Writing is no easy task -- generations of writers would agree. With that in mind, I can speculate that having a book published is one of the most arduously accomplished feats in the world. I'm sure Nafisa Rizvi would agree. Rizvi is not a fiction writer by profession but she has written for many years on social and cultural issues and has also been an art critic. Interestingly, Rizvi has also tried her hand at advertising in which she had an extensive. She has spent some time abroad studying and was working at the prestigious Indus Valley School in Karachi. Rizvi recently dabbled into her passion for literature with her published debut novel The Blue Room. The novel is an interesting attempt to explore the feudal world which remains largely unknown to so many of us. Rizvi takes us on a journey with Zaibunissa (mostly known as Zaib), the eccentric young girl with gleaming grey eyes and magical powers. As Zaib grows and discovers the many various aspects of life and the people around her, the reader is drawn into the distinct Sindhi feudal lifestyle and more than anything else, her character. The novel is interesting as it covers topics and issues familiar to anyone in the country. Religious hypocrisy is blatantly portrayed through the characters of the lecherous Maulvi Jalal and the fraudulent Pir Saheb.  Zaib's marriage to a much older man as a favour to another feudal family as her family helplessly watches represents the restrictions and impositions that women, along with their families, in this society are faced with -- even in this era of liberation. The major impact of this novel, however, comes from the depiction of the family. Rizvi portrays a family system that is well-knit and fair and how it is unwound in the name of progression. There is formidable strife as the younger generation yearns to leave their ancestral home and move to the big city with hopes of successful careers and an urbane lifestyle while their elders are unwilling to sever the roots which are so strongly bound to Shahi Manzil. TNS had the chance to talk with Rizvi about her debut venture. Excerpts are as follows:

The News on Sunday: What is the inspiration behind this novel?

Nafisa Rizvi: I'm not sure how inspirations come for novels. I think there were people I wanted to write about and ideas I needed to express and it came together in the novel. The kind of people who fascinate me most are the ones who are not what they seem, the ones who are strangely dichotomous and difficult to read at first glance. Unknowingly there is a divide between their thoughts and actions and they are more transparent than they think. These are the ones whom you meet most often actually though many times we take people at face value and form arbitrary judgments about them. You see in the book that Murtaza initially seems like a dreadful person because Zaib has these preconceived notions about him and puts him in the slot that she has created for him. In reality he is hardly that person.

TNS: Is the novel autobiographical?

NR: The novel is not at all autobiographical but I feel I developed a relationship with my protagonist during the writing of the book. How can you not if you're 'living' with her for six years? Sometimes, Zaib annoyed me immensely, sometimes I felt sorry for her and sometimes I felt a fondness for her. But the point was that she is separate from me because she is wiser and stronger than I have ever been, even though she makes some absurd decisions in her life.

I think more than anything I wanted to write about family and the importance of it in the context of the present generation. Children nowadays are in such a hurry to leave and go away and they realise many years later that they made the wrong decision but usually when it is too late. In a sense Zaib's leaving for the city is analogous to the hordes of people leaving their country for greener pastures and while they may gain in the short run, they have to deal with other sets of problems that they wouldn't have faced at home. I mention the thought many times in the book that came from a poem by Pablo Neruda which says in effect that if you cut off your roots, you are bound to bleed.

TNS: The novel is predominantly set in a feudal household. How did you tap into the feudal mindset? What was the inspiration behind Shahi Manzil and the family itself?

NR: The feudal background came from stories told to me by my mother, my aunt and my grandmother who lived that life long before I was born and although the feudalism in the story is unnaturally benign, I was keen to create the atmosphere of a time when families cohabitated and intermingled in each other's lives. That kind of lifestyle was not easy on people who may have yearned for privacy or those who may have been the round pegs being made to fit into the square hole but it had its advantages especially in moments of crises.

TNS: You covered religious hypocrisy under the guise of Jalal and the Pir Saheb, what was the purpose of creating these two characters?

NR: The religious hypocrisy should be easy to read since we hear myriads of stories of maulvis and pirs who are hoaxes and continue to play with innocent lives and feed on the power and control they have over illiterate people.

TNS: You also delve into magical realism in the book. Did you draw inspiration for this from the likes of Salman Rushdie and Marquez?

