Baba Sahba

Ashfaq Ahmed

Published by Sang-e-Meel Publications, 2008

Pages 667

Price Rs.900

It would be a platitude to say that Ashfaq Ahmed was a supreme story-teller and this artistic virtue has been reaffirmed by the publication of Baba Sahba, a collection of the writings put together posthumously by his wife Bano Qudsia.

After going through the six hundred and fifty odd pages, it was clear that these have not been written with any meticulous design in mind, and appear to ramble through the various phases and experiences of his life. An autobiography of the sorts, written in the first person, it has been penned in the hikayat tradition. There is hardly anyone who could match the genius of the writer in this genre.

With time the mutual development of the plot and the character is abandoned in the allegorical style where the symbols as the sub text are supposed to offer a grid of meaning, otherwise lost to a lay reader. The magic of the style is enough to lure the reader into hundred of pages. Nonetheless, as one begins to sit back, detach oneself and think about the content, the drift is not difficult to guess because Ashfaq Ahmed was much exposed to the media, rather overexposed, and what he said and believed was common knowledge among the literates of the society.

As one delves deeper into the contents, it becomes clear that he is leading the reader to some area of experience that could not be shared or commonly experienced. The private space of the writer and that of the reader does not necessarily coincide. As long as Ashfaq Ahmed develops his inimitable style and takes the reader up the garden path of love, forgiveness and tolerance of diversity -- as he did in his earlier work like Gadarya -- it was a palpable experience, its tangibility recognisable. But when he delves deeper into the esoteric and arcane area of mystical communion the readers fails to go along with him, gradually falling by the wayside.

Ashfaq Ahmed, as he progressed in years, found it difficult to communicate the mystical side apparently realisable in the resignation, fatalism and empty speculation. And from these writings it appeared that it was Qudratullah Shahab who put him on this track. During Shahab's visit to Italy where Ashfaq Ahmed was studying, he had left behind three book -- the translation of the holy Quran by Maulana Fateh Muhammed Jallandhry, Bashite Zewar by Ashraf Ali Thanvi and Fawadul Fawood .Initially, he did not find any merit in these books but with the passage of time started to discover the embedded layers of wisdom contained in these and such works.

What is even more intriguing is how he 'builds up' Qudratullah Shahab. Ahmed was in awe of him, only because he happened to be an Indian Civil Service Officer and could not believe his luck that he was playing host to him in Italy. All the time he kept assuring himself that an ICS officer was, after all, only human. He glorified him to the level of a demigod and then he kept assuring himself that an ICS officer was not superior to him. All their lives they fought and tried to dispel this ubiquity of superiority like brothers and sometimes like father and son.

It is also revealing that Ashfaq Ahmed wrote his famous Gadarya while he was in Italy and he was inspired by a number of people upon whom he modelled his famous character Daooji. The three figures who inspired the character were his school teachers Lala Bhagat Ram and Giyani Ji but most of all Doctor Vatoryavalovalonika , who held a high position in the government of Italy and had secretly embraced Islam.

If Deputy Nazir Ahmed and Rattan Nath Sarshaar are taken to be the pioneers of Urdu fiction, and the afsana nigaars sympathetic to the Progressive Writers Association considered the second generation of fiction writers, then Ashfaq Ahmed easily qualifies to be one of the outstanding short-story writers of the third generation. As a leading writer to have emerged since the creation of this country he had been quite versatile in the number of forms that he chose for his creative expression. In the beginning, like most of his contemporaries, he was drawn into the formalistic measures of realism, with some of the stories establishing him as a writer of great merit in that tradition.

In the middle years he lost that innocence. He was no longer content to be a gadarya -- happy in wandering, tending to his flock while ruminating with a certain detachment on the affairs of the world. For the new Ashfaq Ahmed, who was becoming impatient with the sameness of things, the ultimate recourse was moralising and lecturing on how things ought to be rather than how things are.

