THE debate over the literary status of interviews is very much alive, with equally forceful arguments available on either side. As an aside to the main fare, there is the issue of an interview’s lifespan in terms of its relevance among the wider audience, which is but a key characteristic of any mass communication platform. Add to the mix the element of interviews done for television, and the debate gets another twist. The book in hand stutters on all three counts, but just. Largely it comes through unscathed.

Who Am I? is a transcription of interviews done by the author, Moneeza Hashmi, for Pakistan television mostly in the late 1990s; the latest one dates back at least a decade. It will be an understatement to say that a lot has changed in the intervening period. The fact is that things have changed inside out and upside down. However, Hashmi is not oblivious to the issue of relevance. In her remarks at the end of the book, ‘Off the Record,’ she writes: “For some this might appear as a ‘dated’ document as many of these amazing women have since moved on to their eternal abodes, leaving me (and you) with only their memories and their words to remember them by.” These include such names as Benazir Bhutto, Malika Pukhraj, Dr Fatima Shah, Lady Viqarunnisa Noon, Zari Sarfaraz and Swaran Lata.

But ‘dated’ though they may sound at times, the interviews do serve a significant purpose which is only possible with hindsight. They put into perspective quite a few things. For instance, recalling her crusade against leprosy in Pakistan, the revered Dr Ruth Pfau is seen pointing out the blanket denial that she came across in official circles when she landed here from Germany all those years ago. “We don’t have leprosy in Pakistan,” she was repeatedly told by officials when she went to seek their help. The episode simply underlines the timelessness of the ostrich approach in government circles.

Likewise, when one sees Benazir talking about having a plan to eliminate load-shedding and power shutdowns, and to “eradicate polio in five years from Pakistan,” there is bound to emerge an instant wry smile. A shade less than two decades have lapsed since the former prime minister spoke those words — February 1995, to be precise — and what the country has done on these two counts is all too obvious and, indeed, too shameful to even deserve a mention.

In another context, the interviews provide readers a chance to taste varied opinions about generalised notions and concepts. Such as, what is creativity and the creative process. “Creativity for me has always been a passion to explore,” says Hashmi in her introduction to one of the transcriptions in the book. “I have spent time with several creative geniuses and queried them about the creative ‘muse’.” She goes on to explain the variety of answers she received and the thread — “the inner voice” — that was common to all of them.

With 20 women featuring in the compilation, it is only inevitable that the word feminism would come up at least a few times. “A very important lesson” in this regard came from Bano Qudsia which the interviewer “still remembers” after all these years. “I asked her to participate in another talk show to be show in a transmission specifically meant for women audience. She regretted saying, ‘Main zananay dabbay main nahin baithoon gi’ (I won’t sit in the female compartment).”

In a nutshell, the interviews have enough substance not to make the readers feel like they are wasting time with ‘dated’ stuff. As for the nature of the interviews, having been done for television, they could well have been ‘dry’ transcriptions, but they aren’t. The introduction to each interview is lucid and the short updated biographies at the end of the book of all the people interviewed have given it a wholesome feel.

If anything, the text would remind the reader of the ‘good old days’ when an interviewer was just that: an interviewer. In today’s rather crazy media scene, the interviewer tries to behave like a celebrity, trying hard to one up the guest with long-winded questions, frequent interruptions, and a rude and overbearing attitude … all in an attempt to ‘trip’ the guest and earn self-glorification. None of this in the compilation in hand. The questions are brief and to the point and there is no agenda except to let the guests speak their mind. Finally, the literary status of the interviews is not an issue for the book has not once tried to claim that for itself. It’s a decent, light-hearted, bedside read.

Having survived scrutiny on the more vital counts, it’s a pity that the book falls flat on its face on the editing table. It’s literally littered with typos which is seriously irritating page after page. Besides, at one point (p173) it awards the Nishan-i-Haider — a known honour for military achievement on a battlefield — to Viqarunnisa Noon. Some 50 pages later, in the section of biographies, it credits her with “Pakistan’s highest civilian honour, the Nishan-i-Imtiaz.”

And, finally, the way the questions and answers have been framed, the author’s name has appeared well over 200 times in a book that has as many pages. Such minor irritations never leave the reader to fully enjoy the book. What a pity.

The reviewer is a *Dawn staffer*

Who Am I?

(Interviews)

By Moneeza Hashmi

Sang-e-Meel Publications, Lahore.

ISBN 969-35-2697-X

224pp.