A new voice
Khurram Khiraam Siddiqui's maiden venture has tones of progressivism and resistance
By Asma Mansoor
Hayat-i-Nau
By Khurram Khiraam Siddiqui
Publisher: A.R. Printing Press, Islamabad
Pages: 160
Price: Rs150
The originality and freshness of poetry both lie in theme and style. The individual and distinctive voice of a poet cannot emanate in a vacuum. As T.S. Eliot suggested, genius is a combination of both tradition and individual talent. For poetry to be regarded as fresh it should be linked with tradition and at the same time it should reflect the powerful personality, vision and era of the poet.

The contemporary atmosphere of terror and uncertainty chokes genuine creative voices and one rarely finds a collection of poetry in general, and of Urdu poetry in particular, which may offer something fresh to the reader.

Zia Mohyeddin column
Classics and Classism
I am frequently dubbed as a classicist. I don't mind this even though I know that the implication is that I belong to a breed, conservative in taste, thoroughly insensitive to all modern endeavours: art literature, architecture, and blind to the wonders of the computer age. It speaks volumes for the anti-intellect culture which has spread all around us that "Classics" is regarded as something old-fashioned, appreciated only by old fogies.

Dr Anwar Ahmad is visiting Associate Professor at Research Institute of World Languages, Osaka University, Japan. Earlier, he was chairman of Urdu department at Bahauddin Zakaria University Multan. Progressive and liberal, he braved the stifling conditions of Multan and made his department one of the most energetic and research-oriented centres around. He trained a whole battalion of students in Multan and thus furthered the cause of Urdu language and literature. Apart from his academic excellence, he is also a scholar of Urdu literature. His recent book Urdu Afsana: Aik Sadi Ka Qissah is a magnum opus. Some of his other books are: Khwaja Fareed Kay Teen Rang, Aik Hi Kahani, Yakja, Shaukat Siddiqi Shaksiat Aur Fun etc. In an exclusive interview with TNS he shares his life and passion:

The News on Sunday: How did you drift towards Urdu literature?

Anwar Ahmad: I entered the world just two months and three days before the emergence of Pakistan. My grandfather had settled in Multan two decades earlier. We used to live in Mohalla Baghban, where poor malis used to live. My father who was a clerk in the post office died in 1956, when I was a student of class four. Though my father had no formal education, yet he had a collection of Urdu and Persian books.

Baji Rahat Ara was a teacher in Muslim High School, who became my benefactor and ideal for the rest of my life. Other than her, I am fortunate enough to have had the guidance and attention of wonderful teachers like S. Ismael Rushdi, A.K. Azmi, Khalid Shabbir, Riaz Zaidi, Arsh Siddiqui, A.B. Ashraf, Zafar Iqbal Farooqi, Saleem Akhtar, Iftekhar H.Shah and Khalil Siddiqui.

I owe my literary career to two of my school fellows: One Ghulam Sarwar, a dropout of school due to poverty, who became a newspaper hawker. He used to provide me with all the dailies Imroze, Kohistan, Jang, Anjaam and in latter years Hurriyet and Pakistan Times. The other friend Mehboob Jillani, a gifted artist and genius. He was my class fellow in Muslim High School. In fact, it was he who introduced me with special numbers of Naqoosh and Naqsh-e- Faryadi of Faiz perhaps in class eight. His father being the city magistrate was a privileged member of Multan's only Public Library at that time. He had a bicycle and stamina to take me along each afternoon to the library.

Muslim High school organised the best of literary functions of my life like Safeena-e-Ghazal, in which students introduced 8-10 classical poets and their representative ghazals were sung.

TNS: When did you start writing?

AA: I started writing on the students' page of Imroze, when Masood Ashar was its editor. During college life, I joined the Urdu Academy and started writing short stories and then in the era of Zia, when people like me were persecuted, I wrote at least three dozen Urdu and Seraiki dramas for Radio Pakistan, where these were perhaps neither listened to nor understood. But for me their effect was cathartic. One of my Seraiki stories, Toey Aali Wasti was perhaps listened and understood by some one powerful, so the producer was transferred and I was banned.

TNS: Don't you think the literati neglected your short stories?

AA: You might have noticed that I have discussed 153 short story writers in my book Urdu Afsana: Eik Sadi ka Qissa, barring my own name. I have always resisted the efforts of my friends and students wishing to write a thesis upon my 'literary achievements'. However due to the respect of Dr Sohail Ahmad Khan and insistence of my friend Asghar Nadeem Syed I could not say no. As a reader and perhaps a critic of Urdu short story, I know the real worth of my stories. But I still love to write a story. Nowadays I am compiling my collection of stories under the name of Akhri Khat. I have found a publisher in Faisalabad, who has good taste.

TNS: You edited a rare and old love poem Sandes Rasak by Abdul Rahman. Tell us how you started work on it.

