An invitation to an evening of classical music at the prestigious Pakistan National Council of the Arts (PNCA) is hard to turn down. Naturally, we went—half-dreaming, imagining a night of lilting sitar and tabla rhythms, maybe even a flash of young women dancing to the intoxicating pulse of the beat. The dim lights and hushed tones inside the PNCA hall created an atmosphere of quiet anticipation. We took our seats in the front row and watched the crowd trickle in—mostly grey-haired regulars with a few young faces scattered among them, all being guided gently to their places by attendants.
Every city has its own cultural tone, but in Pakistan, these contrasts are especially stark. In Islamabad, black and grey dominate the palette. The city’s mood is somber, restrained—youth here embrace it as “modern,” with young women often favoring these shades for the illusion of elegance or slimness. It’s a city of bureaucrats and diplomats, where even casual conversations tend to lean into rehearsed official jargon. In such a setting, the warmth and soul of a traditional musical event can easily lose its charm. Still, we kept our hopes up.
The program began, half an hour late. As the notes of tabla, flute, harmonium, santur, and sitar began to weave together, they sparked faint echoes—of sheesh mahals, of refined lyrics and poised dancers, of the legendary Tansen in the golden courts of the subcontinent’s Muslim rulers. There were also traces of Sufi poetry, whispered from khanqahs and carried in the legacy of Nizamuddin Auliya and Amir Khusro—a time when both music and mysticism were inseparable forces of cultural depth. Yet, despite the aesthetic richness of that era, there is a lingering regret: our rulers of the time invested deeply in the arts, but turned a blind eye to scientific inquiry and education. While Europe advanced through the Renaissance and laid the groundwork for modern science, we remained caught in a world of courtly pleasure and poetic flourish. That imbalance still shadows us today.
Ahang Khusro, the non-profit behind the event, deserves credit for organizing it at a tense time in the capital, where anxiety from across the border casts a constant shadow. But good intentions are not enough. A bit more care in planning and execution could have transformed the evening. Poor acoustics, a disjointed program with no shared schedule, uneven pacing, and long-winded, poorly delivered speeches all added up. What could have been soul-stirring became tiresome.
There was talent on stage, no doubt. But without thoughtful presentation, even the best performances struggled to connect. In the end, we left with more longing than fulfillment—an evening that had promised magic, but never quite cast its spell.