NR: You are absolutely correct in connecting the style of the book to the magic realism of Marquez and Rushdie. I have read so many authors who have chosen to write in this genre and who all come from diverse backgrounds. Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the shore), writes in this style, as does Zafon who is Spanish (The Shadow of the Wind). And if you think that the style is limited to Asian and Latin American writers, there's always Gunter Grass (The Tin Drum) to contradict that. I think the genre is relevant because in our part of the world, unbelievable stories mingle fluidly in our way of life and constitute our heritage. I have heard people telling me that they lived with jinns in the haveli as if they were members of the family. I really enjoyed writing in this style because there's a kind of irreverence about mixing up fact and fiction. It's almost like you're doing something that's not quite permitted and yet you know you're going to get away with it, like eating chocolate after you've brushed your teeth!

TNS: There are constant literary references, Zaib (a feudal girl) is constantly quoting Western poets -- what purpose does this serve your novel?

NR: The great divide between English and Urdu that we see today was not so pronounced in well educated families in the days I write of. The libraries were full of books in English, Persian, Urdu and even French. The men went abroad to study and sometimes they fashioned themselves after the English. If you study personalities like Nehru and Gandhi, or further back to the Jauhar brothers or Syed Ahmed Khan, they were well versed in both languages and that is why they knew the importance of having a language that you could possess and call your own. My grandfather use to quote Gahlib and Mir as fluently as Shakespeare or Byron as do my uncles even now. There was none of the divide we see today and yet today there is more illiteracy now than ever.

TNS: What is the significance of the blue room? Why did you create it?

NR: The idea of the blue room comes from an element in Greek tragedy which is the chorus. Consisting of three or more people, it plays the part of the all-knowing, the omnipresent sage that offers the audience the truth in the midst of anarchy and chaos. The blue room's walls are Zaib's guides and offer the reader an insight into Zaib's mind.

TNS: How hard was it to tap into Zaib's mental dilemmas?

NR: Once you've created a well-rounded character (which I hope Zaib is), it takes on its own persona and then the writer just has to imagine what a she would do in a situation like the one facing her. The character begins to speak to the writer

TNS: How hard was it to find a publisher in Pakistan? And was the response to your novel the same as you expected?

NR: It was not difficult because I came across my publishers through serendipity but that was after many refusals from other publishers. Also, I was determined not to publish in India so I didn't explore the market there. The response to my book has been overwhelming. So far, it has been only word of mouth and I have sold a few hundred copies. When the book was printed I imagined a few dozen friends and family members buying it out of curiosity. But the book has done well in spite of lack of promotional activity or any endorsement.

By Sarwat Ali

Prefaces: Lecture on Art Subjects

By Shahid Suharwardy.

Publisher: Oxford University Press, 2009

Price: Rs 395

Pages 145

Today Shahid Suharwardy is regarded by Pakistani writers and critics to be the first modern English language poet of undivided India. He published his famous Essays in Verses in 1935. He was also a scholar, writer and art critic and, in his time, was admired for his vast knowledge of the arts.

Most of the articles in the book Prefaces are actually lectures which were delivered by him to the students at various intervals at the Osmania University, Hyderabad, The Vishvabarat, The Lucknow Exhibition in 1936 and at other places while three of these condensed lectures were recalled from the talks given to the BBC and at the Calcutta Station of the All India Radio.

In the middle of the nineteenth century right up till the independence of India, the nationalistic paradigm was predicated upon the fact that the cultural roots of the people of the subcontinent went extremely deep to form one of the oldest parts of the civilised world. Many scholars and intellectuals worked tirelessly to establish the credentials of the subcontinent civilisation. The first hurdle that they had to cross was to evolve a local idiom and canons for assessing and judging the work of art and literature. The tools available to them had come from western intellectual sources and against them the local arts and crafts stood alienated and suffered from an inbuilt prejudice.

It was left to scholars, critics and intellectuals like Shahid Suharwardy to establish the credentials of those canons and obviously the first step was to look anew at the local creative expression. One was the classical heritage and the other was the forms and works which were the result of the intermingling and interaction between the cultures of the West and that of India. Most of the scholars and intellectuals like Suharwardy had a first hand exposure to the civilisation of the West through their stints at educational institutions and thus their understanding was not derived, borrowed or once removed. They had also interacted with the best minds that the West had to offer and thus were far better placed to take some objective view compared to the people who did not benefit from this kind of an exposure.

