|
|
|
|
 |
 |
   |
critique Failure of
the patriarch Zia
Mohyeddin column
Brilliant tradition called Urdu Although a subject of many a debate, there is hardly any difference between the Pakistani and Hindustani Urdu literature in terms of linguistics, dimensions and diction By Dr Abrar Ahmad A few months back an interesting debate erupted in the literary circles concerning Manto's nationality, that is, whether Manto was a Pakistani or Hindustani author. Many articles appeared in Urdu journals of the subcontinent but all sensible men of letters dismissed this compartmentalisation as baseless and concluded that Manto belonged to the brilliant tradition of Urdu short story. Similarly a Karachi based magazine 'Ainda' (Editor: Mahmood Wajid) published a collection titled 'Pakistani Adab Number' insisting on different identities of Urdu works being produced in the subcontinent. Its 'Hindustani Adab Number' hit the stands a few days back. Incidentally I was assigned the task of writing on Pakistani Nazmand inspite of intense thinking and hard work, I ended up discussing the poets having a Pakistani domicile! As a matter of principle the
literature of any one language has to be viewed as a phenomenon unified in
letters and spirit regardless of the geographical locale of the authors.
English literature is created Dr. Anis Nagi in the preface of his book 'Pakistani Urdu Adab ke Tarikh' writes, "The history of Pakistani literature should have been written far earlier but most of the Pakistani writers remained so fond of earning recognition in India that they failed to notice the change." He goes on to tell us that a tradition of 'Pakistani Adab', as distinct from Indian Urdu literature, has established itself. But as he develops his argument, nothing substantial crops up.The recurrence of this phenomenon deserves some serious thought for which we need to cast a retrospective glance. As a newly founded country Pakistan naturally faced questions of identity on the cultural front. The two cultures had so much in common that it was difficult to strike a purely Pakistani note. The intellectuals at that time persistently attempted to answer these questions. Critic Mohammad Hassan Askari writes in an article published in October 1948: "Urdu may not be the local language of any region of Pakistan but at least the Muslims have the determination to take advantage of Urdu as a tool of national identity." This observation holds true even today since in Pakistan Urdu did develop into a national language and the dominant mode of creative expression in Pakistan remains Urdu language. But it has not ceased to exist in India. The majority of Urdu authors on either side remain predominantly Muslims. It may not be irrelevant to observe that even Hindi is Urdu in essence, the script being the only difference. If there are numerous literary journals appearing in Pakistan, there are no less in India. Incidentally almost all are edited by Muslim authors e.g. 'Sher-o-Hikmat' (Mughani Tabassum, Sherhyar), 'Zehn-e-Jadid' (Zubair Rizvi), 'Naya Waraq' (Sajid Rashid) 'Istaara' (Salahud Din Pervaiz) and the main bulk of contributions also come from the Muslim community. This is not to suggest that there is any dearth of non-Mulsim writers but they are more in comparative proportion. Having said that, any basic distinction is not identifiable; a few points can be put down which talk of shades originating from the fact that life has been different on either side of the border. To understand this, we need to look at the past once again. After independence India opted for democracy and the abolition of feudal system while we went for exactly the opposite i.e. the strengthening of the feudal lords and imposition of martial laws -- finally ending up in the separation of East Pakistan in 1971. The generation witnessing partition had painful memories of the process, including the bloodshed they witnessed. The authors having migrated continued to remain haunted by the memories bringing a strong nostalgic element in their works. Added to this was their idealism attached to the dream of an exploitation-free, liberal society in Pakistan which persistently refused to materialise. The 1971 war and the consequent split hit the maturing generation hard. This generation additionally faced the brutally oppressive military regime only a few years later. These mutilating experiences forced an exile and a sort of worthless existence on all these youngsters whose previous optimism lost all objective grounds and this sensibility reflected itself in the works done by the authors belonging to this age-group -- quite distinct from what the older generation experienced and expressed. It is this experience which differentiates our letters from the Indian offerings. The present times betray similarities of situation and climate on both sides primarily due to global changes that have resulted in the sharing of a few common experiences.between artists on both sides. Hence the very recent works seem more close to each other even in content. The new magazines accommodating the works from both sides unfold this overlap more distinctly and categorically -- in all genres of literary expression. Coming back to our early days, it's painful to revisit the dreams