mariammagsi
Mariam Magsi
Multidisciplinary Artist working in Photography, Video, Performance, Installation and other arts. Featured on CNN, VICE, Vogue, Toronto Star, She Does The City, Scene Arabia & more. www.mariammagsi.com
351 posts
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The cherry blossoms are in full bloom.
© Mariam Magsi 2024
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Echoes in the Abyss...
It was an unusually brisk morning when my beloved and I decided to venture into Bhit Khori, a once-thriving fishing village now surrendered to the sands of time. The deserted pathways led us to the skeletal remains of houses and boats, their stories lost to the wind. Amidst this desolate beauty, our curiosity was drawn to a haunting silhouette against the sky—an abandoned mosque.
The mosque stood solitary, its doors shut but not sealed, as if guarding the secrets of ages. Despite the eerie silence that hugged the air, our adventurous spirits couldn't resist the pull of the unknown. We pushed open the door, the wood groaning under years of neglect. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust and forgotten prayers.
One room led to another, each door heavier than the last, opening with a reluctant creak that echoed through the empty halls. As we delved deeper into the mosque, a startling sound broke the silence—three sharp knocks, resonating from a metallic surface. I turned, expecting to see my husband playing a trick, but the confusion in his eyes mirrored my own.
Before we could discuss it, the silence once more settled like a dense fog around us. Then, as if summoned by our presence, the knocks came again—three loud, deliberate bangs. This time, my husband stood clearly before me, his hands visibly still. The sound sliced through the stillness, leaving a trail of cold air in its wake.
We exchanged looks, a mix of fear and fascination. The knocks seemed almost like a communication—a warning, or perhaps an invitation. Compelled by a mix of dread and intrigue, we approached the final barrier, the last door that stood defiantly closed against us.
With a shared breath, we pushed it open. Darkness greeted us, thick and enveloping, swallowing the meager light from the doorway. A cold gust of wind rushed past, carrying with it a faint, almost inaudible whisper. The room was empty, save for the shadows that seemed to flicker and dance on the walls.
As our eyes adjusted, the stark emptiness became more apparent. The room felt suspended in time, a vacuum so profound that even the distant roar of the sea was silenced within its walls. We stood there, on the threshold between the known and the unknown, our hearts racing with the thrill of the unearthly encounter.
The mosque, with its closed doors and ghostly whispers, seemed to hold a narrative lost to the living, a story untold but felt in the chill of the unseen and the echo of unclaimed knocks. Was it merely the wind, or had we stumbled upon something far more ancient and mysterious, calling out from the depths of its sanctum?
As we left the mosque, the air seemed to tighten around us, as if reluctant to let go. The experience lingered with us, a haunting melody of questions without answers. Our visit to Bhit Khori was supposed to be an escape into nature, but it turned into a dance with the supernatural, leaving us to wonder if some doors, especially those guarded by the spirits of the past, are better left closed.
Back in the comfort of our home, the knocks still echo in my mind, a ghostly drumbeat that refuses to fade. What did they signify? Who, or what, was reaching out from the other side? These questions haunt me still, a chilling reminder of our eerie adventure into the spectral heart of Bhit Khori.
Images + Text: © Mariam Magsi 2024
#Balochistan#Bhit Khori#photography#mosque#supernatural#explore#ghosts#story time#mariammagsi#pakistan
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The camels have spoken!
#ceasefirenow
#FreePalestine
© Mariam Magsi, 2024
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Roots of Resilience
In the heart of Karachi, Sindh, my childhood home stands as a testament to the nurturing spirit of my mother, Rubina Magsi, known poetically as Adeen Taji. This January 2024, I embarked on a journey back to this sanctuary, armed with a camera and a heart heavy due to her absence.
The trees in the garden have outlived my beloved mother, who planted them with hands full of hope and eyes brimming with dreams. Each branch, leaf, herb, flower petal and root in Ammi's garden narrates a story of love, resilience, and the art of nurturing. From the towering date palms to the full cheekoo trees, from the fragrant kalamansi to the sturdy karaila vines, every plant in this ecosystem mirrors the meticulous care and affection she invested in her surroundings.
Through these photographs, I invite viewers to witness the beauty of continuity, the grace of the natural world, and the indomitable spirit of a woman who left an irreplaceable mark on her land and her lineage.
The last photograph in the slide features Ammi watering plants in her garden. I took this back when she was alive and cancer free. I title this photograph: Everything she waters, grows.
© Mariam Magsi 2024
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24 hours in LA
© Mariam Magsi
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The scent of old paper is the ideal perfume for the bibliophiles soul.
Location: Frere Hall, Karachi
© Mariam Magsi 2024
#library#bibliophile#books#Frere Hall#pakistan#sindh#heritage#culture#South Asia#travel#explore#mariammagsi
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Preserving the past...
Heritage is a human right.
~ Marvi Mazhar, founder of Heritage Walk Karachi.
