
Profanity has poisoned society: Jawad Ahmad
During an interview on Zabardast with Wasi Shah, singer-turned-politician Jawad Ahmad addressed his long-standing qualms about the normalised use of profanity in society. Recalling a simple time, he began "In the home where I was raised, it was an unimaginable thing to curse - on both the maternal and paternal sides."
Jawad mentioned that both his parents were educators, adding context to his courteous background. "I'd never heard a single man or woman curse in both their families."
The Yehi Tou Hai Apna Pan singer went on to define what qualifies as a curse word, which he believes is something you say out of hatred to someone despite it not being true. "You know that the person you're targeting is not what you describe them as, but you call them names regardless. For example, when you equate someone to an animal."
According to Jawad, the list includes vulgar language about someone's body and misogynistic slurs towards mothers and sisters. "This is nonsensical chatter. It doesn't target someone's physical attributes, but it does concern personality. In the same way, attacking someone's caste, clan, appearance, or profession with sheer hatred is what you'd call 'swearing'."
Since he didn't grow up hearing such language at home, it alarmed Jawad how common profanity truly was, especially in the educational institutes he'd attended. "Around me, girls and boys - especially boys - would often swear at each other. Back then, they'd use foul words in Urdu and Punjabi. Then when it became fashionable, they started swearing in English too."
He added, "I'd be so baffled at the words they'd use for mothers and sisters that I'd just wonder, 'Man, these women are sitting at home. How does this discussion concern them?'"
Jawad further observed that this level of disrespect has contaminated society to the extent that it now also plagues the digital sphere. "If you go on social media, you'll see that there's no room left for reasoning or different ideas anymore. Now all that's left is to see how awfully you can insult someone. And that's what truly scares me about where Pakistani society is headed."
In sharp contrast, the artist later looked back on how his discography managed to please a tough crowd because he veered away from profanity.
"Older women don't usually like a lot of people. But they do ease up to someone who seems family-oriented," he said. That's the kind of image I had, very family-friendly. Neither did I have vulgar songs nor was I ill-mannered. So they used to like me, actually. Older women used to give me lots of love."

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Express Tribune
9 hours ago
- Express Tribune
Pindi's cinema era fades into history
Rose Cinema, once a bustling hub of film and community life in Rawalpindi, stands in stark contrast to its present-day ruins. The left image captures its vibrant heyday; the right reveals the silent aftermath. PHOTOS: EXPRESS With the recent demolition of the iconic Rose Cinema, established in 1926 during the British era, Rawalpindi has witnessed the symbolic end of a vibrant chapter in its cultural and cinematic history. Once a hallmark of the city's thriving film scene from the 1960s to the early 2000s, the destruction of this nearly century-old cinema marks the final blow to the city's once-flourishing film industry. Located in the heart of the city near Raja Bazaar, Rose Cinema was built on land donated by a wealthy Hindu philanthropist, Bhimas Ram. Adjacent to the District Headquarters Hospital, the cinema was conceived with a clear purpose: to provide accessible entertainment to labourers and workers from the surrounding 30 wholesale markets and trade centres after a hard day's work. It succeeded for over four decades, particularly as a hub for Punjabi films, drawing large crowds of working-class moviegoers. It was not just a place of entertainment but a cultural landmark, often enjoying "sold-out weeks" with massive queues for tickets. At its peak, Rawalpindi boasted 24 cinema houses. These included notable names such as Naz, Shabistan, Gulistan, Kahkashan, Shaheen, PAF, Moti Mahal, Rialto, and Sangeet along the Faizabad-Marrir Chowk route. In the inner city, cinemas like Nadir, Khursheed, Rose, Nishat, Imperial, Taj Mahal, and Novelty thrived, while Saddar was home to Ciros, Odeon, Plaza, and Capital. In other areas, there were Tasveer Mahal in Lalkurti, and Rex, Garrison, and Qasim Cinema near the Qasim Airbase in Dhamial. For decades, these cinemas offered more than just films. They supported a parallel economy, offering part-time jobs to thousands. After their day jobs, people would run food stalls, manage ticket counters, or work security. Cinema projectionists held full-time positions, and skilled artists hand-painted film posters and signboardsan art that has now vanished. In parallel, Rawalpindi's Liaquat Hall, a grand auditorium in Liaquat Bagh, served as the epicentre of theatrical performances. Securing a slot there was considered a guaranteed success for any stage production. Iconic performers like Moin Akhtar, Qavi Khan, Masood Akhtar, Roohi Bano, Agha Talish, Umer Sharif, and Ismail Tara brought the stage to life, often drawing family audiences in large numbers. Women made up the majority of attendees during the golden years of family-oriented stage dramas. However, as the years went by, things began to unravel. Crass humour and vulgar dialogues alienated families, who once formed the backbone of the theatre audience. The advent of VCRs, the flood of international dramas, social media, and a decline in film quality gradually pushed cinemas and stage plays into obscurity. Once a thriving industry with long booking queues for new film releases and stage shows, Rawalpindi now finds itself devoid of any meaningful cinema culture. Of the original 24 cinemas, nine have been converted into commercial plazas, four into wedding halls, seven are permanently closed, and four have been demolishedawaiting new construction. The art of painting movie billboards, once a proud tradition, has also disappeared. Today, only a few cinemas remain, occasionally hosting stage plays, most of which fade quickly due to lack of quality and interest. With the fall of Rose Cinema, Rawalpindi's cinematic legacy has, in many ways, reached its final scene.


