going on. The festival itself has an almost negligable fee to enter it. [However,] we can't really open it to mass because we don't have the resources and most of the non Urdu films are subtitled in English, that automatically restricts the audience. They'd [the non-English speaking audience will] only come and see Indian or Pakistani films.

Jazbah: Were there works by several new Pakistani directors [in the festival]? Those who had not been shown before? Mehreen: Yes, yes. There were students’ making films. [Normally] students make films and they can only show them at their own universities. Here there was a venue they could actually approach. Also we've had a lot of premieres of new films by directors and have shown Lollywood films like "Inteha", "Mehndi Waley Haath" and "Yeh Dil Aap ka Hua" as well. Two years ago, we had the actress Nandita Das and the director come over with their film. Last year we had Russian and New Zealand filmmakers come over. This year we are trying to get Michael Moore. Jazbah: What do you think, well if you’ve only had limited experience with the film industry, maybe you can’t answer this, but I’ll ask you anyway, what do you think is the problem? Why is the Pakistani film industry so behind? Mehreen: Many reasons, I guess.

KaraFilm Festival 2001 (Courtesy of www.karafilmfest.com)

Jazbah: Is it lack of money? Is it something else?
Mehreen: Well, it's that the people who've entered the industry have gotten into it for the wrong reasons. Cinema's real decline started in the late 70's. Since then apart from a few good films, the majority of what is being produced is mediocre and unimaginative. I think the industry has been hijacked by groups who conduct business in almost gangster like fashion and it is sometimes difficult to penetrate the web of the producers/distributors network, not that it cant be done, but it takes a lot of effort and determination. A recent example is Javed Sheikh's "Yeh Dil Aap ka Hua" which could be called a semi independent film.

Jazbah: Was that film made in Pakistan?
Mehreen: It was [made] in Spain and he had a producer who was not from the industry. He was able to, sort of, pull some things that he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to if he had worked with a producers who came from the established industry. So, you can work around it and people are [doing so]. I think this year, definitely, there are going to be filmmakers, young filmmakers from Lahore and Karachi getting into the film industry by not working within the system but having their own setup. I think change is going to come very soon.

Jazbah: What can be done to improve the Pakistani film industry? Should the government create programs to support the film industry?
Mehreen: The Pakistani government has cut entertainment tax which has helped the industry. But there are no institutions, for example, there is nowhere you can go to study film. Unless you make something like film into an institution, make it into an industry, it will always be considered as something that is not serious. The government should really just set up a school and colleges should introduce film and media studies as a subject. Currently everyone learns on the job.

Jazbah: So even for acting, there are really no schools where people can go to learn it?
Mehreen: There are no schools in anything film related. There are some small programs happening at the Karachi University, at the Indus Valley School of Architecture, the National College of Arts but these [programs] are so small and not everyone can afford to get into these schools. There is no comprehensive film training anywhere, not in acting, writing, directing, producing, anything.

Jazbah: Do you feel that if a school were to open, there will be a lot of interest in it?
Mehreen: Of course. There are people who are interested but dont know where to go from there. Not everyone has contacts in production companies and channels where they could get internships, etc., and so mostly this talent of theirs is stifled. This leads to losing a lot of people from all sections of society who just dont know how to develop their interests further.

Jazbah: Pakistanis love to watch Indian movies and Indians are fans of Pakistani dramas. So have you thought about any type of collaboration with Indian producers and actors?
Mehreen: I wish. I mean that’s something that needs to be done. It’s ridiculous that we are so close and we can’t do it. However with the advent of satellite channels on both sides, I think collaborations are a very real possbility.

Jazbah: Tell me a little bit about your film 'Beauty Parlor' which was recently screened in New York and which has also appeared in several film festivals around the world.
Mehreen: Well, it’s a 20 minute short about four characters who are in one salon and you get into glimpses of five minutes of their lives. So there are two friends, there is a bride who is getting made up for her marriage. There is a prostitute who is getting her waxing done, there’s a hijra who works there, etc. It basically deals with issues of identity and desire.

Jazbah: How long did it take you to complete that film?
Mehreen: It was done five years ago. It was an early thing that was done with my savings because I wanted to do something that was not for Pakistan television. I wanted to explore themes that I could not explore and I wanted to see if it could play at festivals and have an international audience. That was the reason it was done. After that I haven’t really done something like that because I just got busy with televsion films and serials. [However] I plan to do more independent short films in the future.

Jazbah: I see, going back to you starting out your career, how was your career choice accepted by your family? Did you have the support of your family and friends?
Mehreen:I had incredible support from my family. No issues whatsoever and a lot of help throughout.

