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interview In
the classical mould
Zia Mohyeddin column
interview The News on Sunday:
What are your observations about the Karachi Literature Festival (KLF)? Saaz Aggarwal: I enjoyed it
very much and found it on par with similar events in Jaipur and Hay-on-Wye in
terms of content, infrastructure, location and general feel. One difference I
noticed was that every session ended in a political discussion. As an Indian visiting
Pakistan for the first time, I was struck by the enthusiastic participation
at all levels — there was a strong sense that this festival was important
to those attending. It made me wish that more people in the world could see
this side of Pakistan. TNS: Your book documents
‘a lost homeland’ for the Sindhi Hindus who migrated to India at the time
of Partition. How did you go about gathering information and researching a
place you had never visited before? SA: To me, growing up with
a Sindhi mother and Sindhi relatives, Sindh did not actually exist. So when I
started talking to my mother, it was like exploring a dreamland. Looking
back, I think it’s good that while I was writing I did not have the
perspective I now have, after visiting. I may not have been able to keep the
new ideas out and that could have diluted my stories. TNS: Many of those who
migrated to India never turned back to visit Sindh. Surely they could not
have remained emotionally removed and alienated from all their friends and
acquaintances (Hindus and Muslims) who stayed behind in Sindh, even if they
claimed to have ‘moved on’ upon their migration to India after August
1947. Your comments please. SA: As a child with a
Sindhi mother and grandparents, I never (ever!) sensed that an enormous part
of their lives was so completely masked. That is partly due to my
insensitivity, but also because they turned away from it so resolutely. They
never spoke of it. There was no visible yearning for what they had lost; not
even plain descriptions of the place which I have now realised was so very
special. In the process of writing
this book, however, I did meet people who spoke of Sindh with longing. They
did indeed remember the ones they had left behind and still missed them, even
now. All the time I was writing this book, I had a feeling of searing regret
that I could never ask my grandparents about how their lives had been back
then, what they had gone through, and how they moved on and became the people
that I knew. On the other hand, as
someone who has, at an individual level, left my past behind more than once,
and moved on fully focussed on the future, I wonder whether it is a skill I
learnt from them — or just the ability of ordinary human beings to adapt to
changed circumstances. TNS: You visited your
mother’s and grandparents’ hometown, Hyderabad, in Sindh. How was that
experience? Did you feel any connection with the place? What were your
general observations about Hyderabad? Did you visit any other place in Sindh? SA: If anyone had told me
this was going to happen as recently as two years ago, I would never have
believed it! This was the most unlikely — and most important — journey I
have ever made, somewhat like a trip to the moon, or a visit to Harry
Potter’s Platform Nine and Three-quarters. Yes — I did feel a connection
with the place, and the keen awareness of being the first person in the
family to go back. I was thinking of my grandparents, my mother, her siblings
and cousins all the while, wanting to share the experience with them. We drove in from Kotri, on
the same bridge that my mother and uncle described to me when I interviewed
them for my book. But they had described a great, gushing, river quite
different from what I saw. I knew things would be different — the world has
changed, no place is the same as it was 65 years ago. But a lot was the same
too — the ruins of the fort on the hill are surely the same that my mother
could see from her childhood home. We ate rabri at Gadi Khato and surely that
couldn’t have tasted much different back then! My great-grandfather was
station master at Hyderabad railway station some time between 1910 and 1916.