Since the faith in science has receded into the shades of moral question of its application in technology, as well as the tumble the socialistic utopia has taken, a literary expression has been in search of a new 'ism.' Writers in Latin America devised a new way of expressing reality or unreality of their surroundings in magical realism. This seemed closer to the form of our traditional literary genre of the dastaan where the movement in the plot was not attributable strictly to logic. Strange happenings often have to be understood in the multi-layered meaning contained in the mythological and symbolic in a kind of higher logic that binds the loose ends on a formal framework.

In Baba Sahba he returns to the same rambling form with great descriptive passages laced with common experiences. These, festooned on some grid of the sub text, add depth and meaning to it. The virtues of his descriptive style are many and tempting enough to race through pages before pausing to think about some hidden meaning and higher purpose in the narrative.

Should one write an autobiography or scribble memoirs at the tail end of one's life to provide a raison de etre? Or any inner impulsion for self expression leads to many such private writings? In the past such writings were titled apologia -- perhaps to unload the burden of an uneasy conscience. The confessions of St. Augustine and those of Rousseau are known for the frankness and exposure of darkness of the human mind. Frankness or truth are not a literary merit of an autobiography. The truth has to be cast in a mould that gives a new vision to life. In this regard, Jean Paul Sartre's words provide a remarkable self analysis.

Autobiography or memoir has no proven format to be followed, it is innovated by the author, his caprice can take him to any genre which pleases him, epistle writing, memoirs, novel, diary writing all are available options.

But a line has to be drawn between an autobiography and memoir. The former includes life of the author and his period in a chronological order, whereas the latter is focused on the writer's own self and very often guided by stream of consciousness. In both cases, one has to write one's own self without any inhibitions and taboos.

Saqi Frooqi defies all norms and builds up his own cobweb where all events, facts and personages are mixed up without any sequence. The title is a bit shocking: Aap Beeti Pap Beeti for a readers who is not prepared to listen to the dark side of the author. A few years back Ashfaq Naqvi's autobiography Paap Beeti shocked many for his candour in respect of his affairs.

Aap Beeti Paap Beeti is not a well designed book which could build up a sequence of authors life, ill assorted events overlap each other. He was born in Gorakhpur, India in a lower middle-class family and was educated in the local schools. After 1947, he along with his family, migrated to Pakistan and settled in East Pakistan where his father had some business. After his matriculation, the family settled in Karachi where Saqi completed his college education and wrote poetry while drafting scripts for Radio Pakistan Karachi. In his literary journey, he became friends with writers of Karachi. Saqi has devoted a considerable portion of his book to these friends.

All the leading literary journals published his poetry but those who witnessed that literary era might not subscribe to this hyperbolic assertion of Saqi Farooqi. He started writing ghazal in a conventional manner and subsequently switched over to nazam. His collected poems Maindick Nama contains some good poems. Even in his poetry he is satirical and at time whimsical. He lagged behind the literary climate of the early 60s which clamoured for change in the literary norms and particularly the hegemony of classicism which restricted the writers to remain within the accepted limits of literature. The New Wave poetry received very hostile criticism but soon gained ground. Saqi Farooqi's literary position remained subdued. He did not write much of prose except sundry essays.

The book, however, is not without its flaws. A crafty autobiographer should know the knack of dramatising and evoking interest of the reader. His narration should not be so personlised as to eliminate the socio-political ambiance of his period. Saqi Farooqi can be excused of this lapse because he is prone to write his memoirs than a well balanced autobiography.

Last three chapters of the book are quite absorbing with a detailed account of private life of celebrated poet N. M. Rashid who settled in London after his retirement from the United Nations. Saqi Farooqi was quite close to him. He had access to his private life. He tells us that the Italian wife of the poet was unaware of the creative life of her illustrious husband. N.M. Rashid was an egocentric poet, very conscious of his literary and social status. A considerable space has been given to Faiz Ahmad Faiz. Farooqi was a devotee of the legendary poet and laments his death. Lastly, the narrative would have been more absorbing if the author had avoided unnecessary poetry

Neelam Bashir penned her maiden short-story at the age of 13. She was a student and had already read Iqbal, Ghalib, Gorki and Hardy. But these great men of letters did not inspire her to continue writing and her second story took three long decades to be written. These decades were not wasted : she completed her education, married, spent fourteen years in the US with her husband and experienced life.