Jazbah: I heard recently that the leaders of Pakistan's political group, MMA, have banned or tried to ban music in [the city of] Peshawar. What would you say to those leaders and young Muslims who really believe that music and films are against Islam?
Mehreen: I would tell them to really read the Quran properly and read it intelligently because there is nothing in it which says that. [Their's] is a very closed, one track interpretation. There is really no effort to really read [the Quran] with a twentieth century perspective. [Islam] is a very progressive religion which has been allowed to be hijacked by people who think their interpretation is the [only] right and true one.

Jazbah: Mehreen, thank you so much for giving me this chance to talk to you. I've really enjoyed it.
Mehreen: No problem.

Interview with Shahla Haeri

Offering a Fresh Perspective on Muslim Women

Dr. Shahla Haeri is the director of the Women's Studies Program at Boston University. She holds a Ph.D. in Cultural Anthropology and is the author of No Shame for the Sun: Lives of Professional Pakistani Women (Syracuse Press, 2001). Through her book Dr. Haeri hopes to offer a fresh perspective on the lives of Muslim women which challenges the stereotypes of Muslim women being generally oppressed.

Dr. Haeri has lived and researched in Pakistan. No Shame for the Sun includes detail interviews with six educated and professional Pakistani women, as well as Dr. Haeri's analysis of these women's status in Pakistani society.

The women in the book come from diverse backgrounds. Readers get an intimate look at each of their lives. Quratul Ain Bakhteari talks about growing up in a refugee camp after independence and the partition of India and Pakistan. She becomes an active participant in the community and goes on to obtain her PhD despite pressures of marriage and children. We get to know Rahila Tiwana, her political activism, her imprisonment, and her struggles in police custody. Through Ayesha Siddiqa we learn how the feudal conscience develops. Ayesha is well aware of her vulnerable status as a female feudal lord. She is constantly striving to be better or stronger than a man in every aspect. Pakistan’s internationally revered feminist poet, Kishwar Naheed, tells us about her troubled marriage, her start in literature, and her status as a feminist and activist. The amazing Sajida Mokarram Shah tells us about the stigma of becoming a widow. She discusses her struggle to raise her children independently despite intense family opposition, getting a job, getting a law degree, and having a promising law career, all after becoming a widow. Last but not least we get to know, Nilofer Ahmed, the Sufi feminist, her stance on women’s rights in a religious context and her work to raise awareness of these rights.

Each woman tells a fixating and inspirational story. This is Dr Haeri's second book. She hopes to translate it into Urdu (official language of Pakistan) and Persian. In 2001, she also produced a documentary film called Mrs. President: Women and Political Leadership in Iran.

(Interviewer's note: The following is an excerpt of an interview which that was conducted mostly through telephone conversations, as well as, some e-mail exchanges.)

Dr. Haeri, you were born and raised in Iran and came to the US by yourself at a young age in order to attend college. What was that experience like for you, having come from a conservative culture like Iran’s?

It was difficult because I was emotionally very much attached to my sisters and brother, my [whole] family. I was very close to my siblings and my cousins, you know, and [we] got together often. So, in that sense it was hard. But in the sense of discovering a new world, It was very exciting. You know, I quickly picked up things, I rented my own apartment, I started painting it and doing things that you would never do [back home]. Then I became involved in my school and tried to learn English. I was very much determined to learn English because you know, unlike Pakistanis, Iranians don’t learn English from childhood. So I needed to put a lot of effort in my English, which I did.

Did your parents encourage you to go abroad for studies?
Not particularly. But when I did not pass the university entrance examination [in Iran], primarily because of my English, the only option at that time was to go abroad [for further education]. I had a cousin at Harvard University [so] my mother thought it would be okay for me to come to Boston. You see, almost everybody in my paternal extended family had gone to college. My mother was a teacher, so higher education was not considered a luxury but a necessity. My mother wanted me to become a physician… So, to her credit she encouraged me to come to Boston and go to school here even though she didn't want me to leave her.

So why did you decide to study Sociology instead of Medicine after you got to Boston?
I studied sociology, which was really not a very wise thing to do because I could hardly speak the language. But I was excited about this new world… I was always socially and politically conscious. My father encouraged us to be politically aware of what was going on around us. Then, you know, I arrived in the United States in the late 1960s, which coincided with the beginning of the third wave of the feminist movement. So, I became very much impressed and excited about sociology. But later on I switched to cultural anthropology.

You state in the book your reasons for choosing Pakistani women for the subject of No Shame For the Sun. Can you speak more about that. Why did you decide to go to Pakistan as oppose to Iran for the research for your book? Well, I also briefly mention in the book that I would have liked to go back to Iran but what was happening in Iran at that time [1980-88] was just too painful to bare. I just didn’t think that I [could] go back to Iran, for a variety of reasons, most important of which was the ongoing war [with Iraq]. So I [thought] of going to the Middle East or North Africa to do field work. But then I was talking to a friend who said, “Why don’t you go to South Asia? There are a lot of things you can do there.” And all of a sudden, you know, a light went on in my head and I thought, “Yes, why not? We always seem to be looking to the West [but] why not go back East?” And that was the best decision I ever made. I applied for a grant, a post doctorate grant, and fortunately I got it, but that was mainly for India.

