Born in a small village in Tehsil Chiniot, Professor Saeed Bhutta opened his eyes in a place where Punjabi classical poetry was recited with fervor, and the ambience was essentially sufi. He grew up listening to the legacy of his rich culture and tradition embedded in literature and folk of his land and found his true calling in the preservation of Punjabi folklore which was carried through generations of traditional storytellers but was mostly oral.

Kamal kahani, Saeed Bhutta's latest work is an amazing collection of stories from Punjab which were collected from Saandal Bar and Kidana Bar area of Punjab over a period of sixteen years.

His other works include Chan chanaa de,1990, 'Kuliaate shah Azeem, 1993, Saanjh Sur-Sanjh Vichaar, Nain na rehnde taknon compilation of folk songs of Jhang, and Na Jhang chutya na kan paate, Punjabi short stories.

Following are extracts from his interview:

The News on Sunday: How did you come up with the idea of Kamal kahani?

Saeed Bhutta: In 1993 my first Punjabi story was published in Ravi; the story was Raja Porus di kahani. It got tremendous applause from everyone. I did not expect such response and it was extremely encouraging. From that time onwards I have been researching and collecting stories from different marasees (traditional storyteller and escort of landlords, who also knows the genealogical family tree as well as all family records and recites them). I have transcribed the stories verbatim so that the beauty and authenticity of the story remains intact.

TNS: What is special about these stories?

SB: There are so many unique features in each of these stories, but one particular point is that a person who belongs to the land would be able to easily identify a character and what that character stands for as a symbol. For example there is the character of Gaman Sachiar and for the reader there is no difficulty in recognizing him as the symbol of truth. Same is the case with Porus who is the symbol of bravery. Actually Punjabi is in the subconscious of the people and unconsciously he is a Punjabi.

TNS: Tell us a little about your self...

SB: I am from a sufi background. Hazrat Hafiz Divan who got faiz (blessings) from Pakpattan (the revered shrine of Baba Farid Ganjshakar) was my forefather. He came to the village Peeple Bhutta, Tehsil Chiniot, District Jhang and settled there. We are modest zamindars (landlords). I grew up in my village Peeple Bhutta on the banks of River Chenab. I did my BA from Government College, Faisalabad and MA from Punjab University. I have done my Ph.D, and now teach Punjabi in Oriental College as an Associate Professor .

TNS: How did you start writing in Punjabi?

SB: My forefathers were highly educated and well versed in Arabic and Persian. Arabic and Persian were taught in our village mosque.

Our village had the tradition of Punjabi poetry recitals of Heer Waris Shah and Yousuf Zulekha of Molvi Abdus Sattar. There were huffaz of these two classic Punjabi literary pieces who recited the poetry every day. This is an ongoing tradition, the recitations continue. Other than that there is the tradition of 'jumerat' (gathering of disciples and progeny to pay homage to the mentor or saint every Thursday), at the shrine of our ancestor Hafiz Divan Sahib.

Punjabi classical poetry, madha, mankabat and qawali is always recited there. All the kalam is Punjabi. All this was an essential part of my upbringing. In class ten I started attending school in Jhang and Punjabi was taught there as a subject. I loved reading the same things which were part of my legacy and upbringing. My love for Punjabi literature kept growing. But the real teacher that I got after doing MA was Mohammad Asif Khan. He was a great linguist. He was my mentor in the truest sense.

TNS: Coming to your collection of oral history. How did you get inspiration for this rather novel work?

SB: When I was in college I had the chance of reading, The legends of RC Temple; this made me realise that there are many stories far more wonderful than these in our own village. I also read Banjara Bedi, a renowned folklorist and from him I learned the importance of correct methodology in collection of folk stories. Bedi writes in his books that he used to listen to folk tales from traditional storytellers and take notes but when he came back to his place to compile the story from the notes it always turned out to be his story rather than the original folklore. So he emphasised the importance of reproducing the story in the exact words of the storyteller in order for it to remain a folk tale. That determined the methodology and style for me.