AA: Sandes Rasak by Abdur Rahman is a melodious love poem, which may be compared with Kali Das's Maigh Doot. In March 2004, Masood Ashar wrote in his column that an Indian researcher Naamwar Singh had revealed in a gathering in Lahore that a poet of Multan was writing poetry in the 11th century. This stirred me into action. A few weeks later, I visited Delhi and met Naamwar Singh. Then I requested Dr Gopi Chand Narang who, very kindly, arranged a copy of Sandes Rasak in Sanskrit. Dr CM Mayrhofer who teaches at Australian National University has translated it into English. I tried to contact him through email but to no avail. Then Dr Moeen ud Din Aqeel helped me a lot, by giving me valuable material from his library and directed me to trace Sanghi Jain Series-22 of 1945, in which the full text is available.

I went to India again and requested Dr Narang for help. He entrusted this assignment to a lady working in the library of Sahatiya Academy, who traced it and sent it through mail. Despite my love and respect of my late teacher Khalil Siddiqui, Linguistics is not my field and neither do I enjoy the patience of a good translator. So, I again requested Professor Asghar Ali Shah, a teacher of Arabic and a keen student of Sanskrit, and my student Nazia Bokhari to do the translations in Sanskrit and English respectively, and published this book with a brief introduction with the hope that scholars of this field will improve this effort.

TNS: Urdu Afsana: Aik Sadi Ka Qissah covers more than 150 short story writers of Urdu. It is a tremendous achievement. How much time did it take to complete it?

AA: The book is based upon my doctoral thesis written under the supervision of Dr Khwaja Zakariya. I imposed a method upon myself that I not only discussed major short story writer but also included a complete list of all their stories. Many learned critics have discussed the seminal 1932 short story collection Angaaray without reading it. Likewise some respected scholars base their opinion upon selected works of any particular writer. You may differ with my criteria and judgment, but I have not mentioned a single story of any writer without reading it.

After getting my degree of PhD, I published a portion of my thesis as "Urdu Afsana-Tehqeeq-o-Tanqeed'. I kept on updating it and improving it for at least 2 decades. My friend and scholar Fateh Muhammad Malik published it when he was chairman of National Language Authority.

TNS: You ignored senior writers like Hasan Manzar, Salam Bin Razzaq and a few others. On the other hand, you allocated considerable space to many unknown writers in the last section. Why this dichotomy?

AA: I feel sorry for many omissions, but my goal was to include only those story writers, whose complete works and authentic information regarding their life and career was available to me. I hope to go for certain additions and omissions in the second edition.

TNS: Are you satisfied with the response to Urdu Afsana: Aik Sadi Ka Qissah?

AA: The publisher recently informed me the book is out of stock. I am trying to go through the whole text for amendments and improvements. But I am in Osaka now and I am facing some problems regarding relevant material. I hope to visit Pakistan for updating it sometime in March this year.

I take feedback very seriously. I am grateful to my students including Dr Tariq Mehmood, who pointed out an error in a reference. Some relative of Ahmad Daud also complained about a remark in his biographical note. I wrote him a letter of thanks. Frankly, I see myself as a runner of a relay race, where I am neither at the starting nor the finishing point. I have tried to provide some material for students, teachers and researchers. They may improve it, update it and use it for their own books.

It is also true that I have added the names of young writers of South Punjab, who have been neglected miserably by power centres of our culture and critique.

TNS: Are you planning to write another book that will cover the Urdu novel?

AA: I have already started taking notes for my new project; the Urdu novel. I am trying to make my study selective. But my strict list touches the figure of 50. I want to discuss Naseem Hijazi, Raees Ahmad Jafri, M. Aslam and Ibne Safi. They influenced a lot of readers including me and fuelled or created the phenomena of 'fanaticism'. But to read all these novels one needs another life with the same zeal of one's youth.

In my student life, I had gone through four volumes of Fasana-e-Azad, other than all the novels of Nazeer Ahmad, Ruswa, Premchand and some 32 novels of Sharar, other than the prominent novelists of this era. Though I can depend on my memory (which is not bad at all) and critical opinion of some writers, I want to write a book that comprehends the Urdu novel through my eyes, before my death.

TNS: How would you describe your experience teaching Urdu to Japanese students?

AA: It has proved to be a wonderful experience. All the Japanese students do part-time jobs and for that they have to travel a lot and often spend sleepless nights. Though I have not compromised with the dizziness of some students in the class, yet I have tried to make some easy and interesting lessons in Urdu out of Japanese Literature. Mashal Foundation Lahore has done a tremendous job by translating more than a dozen Japanese books into Urdu and some of my students frequently call for books and journals from Pakistan, which help.

TNS: What are you working on these days?

