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criticism Of
newsprint and journalists As an amateur, my only claim to cricketing fame is that I have had the distinction of playing a cricket match at the famous Sidney Cricket ground. It was a charity match between the ABC cricket team against Keith Miller's XI. Actually, I wasn't meant to play in the match. The head of drama at ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission), Neil Hutchinson, had invited me to watch the match, but it so happened that his team was a man short. Hutchison who had, by now, learnt that I had been a keen cricketer in my college days, coaxed me to fill up the number. I pointed out that I didn't have the proper gear but this did not deter the genial Hutchison.
Mirrored lives, mirrored work The peculiar coincidence of Parveen Shakir and Forugh Farrokhzad By Gwendolyn S. Kirk She was a middle class woman who married at an early age, against her family's wishes. Her brief marriage, during which she gave birth to one child, a son, was ended shortly by divorce. Extremely intelligent and creative, she began expressing herself in verse at a young age. She was a controversial figure, publishing four wildly popular volumes of poetry and leaving an indelible mark on the literary landscape of the twentieth century. She died tragically young in an automobile accident, leaving behind countless devastated admirers. Her posthumous reputation continues to grow as she takes her place among her nation's greatest poets. This is the story of not one woman, but two; Pakistani poet Parveen Shakir (1952-1994) and Iranian poet Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967). Although their lives were in many ways eerily alike, the similarities between the two poets do not stop with their biographical detail. For those familiar with twentieth century Persian and Urdu literature, these two women enjoy both a unique place in their own literary canons as well as a special connection with each other. Although they are separated by language, nationality, and the span of a generation, the sensitive voice they give to women in particular is something they both pioneered. Perhaps it can be said that relationship problems and personal battles in both women's lives served as a catalyst that led them to examine the male-dominated societies in which they lived. Farrokhzad experienced a great deal of stigma following her divorce; in Pakistani literary circles Shakir was criticised by many who claimed that she was only successful because she was beautiful. Their literary work certainly embodies a similar set of longings, worries, and desires. Certainly love, gender, sexuality, and in particular the struggles of women in a patriarchal society, are central themes for both. This is perhaps the most revolutionary feature of both poets; not the fact that their verse is explicitly feminist, which it certainly is, but rather that it is feminine. Along with poets such as Simin Bahbahani and Jaleh Esfahani in Iran, and Kishwar Naheed and Fahmida Riyaz in Pakistan, Parveen Shakir and Forugh Farrokhzad were at the forefront of poetic exploration into the previously-uncharted intimate sphere of women, new territory in both Persian and Urdu literature. Subject matter aside, even Parveen Shakir's use of the feminine grammatical gender in her ghazals and nazms is innovative and even, especially in a literary world filled with language purists, radical. However, the parallels in the two women's work are not merely thematic; the centuries-old relationship, both linguistic and cultural, between Urdu and Persian literature cannot be ignored. Many of the themes, metaphors, and tropes used by the two poets belong first and foremost to the languages they used and literary traditions they shared. The bird, the window, the flower, the wind, the garden, unrequited love, imprisonment, and freedom are all essential elements in traditional poetry yet were taken up and expanded upon in new ways in each of their work. They also innovated in some similar ways within this tradition, introducing more personal themes such as girls, girlhood, and the vain hopes and lost innocence of youth, as well as more political themes, such as modernity and the relationship between the artist and the state. We also know that Parveen Shakir was directly influenced to some degree by Forugh Farrokhzad herself. In her third published collection, Khud Kalaami, she even includes a poem called Forugh Farrokhzad Ke Liye Ek Nazm, in which she deals with issues of political oppression and censorship. For an idea of just how similar their work can be, compare the following brief poems, the first by Farrokhzad and the second by Shakir. I Am Depressed (Delam Gerefteh Ast) Iam depressed, o so depressed. I go to the porch and extend my fingers over the taut skin of night the lamps that link are dark, o so dark. no one will introduce me to the sunlight or escort me to the sparrows' gathering. commit flight to memory, for the bird is mortal. (Translated by