So I went. I had a short stop in Pakistan. I was pleasantly surprised, because as you know, in 1987, Pakistan was under General Zia. Despite that, it seemed to be relatively freer than what I had experienced in Iran, and that the people were just wonderful, very helpful, excited to see me. From there I went to India and similarly I found Indians just as warm. Sometime I would forget where was I, whether in Pakistan or in India, because people were really nice. Whether they were Hindus, Jains, or Muslims, didn’t make any difference. They were just all very friendly, going out of their way to be helpful to me.

Did you know anyone in Pakistan before you went there?
Not a single soul! Now when I think about it, I wonder, “How did I manage to do that?” When I arrived in Karachi, I got there early in the morning and my suitcase got lost. I kept on thinking, “how am I going to make it to the hotel?” Finally, I [found] my suitcase and walked to the bus early in the morning. I was the only woman in that bus - and at that hour. The guys in the bus just stared at me - which was pretty nerve wrecking.

So going to Pakistan, after having grown up in Iran, where women are required to veil, did you find Pakistani society to be a little more liberating?
This is really very interesting. If I ever get a chance I will write about it [laughing]. You know, before the revolution, of course, [Iranian women] didn’t veil. So we had the experience of not being [forced] to veil. Women wore skirts and sleeveless dresses. So I was brought up under [those] conditions... When I went to Pakistan, on one level I found it liberating, in the sense that I didn’t have to wear the veil [head scarf and long overcoat]. But in another sense I found it very oppressive. Even more so than what you may find in Iran under the present conditions. That is very paradoxical! Because in Iran once you have [on] the veil, the scarf and the long robe, you can basically go anywhere and do anything. Where as in Pakistan, even though I was always dressed in shalwar qameez, if I were to walk out on the street [by myself], I would be stared at. It was apparently something not done. And then, of course, I realized that many of the Pakistanis [from] upper-middle class and middle class have drivers who drive them around. Karachi is a little bit different, in Karachi it was okay but Lahore was oppressive on some levels.

When you went to Pakistan, was it with the intention to go and interview women and talk to them?
No, no, I didn’t have the idea at all. Actually, after that year (1987-88), I applied for another grant, which I got - a small grant for a short period - to be in Pakistan and that had to do with the tension between the fundamentalists and the secularists within a democratic state. I wanted to see what roles women played and how they engaged with institutions of power. So I was more interested in the development of fundamentalism and in how women responded to that. So when I first went to Pakistan it was with a different project.

The women whom you interview in the book are all very strong and inspirational figures. Each has gone through her own trials. They speak about some very personal and intimate experiences from their lives. Was it difficult to get them to open up?
Well, these women did not all react the same way to my inquiries and interests. Some were my friends [after having lived in Pakistan over multiple trips there] and I knew them for a while before they agreed to talk to me about their personal life. With some others, we seemed to have hit it off quickly. Our interactions were more like open ended conversations rather than a structured interview. Perhaps that's why they felt more comfortable to delve into their emotions.

One thing that stands out about the book is that the women whom you interviewed, they are all from affluent, privileged backgrounds. Did you purposely do that?
Yes, I intended to do that because if we look at all the [anthropological] books on women from the Muslim world -- most that are published in the US at least, I don’t know about Europe -- are primarily about peasant women, tribal women, rural women, urban poor women. [They are] seldom, if ever, about the lives or activities of educated, professional, upper-middle class women who have all along been very important in their societies, engaged in various institutions of power, have been participating in the public domain and trying to influence some change.

Do you think you have succeeded in your mission, which was to reveal the professional and working Muslim women to the Western audience. In other words, who is reading your book now? Is it being read in colleges?
Well to some extent I have been successful if only to introduce the idea into the discourse. Even the fact that I have in the subtitle ‘Lives of Professional Women,’ that by itself created a lot of interest. In fact, I was just attending a conference in Canada, an international conference, and one of the themes that was proposed was to have more research done on the lives and activities of professional women in the Muslim world because this is the category of women who are in fact trying to influence change or supporting women’s human rights. Since my book was published, I have been invited to give many talks on Pakistan. Many professors at Universities have been using my book. So, I guess it is reaching a wide audience.

Before you wrote this book, you have written another book? Yes, it’s called Law of Desire: Temporary Marriage in Shiite Iran. How long did it take you to write that book? Well, that book was based on my Ph.D. dissertation. So I did my research in Iran, which was faster because I could speak the language, travel easily, and talk to people. I did the research both before and after the Revolution [of 1979]. After the Revolution, I was in Iran for six months and then it took me about three years [to complete the book] and then another two years to get it into a book form. I actually submitted it a lot earlier, but it took my publisher a long time to publish it. So it came out in 1989 and quickly it was sold out, and had to be reprinted in 1993. Now my publisher wants me to write a new introduction [for republishing].