of our older generation which in fact were the prime force behind their struggle for independence. They had, in their minds, a liberal, peaceful and a just society in which their creative capabilities and those of the generations to follow could flourish and which was spacious enough to accommodate all sorts of ideological conflicts, thereby remaining conducive to healthy thought and progress. This obviously could not happen. This disillusionment did reflect in our creative works and can be categorically spotted. If any other difference can be noted it is the inclusion of Hindi words in the Urdu works in India while on our side, it's the regional languages which are enriching Urdu -- both similar in essence. The western influence reached the Urdu circles at an identical time period. Modernism as a theory of criticism and creation dominated the subcontinental Urdu scenario in the 1960's. These days it's post-modernism which is being intensely discussed and applied on creative works for their critical appraisal, on both sides of the border. In 'Hindustani Adab Number' of 'Ainda', Dr Wazir Agha rightly observes, "If we attempt to find a difference in diction, there has been only a faint change during the last 59 years..... The comparatively more palpable difference can be noted in the issues being addressed (on both sides). It's natural too, since every country has its own problems, preferences and reactions specific to it which transforms the text to a greater or lesser extent. Till to-date there is hardly any big difference between the Pakistani and Hindustani Urdu literature in terms of linguistics, dimensions and diction." At the level of sublimity the works of all languages tend to merge into a unique unified human experience, putting the medium of instruction aside. If such pieces belong to the same language, then the geographical boundaries and the nationalities of the authors become too weak to contain any literature within geographical bounds. How can we put the works of Firaq, Bedi, Quratul Ain Haider, Akhtar-ul-Iman, Nayyar Masood, Balraj Manra in one compartment and those of Rashed, Majid Amjad, Faiz, Munir Niazi, Nasir Kazmi, or Anwar Sajjad, in another? They are both an integral part of the brilliant tradition of Urdu literature and will always remain so.
Eugene O' Neill's 'Long Day's Journey into Night' debates the unchallenged status of the patriarch and examines the agitation and alienation that result from unquestioned authority By Sarah Sikandar A dictatorial father and two unsuccessful sons -- clicheĞd as it may sound, the story of Long Day's Journey into Night challenges the unquestioned authority of the patriarch. It particularly relates to our social perspective where the male members especially the head of the family is regarded as the ultimate authority. Although always appreciated as a 'domestic comedy' the play questions the status of the patriarch in any society. Eugene O' Neill (1888-1956)
wrote his autobiographical masterpiece at the age of 60. In 'Long Day's
Journey into Night' he retraces his own history and narrates it. The play
allows no conclusion because it renders a perspective at the relationships
and people, one without whom life is nothing The play takes place in one day, hence the name. The play begins when the whole family is returning to the sitting area after a meal. Through the course of the play the audience senses mistrust among the father and sons. The contempt comes to the surface when the sons criticise the father for his inability to give them a sound education and for persistently being occupied by his professional activities. The mother, a morphine addict, takes her medicine several times backstage and is intoxicated by the end of the play. The responsibility of the family's predicament lies on the father as repeatedly implied by the two sons. O' Neill's characters are the people who are 'bound by blood ties'. The two generations are on stage but the status of children is peripheral in relation to the nucleus constituted by the patriarch. The family reunion at the summer-house is like a trial in which the offender must face the offended. James Tyrone must face his failure in his wife's addiction and sons' consumption. His consistent jumping at his sons' throats pushes them away from him while the wife imputes her being a bad mother to him. The very first act places James Tyrone as a defiant character. He speaks his mind and exercises an authoritarian air. There also exists a semblance of reciprocal distrust between Tyrone and his sons. In Act one when Tyrone and Mary overhear their sons' conversation, he smells a conspiracy. Act one is dominated by James Tyrone and his discourse with other characters thus placing him at the centre of their attention. In the preceding acts we witness two characters arguing over James Tyrone in one way or the other. The Mary and Tyrone dialogue, although calm on the surface, clearly hints at the underlying contempt or distrust on part of the either of the two. The husband-wife relationship that lays the foundations of a family is consequential to their future life. The single-hearted relationship of two people can give a lift to a harmonious familial environment. The relationship of the parents is