ISLAMABAD: He sits in the auditorium of a swanky Islamabad hotel, his eyes animated as he claps along to the Baloch chaap – a fast-paced, energetic group dance. There’s a large pagri proudly perched on this head, and he sports a big shalwar and traditional Baloch straw sandals.
This soft-spoken, confident 33-year-old is a rarity, to say the least. Meet Qasim Ali – the first Dera Bugti resident to ever enroll in the University of Balochistan’s Fine Arts Department. Quite possibly Dera Bugti’s first, and only, professional artist.
The road less traveled
It hasn’t been easy. But, then again, taking the non-linear path never is, says Qasim.
“There is no appreciation for art where I come from,” he states. “I don’t know anyone from my tribe who even expressed a desire to become an artist. And yet, this is who I am.”
The budding artist is not only from a desperately turbulent area, but also a desperately impoverished one. He hails from a ‘lower class family’, and all his relatives are illiterate.
“Most of my tribesmen believe that if you know how to run a small shop you’re set for life. Why pursue an education then?”
The countless obstacles he had to brave after his matriculation – both personal and economic – seem to be medals of pride he carries around. Although it took him years to finally enroll in the arts programme, he is finally where he wanted to be.
“I’ve always been interested in drawing, yet I didn’t see anyone around me pursuing art as a career. It is unheard of. But I was not deterred. I wanted to do something different, to carve out an identity for myself,” he says, his eyes alight.
“Qasim is, indeed, the first person from Dera Bugti to ever enroll in the programme,” confirms Akram Dost Baloch, acclaimed artist and chairperson of the Fine Arts Department at the University of Balochistan. “He is talented and shows immense potential.”
When Professor Akram speaks about Qasim and other students, his voice bursts with a distinct fatherly pride. “Generally, art has become rather commercial in Pakistan. But, here, those who venture into it do so solely based on passion because it’s certainly not as lucrative a profession as others. Qasim and the young artists at the university are true to their work, and it shows,” says Akram.
Kishwar Sultana, director of the Insan Foundation Trust, agrees with Akram. As head of the organisation that put forth the “Media for the Rights of Women, Religious and Ethnic Minorities in Balochistan Conference” to bring Qasim and his peers from the University of Balochistan to Islamabad for an exhibition of their work and prize distribution ceremony, Kishwar is well-acquainted with the situation in the province. “The artistic talent in Balochistan is brimming. The province has such a rich culture – their art, their music is amazing. It’s a shame it doesn’t get the appreciation it deserves,” she says.
She, too, is a fan of Qasim. She recalls his quiet demeanor, his sensitivity and his determination to grow. “To have met him is an honour,” says Kishwar. “He broke a lot of stereotypes, and that’s what it is about at the end of the day –understanding each other.”
Of art and politics
When speaking of Dera Bugti, his hometown, the conversation invariably takes on a political hue, even though he doesn’t want it to. It is part and parcel of being a Baloch, a Pakistani, the artist says.
“Even though art is not tied to politics, it is certainly affected by what’s going on,” he explains. “Without even intending to, an artist naturally keeps a finger on the pulse of society.”
Even his attire is a conscious statement. “Har pagri wala dehshat gard nahin hota [Every turbaned man is not a terrorist]. I want people to understand that. I am proud of my heritage, my culture.”
While Qasim’s heart lies in painting, with time he has realised finesse comes easy to him as a sculptor. “Ultimately, the medium becomes secondary. What matters is what you depict. I want my work to be a mirror of society – I want to reflect not only the harsh realities, but also the abundant goodness.”
His work, which won him first prize in the sculpture category, is a social commentary in itself. An earth-toned, forlorn figure of a woman, purposely chipped away, sits inches away from a book balanced precariously on a grenade.
“That’s the reality on ground in Dera Bugti, especially for women,” articulates Qasim quietly. “You can die, be killed, while trying to simply earn an education. But there are a lot of brave souls there, everywhere. That, too, should be known.”
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