Dr. Haeri, it has been a pleasure talking to you and learning about your experience in writing No Shame for the Sun. Thank you so much for this opportunity.
It was fun talking with you. Thank you.

A Conversation with Bilquis Edhi

Bilquis Edhi is a humanitarian and a social worker. She has been working with the Edhi Foundation since the early 60's. Edhi Foundation which was started by Abdual Sattar Edhi with the mission to provide aid to Pakistan's poor and down-trodden has become Pakistan's major relief organization under the leadership of the husband and wife team of Adbul Sattar and Bilquis Edhi. Today, in addition to services provided in Pakistan, Edhi foundation is a major resource for assisting victims of disaster internationally... more on Bilquis Edhi.

Interviewer's note: This interview was conducted at The Edhi Centre at Mithadar (old city district of Karachi) in November 2003. The conversation was in Urdu and has been translated into English by the interviewer.

What prompted you to join the Edhi Foundation? What were the conditions (of Edhi Foundation) like when you first joined?

I was in school at the time and had recently sat for my 8th grade examinations. I wasn’t too fond of studying so I left school and joined the nurses training course at the Edhi Nurses Training Centre. Later, Edhi Sahib proposed to me, and we got married in April 1966.

Edhi sahib’s sole possessions at the time were a broken old car and a small dispensary. There was a maternity home on the first floor with 6-7 beds, a small room – 6’ X 6’ on the ground floor which served as an office and a similar room on the first floor. There wasn’t much else but even in those days when we had very limited resources, people used to leave their kids with us. I used to look after them.

What was your first major experience at the Edhi Foundation - something that left an impact on you early on in your career?

During the 1965 war with India, the bombings resulted in a number of brutally mutilated bodies which we had to wash for burial. At times only an arm, leg or head was recovered. We were about 60-70 workers including voluntary workers collecting and then washing these bodies.

What are your current responsibilities at the Foundation?

My current responsibilities include looking after the ladies section, giving away children for adoption – mostly looking after women-specific and children related sections throughout Pakistan. My two daughters also work closely with me. We regularly visit our centres all over Pakistan to monitor their activities and give suggestions and recommendations on how we feel the work should be done. We also call our centres on a daily basis to ask if our help is needed with anything.

With regard to child adoption, what is the criteria that you use to approve / disapprove of couples who want to adopt a child?

Couples who want to adopt a child are interviewed by me. My criteria for adoption are as follows:

• Even after 10-12 years of marriage the couple is still childless.
• Prospective father’s salary should be reasonable.
• Prospective father should not have alcohol or drug-related problems.
• Prospective mother’s age should be younger than 50.
• Couple should own a house

I don’t give children to couples who keep changing their house – keep moving from one place to another.

Kids who are physically or mentally disabled are cared for by us. We have a separate section for them where we clean them, feed them, play with them etc. They remain with us for the rest of their lives.

Aside from the disabled children, what about the other children who don’t get adopted?

This is not a problem. We have over 4,000 applications in hand. We don’t have enough kids to give to people. So we can be careful in selecting prospective parents. We have a shariatnama in place which we make the parents sign where it is explicitly mentioned that in case of separation between the parents, the Centre will reclaim the child or let the child stay with the mother.

Edhi Foundation keeps expanding by adding new welfare services every now and then. How do you see Pakistan's future in view of the services that are being rendered by you?

When we go abroad we come back with lots of ideas. My husband dreams of the day when welfare facilities here would be comparable to those you find abroad. But right now this seems like a distant dream. We don’t even have clean drinking water here. Load shedding is an ongoing problem. After the recent oil spill [in Karachi] when the oil tanker broke in half, people were saying that our country had gone back 20 years in time. As far as I am concerned in the last 55 years we have not moved forward. We are still where we were 55 years ago.

[Edhi sahib and I] both think of things for the future. Edhi Sahib, when he comes up with an idea he writes it down. In 1976 we were involved in an accident which took place near a village with no airport or landing strip nearby. Around this time a building collapsed in Karachi - Bismillah Building. This was the time Bhutto Sahib was in power. Noticing Edhi sahib’s absence from the scene of the disaster he inquired as to his whereabouts upon which he was told of the situation. Bhutto sahib immediately dispatched a small airplane to pick us up. Edhi Sahib was admitted to the Civil Hospital in Karachi where shortly after gaining consciousness, he remarked that he would also like to buy a plane. I asked how will you be able to afford a plane – your current situation is such that when you put your hand in your pocket for some loose change, thread comes out instead. He was not disheartened and pushed on. Alhamdulillah we now have a plane, helicopters everything.

