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appreciation Keep the
flame alive! Zia
Mohyeddin column
appreciation Asad Mohammad Khan's works are constant, exacting and ingenious pursuits of originality with an intention to enliven and enrich the reader By Abrar Ahmad Asad Mohammad Khan
published the first collection of his short stories in 1982 titled 'Khirki His second book 'Burj-e-Khamoshaan' (1990) consolidated his image as an author of a unique stature. Recently his collective works comprising his five collections 'Jo Kahaniyan Likhein' has been published from Karachi immediately followed by another book of stories 'Teesray Pehar ke Kahaniyan'. Khan belongs to the pre-partition generation which brought along the experience of a split past -- thus both enriching our literature and perhaps limiting it too to the traumatic experience. Although not immune to that intense recall, Khan artfully masks the odour of nostalgia. Every writer of significance harbours within him a locale and climate to utilise as a ground to place his characters and build stories. This locale coupled with imagination and smart linguistic treatment earns him the individuality and recognition -- only if he has the talent. Khan too has his locale, so familiar and alien at the same time, and an atmosphere so unique that even if the name of the author is removed, one could identify from the aroma of the piece that it belongs to Asad Mohammad Khan and this isn't a usual happening. Like the majority of the writers from his background generation he concentrates on Hind-Islamic Culture as the dominant theme. It is precisely here that he takes himself away from the modernists -- at least practically. One also observes that with the passage of time he outlived that past and his intense longing to own the new land finally met rapturous success. Dariya Ab Mera Hua, which he insists must be read as a poem, is the opening piece of his latest collection. It unfolds the life-long conflict ending up finally in a sense of belonging to the new land. The dominant mood of his
stories is a lively narrative, satirical with bohemian deviations Khan also utilises historical facts to enrich his vision but he doesn't take up history as a sequence of dated occurrences. It speaks through the atmosphere and characters he creates. He seems conscious of this element, his story Khilti Dhoop, Ujaltay Saay opens with the sentence "I am a story teller, not an historian!" Language is an elementary tool and even the best of the authors are not always perfect in it. In this specific reference Khan is only comparable to masters like Nayyar Masood and Shams-ur-Rehman Faruqi among his contemporaries. It is almost impossible to find flaws in his masterly consumption of language. He accommodates words and phrases from languages like Persian, Arabic and English in a creative manner and doesn't let these sound aloof from Urdu. With Nayyar Masood the element of magical realism has found a new dimension and definition. Next to him is none other than Asad Mohammad Khan. Additionally we witness this phenomenon in the short stories of Shams-ur-Rehman Faruqi and this trilogy of brilliant authors constitutes a lifeline to the magical realism in future Urdu pursuits, which seems getting popular with time. Khan's prime concern is man and his predicament -- treated with an unmatched vision and competence. This is augmented by his deep knowledge of history, a keen observant eye and turbulence without and within. His works are constant, exacting and ingenious pursuits of originality with an intention to enliven and enrich the reader. He stimulates, refreshes and surprises us in almost each of his creative pursuits. He is a man of his own creed and refuses to imitate others. He prefers to revisit, relive and imitate himself in such a consistent manner that he has become a model for imitation himself. Although Khan successfully tames his bias for race, it remains a useful pointer to understand and critically appraise his works and gives us a clue to the thematic centre of his creative self. It may, however, be observed here that he outgrows this preoccupation even in the stories replete with race-oriented narrative while this element still remains undeniably present. One of his masterpieces Maee Dada addressing religious conflict reminds one of Manto's short stories and ends with the following sentence: "Who says he was not a Musalmaan? Who says he was not a Pathan?"
