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Friday, February 14, 2014

“KHAMOSHI KI ZABAAN”: Functionality of the ‘male gaze’ in ‘Humsafar’

(this is a bit long, but I've added pictures so HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYBODY)


While dialogue is the obvious tool used to underscore the opposite worlds Asher and Khirad come from (“zameen asmaan ka farq hai”), what deserves attention is the depiction, direction and illustration of the couple’s two-tier journey from acquaintance to mohabbat, and then misdirected hatred to mohabbat again. Devices used to portray the nuanced transformations in feelings and relationships include facial expressions, changing apparel (like the different placements of Khirad’s dupatta), overheard conversations and body postures to name a few, but I’ll analyzing the way Asher’s gaze is represented as a language in itself through the course of the drama.

Khirad tells Afsheen, “Khamoshi ki bhi aik zabaan hoti hai… Us ki aankhon main main apnay liye bezaari dekhti hoon, nafrat dekhti hoon”. Owing to her overpowering “ehsaas-e-kamtari” upon being forcefully imposed upon Asher, Khirad is unable to talk or maintain eye contact with her new husband, and this is where Asher’s gaze becomes an alternate mode of communication (the sheer beauty of his eyes makes this compromise more than acceptable). The viewer sees him attempting to perform his delegated husbandly duties with “khush isloobi”, only to receive nothing but robotic indifference from Khirad in return, consequently frustrating him enough to avoid home as much as possible.

Khirad’s confession to her maamu gives voice to her broken pride and displaced identity, and overhearing these sentiments rejuvenates Asher’s gaze with a new sense of purpose and persistence. He uses his eyes to welcome Khirad into his life (and his heart, cheesy but true), and the triumph of his gaze takes the shape of Khirad’s delicate reciprocation (she starts smiling and actually looking at him when he talks to her), basically meaning she’s ready to let her guard down and fall in love too.


Keeping in mind the rigid value system of Pakistani society, Asher’s gaze becomes the drama’s innocuous method of representing the couple’s romantic intentions towards each other. The male gaze of appraisal has a definite sexual undertone, and Khirad’s resultant shyness (and pleasure) upon exposure to it shows how the relationship is blooming, consequently paving the way for the entry of Hareem into the picture. 


A particular scene that stands out is the (adorable) ‘shatranj’ scene, where Khirad and Asher communicate solely through the eyes, and their entire attraction is encapsulated by Asher’s victorious comment, “Main bari bari baatain nahin karta, zahaanat aur khamoshi say khelta hoon”.This is pure genius, as the Urdu drama’s 'eyes' substitute the Western novel’s 'touch', and allow the creators of ‘Humsafar’ to depict the couple’s love without violating any cultural norms or standards of conservatism.


The emphasis on the male gaze is particularly significant after Khizar’s entry into the picture; Asher’s eyes convey jealousy and insecurity, emotions too dark for the virtuous Khirad to comprehend. Her extreme piety makes her a little blind, and she never even considers the possibility of her husband’s envy, which is why Asher’s eyes seem alien and heart-breakingly distant to her as her friendship with Khizer develops. Her complete ignorance of the POSSIBILITY of being romantically involved with Khizer is the reason why the whole ‘cheating’ scene is such a blow upon her being. When she’s grossly accused of betrayal she begs, pleads and craves for Asher’s gaze (“MUJHEY DEKHAIN, MERI BAAT SUNNAIN”), since eye contact where words are rendered useless could have practically saved the situation, but all she receives is cold, statuesque indifference from her husband. This is how she literally falls to pieces (illustrated by her broken posture on the floor).

Hareem (who also happens to have beautiful eyes) strengthens Khirad enough to become immune to the male gaze; in fact, she meets Asher’s spectacle-clad eyes with her own at every chance she gets. It’s important how Asher’s wearing glasses, a symbolic shield against any future heartbreak, and Khirad’s eyes are devoid of kajal, showing her complete aversion to any kind of beautification (look where it got her before). Eye contact becomes a clash of equals, but Khirad’s helpless, motherly sobbing boosts Asher’s manly ego, and he wishes (afresh) to be her “tahhafuz”, and acknowledges the defeat of his gaze when he claims “main tum say nafrat karnay main haar gaya hoon”. 


The two agree to find their “khoyi hui mohabbat” for the sake for their daughter (and themselves), and the drama closes with Asher lovingly reopening Khirad’s hair to subtly tell the viewer they’re going to start their marriage anew.

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