Now she lives in Lahore and writes short-stories. During the past ten years Neelam Bashir has given six books. Gulaboon wali Gali was her first collection of short-stories and it attracted many readers. The title of her latest volume is Aik thi Malika which has been finely brought out by the Sang-e-Meel Publications of Lahore.

The launching ceremony of the book was held past week at the Punjab Institute of Language Art and Culture with Intizar Hussain in the chair. The speakers on the occasion included Hameed Akhtar, Munoo Bhai, Amjad Islam Amjad, Aqeel Rabi, Parveen Atif, Dr. Umar Adil and Tahira Iqbal.

Tahira Iqbal who had specially come from Faisalabad to pay tribute to Neelam Bashir, is herself a noted short-story writer with three collections to her credit. She particularly fictionalises the rural life of Punjab. Talking about the Aik thi Malika she said that Neelam Bashir narrated the stories of the much changed women of our stagnant society.

Aqeel Rubi's recently published book on Greek literature is nowadays being talked about in the literary circles of the town. He presented a paper on Neelam's stories and described her latest book as "the travelogue of human life." The presence of a number of writers at the launching ceremony turned it into a social get-together.

Scholars from Turkey

The writes of Lahore were pleased to meet a teacher and three students of the Urdu department of the Istanbul University who were in the city past week on the invitation of Ataul Haq Qasmi. The meeting was also arranged by him at the Alhamra Art Centre with Hamid Akhtar in the chair. Dr. Halil Toker, head of the department and composes poetry in Urdu and Persian, was missed by those present. His second collection of Urdu verse was recently published by the Multi Media Affairs of Lahore under the title Akhari Feryad. He too was in the city but could not attend the meeting. Madam Arzu Sarev, one of the guests, expressed the hope that teaching of Urdu at her country's universities will further help in strengthening relations between the two countries.

Her colleague, Songu Loz disclosed that her family did not like her visit to Pakistan because of the reports of some recent disturbing events published in newspapers. They thought Pakistan was a very dangerous place to go. Her love for Urdu and the people who speak it gave her the courage to take up the challenge.

Present at the occasion were Intizar Hussain, Dr. Tabassum Kashmir , Masood Ashar, Shahzad Ahmad, Dr. Saleem Akhtar, Sughra Sadaf, Shaista Nuzhat, Sofia Beedar, Rukhshinda Naveed and Javed Iqbal.

A Black Musk

The news of Javed Shaheen's death this month came as a great shock. He was a noted progressive poet, once rated by Munoo Bhai as the most politically mature and class-conscious poet of his generation. I had a long nodding acquaintance with him spreading over two decades. Javed Shaheen earned his early spurs in the 1960s when he translated two or three Dale Carnegie's books that were very popular in those days. Soon later he established himself as a prominent poet. He had published six collections of poetry, a book of short-stories, a novel and his autobiography titled Mah-o-Saal. Translation remained his lifelong passion. He rendered Leon Trotsky's autobiography My Life: An Attempt at Autobiography into Urdu.

The following is a poem of Javed Shaheen translated into English by Waqas Ahmad Khawaja:

A Black Musk

A musk

Intense black within me

Finding me inadequate

Spills out of me,

Congeals on my body

Becomes smoke sometimes

And snags the breath.

Or sticks to the palate

Turning bitter

Sometimes it undresses

And invites me to bed

A black but fresh and healthy musk

Laps me up from inside,

Does not let its rapture wear

Prevents my coming out of myself

Lilke a black flower inside

Opening up

A black musk.