AA: In March, a collection on my stories will appear and in the same month I intend to visit UK to have a look at some material relating to our early novelists. I also want to publish a collection of my Urdu and Seraiki dramas. My last wish is to complete my Seraiki novel.'

A new voice

Hayat-i-Nau

By Khurram Khiraam Siddiqui

Publisher: A.R. Printing Press, Islamabad

Pages: 160

Price: Rs150

The originality and freshness of poetry both lie in theme and style. The individual and distinctive voice of a poet cannot emanate in a vacuum. As T.S. Eliot suggested, genius is a combination of both tradition and individual talent. For poetry to be regarded as fresh it should be linked with tradition and at the same time it should reflect the powerful personality, vision and era of the poet.

The contemporary atmosphere of terror and uncertainty chokes genuine creative voices and one rarely finds a collection of poetry in general, and of Urdu poetry in particular, which may offer something fresh to the reader.

While going through Siddiqui's maiden collection of Urdu poetry Hayat-i-Nau, one is engulfed by a wave of marked freshness of both style and themes. Although apparently one finds him reticent, his works evince a striking depth. He has beautifully experimented in his poetry in both ghazals and nazms that are replete with enticing similes and sensuousness. Politics is a significant element in his poetry that has been coupled with an artistic flare that shows his deep awareness of the demands of his times and era.

One is struck by the profound lyricism and appropriate use of words blended with a masterfully controlled verse as is evident in his ghazals. His ghazals extend display vast thematic amplitude that is sustained by a carefully selected diction that does justice to the subject.

Interestingly, the study of Western poetry has enriched his poetry with variety and depth. His ghazals contain a resplendent array of themes that mostly depict the pain of existence. Every couplet of his ghazal presents a complete and profound thought. The literal meaning has been underlined by a profound metaphorical meaning that needs to be relished as its permeated one's intellectual taste buds. Each couplet is a story in itself. The poet has a knack for expressing extraordinary ideas in an ordinary and unadorned style. The pangs of love, the arduous moments of separation, overt and covert complaints, and protests are beautifully presented in the garb of the choicest words. His ghazal is a congregation of varied themes and every theme is a complete story within a couplet.

Siddiqui has a political consciousness amalgamated with his poetic consciousness. His poetry has the tones of progressivism and resistance. He is fully conversant with the social and political changes taking place at home and at the international front. In this atmosphere of terror he has tried to find out the forged meanings of life and has talked about the resurgence of a new life characterized by the universal principles of fraternity, love, beauty and truth. He talks about the ignored and unbearable pains of existence and his commitment to raise his voice against injustice, double standards, tyranny and exploitation is evident in poems like Barack Obama Say, Qaidi No: 650, Jahan-i-Taza, Putli Tamasha, Yeh to Behad Mamooli si baat hay, Rawangi and Kitna Khon Baha Do gay. These poems show his political consciousness and his clear vision about contemporary events. In his poems Qaidi No: 650 and Agar Tum Soochna Chaho, he has convincingly refuted the theory of clash of civilizations as propounded by Samuel P. Huntington. He boldly condemns the hegemonic and hypocritical theories of political supremacy. Likewise, in his poem Jahan-i-Taza he warns the reader to be careful about the attractive theories like "Enlightened Moderation" and to discover the true meaning of religious, social and political theories in the light of the soul.

In his love poems, he presents the agony of a loving heart aggravated by the lack of communication and the pursuits of modern life. The tender buds of love crushed by the suffocated and hypocrite atmosphere are lamented over in a very touching style. He has tried to fathom the deep truths beneath the simple feelings of love and has tried to touch upon the psychological aspects of love. Nevertheless, he still professes his unwavering faith in the power of love. He strives to give a general thread to his intense personal love experiences. In his poem Tah-i-Daman we find a lover lamenting over the unfulfilled experiences of love due to a ubiquitous deception. The poem also reminds one of T.S. Eliot's Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrok, where the lover is unable to vent his feelings due to his psychological dilemmas and lack of confidence. In Tah-i-Daman the lover is a victim of uncertain and ambiguous social norms and suffocation permeating the environment.

I am frequently dubbed as a classicist. I don't mind this even though I know that the implication is that I belong to a breed, conservative in taste, thoroughly insensitive to all modern endeavours: art literature, architecture, and blind to the wonders of the computer age. It speaks volumes for the anti-intellect culture which has spread all around us that "Classics" is regarded as something old-fashioned, appreciated only by old fogies.

What is "Classics?" What is classicism? Some dictionaries would tell you that it pertains to ancient Greek and Latin literature and art; others define it as "simple, harmonious, well- proportioned." The Concise Oxford, while giving three or four meanings, still relates the terms to Greek or Latin art and culture. Mercifully, it also offers a simple definition: "of acknowledged excellence outstandingly important."