Keeping the differences in view, Suharwardy dwelled in three lectures on the major characteristics of western and Indian theatre. It is well known that in the ancient world only two societies had developed theatre where it could be distinguished from ritual -- the Greeks and the Indians. Discounting the theory that the Indian theatre developed after the contact with the Greeks during and after Alexander's invasion, he went on to point out the distinct individuality of the two. Indian theatre probably grew out of the puppet tradition and the Vedic ritual, the actor being the further development of the puppet, the end being the presentation of the spectacle, while the ritual developed into pantomime. The element of conflict eliminated for the sake of social harmony with the aim being to achieve peace by making it impossible for the conflict to arise. Whereas European culture derived from the Greeks, attained peace by overpowering conflicts. In Greek theatre, the gods intervened to provide a satisfactory solution to the dramatic conflicts to relieve the anguish of the spectators, while in India an inherent deity with his presence permeated the entire representation. Hence it was depleted of the tragic emphasis.

Whereas action was the central feature of the Greek Theatre, in India lyrical action was woven into the texture of pure spectacle. In modern terminology our classical theatre could be called lyrical theatre for the staging of musical comedies. The illusion of real life and consequently the identity of the spectator's subjective emotion with the action on stage was never the purpose.

Suharwardy was also critical of the Indian theatre wanting to be like Western theatre --because such a move was not based on any real understanding of the traditions from which it had never disengaged itself and was bound to be an artistic failure. The more westernised amongst the Indians thought that acceding to song and dance was pandering to the low taste of the customers.

Suharwardy's contribution to the understanding of Indian visual art was also fundamental. He disengaged it from the special initiation into the mysteries of an esoteric culture as essential equipment for the understanding of Indian art and was also critical of the aesthetic method and an idealism chiefly motivated by religion as underlying Indian art.

He advocated a sociological approach for it and removed the distinctions between the histories of art of different lands by generalising the principles which condition the life of art everywhere. The approach studied the current taste, the political circumstances the social background and the philosophical trend of thought of a period in order to elucidate those factors which confine an artists mind but which never can dominate or suppress his/her creative urge.

Shahid Suharwardy who belonged to a well known family for their contribution to education, reform and public service was born in Midnapur in West Bengal. He studied at Calcutta, Sorbonne, Oxford, Saint Petersburg and when he returned to India after twenty years he was made a member of the undivided Bengal Public Services Commission, a position he retained in Pakistan as well. He was also a professor of Oriental Art at Columbia University and Pakistan's ambassador to Spain.

Among other works he translated from Russian Vassili Bartold's Of Mussalman Culture, and also the poems of Lee Houcf Chee with the help of other Chinese poets into English. He was also the first head of PEN (poets, essayists and novelists) in Pakistan.

Anna Suvorova is one of the leading contemporary scholars of Indo-Islamic culture, Sufism and comparative literature. She is the head of Asian Literature Department in Russian Academy of Sciences and has taught at the London School of Oriental Studies, Lucknow University, Jawaharlal University, and our own National College of Arts.

In particular, she has made a special study of Urdu drama and has written extensively about it. Her recent book Early Urdu Drama: Transitions and Transformations has been published by the Research Department of the National College of Arts.

Dr. Survorova was recently invited by our Higher Educational Council to a residency and to launch her new book. Last week the Theatre Arts Department of NCA organised a four-day seminar to hear her lectures on the growth and development of Urdu drama. I was invited to chair two of the sessions. The notice that appeared in one of our local papers, the day after the launch of her book concluded thus:

"Dr Anna Survorova's book, Early Urdu Drama – Transitions and Transformations was launched yesterday. The book is about Lahore in the 16th and 17th century."

Suvorova will soon learn, if she hasn't already, that our newspapers are renowned for producing such howlers.

During the seminars, Suvorova, quite rightly, pointed out that there has been a great lack of written evidence related to the theatre theory in Urdu and the aesthetics of drama and theatre. She had therefore rebuilt the theory on the basis of the texts of the plays.

She believed that the cultural transition which the Indian subcontinent went through during the 19th century led to the emergence of a new type of theatre. The traditional fiction had led to the Western-style novel; literary criticism had acquired a different approach, and new forms of poetry had appeared which were different from the classical forms. These developments produced a basis for the new drama. The reason that Urdu drama came to the fore was that Urdu was the lingua franca at the time.