Michael Hillmann) Just A Girl (Sirf Ek Larki) In my cold room, I am sitting, depressed. Through half-open windows, Damp winds blow. Touching my body, They start something like a fire. Repeating your name, They tickle me. I wish I had wings; I would fly to you. I wish I were the wind; I'd return having touched you. But I'm nothing at all. Encircled in iron chains Of hard-hearted custom, A prisoner serving a life sentence, I'm just a girl! (Translated by the author) In both of these poems we see the solitude of imprisonment and the longing to escape. The speaker in each poem knows that this desire, represented by the bird and flight, is in vain; the loneliness will never be mitigated. Both share a bitterness and dissatisfaction that is at once introspective and personal and at the same time highly political, a comment on gender oppression in their respective societies. Yet, unsurprisingly, their over-all approach to these issues is not exactly alike. Farrokhzad tends to show a little more boldness, a bit more anarchy, and is in some ways a more explicit narrator. A perfect example is her poem Sin, which created a scandal when it was published in 1965. If Shakir's verse is a slow burning but steady sham'-e mehfil, Farrokhzad's is a torch held high. Even the titles of their published collections give us an idea of this difference. Where Farrokhzad has The Prisoner (Asir), The Wall (Divar), Rebellion (Esyan), and Another Birth (Tavallod-e Digar), Shakir has given us Fragrance (Khushbu), Marigold (Sad-Barg), Talking to Oneself (Khud-Kalaami), and Refusal (Inkaar). Obviously this is at a basic level an issue of temperament and personality. It is also important to consider the fact that Farrokhzad died at the age of only 32, while Parveen Shakir lived to be ten years her senior, and therefore had a full extra decade to develop her craft. Another potential factor in this disparity are the political situations that surrounded their literary production. Farrokhzad was active during the reign of the Shah, well before the Islamic revolution of 1979. While intellectuals were subject to political pressure and persecution under the Shah, Farrokhzad still enjoyed at least somewhat more freedom; the boldness in her work may be partly a result of this more liberal environment. After 1979, her poetry often fell victim to censorship by the new government, although it continued and continues to grow in popularity. In contrast, Shakir was writing during a more politically and socially conservative period in Pakistan, which almost certainly had an effect on her poetry as well. Still, these differences in their work cannot overshadow the startling coincidence of their lives and their poetry. Moreover, although any list of similarities that could be written about them grows more fascinating with each detail that which keeps us interested in their work is their approach to the human condition on a much larger scale. The extraordinary skill with which they take on eternal and universal themes of longing, despair, self-expression, and self-examination is what makes them worthy of comparison and study, and which ensures their continuing popularity and importance. The writer is a graduate student of Linguistic Anthropology, University of Texas
Of newsprint and journalists Tom Rachman's debut novel is a fresh insight into the lives behind a struggling paper By Huma Imtiaz
The Imperfectionists By Tom Rachman Publisher:The Dial Press Pages:288 Price: Rs1630 When one opens up a newspaper to peruse the headlines, one hardly ever thinks about what goes into the making of the newspaper, or the lives of the people behind articles, headlines and advertising space. Enter: Tom Rachman's brilliant debut novel The Imperfectionists, a riveting fictional tale of what goes into the making of a paper and the glimpses into the lives of eleven characters who are defined by their relationship with the Ott paper, whether as a reader, or as a publisher. Rachman tells the reader the tale of the paper, through his wonderful characters. There's the freelance contributor, whose personal and professional life has gone down the drain. There's the accounts executive who everyone hates. One must commend Rachman here, for he has ensured that his book stays true to real-life traditional relationships in the newsroom -- journalists hate the accounts and finance department, copy editors bicker amongst themselves, and the editor and publisher rarely say eye to eye. Each character's story is interconnected, so one not just gets to read a snippet from the character's life story, but also see how they're viewed by their co-workers. The Imperfectionists also shines the spotlight on the problems that journalists face, especially those who grow older and fall out of touch with their contacts, or those who are still green at their jobs. Rachman's shining moment is the tale of the fresh stringer Winston Cheung based in Cairo, and faced with working with an obnoxious veteran journalist Rich Snyder. "Snyder whispers, "Ask her if she plays