Mujahid Barelvi

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Mujahid Barelvi

Anchorman

By Anis Zuberi

Dawn

Mujahid Barelvi

‘Until the media boom, the concept of an anchor used to be someone clad in a prim and proper suit, sitting inside a box with his nose in the air. I brought that anchor out of that box and onto the streets where the common man wanted to see him,’ says Mujahid Barelvi

Mujahid Barelvi likes to describe himself as a “working journalist.” The cutthroat talk show host of four years at the Indus Television Network and now running Doosra Pehlu at CNBC, speaks with a conviction that is fast becoming extinct among his contemporaries today.

He sits back in his chair in a manner that is relaxed yet vigilant, talking in a confident, throaty rumble that is typical of Barelvi. “I had been working as a journalist for two decades. But because Urdu journalism in Pakistan wasn’t compensated well enough monetarily and because Urdu journalists were looked down upon at the time, I felt that my career was near to an end,” he reminisces.

During the first few decades of his professional life, Mujahid expressed himself through the written word, but when he got the opportunity to vocalise his thoughts, he met phenomenal success. “The age of the private satellite channels gave a big break to journalists like me,” he says. Perhaps the new media invasion was all the more important for him as he got the opportunity to announce the first live television channel in Pakistan, Indus TV. His experiences as a debater and at Radio Pakistan, both during and after his student days, served him in good stead when he moved to television.

In the year 2000, a friend and media person who was working for Indus TV invited him to compere a programme on the Afghan War. “Afghanistan was not new to me as I was the first Pakistani journalist to enter Kabul in 1979 after the Soviet invasion,” he relates. Even though the programme, for reasons best known to the management, was not aired, Mujahid caught the eye of Ghazanfar Ali who, discerning the hidden anchorman in him, took him on for the programme Do Tok, inspired by Tim Sebastian’s Hard Talk.

In Do Tok, he interviewed politicians and eminent figures such as Chaudry Shujaat Hussain, Zafarullah Khan Jamali, Chaudry Aitizaz Hassan, Tehmina Daulatana, Elahi Bakhsh Soomro, Hafeez Peerzada, Ghinva Bhutto, Professor Ghafoor Ahmed and Mumtaz Bhutto, among others. Mujahid’s desire to interact with and gain input from the common man then led him to do Mujahid Online. Says he, “In the first programme, Ghinva Bhutto and Imran Khan appeared together as guests. It was the first ever talk show where the public could go live on air and openly challenge the opposition.”

As to whom he enjoyed interviewing the most, he says: “Ghinva Bhutto. Her Urdu was tooti phooti (inadequate), and I enjoyed speaking to her in the same style. But she was frank and forthright and spoke with conviction.”

The 2002 elections saw Mujahid in yet another programme, one that was specially tailored to cater to the needs of the masses. “At the time I accepted the offer, I thought to myself: elections are concerned with the common man, and the common man travels by train. So I said, let’s do Election Train. I set off with my crew in the morning via the Shalimar Express to Hyderabad, Sukkur and further north,” he says.

Things came to a momentary standstill when their journey ended in Lahore and his team started to wonder how to move on. But they quickly recovered: “We would take a bus ride and travel to railway stations to record public views and sentiments. During this five-day venture, we interacted with people in 38 different cities of Pakistan over a 58-hour live transmission.” As a result of this programme, a new team of professionals emerged at Indus TV, one that dealt with current affairs. Later, they took up jobs at the numerous other private channels.

Afterwards, Mujahid felt the need to explore other faculties; thus his entry into CNBC Pakistan, part of a global franchise. “CNBC impressed me with its state-of-the-art technology, corporate culture and professionalism. It has access to the expertise of its sister channels in different parts of the world. The technological access is such that if I am sitting at Karachi, I have live guests corresponding directly with me simultaneously from Lahore, Islamabad, New York and London. At present, no Pakistani channel can boast of this facility,” he says.

So far, Mujahid says has conducted 300 programmes at CNBC. When asked what is so special about his compering, he chuckles and shuffles in his seat: “Until the media boom, the concept of an anchor used to be someone clad in a prim and proper suit, sitting inside a box with his nose in the air. I brought that anchor out of that box and onto the streets where the common man wanted to see him.”

Indeed, one recalls the civilian strikes when Karachi wore a deserted look and people were too afraid to step out. Viewers could always switch on to CNBC and watch Mujahid out on the streets, relaying live how civil life has been affected. During the devastating rains of 2006 and the earthquake of 2005, one could see him drenched to the skin and yet shoulder-to-shoulder with the masses, both in the city and in the ravaged northern villages, probing, questioning, sharing and conveying — if nothing, at least the uncensored truth — things that people needed the most from their media during those trying times. “I shattered the concept of an elitist anchor who would not venture out into the common people. This was a welcome change for the viewer,” he asserts.

Despite these programmes, the image of Mujahid being a ‘political’ talk show anchor has been following him around. He shrugs, disregarding the idea. “People usually think that way, but I do a lot more than that. I did a programme on Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s death anniversary and one on Habib Jalib; I have invited Tina Sani and Salman Ahmed to my show; I have interviewed Sheema Kermani and on classical dance, Naheed Siddiqi; Muzaffar Ali, creator of Umrao Jaan has also been a guest on my show. So I interview all sorts of public figures, and public figures are not just politicians. I have done programmes on social awareness, judiciary, health and education as well. So this is a false concept.”

Among the anchors that he respects the most, he names Dr Shahid Masood, Talat Hussain and Hamid Mir, who “are doing a great job.” But he feels that what differentiates a good anchor from a great anchor is having a grasp over diverse areas. “People today don’t have a broad enough vision. Most only either touch upon socioeconomic or political topics, but they do not have command over arts or music or fanon-i-latifa. There is a great room for improvement along these lines,” he says.

Mujahid’s focus lately appears to have shifted towards programmes that are more inclined towards carrying a documentary style, rather than a spot-on talk show. He explains why: “It is very easy today to place two politicians opposite each other on the screen and make them fight and get kicks out of it. I do not believe in this concept. About 25 per cent of the political talk shows I do are out on the street. It is more realistic and it is something new to look forward to.”

Speaking about whether he is satisfied with what he is doing, he goes on to give a background on the situation. “Our media’s power previously rested with their owners, but anchors have taken that power away from them. Previously, the government either directly manipulated or put an end to any content that it found against its interests, but I feel that that period is now over. This is the era of anchor power and the working journalist has got a huge break. Good TV anchors are getting offers no less than multinationals’ chiefs. This is a change that working journalists have brought about for themselves and yes, I am very happy with it.”

He is particularly pleased with the enlightened approach that Pakistani channels appear to have taken towards society in general. “Previously, we used to wait for hours for BBC or CNN to report about an incident that had occurred in the city. Today, private channels will be at the site within a minute and reporting live about important incidents. Also, issues like violence, women, oppression, etc are being covered openly — something that was never done before.” However, one thing that he does conflict severely with is the telecast of Indian films on Pakistani channels: “Even big channels with numerous resources are showing three-hour-long Indian movies. This is ridiculous. It means that the channel, despite all its resources, has failed to muster up enough content,” he punches out.

On a concluding note, he gives his eye on whether media can truly be free in Pakistan: “If anyone thinks that electronic channels will be completely independent, well, even CNN and BBC are controlled by their governments. We cannot hit an ‘ideal’ situation and it shouldn’t be so either. Civil society works on a fine balance and that balance should be struck for optimal societal progress.”

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