A midst the rise of rightwing conservatism coupled with perpetual political volatility in the Indian subcontinent, Coke Studio Pakistan’s euphonious melody, “Pasoori”, has been breaking records since its release. Sung by Ali Sethi and Shae Gill, the song, conceptualised and written by the former, conveys an exasperation with the relinquishment of cross-border collaboration between artists.
The video of the song, featuring a woman clad in a bright yellow sari with a black bindi, gives the impression of an Indian classical dancer. The performer is Sheema Kermani, Bharatanatyam doyenne, feminist and social activist based in Pakistan, whose performances in the past have stood as a symbol of defiance against Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq’s regime, which had banned dance performances in Pakistan. The flashes of Saraiki Jhumarstyle dancers in the song’s video coupled with a substantive hint of nativity give voice to the aspirations of millions of young South Asians willing to transcend binary boundaries.
South Asia presents a milieu of contestations (read ‘pasoori’) where the Taliban in Afghanistan burns musical instruments and bans music while Pakistan produces euphonious, subversive songs that garner admiration in India. This is a testimonial to music’s relevance in imagining and communicating a society’s socio-political, cultural and religious idiosyncrasies.
Music has been playing a deterministic role in nation-building for decades. As a project executed by the postcolonial State, music has been used to homogenise or unite people. For instance, nationalistic movies, songs and musical renditions dedicated to the concept of the motherland have been a crucial tool to inculcate nationalistic sentiments in diverse populations. Over eons, music has been a potent medium of expressing pro and anti-establishment ideas. As Plato had observed, “[M]ore than anything else, rhythm and harmony find their way into the inmost soul and take the strongest hold upon it.”
Music remains an inseparable part of life and philosophy in the Indian subcontinent. So it is a bit surprising to note that music’s relevance to and potential in international diplomacy remain in a somewhat embryonic stage. Even though music as a form of ‘soft power’ has existed since at least the 17th century, it has not been effectively deployed as an active foreign policy tool. The popularity of “Pasoori” points to an interesting contradiction that is a testament to music’s power to transcend boundaries and differences. Even though the dominant right-wing narrative demands ordinary citizens to despise the neighbouring nation, the rendition of a song from an ‘adversarial’ nation state has the power to cut across such divisive rhetoric.
This only underlines music’s power and, indeed, its inherent ability to transcend barriers and prejudices. “Pasoori” arguably confronts the political elite on both sides of the border with a fundamental question: would greater acceptance and appreciation of cross-border art forms and creativity help end the conflict and the antagonism that go back by decades?