Karachi, once known as the City of Lights, harbours a mosaic of historical and cultural heritage within its bustling streets, especially in the Old Town area of Sardar. While visiting family this winter, I had the opportunity to participate in a guided walk organized by Heritage Walk Karachi, an initiative dedicated to unveiling the history and culture embedded in the city's stunning, yet decaying architecture and communal spaces. Last year, I had the privilege of taking this illuminating walk through the heart of Old Karachi alongside Shaheen Nauman, a guardian of the city's heritage and a passionate advocate for its preservation. This year, as we embarked on a similar journey, Shaheen’s forewarning resonated with an eerie prescience: “you will be heartbroken, and sad.” Her words, heavy with the weight of inevitable truth, prepared us for the disheartening changes that lay ahead. As we entered the neglected buildings, the palpable sense of loss and deterioration was overwhelming. The transformation witnessed over merely one year was stark, underscoring the rapid pace at which neglect and decay can erase the physical markers of our shared history. This guided walk showcased the tragically deteriorating architectural marvels and cultural vibrancy of Karachi’s past and highlighted a crucial aspect of our collective human rights – which includes the right to heritage.
The concept of heritage as a human right is anchored in the belief that every individual is entitled to access, engage with, and reflect on our cultural heritage. This access enables us to connect with our identity, history, and the legacies, ways of living and migratory patterns of our ancestors. Unfortunately, as we meandered through the narrow lanes of Old Karachi, the stark contrast between the past's grandeur and the present's neglect was heart-wrenching. The dilapidation of historic buildings, lack of governmental maintenance, rampant, intolerable pollution, and a visible lack of empathy and tolerance for Karachi’s pluralistic past, are not just aesthetic issues but indicative of a deeper, more systemic disregard for our cultural heritage. A few steps into the alleys and we were dodging used diapers, drug paraphernalia, sharp, injurious objects, bodily waste, and large infestations of flies and mosquitos swarming over puddles of filthy, stagnant water.
As someone visiting from the diaspora, the experience of walking through Old Karachi evoked a profound sense of concern and heartache. The neglect, pollution, and apparent lack of governmental maintenance not only tarnish the physical beauty of this historic area but also signify a deeper abandonment of our cultural patrimony. This disrepair is especially disheartening to witness for those of us who, despite having lived away, maintain a deep attachment to our city of birth. The emotional and intellectual dissonance experienced during this visit underscores an urgent need for collective and governmental action toward the preservation of our heritage. Honouring our history and heritage connects us with our past, guiding our future actions, trajectories and policies.
Karachi's rich and pluralistic past is etched into the very fabric of its urban landscape. On the intricate balcony railings of colonial, pre-colonial and pre-partition buildings, one can trace the outlines of a city that once thrived on diversity and multicultural coexistence. These delicate ironworks and carved balustrades serve as silent witnesses to the times when Karachi was a bustling port, welcoming traders from across the globe. As the city expanded, the relentless push of concrete and modern infrastructure has overshadowed these historical markers, yet they persist, stubbornly holding onto the stories of a bygone era. In the soul-filled nooks and crannies of Saddar, layers of history are revealed in the narrow lanes and ancient structures, where every brick and cobblestone has a story to tell, from centuries-old mosques and temples standing shoulder to shoulder, to the faded frescoes that peek out from under layers of paint, hinting at the city’s vibrant past. These remnants of Karachi's pluralistic past continue to offer a glimpse into a time when the city was a melting pot of cultures, religions, and languages.
The guided walk with Heritage Walk Karachi served as an ominous warning, of what is at stake. The architectural decay and environmental neglect witnessed along the way are not isolated issues but are symptomatic of a broader societal malaise – a disconnect from our historical roots and a disregard for the importance of conservation, both environmental and cultural. The degradation of these sites and streets erases the physical structures, as well as the intangible heritage that these buildings and spaces represent – the stories, traditions, and shared memories of a pluralistic community that once comprised of many Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jews, Zoroastrians, Sufis and religious, spiritual and secular people that lived side by side, in harmony. This historical diversity is a cultural treasure that ought to be celebrated, preserved, and passed down to future generations. Yet, the devastating signs of neglect, illegal encroachments and destruction by the city’s intimidating land mafia paint a grim picture of indifference and a loss of communal memory.
The importance of conservation cannot be overstated. Conservation is not merely about preserving bricks and mortar but about maintaining a tangible connection to our past, which in turn informs our present and future. Conservation efforts serve to remind us of the diverse narratives that have shaped our societies and the importance of inclusivity and tolerance in a society that is rapidly falling prey to intolerance, military industrialism, religious extremism, fascism and right-wing ideology.
As residents, whether former or current, of Karachi and stewards of its rich history, we have a collective responsibility to advocate for the preservation of our heritage. It is imperative that we recognize heritage conservation as a matter of cultural pride, and as a fundamental human right. This requires a concerted effort from government bodies, local communities, and civil society organizations to enact policies and initiatives that prioritize heritage preservation. Moreover, fostering a sense of ownership and pride within the community can galvanize grassroots efforts to protect and celebrate our shared history.