What has it been like being Edhi Sahib’s wife?

He is a good man. A little short tempered but good at heart. He still hasn’t built his own house yet. For the first 4-5 years after marriage, I used to live on the roof. Later, after the birth of my four kids, we moved to my mother’s house. My mother looked after my kids. On a daily basis I used to shuffle between her house and the Edhi Centre. After the kids grew up and got married, my mother passed away. Edhi Sahib spends most of his time at the Edhi Centre. Even when we were with my mother, he mostly spent his time looking after the affairs of the Edhi Foundation. In our 36-37 years of marriage there may have been at least 36 occasions where Edhi Sahib never even came home at night. He practically lived at the Edhi Centre here in Mithadar. Even now when our children want to see him, they bring lunch from their home and come and eat with us.

Have you ever taken some time out from work? Have you ever vacationed with Edhi Sahib?

We have never taken any time out from work but we have spent some good time together on the job. In the last 34-35 years there have been many occasions where we have had to drop off patients and deceased people to far off villages. After dropping them off, on the way back we have stopped over in villages and rural areas where we have been treated to lassi, chicken in gravy among other delicacies and looked after extremely well by the people of those areas. We have also sat on charpoys with our feet in the water – fresh cold water streams abound in these areas. So we have had some good times together. On these trips we used to feel like we were extremely rich people with cars of our own. Others who lived around us didn’t have any cars so they used to request us to take them along whenever we went on such trips. We used to take one or two of them along with us.

Has the government of Pakistan been supportive of your cause?

The Government of Pakistan has never created any obstacles for us. We never faced any resistance. In fact we get a lot of moral support from ordinary citizens, government agencies including the police. Only last night a child was found by the police – they straightaway brought the child to our centre.

Have international organizations approached you for donation purposes? Have you ever accepted donations from them?

International organizations such as the World Bank have offered us millions of dollars but we refuse all such offers. We only take money from Pakistanis residing in Pakistan or abroad. We have Edhi Centres in England and the US where again donations are only accepted from the expatriates residing there.

In the wake of Hakeem Said's and Dr. Ghulam Murtaza's murders, a lot of people are thinking that Edhi sahib and you are also prime targets. Does this situation bother you?

We have been receiving death threats from the outset but we are not afraid. Death will come at an appointed time, and when its time we won’t be able to do anything about it. So we are not afraid.

Who will look after the Edhi Foundation after both you and Edhi Sahib have retired?

Faisal, Kubra, Zeenat and Almas – all my children are educated, bright young people. After us, they will look after the Edhi Foundation.

Sabiha Sumar:

Working for the Arts and Women’s Rights

Independent filmmaker, Sabiha Sumar, has earned much acclaim for her films which deal with political and social issues such as the effects of religious fundamentalism on society and especially on women. Her first feature film, ‘Silent Waters (Khamosh Pani)’ has played in film festivals around the world. It is a story of a young man who has fallen under the influence of religious fundamentalists and his mother’s struggle to save him from it. Silent Waters won the Golden Leopard award at the Locarno International Film Festival in 2003. Sabiha’s first documentary, ‘Who Will Cast the First Stone,’ about three women in prison in Pakistan under Islamic law won the Golden Gate Award at the San Francisco Film Festival in 1998.

Recently, I had the chance to see two of Sabiha’s documentary films, ‘Don’t Ask Why’ and ‘ For a Place Under the Heavens.’ Each film deals with Pakistani women’s rights in a religious environment asking some bold and self-evaluating questions about Pakistani society and treatment of women. After seeing the films I wanted to ask Sabiha what the experience of making these films had been like for her. I called her up in Pakistan to ask just that.

Sabiha says that she was always interested in films, “When I was fifteen years old, instead of going to school, I would go off on film shoots with a director who was then working in Pakistan.” When it came time for college, Sabiha chose filmmaking as her major. Her father encouraged her to pursue broader education. So she came to the United States to study Political Science and Filmmaking. “It was my first time in the United States. Well on the first trip my father came with me and I think it was difficult for both of us because it was such a big cultural difference.” However, Sabiha quickly adjusted to the new environment and she remembers her school years fondly. She feels that the education she received in the US was extremely valuable for her career.

After finishing school, Sabiha returned to Pakistan and made her first documentary film, called ‘Who Will Cast the First Stone?’ Sabiha explains, “It was about three women in prison, under Islamic law. My film argued for their freedom, or rather they argued in the film, for their freedom... It was sad that these women were asking for their basic rights: to be able to decide who they marry or to have the right to fight for the custody of their children.”