around. Is that common in Islamist circles?" "I can't ask that," Winston says, meaning this in every sense. The crowd is growing in size and hostility. "Maybe she's had a lesbian experience," Snyder remarks. "But she's wearing a burka." "Women in burkas can't express their sexual orientation? That is so racist." "I can't ask her stuff like that." "Islamist swingers would be an awesome story, bro. Serious awards material."" What makes Rachman's book an exciting read is that the above quote could easily be true. Sadly, this is how some journalists act like in the real world, and one can empathise with the uncertainty and fear that the inexperienced stringer Winston has to face. Rachman also highlights the problems that the newspaper industry has to face: the internet, budget cuts and the dwindling readership. Even though this is a fictional tale, it does serve to remind one that newspapers are no longer the force that they used to be. Rachman also reminds one of a time where the sanctity of the English language used to be preserved by the best of editors, who would not tolerate the slightest abuse of the language. "Corrections have proliferated of late. A handful even earned a place on Herman's corkboard; Tony Blair included on a list of "recently deceased Japanese dignitaries"; Germany described as suffering from "a genital malaise in the economy"; and almost daily appearances from "the Untied States." He types out his latest publishable correction: "In an article by Hardy Benjamin in the Tuesday business section, the former dictator of Iraq was erroneously referred to as Sadism Hussein. The correct spelling is Saddam. We doubt that our typographical error impinged on the man's credibility, however we regret--"" As a journalist, one must salute Tom Rachman. The Imperfectionists has finally, after Evelyn Vaugh's Scoop, humanised the faces behind the by-lines and the masthead, and highlighted not just the trials and tribulations of what journalists and publishers go through, but how, despite it all, they continue their work. Undoubtedly, had Rachman not been a journalist before he began writing his book, The Imperfectionists would have perhaps not made the impact that it does. But it is Rachman's own fresh eye, his insight into what makes a good headline, the goof ups at papers (typos, typos!) and the drama that ensues at a newsroom that makes The Imperfectionists an engaging book, one that the reader simply can't put down. Rachman employs his skill as a reporter when writing this book -- devoid of flowery language and dripping with wit and feeling, The Imperfectionists engages one with the directness of the language used by Rachman. More than that, Rachman has a true gift of storytelling, after all writing and connecting stories of eleven characters is no easy feat. Yet Rachman pulls it off with such ease that one is amazed, especially so because this is only the author's first novel. The novel is also a fitting homage to the financially strapped world of print journalism, where the pen, and not the keyboard, was mightier than the sword. The Imperfectionists is not just about journalists but it's also a story of eleven individuals, whose follies, quirks, decisions and emotions tug at your heart. For example, the loneliness in the lives of Oliver Ott and Ornella De Monterecchi and how they deal with it makes one want to weep. The Imperfectionists is perhaps one of the most notable debuts of this year, and with Hollywood actor Brad Pitt already buying the film rights for the book, it has already generated quite a buzz. The Imperfectionists is available at The Last Word in Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad The writer works as a journalist in Karachi and can be reached at huma.imtiaz@gmail.com
Cricketabilia As an amateur, my only claim to cricketing fame is that I have had the distinction of playing a cricket match at the famous Sidney Cricket ground. It was a charity match between the ABC cricket team against Keith Miller's XI. Actually, I wasn't meant to play in the match. The head of drama at ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission), Neil Hutchinson, had invited me to watch the match, but it so happened that his team was a man short. Hutchison who had, by now, learnt that I had been a keen cricketer in my college days, coaxed me to fill up the number. I pointed out that I didn't have the proper gear but this did not deter the genial Hutchison. Thus it was that when we lost the toss and were asked to bat first, I was sent in to open the innings. In the best manner of a classy batsman I took guard and looked around to mark the fielders, realising with a bit of a shock that the man keeping wickets was none other than Bertie Oldfield, the legendary Australian wicket-keeper. The bowler I had to face was the dashing, mercurial Australian hero, Keith Miller. Mercifully, and to my delightful surprise, Miller not only bowled at less than half his speed, but did so with a broad grin, inviting whatever strokes I had to offer. I