This man is one the best actors Pakistan has produced. I’ve seen him play everything from a sophisticated, learned gentleman to greedy father who sells his daughter to a manipulative scum of a family musician. And he did justice to every one of his roles. if you see him in one of his negative roles (example, Hawwa Kee Baiti - excellent play, highly recommended), you wouldn’t believe that this is the same man who looked like the sweetest father figure in the other play (examples, Tanhaayian, Doop Kinaray - classic dramas). Sign of a great, great actor. It is artists of this quality who should be millionaries and have mansions for houses because he has a talent that very few have.
It’s also very nice to see that he’s no big headed that he’s unable to appreciate other artists. Sounds like a wonderful person.
**‘I don’t know how to make money’](http://www.dawn.com/weekly/images/images1.htm) **
By Adil Ahmad
For a man who has spent a lifetime in showbiz, at least the last 47 years of it, it doesn’t show. No false airs, no pretensions, and very little money! “Making money is a different art form. I don’t know how to make money, and neither did I push myself too hard on this score,” says Qazi Wajid, **winner of the Best Supporting Actor Award at the 12th PTV Awards. Retired from Radio Pakistan recently after a 25-year stint as staff artist, Qazi and his wife lead a contented life with a sane routine for a change! **
“The profession is such that my domestic life remained quite disturbed, with no fixed working hours or meal times,” he says, clearly relishing being in control of his life for the moment. Doing a 9-5 job and then shooting for TV until the wee hours of the morning was very demanding, both physically and mentally.
Time is something that Qazi Wajid has in plenty these days, and this comes as a surprise considering his award that should have made him hot property for producers. “I was all set to go to the USA and Canada this month on an eight-week tour of 10 cities to perform Khwaja Moinuddin’s drama Taleem-i-Balegaan, so I regretted four big serials that were offered to me. Unfortunately, the US trip got postponed to September and here I am with time to relax and do some old-fashioned contemplation!” He has an offer from Indus TV lying on his table in the shape of a bulky script that he has yet to read.
“The roles that I now get are routine father/father-in-law roles, and these have their monotonous limitations,” says Qazi, whose piercing blue eyes and dashing demeanour would qualify him for a whole range of roles from a great gambler, undercover agent to a suave diplomat, script-writers permitting.
Between 1967 and now Qazi has done the highest number of plays from Karachi TV, with Qavi holding the record from Lahore. He received the Pride of Performance in 1988, and was nominated by PTV for Hawwa Ki Beti a couple of years ago, but it didn’t happen.
“It has been a long journey starting in 1956 with a children’s programme on Radio Pakistan, and I have stayed with this profession ever since, seeing a lot of things change and new things happen, and earning a lot of fame and respect,” he says contentedly.
His second big serial with PTV was Khuda Ki Basti in 1969, and it is true that streets emptied whenever it was aired. Tanhaiyaan and Dhoop Kinarey were two other memorable plays that he did. “I enjoyed working with Shakeel and Mahmood Ali, and a whole host of other very talented artists. Where will we get another Bushra Ansari from? Or Moin Akhtar? Or Anwar Maqsood? These are all geniuses in their own rights. Bano Qudsia, Ashfaq Ahmad, Shahid Kazmi, Hameed Kashmiri and Asad Mohammed Khan put pen to paper, crystallizing their priceless flights of fancy on screen.”
Why hasn’t he and his contemporaries trained any under-studies to succeed them? “Acting is not like wrestling where one can be taught the various holds and moves! An actor is born with the talent and grooms it as he goes along. Just as you’re either a poet, or you’re not a poet. It comes from within and rarely taught. In our case radio became the nursery for acting talent, and that talent really flourished when it came into film and television, like Mohammed Ali and Talat Hussain, for instance. Unfortunately there is no more talent coming from this direction.”
Qazi Wajid regrets that radio drama took the backseat to television and faded into oblivion, admitting defeat to the new medium of TV for no rhyme or reason.
“Nobody listens to the radio anymore was the general lament of radio high-ups, although this is just not true. Radio still has a very large following, and with the new FM stations there is renewed interest even amongst the gentry that had stopped listening to the radio. Radio drama had a unique and enviable status of its own that television can never compare with.”
**We gravitate back to the generally impoverished state of artists in Pakistan. Sitting in his very modest first-floor apartment overlooking a garbage dump that has sprung up along the Circular Railway line, it doesn’t take too much analysis to deduce that Qazi Wajid’s labour of love has proved to be a poor paymaster.
“A lot of our actor friends did not take a job thinking they would make do from acting. They spent exceedingly difficult days living from hand to mouth. It is not possible for an actor to stay alive on just his earnings from acting. I had a comparatively easier time since my job with Radio Pakistan guaranteed me a salary at the end of the month and my medical expenses were taken care of. Now I get a pension, no matter how small, which helps pay the bills.” **
With the advent of private productions the financial well being of artists has improved dramatically. “There is more work and people are getting paid a meaningful wage, and there is prosperity in our ranks, thank God.”
**People often ask him why he did not start his own production house? “Recovering money from the market is a big problem. Ali Ejaz made a serial and lost a big fortune. He is in bad shape. Sindhi artist Mahmood Siddiqui ventured out in this area and died a broken man, having invested and lost his life’s earnings in a serial. This is a big problem. People don’t get paid that which is due to them.” **
Not withstanding his lack of financial prowess, Qazi Wajid enjoys wearing good clothes and collecting antique furniture. “The house is a bit small so I can’t indulge my passion for furniture. These are problems that I do face! I agree that it is a bit of a contradiction, my expensive tastes and distaste for making money! And it does make for some occasional grief that I try and endure to the best of my ability!” He has one happily married daughter and a grandson. Dwelling upon PTV’s dilemma Qazi feels that when PTV opened itself up to private productions, its own cadre of producers, directors and actors lost motivation.
“PTV needs to make its own dramas and maintain its own identity that once dominated the Urdu-speaking world. Pakistan is known worldwide due to PTV dramas, not private productions, and we need to build upon this recognition.”
The other problem he feels is the promotion of creative talent into administrative slots where they find themselves disabled from their primary creative function.
“It takes many years to develop creative talent, and it should be permitted to continue doing the work that it is best at. Administration requires a different set of skills and mindset. Producers should have ample opportunity for relaxing and refreshing their outlooks, and this will show up in the quality of dramas they produce. They should be generously rewarded financially. However, once the producers are promoted in the management hierarchy they lose their aptitude and inclination for their original function.”
Qazi Wajid may have been working for the last 47 years, and may have been retired from Radio Pakistan, but he appears a long way from calling it a day. Doing cross-country theatre for eight weeks in the USA requires a high level of fitness and stamina that he obviously possesses. With borders opening up and talent scouts all over the place, we never know where Qazi Wajid may pop up next.