The World's New Culture Meccas

The massive influx has sparked a dynamic exchange of ideas--don't laugh--not unlike that seen in the Paris of the 1920s. Every day film directors, painters and novelists meet at the Artists Association of Afghanistan to drink tea and debate with their colleagues, some of whom haven't seen each other in years. Association president Timor Shah Hakimyar says his membership is at 3,000 and growing rapidly.

Film companies, theater troupes and art galleries are springing up across the capital. "When one artist has an exhibition, 10 others are encouraged to do the same," says Mohammad Asefi, a landscape painter whose work was recently on display at the upscale Inter-Continental hotel. When David Mason, a Danish-Iranian dancer recently held auditions for his new theater group, Takamol, nearly 200 people showed up.

As for film, directors are struggling to find their own voice amid the influences of Hollywood and Bollywood. More than a half-dozen private studios have sprung up in the past nine months. Recent offerings tackle social issues such as drug abuse and the difficulties of returning refugees. Other new films are pure distraction. "Dain," a martial-arts comedy about the misadventures of an artifact smuggler, will soon hit the big screen in Kabul.

One of the most successful artistic ventures since the fall of the Taliban is Zanbel-e-Gham, a humor magazine. Started as a photocopied zine in 1997, it was banned and its creators forced into hiding, when Taliban intelligence got hold of a copy two years ago.

With help from a foreign nongovernmental organization, the magazine has started printing again and now distributes 2,000 copies. "In the past, laughter was controlled by the government," says Osman Akram Sargardan, editor of the publication. "If we make fun of a powerful person now they may get upset, but we don't have to be afraid. We're free again." No one can appreciate that more than the artists of Kabul.

Babak Dehghanpisheh