We were received with great courtesy by Sagheer-ud-Din, the present Station
Superintendent. I could see furniture in an inner room that must have been
there in my great-grandfather’s time. Zulfiqar Halepoto hosted a
reception for us in his home and invited a number of writers and it was an
honour meeting and interacting with them. I was tickled at their amazement
that someone who grew up in a tiny, isolated place far away in south India
had written something this book! My husband and I turned
vegetarian a few years ago and are quite used to travelling to places where
meat is the main food and happy to eat bread with a side dish. But they had
taken a lot of trouble to prepare a vegetarian banquet and we were very
touched. TNS: This was your first
ever visit to Pakistan. Before arriving in Karachi for the KLF, what did you
expect the city to be like? Did it seem similar or different to what you
expected? SA: I had been told that
Karachi is just like Bombay. In fact I saw nothing of the crowd, grime, and
bustle which to me characterise Bombay. I felt it was more like Delhi or even
my city Pune, in terms of being spread out and laidback, and all the
flowering plants. I was thrilled to see how beautifully your heritage
buildings are maintained and impressed by the standards of efficiency and
aesthetics at the new dining places. But taken one scene at a time, most
dominant was the impression of never having left home. TNS: Your husband and
daughters accompanied you here. How did they find Karachi and Pakistanis in
general? SA: They absolutely loved
it! I will probably have to get new cupboards for all the gifts we have been
heaped with! One of the things they
noticed with surprise is that there is more courtesy on the Pakistani roads
than we are used to. The road engineering design is better than in an Indian
city. The impact of Bollywood
means that you know our pop culture but we know nothing of yours. So we had
no idea that our short kurtas would be outlandish and we should instead have
been wearing long ones with plain front and print at the back! It also meant
that our friends knew the tune of the Indian national anthem. (We made sure
we became familiar with the Pakistani one too!) It was a new experience to
be in a country where organised religion is relevant for non-political
reasons. And we were surprised to learn that muggings and killings are more
common occurrences than sexual assaults. The girls met and became
friends with politically inclined people who wanted to be part of the system
— not that common in India. In general we met young people who were more
politically conscious than privileged youngsters in India tend to be. I should also say that
there was a list of places we had planned to visit — but we never got round
to because the focus was on spending time with newly-made friends. And we
were so overwhelmed with affection from them that there was a tangible pain
of separation – I believe ‘partition pangs’ is the technical term! TNS: You are a writer,
author, columnist, artist, mother, wife… do you have to juggle a lot in
order to balance all these roles? What is a typical day for you back at home
in Pune? SA: No juggling really —
my priorities have always been very simple and it’s only now that I can
spend all day reading and writing, or travel whenever I want. When my
children were growing up, and in the years my father was ailing, I did my
columns and painting commissions strictly when they didn’t need me. I
always boast that my biggest career achievement is that when the school bus
came home, I was always there.
In
the classical mould Shabnam Shakeel
gracefully bowed out of the arena on March 2, 2013, after enchanting the
poetry aficionados with her verse for many decades. A poet of classical
orientation, Shabnam Shakeel was highly sought after at Mushairas and other
literary sittings. Born to noted critic and researcher Syed Abid Ali Abid,
she got a chance to chisel her skills at quite a young age as she used to see
men like Faiz, Dr Taseer, Patras Bukhari, Sufi Ghulam Mustafa Tabassum etc.
at her house, exchanging scholarly arguments and debates with her father. In an interview she
reminisced about those days: “The courtyard in our house welcomed many
intellectuals of that time who used to seek my father’s company. Faiz
Sahib, Taseer, Syed Abdullah, Dr Nazir Ahmad, Ghulam Mustafa Tabbasum etc.
were frequent visitors. I considered them my Chachas. As the Huqqa’s made
the gurgling sound while they puffed away the smoke, they discussed, debated
and argued in the most humble and civilised manner. I used to sit in the
corner of the courtyard and remained all ears to the heated discussions. I
must confess that I never heard these renowned personalities making caustic
comments against each other. That signified the tolerance and mutual respect
in that era when people refrained from personal attacks.” She went to Kinnaird
College and Islamia College in Lahore and later earned a master’s degree
from Oriental College Lahore. She followed in the footsteps of her father by
choosing to become a teacher as she taught at Queen Mary College, Lahore,
Lahore College for Women, Government Girls College Quetta and later at
Federal Government College in Islamabad. Although she became more
known as a poet, she started her literary career with criticism by writing a
book “Tanqeedi Mazameen” in 1965. Her marriage curtailed her literary
activities as she didn’t want to disturb her married life. However, it was
in 1979 when she returned to literary sittings and poetry recitals. Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi was
responsible for her second entry into the literary arena. At a gathering,
Qasmi sahib asked her why she had stopped writing poetry after her marriage.