‘Who Will Cast the First Stone’ was completed in the 80’s. General Zia was running the country. At the time, Zia’s repressive policies and censorship as part of his ‘Islamisation of Pakistan’ were at their peak. Recalling the experience of filming, Sabiha says, “Looking back, it is difficult to imagine how we continued to do the film [under the circumstances of the time]. Somehow we did manage to finish it.” That film won the Golden Gate Award at the San Francisco Film Festival in 1998.

In 1999, Sabiha made 'Don’t Ask Why' which was part of the ‘Girls Around the World’ series of documentary films which examine the views and thoughts of teenage girls from around the world. ‘Don’t Ask Why’ is the story of 17 year old Anousheh who is trying to test as well as question the boundaries she faces in her conservative Pakistani home and culture.

Sabiha’s documentary ‘For a Place Under the Heavens’ features conversations with women from varying backgrounds. The film steps us through Pakistan’s short history and how each government has contributed to the rise of fundamentalism. Though we hear a lot about women’s oppression, the image of four professional, confident and independent women discussing Pakistani politics and religion conveys an important message: Pakistani women are not all passive and silent. The women are Sabiha Sumar herself and three of her friends and contemporaries: a lawyer working on women’s rights, a head of a leading thinktank working on women’s development, and a PhD student of Islamic Political Thought. There are other women speaking on each side of fundamentalism in the film.

One telling moment is the film is when Sabiha talks to Mufti Nizamuddin who is well respected as a Islamic scholar. He asserts that it is the fault of women that they have been left behind and that they have not demanded their rights, “Islam does not stop women from moving forward. They can come forward and take charge.” When asked if men in Pakistan will be willing to give up power if women were to demand it, he responds, “It would take a revolution. No one relinquishes power easily.”

Silent Waters

Dont Ask Why

For A Place Under the Heavens

In my conversation with Sabiha, she agreed with the above comments. “Exactly, women are not asking [for their rights]. I mean are they organizing for political power? Are they coming out on the streets? Do they have any street power? Do they occupy public spaces? They don’t.”

I asked Sabiha if the ordinary people were able to see her films. Because of Pakistan’s failed commercial film industry in the last 20 or so years, most Pakistanis don’t visit cinemas. “Well, unfortunately we don’t have a tradition for documentary programming on television or even the cable or satellite channels. So, it has been very hard to show any [of my] films here. But what we have done is that we’ve put a mobile team together. We call it the ‘Traveling Cinema’ and we take our films around from village to village or small towns or city or whatever. And at the moment my team is traveling with Silent Waters.” Amazed at such dedication , I asked Sabiha to clarify what she meant by ‘Traveling Cinema.’ Was she taking the film to different cinema houses throughout the country? “No, no, there are no cinemas [in villages or small towns],” responds Sabiha. “We have our own projection unit and we project the film on a large screen and create a sort of make shift open air theater wherever we go.”

Using her make shift open air theaters, Sabiha has shown her film Silent Waters in several Pakistani cities including Wah village where the film was shot. In each city, the film screening has been followed by an audience discussions and question/answer sessions on the film. These have been extremely rewarding experiences for Sabiha because of the lively dialog which has resulted. She remembers one specific incident when after the showing in Wah villages a women from the audience members asked Sabiha why the main character of the film had turned to fundamentalism when he was apparently a wonderful flute player and why he hadn’t become a great musician instead? Sabiha considers this a very important question, one that needs to be addressed on a much larger scale. “Yes, Saleem could have become a great musician had there been a music school in his village or somewhere close to his region,” answers Sabiha. Distressed by the lack of schools in Pakistan for the fields of music and film, Sabiha stresses the need for professional education supporting these art forms. “If people have choices and options, they may not go towards extremism.”

Another achievement of Sabiha Sumar is that in order to prepare her actors for the ‘Silent Waters’, Sabiha held extensive acting workshop. Since there are no professional schools for acting or other film-related fields in Pakistan, directors often have to act as acting instructors as well. Sabiha says that the workshop was an immensely enjoyable part of the process of making her first feature film. She and her team are planning on doing more workshops each year not just for acting but also for production design, camera work, & lighting.

After talking to Sabiha Sumar, I felt not only inspired but also extremely. As long as there are dedicated and bold women like Sabiha doing their work, the fight for women’s rights is not lost in Pakistan or among Pakistanis living all around the world.

Bapsi Sidhwa

Bapsi Sidhwa is the author of four novels and one of Pakistan's most prominent English fiction writers. In 1991, Bapsi Sidhwa was the recipient of Sitara-i-Imtiaz, Pakistan's highest honor in arts bestowed upon a citizen. In 1998, her novel Cracking India was adopted into the movie, Earth, by renowned filmmaker, Deepa Mehta.