The journey with Heritage Walk Karachi is a clarion call to all stakeholders to awaken to the importance of our cultural heritage. In preserving the physical and intangible legacies of our past, we safeguard the essence of our identity and ensure that future generations can enjoy and learn from the richness of our shared heritage. From an intellectual standpoint, the visible deterioration of Old Karachi's heritage sites challenges us to reflect on the broader implications of such neglect. It raises pertinent questions about the values we, as a society, and our governmental bodies prioritize and the legacy we choose to leave for future generations. Heritage is not a relic of the past to be passively observed; it is an active, living testament to our collective history, achievements, and failures. The current state of Old Karachi serves as a stark reminder of the consequences of sidelining cultural heritage in favour of short-term gains.
The ongoing genocide in Palestine, which includes a cultural genocide, and the systematic obliteration of heritage, culture, intellect, and history, serves as a critical warning of the importance of preserving our own heritage and history. Such events underscore the vulnerability of cultural identity in the face of occupation, colonialism and violent erasure and highlight the essential role that heritage plays in the collective memory and identity of a community. In conclusion, as we reflect on the guided walk through Old Town, Karachi, let us not see it merely as a nostalgic tour through a bygone era but as a mission to rekindle our connection with our heritage. Heritage is indeed a human right, one that we must all strive to protect and cherish.
CALLS TO ACTION:
Raise Awareness: Share the rich history and significance of Karachi, through educational campaigns, social media, and community events. Encourage local schools, colleges, and universities to include the study Karachi’s heritage in their curriculum. Organize guided tours and heritage walks like Heritage Walk Karachi, to showcase the cultural and architectural gems of the area.
Advocate for Protection: Petition local authorities and government bodies to enforce strict regulations for the preservation of historical buildings and sites. Collaborate with heritage preservation organizations and activists to lobby for legal protection and funding for restoration projects. Work with city planners and policymakers to integrate heritage conservation into urban development plans.
Community Engagement: Foster a sense of pride and communal ownership among residents by involving them in preservation initiatives. Organize volunteer clean-up drives and maintenance efforts to keep historical sites and streets clean and well-maintained. Establish community forums and workshops to encourage dialogue and participation in decision-making processes related to heritage conservation.
Support Restoration Projects: Partner with private businesses, philanthropists, and cultural institutions to fund restoration efforts for endangered buildings and landmarks. Launch crowdfunding campaigns and seek donations from individuals passionate about preserving Karachi’s heritage. Encourage corporate social responsibility by inviting businesses to sponsor specific restoration projects in exchange for recognition and branding opportunities.
Promote Sustainable Tourism: Develop responsible tourism initiatives that highlight the unique cultural and architectural heritage of Karachi while minimizing negative impacts on the environment and local communities. Create tourism packages that include visits to historical sites, traditional markets, and cultural performances, benefiting local businesses and artisans. Train local guides and hospitality staff to provide informative and respectful experiences for visitors, emphasizing the importance of preserving heritage sites for future generations.
Document and Digitize: Establish archives and digital repositories to document oral histories, photographs, and other ephemera related to Karachi’s heritage. Collaborate with universities and research institutions to conduct studies and publish scholarly works on the history and architecture of the area. Develop virtual tours and interactive exhibits to make Karachi’s heritage accessible to a wider audience, including those unable to visit in person.
By promoting these calls to action, we can work together to safeguard the cultural, historical, and architectural legacy of Old Town, Karachi, for generations to come.
Photos + Text © Mariam Magsi 2024
#heritage#karachi#pakistan#sindh#architecture#heritage walk karachi#explore#community#collective#heritage is a human right
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A dive into the archives
Image 1: My maternal family at a wedding Dawat in post-partition Lahore, Pakistan (1977) The groom, who happens to be my Mamoo (maternal uncle) is adorned with shiny headwear and garlands sewn with cash notes. The colourful, patterned shamiana tent veiling the Dawat is a common occurrence in banquet halls even today. Dawats also serve as the ideal opportunity to get multiple family members and kin together for a group portrait, a crucial and vital method of documenting a visual record of humans that are often overlooked and erased from history and whose lived experiences have been minimized and rendered invisible by colonial hegemonies.
Image 2: My maternal grandfather, F.D Chaudhry, a soldier in the British Army, hosting his British and German friends at a small Dawat in post-partition Lahore, Pakistan (1950) These are foreign families that chose to remain in Pakistan after the partition of the country from India, but have since returned to their respective homelands.
Image 3: My mother, Mohtarma Rubina Magsi, celebrating Shab-e-Barat, a major Dawat for the global Muslim community, honoured in the month of Sha'ban in the Islamic calendar (1980s) After finishing our prayers in new clothes, we would head outside into the garden to play with sparklers and light little diyas (oil lamps made from clay) all around the boundary walls of our home. The deceased are honoured on this day and the festival is celebrated in unique ways in Muslim countries around the world, depending on the country and culture.