She replied that she had obligations to fulfill after her marriage. Qasmi
sahib then spoke to her husband and sought his permission for her
participation in Mushaira. And her husband happily allowed her to re-start
her poetic journey in which she not only returned to literary gatherings but
also came out with a few books of poetry. “Shabzad” was her first
poetic collection that was published in 1987 and it was very well-received by
the literati. It was followed by “Iztarab” in 1994 and “Masafat Raigan
Thi” which was her last verse collection to come out in 2008. She also
wrote a collection of short stories “Na Qafas Na Ashiana”, though very
few people know that she wrote fiction too. Not only that but she also
documented female singers of the 1940s in her lovely book “Awaz To Dekho”. Noted poet Zafar Iqbal
praises both her poetry and fiction. “She was a good poet and
fiction-writer and I liked her stories also. Her poetry was a blend of
classical and modern and one could say that she was trying to acquire modern
sensibility.” Kishwar Naheed, celebrated
poet and writer, says that Shabnam was a traditional poet and further adds
that her poem “Virsa” was a good one that is about the travails her
daughter will suffer after marriage. “Her last verse collection ‘Masafat
Raigan Thi’ was quite mature as compared to her other collections.” Yasmeen Hameed, who is more
close to Shabnam Shakeel in terms of themes than Kishwar Naheed, is of the
view that there was no loudness in her poetry. She says: “Her favourite
theme was compromise and the travails that one has to face after the
compromise. The theme is her personal concern and it is the result of her
inner turmoil. However, she expresses her feelings in a composed way.” She
also praised “Virsa”, the nazm written for her daughter.
Zia
Mohyeddin column Marlowe’s
‘Tamburlaine the Great’ is full of imagery relating to war and the
tactics of war, but it also contains exquisite passages fraught with
tremulous passion: ‘Then if there be Christ,
as Christians say, But in their deeds deny him
for their Christ... Open thou shinning veil of
Cynthia And make a passage from the
imperial heaven That he that sits on high
and never sleeps, Nor in one place is
circumscritible But everywhere fills every
continent, With strange infusion of
his sacred vigour, May in his endless power
and purity Behold and venge this
traitor’s perjury...” Of the events and episodes
available to Marlowe when he wrote the first part of Tamburlaine, very few
had been omitted. There was, consequently, hardly any original legend left
when he came to write the second part of the play. In this situation, with
his sources already drained he seemed to have been driven to eke out his
material by introducing irrelevant episodes, some of which seem like padding.