When I started collection of folklore I incidentally met Mian Kamal Din. He was a mirasee from our adjoining village Kot Amir. He came to our village for the night and said that he would give me a special gift.That night he narrated the story of Raja Porus to me. That was a fabulous treat and I was hooked. Raja Porus di Kahani was the first story that I wrote. Mian Kamal was an old man at that time but he had an excellent memory. Next I got the story of Gaman Suchiar from him and then it went on.

For sixteen years now I have been collecting folk stories from different mirasees and the process is still ongoing. I have collected a large number of stories and many of them have been published in different journals also. Kamal Kahani is basically the collection of stories from Mian Kamal Din.

TNS: What are the pitfalls in the collection of oral history?

SB: You see the obvious one that is that the narrator is liable to forget. But particularly in Punjab, our Persian speaking rulers did not compile a history of this land and its people. At the most they wrote about the castles and forts that they built and the wars that they fought. They did not write about the land, the people, their way of life.

It is true that collection of oral history has its pitfalls but then this is true of all methods of recording history. Oral history is just as authentic as other forms of history, for example there were no alphabets at the time of Socrates but whatever he said is preserved through oral history. Same is true of the Ahadith of the Holy Prophet, that were initially preserved orally until recorded in writing.

TNS: Why is there celebration of the local hero in Punjabi literature although he is oppressor to his own people sometimes?

SB: There is celebration of the local hero because he resisted the invader. Punjabi culture and Punjabi literature has never been owned by the state. In Lahore Shah Hussain is the symbol of literature for the people but for the state it is Data Ganj Baksh or Allama Iqbal. Although Data sahib was a great scholar and saint, but he wrote in Persian and Allama Iqbal wrote in Urdu and Persian, so people of Punjab cannot relate to their poetry as they can to Shah Hussain.

Same is with the heroes of Punjab. Punjab hero was the symbol of tribal spirit.

Sixteenth century Pindi Bhatian is one example where we see Dullah Bhatti as a hero with true tribal spirit. Our hero in Punjab is celebrated in folklore. No state recognizes them, no establishment projects them, but the people have kept them alive. There is no hero of the caliber of Ahmed Khan Kharal but his name is never mentioned anywhere.

TNS: The stories told by the marasees, though in Punjabi are full of Persian symbolism of sufism...

SB: There is nothing odd in this. Persian has been the official language of the land for a thousand years, and there was a tremendous influence of sufis throughout Punjab. The language of marasees includes Persian symbolism. Before partition everyone in Punjab was associated with a murshad and it was considered a disgraceful not to have a pir or a murshad. The storytellers also had to have the idiom of sufism; Shah Hussain was a sufi of Qadri silsilaa, Baba Fareed belonged to the Chisti silsilaa, Waris Shah was also Chisti. The wisdom of Punjab is actually in sufism and sufi poetry.

But it is also important to remember that spiritual tradition already existed in the subcontinent before the advent of Muslim sufis; though the terminology and idiom was different. The Muslim sufis found this environment conducive and talked to the people in the idiom that they understood well and accepted naturally.

TNS: There seem to be places in your stories where the script is unable to convey the exact dialect. Do you think that it is a problem for you at times?

SB: No script of any language is perfect; the way a language is spoken cannot be reproduced exactly in its script. It is not possible to have perfect harmony in language and script. Also the dialect changes from village to village in Punjab.

TNS: What do you think is your most important contribution in this literary journey?

SB: The collection of oral history is my passion, my calling, and my ongoing mission but I consider my role as a teacher the most important work of my life.

Why terms are necessary and useful is simply because by referring to a single or couple of words joined together, we immediately identify a cluster of meanings harboured within. Terminology is a basic tool of all disciplined fields of knowledge, particularly science, but in every field the usage of terms is obvious -- philosophy, psychology, fine art, history, political science .

Let's take science; medical science. "Itis" is a word meaning inflammation or simply a swelling. Now if someone has this in his tonsils, we refer to him as suffering from "tonsil-itis". If stomach gets inflamed we label it as a case of "gastritis". "Lith" denotes a stone or stone like mass. If the stone is in the nose we label it as "rhinolith". Few terms overlap in meaning to a certain extent. For instance, two terms are used for heart attack. Angina pectoris and myocardial infarction. When a patient gets a heart attack coming with severe chest pain but leaving no permanent damage to the heart, it's called angina and if there is a definite damage which stays when the pain is gone, it is infarction.