Image 4: Mohtarma Rubina Magsi surrounded by her singing and clapping women friends ( Late 1970s) They are taking turns playing the dhol (drum). Often a sturdy, silver spoon is also hit onto the center of the dhol to add depth to the music. Some guests may even reach for a dufflee (tambourine) and clap it against their henna stained palms. The music can range from orally transmitted folk songs to Bollywood hits from across the border. Healthy competition is fostered as guests attempt to outdo one another with an impressively long array of memorized songs.
Image 5: A duo collage of community elders veiling my hair and face with heavy garlands of vibrant, red rose flowers to mark the Rasm-e-Ameen, a Dawat hosted to honour the completion of formal Quranic education. The customary prayers are followed by a large buffet style banquet feast. (1993)
Image 6: Guests enjoying their banquet dinner on a round table after the Rasm-e-Ameen. A waiter holding a tray with glasses watches over the banquet tables to ensure the guests are looked after. (1993)
Image 7: A women prioritized Dawat-e-Milad in praise of Prophet Muhammad, hosted at our home in Karachi, Pakistan. Though veiling of the hair is not an imposition in Pakistan, even at women prioritized religious, cultural and spiritual events such as these, both Muslims and non-Muslims loosely cover their hair momentarily, out of respect. (1995)
Image 8: A birthday banquet to honour the day I was born. It is interesting to note, that while traditional, cultural garments are prioritized for certain events, like the Dawat-e-Milad, Rasm-e-Ameen or a wedding Dawat, western clothing, games and food is often engaged at Dawats such as birthdays and graduations. (1994)
Image 9: Generation after generation, the visibility of women in documentations of family life has increased. This is a family photograph taken on my birthday Dawat (1993) with my mother at the center, surrounded by children, and caregivers from the Philippines and our ancestral lands, Jhal Magsi, Balochistan. I was truly raised by a multi-generational, diverse village of people from all corners of the world. While some members of our family are wearing western clothing, others are dressed in traditional, cultural garments and have chosen to veil their hair.
Image 9: A spiritual, Sufi Dawat at the Taji Shrine in Meva Shah, Karachi. My mother is adorning our family's Sufi saint (Baba Anwar Shah Taji) with heavy garlands of red roses. (1980) While flowers are given feminine traits in various cultures around the world, in many South and Central Asian countries, such as India, Pakistan and Nepal, flowers are a gender neutral way of showing love and adoration through the art of ornamentation. After the customary Sufi rituals are complete, the congregation gathers side by side on the floor to consumer Langar, a meal that is served to everyone in attendance, at no cost. The Langar menu can vary from week to week, consisting of curries, rice dishes, naans and sweets, and no one is turned away from the doors of the shrines when Langar is served. Whether cis or trans, male or female, able or disabled, rich or poor, local or foreign, everyone is welcome here. In some shrines the genders are segregated.
Most Dawats in Pakistan mark important life milestones, like births, birthdays, weddings, graduations and are also influenced by cultural traditions and religious rituals, varying from household to household, depending on cast, clan, socioeconomic standing, province and religion.
There are some motifs and symbols that make a recurring appearance, era after era, such as rose petals and night blooming jasmine flowers, shamiana tents, cauldrons of Biryani, unisex garlands and head coverings made with either cash or flowers (or both), various forms of veiling (with both textiles and flowers), the dhol (drum) and of course, endless cups of Chai. Of the various significant Dawats that take place throughout the year, apart from events like birthdays and weddings, certain religious Dawats like Shab-e-Baraat (a major festival for Muslims celebrated in the month of Sha'ban, the eighth month of the Islamic calendar) Rasm-e-Ameen (formal completion of Quranic education), Urs (death anniversaries of Saints and Mystics), Milad (events fostered in praise of Prophet Muhammad) and Niyaz (Meditative chanting and prayers followed by distribution of food amongst the needy) also encompass specific rituals and customs. As visible in the archives, there was also a healthy mix of retaining local, familial customs and traditions, while also engaging with clothing, games, food and rituals from cultures outside of Pakistan.
For example, every New Year’s Eve, it was customary in our home to consume a large feast of purely Filipino food, made by our caregiver, Flordeliza Sauza. Right as the clock would strike midnight, you best believe, we would be shoving Siopao, Pansit and Chicken Adobo with garlic rice into our excited, hungry mouths. Similarly, Chinese food was also a staple, especially at birthday parties and weddings. My wedding Dawat feast in Karachi included several desi Kababs, Curries and Puloas originally devised in the royal kitchens of India, but many Chinese dishes were also served, such as Chicken Manchurian, Beef Chilli, Shrimp Dumplings and Vegetable Fried Rice. This is reflective of a society that is open to global influences.
Women have been at the forefront of cultural continuity in Pakistan, as well as in the diaspora. Religiously inclined Dawats, such as the Milad and the Rasm-e-Ameen often take place in women prioritized spaces, with multi-generational guests in attendance, fostering community and togetherness. One of my favourite moments from the Milad Dawat has to do with guests being showered with delicate, soft sprinkles of rose water, while standing side by side, singing and praying in a unique moment of women's solidarity. In some Milad Dawats, guests are not only showered with droplets of Rose Water, they are also covered with petals from red roses, making the experience truly immersive and embodied.
