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Zaira Wasim’s religious sermon has kicked off a debate that might take a while to die down. We, in Pakistan, are somewhat used to seeing this change of heart (as Zaira has expressed about her career) – Junaid Jamshed and Veena Malik are two names that immediately come to my mind.
Yet, there is something equally disturbing to note, apart from Zaira’s ‘deliverance’ from the big bad world of cinema: most reactions to her decision to quit the film industry, fell under two automated categories.
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There were the Islamophobes who relished it because it would give them a chance to hate the “religion of peace”, and then there were the Muslims, many of whom felt compelled to defend “her choice” simply because she had invoked passages of the Quran in her ta-ta note. Sadly, there was no real “third category” of response, as very few others defended Zaira’s right to her choice.
If I remember correctly, Zaira Wasim had in the past spoken about suffering from depression, and had even expressed having suicidal thoughts. Those suffering from mental health issues often try various methods (faith being one of them) to alleviate their problems. To me, Zaira’s long note sounded more like a pep talk to herself; like she was trying hard to convince herself first, about the choice she was about to make.
Here’s a young girl who enjoys acting – she’s fantastic at her job, and she has probably heard from people around her that, “acting acchi line nahin hoti hai.”
In South Asia, there’s still a stigma attached to the entertainment industry, and when you happen to be a Muslim girl, things get murkier.
There are many of us that won’t even hang pictures or paintings in our homes because it is generally deemed against Islam; the argument being that the artist tries to compete with the Creator when he/she fabricates his/her own version of the world, in any form. Therefore, it is against the basic tenets of the religion. I am sure Zaira has heard similar whispers of disapproval.
She has probably searched her heart, wrestled her demons and somehow found her profession to be the culprit of all her anxiety. I am even willing to accept that—if that is what has happened. After all,many people even leave their families to embark on a spiritual journey to soothe their inflamed souls. And often, they come to a different conclusion about their lives, when they are done with their soul-searching.
It seemed very pushy; she lost me on page 3 of page 6 of her Instagram post.
Her long note of ‘enlightenment’ could create trouble for Naseem in Bhopal, who dances in front of her room mirror, secretly hoping she can someday audition for a dance reality show. Zaira’s lengthy explanation would be disastrous for that girl in Baroda who used her contact in the music world to get her mother a divorce from her controlling, abusive father. Zaira’s Allah Hafiz note completely undid her own character’s struggle to be heard in Secret Superstar (2017).
There was a more sober way to exit, and sadly, Zaira Wasim missed that route. However, people shouldn’t hound her after this. She is still a young woman after all, and a witch-hunt could further affect her mental health.
A taste of fame, however ‘ill-gotten’ or ‘un-Islamic’ as it may seem, is hard to wash off. So I am certain we will see Zaira make her comeback as a public figure in a few years. Hopefully then, she will return to her job, in which she excels, after learning to balance both deen and duniya in a more mature way. If not, then the loss will be entirely hers. After all, the audience will always have many options to choose their favourites from.
(Maria Sartaj is a Pakistani freelance columnist, with a degree in Cultural Studies. She is passionate about social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @MariaSartaj. This is a personal blog, and the views expressed are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)
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