October 20, 2003	Monday	Sha'aban 23, 1424

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ISLAMABAD, Oct 19: That literature cuts across divided souls much more effectively than politics was obvious from the introductory session of “the dialogue of Pakistan-India writers.”

The conference was not just another peace junket. This show, organized by Hawwa Foundation and ActionAid with the title “Pen and Peace” on Sunday was different. It was different because of, for a start, its relaxed ambience. The best of the South Asian subcontinent’s literary ‘glitterati,’ for instance, were found eating Kishwar Nahid’s home-cooked ‘karhi-chawal,’ smuggled illegally into the five-star hotel they were staying in. It was different because it had a soul. It had symbols, images, ideas and, most important, words. The words that change history. There was almost a consensus that these qallam-ghissaos (pen-pushers) by Manoher Sham Joshi, have a lead role in getting Pakistan and India out from this pit of hatred. Many a time in history, as Munoo Bhai pointed out, a story, a poem or an image changed history. Like the photographs of Vietnam ignited the campaign against war in the United States.

Zohra Nigah endorsed this view by quoting two couplets that had stopped bloodshed in history. One was by poet Haafiz that stopped Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb from executing all prostitutes and another by an unknown poet that deterred King Nadir Shah to halt the carnage of Delhi. The four hours of nonstop programme ‘see-sawed’ between tears and laughter: intermittently crying over the tragedy of the Partition and then laughing over its comical eccentricities. As Munoo Bhai says that, firstly, we need to normalize the environment by laughing things away and then cry over what we plan to do with each other.

There was an abundance of simultaneous tragedy and comedy. The tone was set by Agha Nasir’s dramatic introduction, and melodiously sung by Ms Afshaan, through Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s dedication of Aaj kay naam, Aaj kay gham kay naam. From there on it was music all the way.

Poet Taran Kaur Gujral, who was born in Gujar Khan, said she could not tell the story of “my 65 years” in just two minutes. But when she sung her appeal to “Rabb ji” it seemed to span over two centuries. Her heart piercing voice had even Zohra Nigah, herself a big name in musical recitation, impressed. The pathos in Fehmida Riaz’s poem Third Way, a much better expression for drab terms like Track-III, was touching.

On the comical side, Lahore-born Ajeet Kaur almost matched Mushtaq Yousafi in her verbal exchange. She said she would not miss the opportunity of “japhi” (hugging) Mr Yousafi while presenting him a shawl. She was constantly taking digs at Indian Prime Minister and High Commissioner in Islamabad. Every now and then she would remind an Indian diplomat to take notes so that she could be booked under the dreaded POTA law on return. “I have been warned not to talk against Vajpayee, so forward I shall use the term hukumraan (rulers),” she said in her hilarious style. But let me tell you that the real hukumraans are not Vajpayee and Musharraf but Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Noam Chomsky or Edward Said.”

Mushtaq Yousafi got even later when he said Ajeet would not miss a “japhi” even with a lion. He was unforgiving towards chief organizer Kishwar Nahid, who, in his words, “embodied all the evil that men represent” and “could make men do things that women do and vice versa.”

His essay was quintessential ‘Yousafian.’ There could not have been a more tragic piece written in such comical style. He had the audience rolling, either from cramps caused by his humour or from the melancholy state of affairs that he wove with his words. Though the Pakistani literati were represented by luminaries like Intezaar Hussain, Iftikhar Arif, Javed Shaheen, Khalid Hassan, the Indian delegation was equally star-studded. One simply had to see the list of their literary works.

Dr Jagtar Singh, for instance, has his doctorate on Pakistani poetry. He has translated Iqbal, Faiz, Abdullah Hussain and Qurratul Ain Haider in Punjabi. He is also the author of a dictionary, the first of its kind that translates words from 80 Arabian, Turkish, Persian and Urdu classic tales. When asked to speak in Punjabi, he said it was the first time that he had the chance to speak his language ever since he entered Wagah. “But let me tell you Islamabad is beautiful, even more than Chandigarh,” he said in a lighter vein.

Also part of the Indian delegation is Indira Goswami, a winner of the prestigious Gayanvi Award. She hailed from Assam and her doctorate is in Comparative Ramayan that shows the Assamese interpretation where Lord Ram is not divine but a mortal king. Another academic, Dr Saeeda Hameed has translated Haali into English.

Manohar Sham Joshi is more known for his famous serial Bunyad on the Partition. “I’ve been a “leftist but thank god I don’t write like them,” he took a dig at progressive writers, who, in his views, “are stuck with Prem Chand.” Jilani Bano, who belongs to the second generation of writers in the line of Qurratul Ain Haider, is relatively known in Pakistan.

The striking thing about them was the odd collage that they presented. Mushtaq Yousafi, quoting American humourist Sinclair Lewis, said they were “funnier to look at than to read.” But, on a serious note they were so different and yet so similar. The Hindi that some of them spoke was simple incomprehensible to us. It was obvious that now, except for critics like Gopi Chand Narang or Dr Jagtar, it has become the language of Muslims in India. And yet they looked like one of ‘us.’ This was despite official propaganda on both sides. The tension caused by such functions could be visibly seen in the shape of overwhelming presence of what we call the ‘agencies.’ An organiser said Zubeda Jalal had been advised to stay away by none other than a leading poet bureaucrat.

But this did not seem to matter at all. As Mushtaq Yousafi concluded by quoting Unesco charter: “As war begins in the minds of men so it is imperative that peace be also constructed in the minds. He laced it with Mir’s famous couplet asking the poet to break his silence for at stake is now life itself (Shaair ho na chupp raho, abb chupp may jaan jaati hai).