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Book of Delicacies
Historical Resource: *Ni’matnama-i-Nasiruddin-Shahi* or Book of Delicacies is a medieval Indian book from c.1500 featuring recipes of delicacies as well as illustrations of food preparation. The Naksh script used in this manuscript is from Farsi (Persian language). The image is a page from the manuscript showing Samosas (a savoury pastry fried in ghee or oil, stuffed with either spiced vegetables or meat) being served.
“Sultan of Mandu, Ghiyath Shahi seated on a stool in a garden is being offered a dish of samosas. A cook is frying them over a stove, while another is placing them on a round dish. Opaque watercolour. Sultanate style. Title of Work: The Ni'matnama-i Nasir al-Din Shah. A manuscript on Indian cookery and the preparation of sweetmeats, spices etc. 1495-1505" (The British Library)
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Dawat of Lights
Image 1: Two Mughal ladies celebrating with sparklers (circa 1740)
Image 2: Rajasthani ladies lighting fireworks during Diwali (18th Century)
Image 3: Night of Shab-e-Barat (1735-1740)
Image 4: Mohtarma Rubina Magsi, a Punjabi lady from Lahore celebrates Shab-e-Barat Dawat by lighting sparklers in the garden with her friends in Karachi (early 1980s)
Did you know, that both Hindus and Muslims celebrated various religious and cultural festivals together in the Mughal courts, such as, Diwali, Eid, Nauroz, Holi, Dusshera and Shab-e-Barat? Many of the materials used to illuminate their Dawats (lamps, lanterns, hanging chandeliers and sparklers) continue to make their way into our celebrations and traditions today, in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh and other parts of South Asia.
“That might surprise those who associate Mughal emperors with being staunch Muslims, but it’s worth remembering that with the number of marital alliances made with the families of Hindu rulers - especially the Rajputs - over the years, many of the Mughal queens and secondary wives were Hindu. They would bring their own religious festivals and traditions into the mahal sara (women’s quarters), and by extension, into the Emperor’s life.” ~ Madhulika Liddle
Sources: The Mughal archives of writer, Rabih Alameddine (Twitter: rabihalameddine), Festivities in the Mughal Court (Madhulika Liddle) and the Magsi-Chaudhry family archives.
#hinduism#islam#south asia#pakistan#india#culture#heritage#ritual#identity#life#celebration#festivity#shabebaraat#diwali
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Dawat-e-Gulab
Dawat-e-Gulab
Flowers, rose petals and rose buds specifically, are a material that make a regular, recurring appearance in my performative, immersive and installation-based works. Eric and I have been having some very fascinating conversations about how flowers continue to hold gendered connotations within contemporary readings of gender, often deemed as “too feminine” and hence inappropriate for physical and visual expressions of masculinity, even though, historically, flowers have been used and worn in a variety of ways, by ALL genders in multiple parts of Asia.
In Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, flowers continue to make their way into ritualistic and cultural expressions, especially around milestone events (weddings, funerals, etc) and also as gestural and active expressions of love, through ornamentation.
During specific Dawats, like the wedding or religious Dawats like the Milad, petals are gently tossed toward guests of honour, creating an immersive, participatory and spectacular shower of scents, soft textures and vibrant colours in motion. Within our Sufi rituals, it is customary to visit the shrines of our saints, to ornament and honour their graves with rose petals. During specific Sufi events, such as the Urs anniversaries, we often reach for rose petals that have touched various sacred textiles, and proceed to eat them.
Within funerary customs of South Asia, red rose petals make a regular appearance as well. When we were burying my mother in Lahore, Pakistan at her family’s graveyard, we showered her grave site, and the graves of our deceased maternal family members, with bright, red, rose petals, conveniently sold at the entrance of the graveyard. The colours and heady scents, along with smoke and scents from incense sticks, served as a reminder, that even during moments of grief and mourning, we must never forget the celebration of life.
Image: A groom is ornamented and honoured with flowers by elders of his family and community, on the day of his wedding Dawat. This photograph was captured in Lahore, Pakistan in 2022 by Adnan Siddiqi.
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We adorn our dead with flowers...
Image: Mian Sahib Kabristan, Lahore, Pakistan
Image: Mian Sahib Kabristan, Lahore, Pakistan
Image: Mian Sahib Kabristan, Lahore, Pakistan
Image: Mian Sahib Kabristan, Lahore, Pakistan
Image: Mian Sahib Kabristan, Lahore, Pakistan
Image: Shrine of Baba Anwar Shah Taji, Meva Shah, Pakistan
Image: French Beach, Pakistan
Image: Shah Jahan Mosque, Thatta, Pakistan
When I die
which you know I will
transport my body
across oceans and seas.
Lay me down to rest
where the river meets the mountain
beside the spirits of my ancestors
at the crack of dawn.
Their shoulders carried me all this way
I forgot my way back to them
lay me down to rest with them
I found them after an eternity.
Bury me under a blanket of stars
ornament my resting site
with precious rose petals
night after night.
Come visit.
again and again.
and promise me…
Promise me that you will
leave food and water
beside me.
