For quite some time now I have been interested in finding examples of Bollywood and/or other Indian media’s influence on Islamic societies, especially the more conservative ones. I try to blog about such instances when I can. As I have stated before, I see a tremendous amount of potential in the ability of a brown face to deliver a moderate message to another brown face irrespective of religion. Initially I was planning a blog entry only on this announcement today which I saw reported on Asians in Media’s website:

With Al Jazeera blazing the way for brand recognition amongst non-western news channels, no one can accuse India’s Zee TV of lacking ambition.

The broadcaster announced earlier today at an Indian media industry event that it is planning to launch a global English news channel to rival the BBC and CNN.

“The channel, which will be beamed from India, will have content in line with that of international news channels like CNN and BBC and would target a wider audience rather than the Indian diaspora,” Zee chairman Subhash Chandra (pictured) said at the Ficci-Frames conference.

He said the aim was to portray a more south Asian viewpoint to the world in response to global events.

I really believe that such a channel has the POTENTIAL to rival Al Jazeera in ways that any channel promoted or created by the West will never be able to. In doing some background research for this entry however I came across this story in Time Magazine about a 13 year old minstrel in Afghanistan. It was interesting enough that I got completely sidetracked from my original post. However, I will explain how the stories are tenuously related at the end.

It’s midnight, long past bedtime for most children. But in a poor, war-ravaged neighborhood of Kabul, more than 300 men are gathered at a wedding party to listen to the singing of Mirwais Najrabi, a pale, chestnut-haired 13-year-old. He performs in an open courtyard, under the night sky, to an audience that has endured so much suffering and grief over years of oppression, war and mayhem. Yet for this brief, transcendent moment, their burden is lifted by the exquisite purity of the boy’s voice.

With his jaunty, Bollywood-style haircut and white embroidered tunic, Mirwais looks as though he would warble like a pretty songbird, but his singing is forceful and worldly, as if he has already seen it all. And he has. Tonight, he croons folksongs of impossible love, betrayal and heroism that flow from the depths of Afghanistan’s tragic history. Under a nebula of hashish smoke, two men leap up to dance, circling each other like angry cobras. They turn aggressive and are pulled apart—even the boy’s mesmerizing song cannot keep Afghans from fighting for long. When performances get wild, says Mirwais, he tells himself: “I must not be scared, never.”

Boy vocalists, long a part of Afghan tradition, were silenced from 1996-2001 by the puritanical Taliban regime, which regarded song as un-Islamic, and had many musicians arrested and beaten. Now, three years after the Taliban defeat, singers are wandering back from exile in Europe and the U.S. to a tumultuous welcome, and Kabul’s virtuosos have unearthed the instruments they buried in their gardens. Songs blast from Kabul shops, and more than a dozen radio stations flourish around the country. Mirwais, one of the first to sing in public after the Taliban’s ouster, is at the vanguard of this revival. Despite his youth, he recognizes the enormity of the change. In the old days, he says, “If the Taliban caught me, they would have shaved my head. And only Allah knows what other punishments I would have faced.”

Buried in this article was what I found to be a profound little fact that may have altered history:

For now, his greatest danger is not the playground bully but something far worse: the possibility of being kidnapped and sold to a local warlord who fancies young boys. In Afghanistan, where a premium is placed on women’s honor and chastity, young boys are often considered fair game for sex. Indeed, according to Ahmed Rashid, a Pakistani author and expert on the Taliban’s rise, the religious movement, with its strict emphasis on law and order, started in the early 1990s after a drunken commander picked up one of Mullah Mohammed Omar’s young seminarians and performed a mock, public wedding with the youth. After the abused student staggered back to the madrasah, Omar swore revenge and his movement quickly swept away the criminal warlords.

And now finally, the tie-in. The last sentence in this article demonstrates to me that if we keep “absuing” (my words) societies with Bollywood movies, there is risk of a backlash. 🙂
Yet another reason that I look forward to Zee TV’s (dare I dream, Bollywood free) news channel.

Still, whatever dangers may exist, Mirwais and the musicians around him know they have much to be thankful for—not least that Afghanistan is finally rediscovering its love of music. Now, sighs teacher Mazari, “All we have to do is persuade Afghans to listen to something other than Bollywood songs. You can’t escape them. They’re everywhere.”