AS we talk of South Asia, we find ourselves confronted with a medley of cultures, languages, religions and races. Can we dig out from this medley something common, which may be defined as South Asian? I don’t know. But the people attending the SAARC Writers’ Conference seem bent upon digging out of this medley a common South-Asian literary tradition.
In their exuberance for this mission, they will be seen calling the seven SAARC countries as ‘seven sisters’ belonging to one and the same family. Ajeet Cour, the founder-chairperson of the organization, insists: “There are more areas of convergence in the writings of the seven sisters of the region than divergence that may be visible at the surface level.” And Ashok Vajpeyi, the distinguished Indian poet, is convinced that these seven sisters “share, shape and participate in a common civilizational enterprise.” And “they also share languages, lifestyles, religions, cuisines, costumes and customs, world views and a core of values which govern social structures, intellectual pursuits and art practices.”
However, with so much common among themselves, the seven sisters sitting in the paradise island of Maldives were obliged to exchange views in a non-SAARC language — English. Those who ventured to recite their poems in their original language found to their disappointment that their worlds have fallen on deaf ears. Soon, they reverted to English, though Ahmad Faraz went on, insisting that poetry is something untranslatable. And yet, the cultural bond among the seven sisters is very much there, providing for them enough reason to meet in an island far from Delhi and Islamabad. No doubt, it was an ideal place to meet for poets and storywriters who talk of love, peace and amity. Surrounded by the sea, the place breathes in an atmosphere free of violence, strife and hatred, maladies which vitiate the atmosphere of most of the SAARC countries.
The only crowd other than the SAARC writers was of the tourists, who, coming from western countries, had brought with them a culture very different from that of the Asians. Imagine female tourists clad in their bathing suits gaily walking in the corridors and the lounge. What a contrast to the female SAARC writers wrapped carefully in their saris and shalwar qameez. And yet, there appeared to be no clash of civilizations, notwithstanding the fact that Maldives is an Islamic state and has imposed a ban on liquor. Maldives seem to believe in the Persian dictum Isa baden-al-khud, Musa badeen-al-khud (Let each one follow the faith he believes in).
So, the writers gathered together in the resort surrounded firstly by the sea and secondly by the tourists. The participants from Pakistan were Ahmad Faraz, Mohsin Ehsan, Munoo Bhai, Samina Raja and myself. Recital of poems and stories was a tiny part of the programme. The writers felt more concerned with what is happening in the world. In fact, a writers’ conference is very different from a literary function. A writer participating in it is expected to be more than a mere poet or a storywriter. To be more precise, he is expected to be a bit of a politician. After all, the conference has to pass a resolution and issue a declaration on matters other than literary. This provides an opportunity to ambitious souls from among non-writers to sneak in and reach the rostrum.
Here in this august gathering of writers, we were subjected to listen to a speaker who took pride in saying that he was not a writer. He impressed upon the writers that for a writer to be merely a writer is not enough. Anybody, he said, can do the job of writing. So, a writer should be more than a writer. Being a man from UNESCO, he imagined himself a superior being and assured the SAARC writers that he will carry their message around the world. At this, Munno Bhai chimed in: “How will you carry the message around the world. Are you BBC or CNN?” The gentleman ignored the remark and tried to guide those drafting the resolutions and declaration in his own UNESCO-ian way. Frankly speaking, I will weight more the two volumes of poetry and fiction brought out on this occasion than the speeches delivered and the resolutions passed in the conference. Of the two volumes, one is an anthology of SAARC poetry titled Beyond Borders, edited by Ashok Vajpeyi. The other is an anthology of SAARC fiction titled Voices of Asia, edited by Ajeet Cour and Pankaj Bhan.
These pieces of fiction and poetry, originally written in the languages of the countries of their origin, have been presented in English translations. They offer a rich variety of fiction and poetry, each carrying the flavour of the culture which has nourished it. All the three editors seem very keen to show that there exists a strong cultural link among the seven sovereign states of South Asia. “Socially and culturally,” says Pankaj Bhan, “these countries share a common history and civilization, common faiths and religions, common languages and dialects and a common substratum of social and cultural traditions.”
Ashok Vajpeyi, while granting different profiles, predictions and concerns, insists: “They are seven members of a family, a family which accommodates them, allows them to grown on their chosen paths, nurtures their individual characters, promotes their distinctiveness and yet ensures vibrant and luminous cultural space in which they are in dialogue, interaction and mutual search with each other.”
AS we talk of South Asia, we find ourselves confronted with a medley of cultures, languages, religions and races. Can we dig out from this medley something common, which may be defined as South Asian? I don’t know. But the people attending the SAARC Writers’ Conference seem bent upon digging out of this medley a common South-Asian literary tradition.