So pigeons, sparrows and ants
can pass by
and eat
to their heart’s content.
Promise me
you’ll bury me
under the soft shade
of a lush, green tree.
Promise me
that when night falls
you’ll walk across the skies
to tell me a story.
Promise me…
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Image 1: Biryani on the Beach, Karachi edition. This Biryani feast was organized by my sister on my last trip home. We enjoyed it outdoors at French Beach.
Image 2: This special Biryani was created by my mother’s cousin - It was cooked during the last days of Ammi’s life at Aga Khan Hospital in Karachi, and though she was not able to enjoy it herself, she was beyond grateful to see her kids, and family members, enjoying Biryani together.
Image 3: Biryani dinner organized for a reunion with friends at our family residence in Karachi.
Image 4: Biryani on the Beach, Toronto edition. This Biryani was created by my beloved and we enjoyed it with his family at Woodbine Beach. His sister made a delicious, cooling mint-cucumber yogurt dip to compliment the spicy dish. We enjoyed it to our heart’s content. My beloved is from the Balkans and it has been a joy to witness his deep and growing love for desi food.
Image 5: Repeated attempts at making and perfecting the Sindhi version of Biryani.
Image 6: My beloved's first attempt at making the dish in Toronto, upon returning to Canada from Pakistan, after carefully collecting our family’s recipes.
Image 7: Repeated attempts at making and perfecting the Sindhi version of Biryani. This particular Biryani was created for the Dawat Yan Project and will launch next week on dawatyanbanquet.com
Image 8: An array of spices and tomatoes, key ingredients that go into the Sindhi version of Biryani that is enjoyed throughout Pakistan.
Biryani has the ability to bring people together. The yield is large, enough to satisfy all that partake in the eating of this layered, complex and dynamic rice-based dish. Biryani is enjoyed in a variety of unique ways. In some parts of South Asia, it is consumed with potatoes, while in other parts of the same region, it is eaten only with eggs. Depending on the area, community, province and even family, within Pakistan itself, Biryani is created and consumed in many diverse ways.
Within our household, for example, some of us like it with prunes, while others like it without. Some of us like it plain, while others drown our Biryani in Raita (cucumber-yogurt). Some of us eat it with our hands, while others prefer to cradle the colourful grains of rice with spoons and forks. Some of us like it sweet and spicy, so we may mix Zarda (a vibrant, colourful, sweet rice-based dish) with our Biryani, while others find the sweet and savoury mix to be an absolute abomination.
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Christmas in Pakistan
Image: Annual traditions of decorating and lighting up the Christmas tree at our family's residence in Karachi, Pakistan. © Mariam Magsi
As an immigrant from Pakistan who has called Canada home for 18 years, whenever the winter holidays come around, I am often asked the following question: Do you celebrate Christmas in Pakistan?
While some folks approach these topics through a lens of othering, others are genuinely curious to know more about my motherland and the kinds of holidays and festivities we celebrate. Despite a rising influx of influencers and white tourists flocking to various provinces of Pakistan, and with a breadth of material available online, for the most part, a lot of folks have no knowledge about the existence of non-Muslim communities in Pakistan, such as Hindu, Christian and Zoroastrian Pakistanis and how their respective religious vernacular has evolved in the region, impacted and shaped by several socio-political and cultural factors.
I must also preface this blog piece by stating, that while there are some communities, clans and families practicing pluralism and religious/cultural diversity in Pakistan, religious minorities continue to face oppression and marginalization by intolerant and hegemonic right-wing forces. I received a firsthand glimpse into this rising intolerance, when several members of my Pakistani community reached out at the end of last year to say that “Muslims should not say Merry Christmas to Christians as it is haram” (unlawful or forbidden). Because I was raised in a pluralistic household, I reject the creation of insular, exclusionary, rigid and polar worlds.
Image: One of Asia's largest bulletproof crosses, towering over Karachi's only operational Christian cemetery known as Gora Qabristan or "White man's graveyard." © Mariam Magsi
I had the unique privilege of being raised by a Punjabi mother is Punjabi and a Baloch father. They originate from entirely different provincial and cultural backgrounds, and fought very hard to transcend ethnic segregation, race and class to be together, despite several barriers. They struggled with lack of support and financial challenges, and several of their family members were vocally against their Baloch Punjabi union. Still, they persisted, and persevered. Within our home, our caregivers consisted of people from every religious background imaginable, including Hindu and Christian. As the years went by and our family grew, people from the Philippines, Bangladesh and Afghanistan also joined our home. Elders from my paternal Baloch Magsi clan also became important life guides and lived in our house with us. I was offered a healthy, robust exposure to multiple generations and their unique ways of worshiping, eating, dressing and living within the same household.