The discursive plotting of the second part is neither constructive nor
well-knit. The chronicles of Timur do
not mention anything about his wife Zenocrate. She is Marlowe’s supreme
addition to the play. She is the daughter of the Sultan of Egypt. Marlowe
abducts her and keeps her as a prisoner. In the beginning she spurns all his
advances and the jewels and treasures that he offers her and begs for her,
liberty Ah Shepherd, pity my
distressed plight! (if as thou seem’st, thou
art so mean a man) And seek not to enrich thy
followers By lawless rapine from a
silly maid....” Tamburlaine’s answer is : ‘I am a lord, for so my
deeds shall prove, And yet a shepherd by my
parentage. But lady, this fare face
and heavenly hue Must grace his bed that
conquers Asia, And means to be a terror to
the world...’ But it isn’t long before
she is so moved by the love and kindness of Tamburlaine that her feelings
towards him change and she openly declares that she is “proud to be
betrothed to the great and mighty Tamburlaine.” Ye’gods and powers that
govern Persia, Now strengthen him against
the Turkish Bajazeth, And let his foes like
flocks of tearful roes Pursued by hunters fly his
angry looks, That I may see him issue
conqueror. What turns her intense
dislike for the Tartar warrior into long-lasting love may have been because
of his devotion to her, his generosity or the singleness of his purpose. It
may also be that his unswerving ambition to rule the world casts a spell over
her: “So from the East to the
furthest West Shall Tamburlaine extend
his puissant arm, The galleys and those
pilling brigandines, That yearly sail to the
Venetian gulf, And hover in the straits
for Christians’ wreck, Shall lie at anchor in the
isle Asant, Until the Persian fleet and
men-of-war, Sailing along the oriental
sea, Have fetched about the
Indian continent, Even from Persepolis to
Mexico, And these unto the Straits
of Jabalter, Where they shall meet and
join their force in one, Keeping in awe the Bay of
Portingale, And all the ocean by the
British shore; And by this means I’ll
win the world at last.” In a scene where Zenocrate
lies in her bed of state Tamburlaine stays by her bedside until he realises
that she is dead. In a speech as powerful as it is moving he lacerates
himself. What is she dead? Techelles,
draw they sword, And wound the earth that I
may cleave in twain And we descend into the
infernal vaults... Casane and Theridamas to
arms! Raise cavalieros higher
than the clouds And with the cannon break
the frame of heaven; Batter the shining palace
of the sun, And shiver all the starry
firmament, For amours Jove hath
snatched my love from hence, Meaning to make her stately
queen of heaven. ....Though she be dead, yet
let me think she lives. Marlowe’s own
interpretation of the accounts he read of Tamburlaine is considerably
different. He puts aside the ever-present hint of waste and destruction which
dims the glory of Tamburlaine’s aspirations, but reveals, lurking behind,
the futility and the pity of it. He takes the character described by the
sources and entering more exultantly into its dreams and visions, shuts his
eyes to the desolation which was the price of its blaze of glory. By laying
less emphasis upon the brutality his aimless barbarism and his lust for
slaughter and wreckage he gives his hero-villain a new dimension. His
Tamburlaine is ruthless, but only because of his unbending, undeviating
pursuit of his vision. The waste and destruction of what can never be
replaced recedes into the distance. Marlowe leads us to believe that this too
had a strange perverse beauty of its own, a deception that only a very young
man could posses. He is not concerned with the overwhelming sadness and pity.
In his early youth Marlowe believed that deeper than the truth of fact lies
the truth of imagination. We must bear in mind that this was his first major
play and that he wrote it when he was only 23. Timur Khan (1330-1405)
belonged by race to the group of Tartars who fell apart from the main body
when the great Empire founded by Changez Khan and brought to its full flower
by Kublai Khan disintegrated after his death. According to many
historians Timur possessed some of the qualities of both the great Khans of
the earlier empire, the ferocity, tenacity, courage and military genius of
Changez Khan, the love of splendour and the capacity of government in time of
peace which were a part of the noble and gracious character of Kublai Khan.
By the time he was 32 he had consolidated a kingdom for himself. With this as
a base he proceeded to the conquest of northern India and then to Asia minor
and Persia. He slaughtered, where necessary; in cold blood and upon a scale
horrifying to behold and yet his empire, when it was established, was
orderly and peaceful. Samarqand, his capital to which were transported the
finest craftsmen and the greatest men of learning from the conquered cities
of Asia grew prosperous by virtue of his organization. Marlow built his play based
on historically untrue legends. This should not worry us because a dramatist
has the right to develop a play based on incidents however implausible. What
matters is how effective and significant the plot is. (Some of
Shakespeare’s memorable plays are based on flimsy bits of history)
‘Tamburlaine’ is one of the most powerful dramas written in the
Elizabethan age. The Tamburlaine of the play
is of no age and no country. He is the ever-lasting embodiment of the
unslaked aspiration of youth. (Concluded) |
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