Express Tribune
a day ago
- Express Tribune
Banksy in Marseille
The anonymous artist has sold his artworks for millions of pounds since 2000s. PHOTO: File A new mural depicting a lighthouse by world-famous street artist Banksy has appeared on a wall in the southern French city of Marseille, with AFP confirming its location on Friday. The anonymous artist known as Banksy revealed the new work on Instagram on Thursday but its location had not been disclosed. The words "I want to be what you saw in me" are stencilled in English across the black lighthouse set against a beige stucco wall. The mural is on a quiet street near the Catalans beach not far from the city centre, according to an AFP correspondent. The lighthouse's painted shadow connects to one of the street bollards lining the sidewalk. Banksy — whose identity has not been publicly revealed — has crossed the globe for decades painting clandestine murals in public spaces, including in the occupied West Bank, London and Los Angeles. "It's fascinating that Banksy chose a city like Marseille, which has so much art, foreigners and life," said Esteban Roldan, a 42-year-old carpenter who came to see the artwork. "This is huge, Banksy in Marseille," added another local, Virginie Foucault. She said she was having lunch nearby. "I thought to myself, 'I'm not going to find it in Les Catalans,' and then, by chance — I never go there — there it is. We love it, we love it!" Banksy is best known for hard-hitting murals, often using a distinctive stencilling style, that frequently pop up on buildings and walls. In recent years, he has kept the attention of the contemporary art world with his social commentaries and causes — migrants, opposition to Brexit, denunciation of Islamist radicals - while still stirring the excitement of the moneyed art markets. The artist boasts an A-list client lineup and has sold his works for tens of millions of pounds at auction since the early 2000s. afp


Express Tribune
3 days ago
- Express Tribune
The curse of being Wednesday
Jenna Ortega might have conquered Netflix, but she didn't come out of Wednesday unscathed. In a refreshingly candid interview with Harper's Bazaar, Ortega revealed that the massive success of her gothic teen character left her more disoriented than delighted. "To be quite frank, after the show and trying to figure everything out, I was an unhappy person," she admitted. "The pressure and the attention, as somebody who's quite introverted, was so intense and scary." With over 250 million views, Wednesday is Netflix's most-watched English-language show. But for Ortega, its impact has been double-edged. One side is creative opportunity; she's learned to play the cello, embraced a darker personal aesthetic, and landed edgy roles in A24's Death of a Unicorn and Taika Waititi's Klara and the Sun. The other side is the brutal social media surveillance, career typecasting, and the suffocating trap of image maintenance. "I'm doing a show I'm going to be doing for years where I play a schoolgirl. But I'm also a young woman," she said. "There's just something about it that's very patronising. Also, when you're short, people are already physically looking down on you." For Ortega, who's grown up in front of the camera, from Disney darling to Addams icon, the push-pull between public expectation and personal evolution is real. "You know, it's like how you're dressed in the schoolgirl costume. Girls, if they don't stay as this perfect image of how they were first introduced to you, then it's, 'Ah, something's wrong. She's changed. She sold her soul.'" She's also experienced the uglier side of online fame. "I feel like being a bully is very popular right now," she said. "Having been on the wrong side of the rumour mill was incredibly eye-opening." Fame, for all its perks, can feel more like a trapdoor than a platform. Still, Ortega isn't abandoning the fans that catapulted her to stardom. "I want to be able to give back to them. But I also want to do things that are creatively fulfilling to me," she explained. "It's finding that balance. [I want roles that are] older and bolder and different." Ortega's career is clearly at a crossroads, and she's steering with intention. Between indie art films and blockbuster sequels, she's carving out space to grow, stumble, evolve. And with Wednesday Season 2 dropping in two parts this August, audiences will once again fall under her spell. But if Ortega has her way, they'll start to see past the pigtails.