Image: My mother, siblings and I traveling through Jhal Magsi, Balochistan, the Philippines and Karachi, Pakistan with our diverse caregivers and family members. © Magsi Family Archives
My siblings and I were enrolled in a Catholic convent school nestled within a British education system. Celebrating Christmas in school was as natural as celebrating Eid. My parents shared close ties with the local and foreign Christian nuns who ran the establishment and had also forged friendships with priests in the clergy. To further illustrate this closeness, one of my sisters was even christened in the chapel at the school. There was a seamless integration of Islam with Christianity, and there was nothing abnormal about it. One could be rooted in their faith of birth, and fluid with faith-based practices. This helped us develop a flexible understanding of faith-based practices and how they are not static, but constantly evolving through contact with environmental influences and encounters.
Image: Filling out festive greeting cards to be snail mailed to my loved ones. © Mariam Magsi
The days leading up to Christmas were filled with so much excitement. A fresh stack of greeting cards was placed in front of us on the night of Christmas eve, and by the next morning the cards were filled with warm wishes in our writing, ready to be given out with gift packages to all of our loved ones. I remember visiting the local bakery to order fresh, creamy, soft-sponge cakes, crispy chicken patties and marzipans. Then we’d go to the bazaar with our mother to pick out colourful fruit baskets, festive ornaments and a Christmas tree. One year we even found fake snow that came in a can and erupted like silly string. We wore new and sparkly clothes, just like we did on Eid holidays, and made our way to St. Anthony’s church for Christmas mass with our Christian caregivers. We’d sing along with all the hymns, walk up to the priests to get communion, and then zip back around using holy water to cross ourselves. There was nothing odd or other worldly about it. I remember looking around at the congregation and noticing that there were so many people in skirts and dresses in one setting in Pakistan. The sounds of heels clicking away on the glossy floors would echo against the stained glass windows. Women would reach into their glittering, sequined purses and pull out hand-held fans to cool their sweaty brows, while using wrinkled tissue paper to blot their melting, crimson lipstick. After Christmas mass, my siblings, caregivers and I would pile up into our pick-up truck and head straight to school to wish the nuns, and distribute gifts to the clergy.
Image: A letter from our Christian Pakistani family friends, Ms Theresa and Uncle Gaspar dated November 25th, 1994. This was the first letter they mailed over to our family after their migration to Canada. © Magsi Family Archives
Late Christmas nights were usually spent with family friends Uncle Gaspar and Ms. Theresa in their apartment. The elders gathered around bottles of secretly imported brandy, rum and wine, while us kids dashed to the dessert table ornamented with some of the world’s finest homemade toffee, fudge and cakes made by Ms.Theresa, who was not only my educator, but also very close with my mother. Today, like most other Christian people in our networks, many families have migrated to Canada, UK and USA for higher income opportunities, safety and religious freedom. Many of these migrations began in the 90s and year after year, our festive celebrations and get-togethers grew smaller with more and more Christian Pakistanis leaving the country on a permanent basis.
One of my closest paternal aunts is American with Nicaraguan roots. When she arrived in Pakistan from the USA to join our family, she brought with her many American holiday traditions that became the norm in our homes over Christmas time. Every December, Chachi (paternal aunt) Carmen opened her doors to all of the family’s children for tree decoration traditions, stuffed turkey with mashed potatoes and merrymaking.
Chinese and Pinoy foods were also a regular feature on our festive dinner tables. Our primary caregiver, Ate (older sister) Flordeliza Sauza introduced us to many foods from her motherland, such as, Pancit, Chicken Adobo and Siopao, which we greatly enjoyed especially over festive, winter holidays. Though Ate Liza, as we lovingly know her, identifies as Catholic, she seamlessly adopted many Muslim faith-based practices as well. She not only prayed with us on Fridays, but she also participated in Zikr (meditative chanting of the 99 names of Allah in Arabic). On Sundays, we went to church with her.
Image: Lighting candles at an Orthodox monastery in Milton, Ontario in memory of our deceased loved ones. © Mariam Magsi
After my marriage to a person from the Balkans, my own awareness and knowledge about Christmas has expanded. After all, we were primarily exposed to Catholicism in Pakistan. Though my husband converted to Islam and now identifies as Muslim, he was born in an Orthodox Christian family, and we have chosen to carry on many of the beautiful Christmas and Easter traditions he was raised with. January 7th is Orthodox Christmas. We usually start the day by making a trip to the monastery and light candles for our deceased loved ones in honour of their memory. Traditionally, on Orthodox Christmas eve, people place “badnjak” (oak tree branches) into a fire, but because this isn’t possible in urban households, a community center or monastery is usually designated for the ritual. Of the many food traditions I have observed and adopted from my beloved’s mother, one of my favourites is hiding coins, cloves and other items in bread to signify luck, wealth and health. The bread is baked fresh, and the entire family comes around the dinner table to break into it. Everyone receives a portion of the bread, usually with a symbolic item hidden inside that will signify the trajectory of the year pertaining to health and good fortune.
Image: My beloved, Gordan Sumanski and I, celebrating Catholic and Orthodox Christmas in our home in Toronto. © Mariam Magsi
Holidays Mubarak! Merry Christmas!