Bapsi Sidhwa began her writing career at the age of 26 after visiting the Karakoram mountain-area of Pakistan with her husband. She was touched by a tragic story of a young girl who had been brought to one of the area's tribes as a bride. After being there for a short time, the girl ran away from her husband’s home. The tribals considered this a highly dishonorable act. Some of the men hunted her down and murdered her. “When I came [back] to Lahore, the story haunted me,“ says Bapsi Sidhwa. “The girl’s story, the poor tribals, the way they lived, all [of] that I wanted to write about,” she adds.

Sidhwa first wrote a couple of short articles about the beauty of the Karakoram mountains. However, feeling compelled to tell the girl’s story, she decided to make her first attempt at fiction writing and sat down to write a short story which turned into her first novel, The Bride (also in print as The Pakistani Bride). It is a work of fiction based on the events from the tribal girl's life. Through her first novel, Bapsi Sidhwa discovered a love for writing. The Bride took four years to complete because, she says, “I wrote it then re-wrote it. Sort of experimented with it, made it into a huge backdrop, [added] flashback.” Though it took four years, it was an experience which she says she enjoyed so much that soon after completing The Bride, she starting working on her second novel, Crow Eaters, a lively and humorous story about the Parsi community of Pakistan. The title of the book is translation of a derogatory term used for Parsis who are stereotyped as being excessively loud and talkative.

Success didn’t come to Bapsi Sidhwa without a lot of hard work. She wrote her first two novels in Pakistan where no one was publishing in English at the time. So, after receiving many rejections, Sidhwa decided to self-publish and self-distribute Crow Eaters. “It was very frustrating to peddle your own books as I did in Lahore… I would go from bookstore to bookstore saying, ‘Please read the Crow Eaters.‘” Bookstore owners would show little interest, often criticizing the title of the book. The process was so discouraging that Sidhwa stopped writing for about five years. In 1980, after receiving a copy of Sidhwa's self-published Crow Eaters, Britain's Jonathon Cape decided to publish it. "[An] agent showed [Crow Eaters] to Jonathan Cape, and this time around, their editor, Liz Colter, wrote a delightful letter of acceptance within two weeks of receiving it," recalls Sidhwa. It was at that time when Sidhwa felt encouraged enough to pick up her pen and write again.

Though the first two novels brought her recognition, it was her third novel, Cracking India (also published as Ice-Candy Man), that earned Bapsi Sidhwa international acclaim and acceptance as one of the most promising English novelists from South Asia, placing her among the likes of Kushwant Singh, Anita Desai, and R.K. Narayan.Cracking India is a tale of the bloody partition that led to the creation of independent Pakistan and India as the British left the subcontinent. The book is both uplifting and heart wrenching, filled with characters that the readers grow to love and despise as the story unfolds. Told from the perspective of a child from the Parsi community of Lahore, Sidhwa has done an amazing job of presenting the story of the partition and Hindu-Muslim riots from a neutral perspective. Due to the complex and sensitive subject matter of Cracking India, Sidhwa says, “It was a very difficult book to write… difficult and painful.” Sidhwa believes that as a writer, all of her work has some degree of autobiographical elements. She based the parents' characters in Crow Eaters on her own parents. In Cracking India, the child protagonist, Lenny, is reminiscent of Sidhwa's own childhood. Like Lenny, Sidhwa too suffered from polio as a child due to which she was not sent to school and had frequent visits to the hospital. Before she became a writer, Bapsi Sidhwa spent about six years in India where she moved after her first marriage at the age of 19. Though, that marriage resulted in a divorce after which Sidhwa returned to Pakistan, she feels that the experience of having lived in India became crucial to her writing in both, Crow Eaters and Cracking India. “Living in Bombay, that big city, then visiting it very frequently after my divorce, was very important to my writing…The interaction with the larger [Parsi] community really opened my eyes, the interaction with a big city opened my eyes,” Sidhwa remembers.In 1998, Canadian director, Deepa Mehta based her critically acclaimed film Earth (released as 1947 in India) on Sidhwa’s third novel, Cracking India. Earth won the Grand Prize at the Deauville Panasian Film Festival in France and, in 1991, the book Cracking India won the Liberator Prize in Germany.

Earlier this year, Sidhwa traveled to London for production of a stage play, Sock 'em With Honey which was based on parts of her most recent novel, The American Brat, about the young Feroza who comes to US from Pakistan to study. "The geographical location of my writing changed after I moved to the US, and I wrote the book after I moved. I wrote of my experiences of my encounter with America," says Sidhwa about her novel The Bride.Currently residing in the US with her husband, Sidhwa returns to Pakistan often. She speaks of her city, Lahore fondly, “I can write a lot more in Lahore than I can write anywhere else… Lahore does have a very romantic atmosphere and it does release some type of a creative energy.”

Bapsi Sidhwa’s latest project is a collection of short stories for which she feels she may just have to return to Lahore to complete.