It would be terrible to let our children grow up without the right books along the way. But what's the solution? By Mina Farid Malik When I first began
teaching, the first question I asked my eighth grade was whether they Read fast and throw away: there is no thought involved in the activity, largely because the text does not demand anything from the intellect. This, I feel, is a vicious cycle and probably the reason why people just don't read any more. They are bored silly. I tested this hypothesis on the said class. I tossed a Marquez short story at them and they loved it. They had never read anything like it, and this class --this bored, bookless class -- wanted more! It's difficult to know what to read, and this is where school becomes important. Children who are still avid readers are ones who are either exposed to books at home or encouraged in school. A lot of parents don't have the time or inclination to read to their children (probably stemming from their own lack of interest in books). And librarians here usually only organise books and admonish kids for leaving their library cards at home. A librarian once came back at me with a 'you don't leave your head at home, do you?' when I, avid reader, discovered the tragedy of being caught on a library Wednesday with no card. Needless to say, I never forgot that particular witticism. The result is that children more often than not just don't read, and when they do, they invariably pick up the kind of insufferable 'good classic reading' that litters school library shelves -- Black Beauty or The Water Babies or Treasure Island; all ancient moldering texts about things no child is interested in any more. Nobody cares about a pretty horse in an awful world or eerie infants swimming around in the seaweed; treasure is more Pirates of the Caribbean or fantasy Potter than swashbuckling and walking the plank. Child is bored witless by said book, child abandons book and turns on television. What is a solution? The first one is to write, and write copiously. Children are starved for a really good story, at this point any will do as long as it's interesting and fun. The really excellent part will come when our children can read stories about them -- instead of Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Timmy the dog, what fun to read about Ali, Amir, Sarah and Sana and their Alsatian mutt Caesar instead! Or the magic adventures of Bandar the talking monkey, or comic books with Persian invaders instead of Asterix. Writing for children in Pakistan is a dry well just waiting for it to rain. In the meantime it is essential to find books that will interest the average in-between reader, the one who has grown out of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys and hasn't yet grown into Georgette Heyer and Margaret Atwood. The in-betweens are precisely the same group that is most likely to watch television instead of reading. For that, bookstores and libraries are vital; so are interested parents and teachers. My niece is two and a half and mad for books. One of my favourite photographs of her shows her sprawled on the floor of my library with a Dr. Seuss book -- There's a Wocket in My Pocket! Recently a seven year old equally mad for books proudly showed me her Enid Blyton collection, and we discussed the merits of having Kiki the parrot or Timmy the dog as a sidekick (The Secret Seven's spaniel being immediately dismissed as insipid). It would be a terrible shame to let these children grow up without the right books to read along the way; the magic of books is a magic passed on from person to person. It sounds cheesy, but let's keep the flame alive. It's worth it.
Zia
Mohyeddin column It is amazing how so many words have changed their meanings by misuse or over-use in the last quarter of a century. Who do you think, is responsible? Television? Internet? Newspapers? Perhaps all of them, but none more markedly so than journalese. The word, 'philosophy', as I mentioned not so long ago, has now changed its complexion. Only last night I heard the captain of the Pakistan Cricket team declare that his philosophy was to concentrate only on the semi-finals. Philosophy now means strategy, just as 'grant' now means a sum of money given as a bonus but demanded as a right. 'How dare they withhold our grant?' You often hear earnest organizers of 'Neighbourhood Watch' or 'Adult Literacy Campaign' complain to newspaper reporters. What about literature? I don't know about you, but I get stacks of letters from mobile phone companies, new eateries, event managements, and pharmaceutical companies, who write to say that their enclosed 'literature' provides details of their latest offers. The term 'literature' today has come to mean a pamphlet or a brochure, printed in colour. Thus it was that yesterday I received a notice about the forthcoming performance of Muhammad Zamman Taji Taqi Qawwal. The brochure is glossy and it has, on the cover, a retouched sepia photograph of Ustad Shafiuzzaman Khan Sahab. He is sitting in front of a painted backcloth of an imaginary castle; he wears a black cap at a rakish angle, his cheeks are rouged and his lips are carefully reddened with a pencil, much in the manner of a matinee idol of a Parsi theatre company during the late 19th century. The first page, inside, is a testimonial from Pakistan Broadcasting Corporation Reference No: SDK -- SDP (M) which certifies that Muhammad Zaki Taji and Zaman Zaki Taji are "A A class Qawwal of this station: "They had performed at this station for about twenty five years... Their performances have already been appreciated by the fond of Qawwali... They have also performed in the Islamic countries of Middle East and has earned a lot of appreciation...