detrimental to the personalities of their children. Mary bemoans her lost virginity and by doing this she marks her distance from the family and precludes her existence as a mother. For Mary, who was bewitched by the charms of the matinee icon, the reality sets in when she encounters the life of an actor's wife. The continuous references to her past and purity imply that Tyrone's lifestyle has not only tarnished her innocence but the dream of a happy family was also torn to shreds. The unhappy wife then becomes a bad mother and the wedding gown must go in an 'old trunk in the attic'. The possession of territory is inevitable in order to exercise authority. Tyrone has no such territory to his name. Although 'one of the biggest property owners around' he is inefficacious in providing his family with a 'decent home'. The only place they can ever call home is the summer-house which is nothing like a home for any of them because it has a transitory value. The father's dereliction of provision of a home alienates the sons from the concept of family and home. Both Jamie and Edmund feel 'at home' only when they are away from it. Both the sons go for one-night stands in their relationships and avoid commitment. They find solace not in the four walls of the house but within the arms of tramps. The nomadic existence of the actor-father breeds discontentment and rebellion in the children who think of it as nothing more than a 'cheap dump'. The mother, naturally, believes that had they had a decent home her sons would have turned out differently. Charles S. Darrow (1889-1967) once remarked that "the first half of our lives is ruined by our parents and the second half by our children". This stands true for Tyrone and his sons. Tyrone's father deserted him as a child and throughout his youth he worked to make the ends meet. His sons' lives are also ruined by a person who fails to understand the role of a father in the upbringing of children. Contradiction is visible in his own personality when he expects his sons to have faith. The sons, on the other hand, have tasted the bitter aspects of life and are too practical for their father's bogus religious bilge. The 'real person' inside James Tyrone is an untamed bird and commitment is not his deal. His identity as a father and his career are two polarising realities. When the reconciliation between the two is unworkable the father is overcome by the actor whose comfort is more important than the dying son or the sick wife. The rebellious sons then question his authority and refuse to lead their lives on his terms. The outcome is agitation and alienation. The patriarch, therefore, fails not only to assert his authority but also to make use of his authority in order to bring out the best in his off-springs. He is not able to draw the clan together because of his inability to exert authority and superiority positively. The clan must disperse and lose themselves in their respective journeys.
Zia Mohyeddin column "You don't mind, is it?" My dear nephew who keeps me amused by sending me odd bits of humour has emailed me a letter written by a Mr. S.R.H to his doctor: "With respectfully stated that the letter is writing to your goodself in respect of the confirmation about the fee for checkup and time as well, I am directed by the Newzealand (sic) embassy to be checked and got some medical paper from you to produced in Embassy. You are therefore requested to kindly let me know that what kind of the checkup will be processed and how much fee come over it and how many time will be borne in issuing report." Some years ago, I would have moaned pleasurably after reading this galimatias. I don't, any more. English in the subcontinent has not only developed its own pronunciation but its own vocabulary and -- judging from the letter quoted above -- its own distinctive grammar. The young man sitting next to me on a plane to Delhi last year, raised himself from his seat to address someone in the row behind, "I say old chap, what do you say shall we order some bloody Marys?" His friend mumbled something which I couldn't hear. My fellow passenger sat down with a big smile on his face. I thought I ought to save him the embarrassment and so I leaned towards him to inform him that the airline did not serve any alcohol. "I know, I know", he chuckled, "I was only pulling his legs." This is not the only saying which we, in the subcontinent, have altered to satisfy our sense of syntax, "Thanks God" is another most commonly used expression. We have a propensity not only for variations in noun numbers but for progressive verbs. "He is not knowing the answer" or "I am believing that he can't be telling the truth." Other words are English terms that have taken on a whole new meaning such as bearer, which (in Pakistan) means a waiter; and eartops, which (in India) means earrings. In both countries boots (or boot) mean shoes, tennis shoes, shoes with laces or moccasins. In the subcontinental jargon some standard phrases are often rearranged or abbreviated. ('Give me the scissor' instead of a pair of scissors; 'a key bunch' instead of a bunch of keys). Duplication is often used for emphasis. "I like hot hot coffee.", "Oh she has been crying crying all night." English is spoken by millions of