Image: Allah engraved in Arabic on wood, an Orthodox crucifix rosary from Egypt and a Turkish evil eye installed on the entrance wall of our home in Toronto. © Mariam Magsi
#christmas#holidays#islam#christianity#pluralism#canada#pakistan#serbia#lovestories#family#tolerance#love
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Photos © Mariam Magsi, 2023
Don’t let mainstream media deceive you. Our protests are in the thousands. The growing wave of rallies, demonstrations, and sit-ins across Canada and the USA is a prime example of why we must be critical consumers of news. Contrary to what some sources may lead you to believe, these gatherings are not limited to “hundreds” or “dozens.” We are out here in the thousands and thousands, and our message is clear: CEASEFIRE NOW!
We are raising our voices against the backdrop of personal violence, societal violence, and intergenerational traumas that have scarred our communities. These traumas are the legacy of occupations, forced migrations, displacements, violence, colonization, and war. We carry the weight of our ancestors who served in militaries and we have endured cycles of violence at home.
We recognize that we have no control over the events that shaped our history. However, we firmly believe that we can shape the now, and this present moment holds the power to create a better tomorrow. As we protest and make our voices heard, we do so with the intention of leaving behind a planet that is a gift, rather than a burden, to our descendants. We envision a future where the scars of the past can heal and where cycles of violence can be broken.
Action Items-:
Donate for urgent aid to Gaza-:
*Islamic Relief Canada (Zakat accepted)
*Palestine Children’s Relief Fund (PCRF)
*Medical Aid for Palestine (MAP)
Write to federal and provincial leaders-:
*Prime Minister Justin Trudeau
[email protected]
*Foreign Minister Mèlanie Joly
[email protected]
*Toronto Palestine Film Festival has compiled a list of restaurants, shops and businesses we can support at this time: tpff.ca/resources
#Toronto4Palestine#Gaza#FreePalestine#Canada#TorontoLovesPalestine#protest#rally#demonstration#mariammagsi#civil disobedience#raise your voice
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Detour to the Stars.
© Mariam Magsi, 2022
I got lost and took a detour even though the sign said “no road ahead.” A bumpy ride led to the middle of a farm. Dead silence. Crickets. Cows gently mooing themselves to sleep. Rural darkness as far as the eyes could see. And then, I looked up and gasped in wonder. To the stars I was nothing but a mere dot below, far across the distance. In isolation and silence, I felt completely interconnected with the universe.
I am building my gear gradually, and don’t have the appropriate lenses for astronomical observation. It is difficult to document the night sky, nevertheless I pushed my beloved wide angle 12-24 to the max despite the blur and pixelation. F/4.0, ISO 3200, Exposed for 30 seconds. I highly recommend using a tripod and a remote trigger to avoid even the slightest of vibrations when photographing night skies. This photograph took several attempts, but I didn’t give up until I attained the shot that did a semblance of justice to the magnificent sky.
#stars#mariam magsi#mariammagsi#sky#nasa#universe#galaxy#nature#photography#night photography#long exposure#glitter#planet earth#women photograph#women photographers#Nikon#Nikon Photographers
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The Persistence of Memory
Digital transfers of vintage photographs (1976) on doilies (1986) installed on a black chadar (veil) belonging to the artist’s late mother. 2022
Borrowing from Salvador Dali’s surrealist ideas around space, time and memory, Mariam Magsi creates a series of digital photo transfers onto doilies. Doilies are ornamental mats, usually in varying shades of white, made of lace, fabric or paper with a lace pattern, typically placed on a plate under cakes or other sweet foods and savoury pastries. The word doily comes from Doiley, the last name of a reputable and well-known Londoner, who dealt with dry food trades in the 17th century. The texture of the doilies bleeds into the image, merging with the texture of the vintage, analogue photographs, printed in Lahore, Pakistan back in 1976. The photograph portrays a wedding banquet in Punjab featuring the maternal family of the artist. The bride and groom are seated, partaking in rituals and customs conducive to marriage. A young child proceeds to present a glass of milk to the groom first.
The generation featured inherited a brand new country and identity, unprocessed and unimaginably violent trauma, fuelled by nationalism, along with pressures to preserve culture, prevent erasure, and always, at all costs, perform hospitality, so as to avoid being perceived as a failed citizen. This photograph was made 29 years after Pakistan was formed, in a violent partition with India, puppeteered by the British in collaboration with the Indian subcontinent’s political elite. Only 6 years before this banquet was recorded, Bangladesh declared its independence from Pakistan in 1971. A tear in the photograph transfers onto the doily, echoing gaps in history. The doily is taken out of its original function and serves as a spherical light-box illuminating the otherwise fading black and white photograph. Due to the dark nature of the chadar (veil) upon which the work lies, it is not clear if the doily is on the ground, installed on the wall, or presented on a table.
The Persistence of Memory was commissioned by the Dawat Yan Banquet with support from the AGOxRBC Artists in Residence Program, 2022.
#mariammagsi#blackandwhite#doiley#photography#archives#lensbased#digital photography#digital transfer#dawat yan#art gallery of ontario#photo work#art#contemporary art#disrupt the archives#memory#history#pakistan#india#bangladesh#south asia#colonialism#partition
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