(sic) Ignore the vagaries of language -- the fond of Qawwali etc -- I want to know how many categories the Broadcasting Corporation have determined for those who indulge in this form of singing. Presumably, AA is the absolute top, but is there an AAA? If not, does a mere A come below AA and are they paid less? Is there a B and a BB? You would think it's leather goods, and not musicians which are being categorized in this manner. I turn to another page and come across an absolute gem: a facsimile of a letter from the Director General of the Pakistan National Council of the Arts Ref 20 (4) 99 PAD: "Dear Zaki Taji Sahib, It gives me great pleasure to acknowledge that your esteemed organization is rendering meritorious services to preserve and promote the devotional art of Qawali especially the prestine and wanning (my italics) Qaul, Qalbana, Tirwat, Tarana, Gul, and Hawa like forms of the Islamic Heritage of the Muslims of the Sub-continent. PNCA being a meacenas and protectorate of Art and Culture highly appreciates your efforts..." This has held me in stitches. 'Prestine and wanning' sounds like a firm of solicitors, but what is a prestine Qaul or a prestine Tirwart and what is a wanning Tarana? Qaul, Qulbana, Tarana etc., are forms of Qawwali singing, we all know, but when they become -- especially -- prestine, is something I would dearly like to know. Perhaps the Director General who wrote this priceless letter could enlighten me, but alas, he no longer holds that position. The Pakistan National Council of the Arts was founded to promote the Arts in the country, but I had no idea that this worthy organization regarded itself to be the proctorate of Arts and Culture. A proctorate is either a state or a territory controlled or protected by another state, or the period of administration of a protector (like England under Cromwell); it can hardly be understood to be the office of an organization that is supposed to look after the affairs of the Arts. But I could be wrong. Perhaps the PNCA does consider itself to be the suzerain and the arts its vassal. Be that as it may, who or what are the 'meacenas?' The word is not listed in any of the four large dictionaries that I own. Perhaps it is a symbol known only to those who 'fond Qawwali.' The centre page of the brochure which gives a resume of the maestros' various performances begins with a revelatory sentence: "Muhammad Zamman Zaki Taji is a bonafide singer..." It is clear that the producers of this 'literature' have, only published pamphlets about stock-market brokers or fur traders who needed to establish their authentic credentials. Perhaps this is why they thought it necessary to state that the master of the art of Qawwali (whose ancestors have been engaged in the practice of this art for centuries) was a bonafide singer, and not a fraud. It is a master stroke, nevertheless. The next two pages record where and when the qawwals were crowned: "Mr Waswardi presented him a crown during..." "Mr Tariq Mehmood presented him a crown at the... We are also informed that Mian Shafiuzzaman Khansab, son of Mr. Badizaman Khansab was a great vocalist of his time and they all got big names in Indo-Pak classical music." It is understandable that our performances (be they musicians, dancers, actors or vaudeville) wish to mark their achievements by bringing out a brochure in English. They feel that this would enhance their prestige. "Mera record English mein hai," I have heard many of them say. The late Majid Ali, a great wit (who was Majid Bhai to people of my generation) used to say "Bohat acha pakaya app ne -- bilkul English mein hai" ( you have cooked it very well; it is in English). He, of course spoofed the old adage popular amongst urban, middle class Muslims in early 20th century, that anything certified by 'English' was the hallmark of excellence. I have no objection to an English pamphlet extolling the work of a performer; I only wish that the performer could seek advice from someone who would make sure that he is not described as a 'prestine and wanning' actor, dancer, singer or whatever. I don't know why I am saying this. If my advice were to be heeded I would be deprived of my ready-made trivia.
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Bhar Asmaan' and earned the reputation of a master story-teller with his
maiden organised attempt. It was a time when the literary scenario of the
subcontinent was dominated by the 'Rawalpindi School' of fiction writers
including Mansha Yad, Rasheed Amjad, Ahmad Javed, Ahmad Dawood, Khalida
Hussain and a few others. All these writers generated powerful waves with
their sustained performance and activism in the field of criticism. Asad
Mohammad Khan owing to his uniquely captivating stories like Basooday ke
Marium, Maee Dada and Trilochan was almost immediately placed among the
ranks.
and witty remarks surfacing throughout. He is an intellectual who looks for
the prevalence of truth and justice in our uneven exploitative social
settings where there is no end to sufferings. He is painfully conscious of
the disheartening prolonged phase of transition, directionlessness and
confusion in our socio-political advances. Moreover, he is critical of the
forces enslaving the nations and people denouncing all such exploits.
read, and the response was a startlingly dismal one. Of about sixty-something
girls, only a handful read anything that wasn't a magazine; the rest didn't
even bother with Archie comics. I confess I almost expected this; with the
immediate gratification television and film provides, people's stamina to see
a novel through to the end is waning at incredible speed -- hence the immense
popularity of rubbish thrillers a la Dan Brown or soppy New Age feel-good
Paulo Coelho paperbacks.