people in India. It is still the language of India's judicial system. English is also the preferred language of Indian Universities. In Pakistan too, most of the high profile lawyers use English when they appear in the law courts. Needless to say that English in the subcontinent has developed a distinctive vocabulary. The number of regional words that have crept into the Oxford English Dictionary is now over two thousand. I do not mean words like Bhaji, Chappati or Vindaloo, (which entered the jargon of most Midlanders as a result of the influx of Pakistani and Indian eateries), but hybrid words like policewalla and his weapon, the lathi. Indian English was, in the 50s and 60s, a source of endless delight for stand-up comics. The late Peter Sellars became an icon because of his renditions of what he considered to be 'the Indian accent' in the BBC's popular programme 'Take if From Here'. Indians were often belittled by being addressed with a 'Goodness gracious me' (spoken in the manner of Peter Sellars) to make them aware that their speech was highly risible. That era, which lasted nearly 30 years, is over. Indians and Pakistanis may not be welcome in England but they are, no longer, derided for their manner of speech. The new forms of English emerging in Asia have now come to be accepted as an innovative branch of a language that already has a multitude of dialects with their own distinctive pronunciation. On a visit to Singapore I was intrigued to note that the Singaporeans mostly speak Singlish to each other. I was informed that the strange Singapore pidgin was once banned from television, but Singlish, refused to be stamped out. This was not surprising, considering that that the the people who spoke it were influenced by Malay and Chinese dialects. They found it more colourful to call someone a kambing instead of a fool. (Kambing in Malay means goat). Malay words entered the flow of English and some English words took on eccentric uses. If someone offers to 'follow you home' in Singapore, it does not mean that he is going to stalk you but rather offering to accompany you to your house. Singaporeans also like to say no in almost every sentence: "You are joining no, next week?"; "You are coming, no to my party?" This is very similar to the na that we use in our everyday English. "I was going there, na, but I couldn't"; "I can't refuse a chocolate na". We also use na as a suffix just as the Singaporeans use lah. We say "I should have finished it na" with almost exactly the same inflection as a Singaporean says, "Give him a buzz, lah." The most typical example common to both Singapore and the subcontinent is the usage of the question tag: is it? without any reference to the verb that has gone before, resulting in: "You don't mind is it?" It has always been known that Asian English is famously different from Queen's English. I am not here talking about the strong rhythmic pronunciation which differs from region to region, but the language as it is spoken. The other day, a movie star who has now decided to converse only in English showed off her newly acquired skill by telling me, "It is very pleasure meeting you." 300 million use English as their native tongue, but nearly 400 million across the world speak it as a foreign tongue. The movie star's expression may not be typical of their speech, but it is just to show how a language, when it is a living thing, changes and acquires attributes such as its own local slang. Some observers feel that the striking individuality of the new English dialects ought to be appreciated as a celebration of linguistic diversity. I may not be one of those, but I admire their generosity. My nephew's remarks about Mr Shah's letter to his doctor (that I quoted at the beginning of this piece), are rather revealing. He writes, "I showed this to an Australian friend and he thought the language of the letter was similar to the kind of writing he comes across in New Zealand." I would like to know what the New Zealanders think of the Australian English. |
|
in America, England, Canada, Australia and many
non-English regions including India and Pakistan. But when the question of
its identity arises it has to be gathered under the banner of 'English
literature' and its critical appraisal has to be done on the basis of
parameters and standards specific to it. Take Punjabi literature for
instance. Heer by Waris Shah is ardently admired in all of Punjab
irrespective of the dividing line. Bulleh Shah and Shah Hussain enjoy an
identical status. Among recent poets Shiv Kumar Batalvi and Najam Hussain
Syed are highly valued on both sides. The same holds true for Urdu, although
here we are frequently faced with the question of different identities every
now and then.
more than a vacant space. The
playwright is a prisoner of his past and this is the time of his liberation
by 'deep pity and understanding and forgiveness for all the sour haunted
Tyrones'. The four main characters -- the father James Tyrone, the mother
Marie and the two sons Jamie and Edmund -- have been based on the
playwright's father, mother, elder brother and himself respectively. Critics
sense a strong bias in O' Neill's projection of his father without ignoring
disparagement on the authority of his father.