I would like to submit that any creative work of the past -- be it sculpture, painting, drama, architecture, poetry, history -- which stimulates your mind and makes you wonder about the depth of its imagination, is "Classics." (Needless to say that all things antique are not "Classics," just as "Classics" do not', necessarily, belong to an antique world).

And so, I find the Discobolus and the Parthenon, the stupas of Sanchi, Ghalib's poetry, the murals of Michelangelo, the Palladian architecture and many other works of prose and poetry to be "Classics." Except for the environment in which we live today, the terms, Classics and "Classicism," when applied to anything from painting to music, from novel to drama, are normally terms of approval and admiration. The debates that "Classics," initiates are only about which works of literature or drama are the best.

"The Greek myths are one of the most common ways that 'Classics' first come to our notice," write Beard and Henderson. These tales had been recounted throughout ancient literature, not just in Greek tragedy or Homer's epic poems -- lliad and Odyssey -- but also in the versions of these myths given by Roman writers. Prometheus chained to a rock for saving mankind; Orpheus, and his descent into the underworld to bring back Euridice; Daphne changed into a laurel tree as she fled the advances of Apollo; Midas's golden touch have been the subject of excellent epics, fiction and drama.

A great deal of theorising has gone into the accounting for these myths, especially in the 20th century. The story of Oedipus gave Freud a life-line. He announced to the world that the working of the human psyche was largely rooted in the incest of Oedipus with his mother after killing his father. He gave us the term "Oedipus complex," and a substantial part of the world has since, looked upon familial entanglements only in the light of the Freudian mantra. Other terms such as "Narcissim," "Epicureanism," "Bacchanelia" have become a part of the jargon of the Western world. The stories relating to their origin (Narcissus, Epicure, Bachus) and their interpretations have proliferated throughout the world.

The Greek tragedies -- "Classics" already as far back as the 4th century BC -- show us that unless there are norms and limits which human society must fight to maintain, it will burst into chaos and ruination. "Facing the worst that people can imagine doing to each other, and having done to themselves" is the subject matter of the tragedies of Aescylus, Euripedes and Sophocles.

From the time that they were written nearly twenty five hundred years ago, Greek tragedies have been performed not only in Greece, but in far-flung places from Macedonia to Egypt. And they have continued to be performed. Such is the power of "Classicism" of these plays that they have outlived the democracy that produced them. I doubt if there is any country (where theatrical performances are offered) in which Oedipus Rex, or Medea has not been staged.

And why, you may well ask? What is the fascination of these plays that depict the implacability of the gods and the stubborn -- at times justified -- defiance of the mortals? The answer is that they manifest the indomitable courage of men and women who choose death and destruction for their convictions. It is the human spirit that these tragedies glorify; the audience is ennobled through a process of catharsis.

India is another country replete with "Classics" and "Classism." As in Greece, drama in India assumed a distinct art form in the last few centuries BC. In India classical drama (Sanskrit drama, that is) music, dance and mime play a vital part to create a spectacle. Sanskrit drama is, strictly speaking, dance-drama. The spoken word, poetry and heightened prose, remains subservient to music and dance, central to the dramatic concept. My Indian friends might tick me off for saying this but my experience of watching staged performances (Kalidasa mostly) compels me to make this observation.

Before I am accused of having become a "Westernised Oriental Gentleman," let me hasten to add that I neither know Greek nor Sanskrit. It so happens that I have been conditioned to be influenced more by tragedy than comedy. Indian classical theatre does not encompass the concept of Aristotelian or Renaissance tragedy.

Tragedy makes us explore human condition as well as the helplessness -- and fortitude -- of man. It therefore, necessarily, creates parts for actors which stretch human ability. Only truly seasoned and imaginative actors are capable of playing a Creon or Oedipus or Lear or Othello. The art of the Theatre is, of course, the actor's art. No such tragic hero exists in the repertoire of Indian classical theatre.

I do not wish to denigrate Sanskrit drama. It is classic in its structural form. All I am saying is that while seeing these productions I was not moved in the manner in which Medea and Antigone moved me when I saw them in Greece.

******

Classicism of India is as old, some would say older, than the Greeks. Its most lasting and endearing classical art is its ancient music -- still pursued and practiced -- that we call "Indian classical music."

The music of India is the Raga. Nearly every musicologist that I know of has tried to define what a raga is. Most of them begin by explaining what it is not. Some definitions are highly poetic: "Just as the sweetness of sugar, or treacle or honey cannot be described, a raga cannot be separately described."

The simplest explanation is still the best: a raga is a mode or a series of notes arranged and codified in their ascending and descending order. It has a fixed scale and it differs from other ragas because of the particularly from other ragas because of the particularity of notes and melodic movements within that scale. The beauty of the raga is that it creates a certain mood and colours the mind. This naturally evokes a particular emotion as well.

(to be continued)