A science student has to have a clear concept and knowledge of these terms. Literature has a very broad and useful terminology but the origin is not scientific, though sometimes the scientific reasoning comes in. Consequently we witness a bit casual or less precise and at times incorrect use of the terms by the men of letters and students. Literary terms are coined with a background based on literary events, movements and literary history and that again coming from other languages. On frequent visits to literary gatherings, its not unusual to witness a totally misconceived version of a term, being discussed and referred to primarily in an attempt to impress others or simply to make the argument more reasonable and sound.

Few literary terms convey their meanings easily while for others one needs to have background knowledge as to how and why the particular term was coined. "Existentialism" for example, tells a relatively less literate person that it has something to do with human existence. Similarly "nostalgia", being so frequently used has been imbibed in the minds of most men of letters as remembrance of the past with tenderness, intensity and a desire to re-live it. But most of the terms used demand our clear concept which is not possible for those students and persons who have limited or no access to other languages particularly English.

Muntakhib Adabi Istalahat (selected literary terms) is a book published by Urdu department, Government College University Lahore. It is a compilation of more than 200 terms frequently used by students and teachers of Urdu literature. There is clarity and authenticity in the description of meanings and background of terms. The book helps not only students and teachers of Urdu literature but also those interested in literature as avid readers. Precise and properly worded background is presented for each term with a clear guidance as to how the terms may be used.

The credit for this unique project goes to Dr Suhail Ahmad Khan, the head of Urdu department, G.C. University who involved celebrated and learned scholar and poet Mohammad Salimur Rehman in the task -- undoubtedly the most suited person for the job. Dr. Suhail Ahmad, himself a poet and critic of substance writes in the preface:

"In Urdu the deplorable shortage of reference books is a serious handicap... owing to the absence of such reference books, students and occasionally teachers too commit serious mistakes."

He describes the book an attempt to cover this shortfall. Just a glance at the pages endorses the validity of his claim.

The book does not restrict itself to just telling what a specific term means but gives an explanatory note as to where, why and how terms were coined. In addition pointers are given regarding improper use. For example, we find out that "symbol": is derived from symballein, a Greek word meaning to "keep with" or "throw with". This word grew into "symbolon" meaning a reminder of a contract. In Urdu "symbol" is translated as "alamat" meaning a pointer or sign. The author considers this incorrect and suggests the world "ramz" (hidden meaning) and naturally for symbolism, the better term is "ramzeat".

When we talk of the media we always mean television and never radio, to whom we assigned the status of a poor cousin a long time ago. And so, whenever there is a discussion about the unbridled freedom that the media now enjoys we do not ever include radio.

"The only thing that really matters in broadcasting", said Hugh Carlton Green, one time head of BBC, (but known largely), as the brother of Graham Greene) is programme content. The rest is house-keeping. This is the universal truth about broadcasting wherever it is taking place. The programme content such as that resulting from making the microphone (or the television screen, if you wish to talk about broadcasting in the larger sense) available to the widest range of subjects and to the best exponents available, whether of different views, on any given subject, should be its recognised aim, he declared.

What Hugh Carlton Greene said about broadcasting was what Zulifiqar Ali Bokhari had in mind when he was appointed as Head of the newly established Pakistan Broadcasting Service in 1947, for he was, at heart, a BBC man -- but ZAB (as he came to be known long before Mr. Bhutto) was unable to implant it largely because of one variant -- "the differing views".

You cannot build an effective broadcasting service on cosy, uncontroversial pap and jingoistic programmes like Pakistan Hamara Hai telling people to be exemplary citizens by punctuating declamatory prose with Iqbal's hortatory verse.

The BBC's reputation as the finest broadcasting service in the world cannot be challenged. To my mind, there are two main reasons for this: a) it does not try to please all of the people all of the time, and b) it keeps enlarging the audience's range of choice.