managed to play a cover drive and a leg glance - much to the admonition of Oldfield who kept telling me that my foot wasn't correctly in line with the pitch of the ball. "Go on the front foot," he kept saying while I was inclined to play on the back foot. He may have been right but his running commentary did not help my confidence and so when I reached the score of 21 (I had been counting each run) I flashed at a ball from a bowler (who was not Keith Miller) and one of the world's greatest wicket-keepers snapped it up. To this day, I feel that if it hadn't been for Bertie Oldfield breathing down my neck. I might have made half a century, at least. Several years later, during a lull in a rehearsal of a television play in London, I mentioned this incident to Leslie Glazier, a fellow actor, and a cricket buff. He looked at me, over- awed, and insisted that I play for his team. Leslie Glazier was the permanent 12th man-cum-scorer of the team known as the "TV Travellers." There were occasions when he had to relinquish his scoring job and keep wickets (the team's regular wicket-keeper, a Trinidadian called Dabideen was prone to absenteeism). He was the most cheerful soul, always exhorting his team with a "Come on lads" even when we were 57 for 8 facing a total of 219. In the first match I played, the skipper of the team was the debonair Micheal Aspel. In those days he was one of the newsreaders on BBC television. In a poll conducted by a women's magazine, he had been voted as the handsomest man on television. He looked a perfect matinee idol in his spotless flannels and a silk kerchief tied round his neck in the mould of Reggie Simpson. Unfortunately, he was not the greatest batsman in the world. In a match we played at Kingston-on-Thames, we were doing rather well with a healthy score of 145 for six (our usual total hardly ever exceeded a hundred) when a wicket fell. Micheal Aspel went in. I was sitting next to Leslie when the phone rang. Leslie picked it up. It was a woman's voice at the other end. She wanted to speak to Micheal. "Well he's just gone out to bat, love" said Leslie, "but I don't think he'd be long. Can you hold?" She didn't have to. Micheal Aspel was out on the third ball he received. *************** Cricket has been a passion of many eminent actors. In the early 1900's Frank Benson was the first impresario to have produced thirty five of Shakespeare's plays. He was also passionate about cricket. When Oscar Asche (who was later to secure great fame as the author of the musical CHU CHIN CHOW) arrived in London from Australia he only secured a job with Benson after giving solemn assurances that he was a first class wicket-keeper. Benson will always be remembered for that immortal ad he put in the STAGE: "Wanted, a leg-break bowler and opening bat, able to play Laertes." Benson was a much loved and much respected actor manager. He was knighted in the theatre. No one in the audience had a sword for the investiture and one had to be borrowed from a theatrical costumier next door. This happened in the Royal Box at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane in 1916. Distinguished men of letters, too, have had an abiding passion for cricket. The later half of the 19th century is also known as the golden age of cricket. The famous Scottish playwright, J.M. Barrie, (best known for his Peter Pan) was a cricket fanatic. In 1887 he gathered the most famous writers of his day to play on his team which was named "Allahakberries." It was the first proper celebrity team. Notable figures to have featured for the side included H. G. Wells, Arthur Conan Doyle, Jerome K. Jerome, G. K Chesterton, A.A. Milne, PG Wodehouse etc., From the advance publicity of a book, Peter Pan's First XI which is to appear next month, I gather that the unusual name given to the team was down to a translation error. Two members of Barrie's squad mistakenly suggested that the words "Allah Akbar" (God is great) meant "Heaven help us." But the name stuck and "Allahakbarries" was launched as a team. Those who are experts at word games will notice that Barrie's name is part of the title. Barrie was not built for cricket or any other sport for that matter. His enthusiasm for the game eclipsed his talent for it. Asked to describe his bowling he replied that after delivering the ball he would go and sit on the turf and wait to reach the other end which it sometimes did. He was equally witty in his praise for his team mates. He praised one team members' performances by observing, "You scored a good single in the first innings but were not as successful in the second." According to the author, Kevin Telfer, the "Allahakbarries" was one of the most outstanding examples of the link between literature and sport. The team was disbanded after the First World War. The "Allahakberries" team is being reformed. This, being the 150th year of J.M.Barrie's birth, a special match is going to be played next month to mark the occasion. Long live cricket.
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