Be that as it may, the fact is that the emergence of our drama (melodrama would be a more appropriate word) owes a great deal to the Parsis of Bombay. The substantial dramatic output of seventy five to eighty years, (1850-1920) -- over 4000 plays -- could not have been possible if it wasn't for the enterprising Parsi impresarios of Bombay.

These impresarios who initially staged plays in Gujerati were a shrewd lot. They were quick to learn that melodrama (highly popular in England at the time) would be ideally suited to the temperament of our people. It was their astute sense of commerce that told them that Urdu, with its rhetorical flourish, and its vast repertoire of masnavis and dastaans, was the language for their theatrical ventures.

The plays that they had commissioned in Marhati, Gujerati and Hindi had not drawn large crowds. They went for an all out search for Munshees (the prevalent term for a dramatist). They sent scouts to all parts of Northern India; Lucknow, Benares, Delhi, Allahabad, etc, to recruit Muslims who had a flare for writing 'dialogue', a mixture of prose and poetry -- and low comedy. The impresarios were particularly keen on the low comedy, or 'comics', as they came to be known, partly because many Parsi actors had made their mark as comedians, and partly because many playgoers only went to the theatre to see the 'comics.' Once recruited, the Munshees were asked to adapt not only the popular mythological stories but classical texts as well. The impresarios were generous. In addition to a monthly wage, the Munshees were entitled to the first night takings.

It would not be fair to say that the Munshees plagiarised the work of their contemporaries but they certainly borrowed freely from each other. A perfect illustration is the drama relating to the Persian King Hamaan, an ascetic lured by the devil to fall into evil ways. The first playwright (probably Munshee Rehmat) who dramatized the story called it, Sitam-e-Hamaan urf Fareb-e-Izraee' (The Tyranny of Hamaan or the Devilry of the Devil). When Zarif wrote it, he named his play Tamasha-e-Gulistan-e-Khandan-e-Hamaan. Hafiz Abdullah was the next to write the same play under the title of Sitam-e-Hamaan urf Fareb-e-Shaita.' Ialahi Baksh Nami wrote Sitam-e-Hamaan and Karimuddin Murad, the last Munshee to try his hand at the theme of Hamaan, preferred to call it Gulistan-e-Khandan-e-Hamaan.

These plays were written within a span of twelve or thirteen years between (1872-85). Each playwright tried to garnish his version with more and more spectacular effects. Except for the last of the series, The Garden of The Family of Hamaan the rest are full of trite poetry and bizarre sequences. The central plot -- Hamaan selling his soul to the devil, borrowed obviously from Goethe -- is submerged in the pettyfogging schemes of villains and scoundrels plotting to trap the chaste daughter of Hamaan.

During the seminar (meticulously organised by Ms. Claire Pamment head of the Department of Theatre Arts at NCA), Suvorova also discussed the Shakespearian influence on our classical drama: disguised heroes, women dressed in men's clothes, twins confused, "mistaken identity" etc, and how our dramatists used these ploys in their plays. Thanks to Shakespeare, she observed, the new and emerging Urdu drama was introduced to a concept of tragedy. More: "Shakespeare's presence enriched the Urdu drama with new subject lines, expanding its reach and providing it with new subtle hues".

At the same time, it was her view, that by bringing together a traditional principle of equilibrium and harmony and a "Shakespearean drive at heightening dramatic tension", drama and theatre aesthetics were contaminated. I do not agree with this. For one thing our dramatists were not allowed to create their work without any interference. Even the great Hashr 'fixed' his plays according to the dictates of the impresarios.

The most interesting aspect of Suvorova's discourse was that Urdu drama concept reflects the Islamic belief that man's life is governed by Qaza and Qadr. Everything which is connected to Qadr (destiny) comes unexpectedly and dramatically bringing lots of difficulties. A virtuous protagonist has favourable Qaza (predetermination). However as Qadr would have it, he needs to go through certain ordeals. Distressed, he perceives Qadr as his true destiny and complains about it. Yet his complaints never contain even a hint of discontent with the ultimate divine law (Qaza). The protagonist is saved from the whirl of Qadr to get his reward as Qaza would have it. The antagonist's life evolves following the opposite pattern; his Qaza is unfavourable dragging him to death, though his Qadr takes him to short-lived success. Urdu Drama concept then is subservient to Allah's eternal law which cannot be challenged or defied.

Suvorova's contention is yet another clue, and a vital one, which enables us to realize why tragedy, as such, has not been a part of our dramatic heritage.