Dr. Nafis Sadik

“Pregnancy is a part of a woman’s life but a woman’s life should not be defined by it. In many societies, however, the fact is that bearing and raising children does define a woman. She does many things in her life, but she is only given recognition for one of them.” – Nafis Sadik, 1998

UN Foundation Photo

Although a national of Pakistan, Nafis Sadik is truly a citizen of the world. She has spent a lifetime working on the politically charged and non-glamorous issues of global population control and women’s health, issues which at first glance some may consider irrelevant to their daily lives. However, a closer look at the statistics reveals the gravity of the situation and how it affects our world. The high rate of population growth, the suffering of millions of women in developing countries due to the lack of proper healthcare facilities, and lack of awareness of individual rights are all issues which demand immediate remediation.

For her efforts to raise awareness of these issues and developing or effecting policies, Nafis Sadik has received awards from governments and organizations in many countries including Pakistan, China, Indonesia, Egypt and the United States. When she accepted the post of Executive Director of the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) in 1987, she became one of the highest ranking women in the UN and the first women ever to serve as an executive head of one of the UN’s major voluntarily funded programs. Echoing the sentiments of many others, at the Hague International Forum in 1999, Hillary Rodham Clinton said of Nafis Sadik, “I believe that the world owes her a debt of gratitude for all she has done over the years to place women at the very center of development.”

Nafis Sadik received her Doctorate of Medicine from Dow Medical College in Karachi, Pakistan. She did her internship in gynecology and obstetrics at City Hospital in Baltimore, and completed further studies at John Hopkins University. After serving as a research fellow at Queens University in Ontario, Canada, Nafis returned to work in Pakistan. From 1954 to 1963, she worked as a civilian doctor in Pakistani military hospitals.

The suffering she witnessed working in Pakistani hospitals early in her career set the course of the rest of her professional life. Her work reveals her commitment to reducing this suffering and doing what she could to raise public awareness of it. Since the beginning of her career, Nafis made it a point to educate her patients about the choices they had available to reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies. She advised both the women and their husbands on family planning issues and contraceptive methods against the will of her superiors who, at the time, considered these highly controversial topics.

IPS International Achievement Award, Dec 2000

She has repeatedly spoken about the adverse effects of having children at a very young age when she is “physically, intellectually, and emotionally underdeveloped.” According to Nafis, early pregnancies most often occur in areas where women grow up “without proper nourishment or healthcare or the education that will allow them to take care of themselves.”

In 1964, Nafis was appointed to head the health section of the Pakistan governments’ Planning Commission. The following year Pakistan’s first population policy was developed, primarily authored by Nafis Sadik. Later she served as the Deputy Director General and then Director General of the Pakistan Central Planning Council. (Inter Press Service International Achievement Award, United Nations, New York, 11 December 2000, REMARKS BY AMBASSADOR PENNY A. WENSLEY)

Nafis Sadik was first invited to join the UNFPA in 1971. Since then she served there in different capacities until retiring from the post of Executive Director in 2000. One of her major achievements was the International Conference on Population and Development (ICPD), held in Cairo in 1994. Nafis served as the Secretary-General of the conference which was attended by representatives from more than 180 countries. Population and development, women’s health, and gender equality emerged as focus topics at the conference. ICPD resulted in a 20-year Programme of Action dealing with women’s health, global population control and development. The conference has been considered a landmark achievement.

In a speech at the World Bank on World Health Day 1998, Nafis Sadik said, “Pregnancy is a part of a woman’s life but a woman’s life should not be defined by it. In many societies, however, the fact is that bearing and raising children does define a woman. She does many things in her life, but she is only given recognition for one of them.” Stressing the importance of the variety of roles women play in society, Nafis Sadik said, “When women are properly valued for all the things they do, then and only then, will their role as mothers be respected and the resources found to protect their lives and health.”

In a different speech in at an event in New York to mark the 50th anniversary of Pakistan, Nafis Sadik relayed the impact of population growth on Pakistani economy:

"At independence, Pakistan was the 13th most populous country in the world, with 32.5 million people; in 1996 it was seventh, with a population of 140 million. Pakistan's population growth rate is now one of the highest in Asia at 2.7 percent: at independence we added a million people every year or so; today we are adding a million every three months. No conceivable development plan can sustain such a rate of population growth. If we are to meet the challenges of the 21st century, Pakistan must put slowing population growth at the head of its list of priorities."

Speaking of Nafis Sadik’s early experience of working in Pakistani hospitals, the Australian ambassador remarked, “Many of the women she treated [there] simply accepted that the hard work, poor health, frequent pregnancies and a high risk of death in childbirth are women’s fate. They did not know or believe they had a choice."

Nafis Sadik has written extensively on women's health, family planning, and population and development. She has received honorary doctorate degrees from multiple universities in the US, including Brown, Duke, John Hopkins, as well as universities from Canada, Japan, and Jamaica.