I know that political activists, high ranking academies as well as middlebrow thinkers, social analysts -- and even those who regularly shop at Harrods, are openly contemptuous of BBC's facade of neutrality. But I will stick my neck out and say that when it comes to political issues the BBC has always given a reasonable balance of news giving both the Government's case and the contrary view -- or views.

We are not the only country whose radio audience was reduced because of television, I remember well that popular press in England in the late 50's early 60's printed headlines like "auntie is on her death bed" the BBC was usually referred to as "auntie".

Nobody could deny that television attracted large audiences specially in the evenings. The press assumed, quite wrongly, that radio as a medium had been superseded by television. This was at a time when television services were quickly spreading across the country.

In actual fact, BBC Radio showed itself capable of drawing steadily increasing audiences, some of which were, by any standard of comparison, very large indeed. At lunchtime or a Sunday, for example, over 16 million people listened to "Housewife's Choice". In comparison the two most popular music programmes on television. "Juke Box Jury" and "Top of the Pops" did not draw a viewing population of more than twelve and a half million people.

Radio Pakistan which came into being as a public service broadcasting, organization, unfortunately, dwindled all too soon into a mouthpiece of the administration in power, as indeed television did within a few years.

I have no hesitation in saying that although television was born under a military dictatorship, it managed to create its identity -- and indeed reached its standing as an effective and independent organ -- under a military ruler, much maligned in our history. It was not he but his bureaucrats who sat up and took alarm. In our society the ever faithful bureaucrats have always seen to it that no material contrary to the thinking of the party in power should ever be allowed to be aired.

The radio authorities thought they filled their social obligations by having a few slots filled by excruciatingly dull discourses on health, education, rural betterment and children's programmes, in which children were constantly told to be goody goody gumdrops. They never paid the slightest attention to their prime duty, which was to put on programmes that occasionally shock, disturb and anger.

In the earlier days, Lahore Radio was bombarded with caveats. The vernacular press never let go of any opportunity to remind radio authorities that they were straying from true path. Letters from groups and societies claiming to be the protectors and defenders of Islam arrived almost every day. Some of them were put up on the notice board in the reception area. Their tone was always severe:

"We the followers of Islam, deplore the present day

attempts to belittle or destroy it and, in particular,

we object, to the disbelief, doubt and dirt that is

poured into the ears of our youngsters and our

women. We call upon the authorities to put an end

to such insidious rubbish and we demand that Radio

Pakistan only broadcast programmes which build proper Islamic character", etc etc...

ZAB a lover of music, must have gone through a terrible ordeal when Lahore Radio came under a cloud for broadcasting music that the 'Pasdaran-e-Islam' considered to be infidel in nature and, in character. Names like Shiv Ranjini and Saraswati made the blood of the staunch upholders of the faith curdle. Why they demanded, did Pakistan need this 'pucca gana?' ZAB stood resolute about banning classical music, but musicians were told that under no circumstances could they choose a Raga without prior permission of the director of programmes. Many Ragas became out of bounds.

I shall never forget the day when I was sitting in Noon Meem Rasheed's office trying to write a publicity note for a programme -- by the end of 1948 I had been engaged as a part-timer, by Rashed Sahib, to write for the radio journals -- when a producer, known for his flair for pedantry, came in and asked Rashed Sahib's permission to sit down. Noon Meen Rashed, the redoubtable poet, was a very strict disciplinarian.

The producer when he was asked what he wanted, said he felt that the time had come when Hindu Ragas should be given new, Islamized names according to their moods, Persian names preferably. He had made a few attempts but he wanted Rashed Sahib's advice for Rashed Sahib had a far superior knowledge of Persian.

Rashed Sahib took off his glasses and stared at the nervous looking producer like a seargent-major eyeing a callow recruit. Then, lighting his pipe, he said, "Rajah, you have missed your vocation, tum footpath pe logon kee hajamat kiya karo."

When the producer left in a huff, we had a good laugh conjuring up names like Mai Angabeen for Madhvanti; Khubroo for Lalit -- and Bagr-e-Hunar, my feeble effort, for Gunkali.

(To be continued).