Confession. Comedians intimidate me. They just do. I’m always on my guard with them; they make me feel as though I, and other people, are constantly under scrutiny for potential material. Which is why I wasn’t sure what to expect as I waited for ‘Mr Saeen’ aka Ali Gul Pir, to show up at our chosen venue; a friend’s home furnishings showroom.

He walked in quietly with his manager, exchanged polite greetings and a firm handshake and was promptly taken aside by our photographer.

Seems pretty tame, almost shy, I thought to myself, a bit reassured.

Spoke too soon. What ensued was a hilarious photo shoot with the camera clicking, as Gul Pir picked different backgrounds to smile politely, brood, goof off, make faces and give a standard ‘Facebook profile picture appropriate’ grin.

This is the man who has taken over our Facebook and Twitter timelines with his catch phrase, Saeen toh saeen, bringing street cred to everything that belongs to saeen. Even his dog. With over two million views on his music video, Gul Pir is officially Pakistan’s first (self-made) legitimate viral star.

As he says, “The internet is an underrated medium in Pakistan. You, me, our friends… we use it more than we know. Everyone has a Facebook profile, we all use email. But when media is discussed we only talk about TV, radio or print. No internet.”

With a self-proclaimed ‘complicated kid thing’ going on, this Islamabad born and raised, then Canada and Karachi raised Sindhi boy knew from the start that a conventional job wasn’t for him.

“I was always the class clown, but the realisation that I could make a career and a living out of it came later.”

While all his friends took the corporate track and studied for BBA degrees, Gul Pir, with some good advice from his brother, joined SZABIST, which boasts of an impressive media sciences department.

“SZABIST changed my life.

It brought the real Ali Gul Pir out. Plus there was the family support. Many of my batch mates had to go into their family businesses, but my mother is the most amazing woman I know; extremely supportive. She respected my career choices and has no issues with me being a maskhara (comedian).

He also attributes his cultural sensitivity to SZABIST, because of his exposure to students from all over Pakistan.

“There were people from the tribal to the tony areas of Pakistan.”

(I have to add here that I love this alternate word for the overused ‘burger’.)

Listening to Gul Pir’s progress in the world of stand-up and comedy, one comes to the conclusion that he benefitted from the right influences.

He began by working with Azfar Ali, a TV producer who is also well known for his role in the hilariously relevant Sub set hai, a sitcom set in Karachi. Gul Pir worked with Ali on a show called Light on hai and in an Urdu improv troupe, the Urdu version of, as he puts it, what Saad Haroon did with Black Fish.

Gul Pir’s forte is topical humour. He uses his personal influences, his surroundings, and societal happenings to create his material. He writes his own scripts and does not believe in working from someone else’s material. This urge to express himself was the reason why he moved away from ‘senior comedians’ and decided to work independently. He was already finding inspiration from his own life, living alone in a budget apartment on Zamzama, despite the comforts of a parental home. He moved out when he started earning, wanting the sense of independence others find when they go abroad to study. Although a foreign education was something he couldn’t afford, living on his own was a different matter. He says our cultural set-up shelters and protects us too much and that it is difficult to produce when you are not pushed by a desperation to succeed.

“So I moved out. And lived without electricity most of the time.”

The struggle seems to have helped as it was the ‘living without electricity’ that inspired the now ‘cult classic’ Saeen toh saeen.

“I woke up one day, drenched in sweat and decided, this is what I want to say, and after two hours it was a song.”

Gul Pir then took his song to the TV networks and radio stations, but they turned it down because of the controversial content of the song. He then decided to focus on the internet.

Putting together his crew (read: closest friends) The Vital Saeens, he gave them the low down. They were all in this together, if they were okay with not making any money.

They all knew they had something good in their hands and the answer was ‘yes’, even without making money. As media sciences students they had a sense of responsibility to their craft and were not prepared to compromise on quality.

“You’re giving me your time, you’re watching my video and I respect that, which is why I’m going to give you a good product to make those three minutes worth your while.”

Gul Pir has plans to make more videos. The intention is not only to make us laugh, but to make us think as well. However, this is not to be confused with putting out social messages; he knows he can’t fix problems. He can, however entertain us, by pointing to the issues.

“My aim is to make people laugh. I’m a comedian. If I don’t make people laugh, I fail. As an artist, I reflect what I see; you will not see anything you don’t see in society. I try to be relevant.”

And this is what Waderay ka beta is about. It is Gul Pir’s attempt to reflect the sense of entitlement that comes with being a wadera; the guy who doesn’t have to struggle. The intention is not to trash the wadera but to bring him into focus, because at the end of the day we are all part of that system and fall into the wadera trap.

Did he expect this popularity?

“Yes, we knew it was good stuff and aimed for an ambitious 100,000 views for the month. And no, as well. We did not expect to get a million views in a month. People owned it. I had not anticipated this reach.”

Asked how he measures success, he replies with complete confidence that it is not about having thousands of views and your name all over the internet.

It is when the common man embraces your work that you know you have made it.

So has he made it?

“Yes. My manager’s mom saw a rickshaw with Saeen toh saeen written on the back. For me this is success; the rickshaw wala’s acknowledgement.”

I turn my recorder off, charmed by his honest appraisal of his success, his lack of pretention or self-awareness of his own fame, despite the occasional shopper doing a double take on seeing him. As he walks towards the exit, I ask him for a photo. One more fan for him.

Khizra Munir is Creative Director, SOC Films. munir.khizra@gmail.com