CAN an account, half-factual and half-fictional, be considered a novel? I feel compelled to ask this question after reading what Ahmad Bashir has presented to us in the name of a novel titled, Dil Bhatkai Ga.
Ahmad Bashir has in his preface confessed that at the time of writing this book he did not know the method of writing a novel, and that he has read very little fiction. “I enjoy the reputation of a notorious journalist, but I am unacquainted with fiction writing.” Unfortunately, the little fiction he has read includes Mumtaz Mufti’s stupendous novel Alipur ka Aili.
In fact, there was for him no escape from this novel. Though a leftist, he has been, from the beginning, very much under the influence of Mumtaz Mufti. And the Mufti is among those writers who rightly as wrongly had been labelled by the then progressives as reactionaries. But here, I am neither concerned with the leftism of Ahmad Bashir nor with the reactionary behaviour of Mumtaz Mufti. Here, I am strictly concerned with the novel, if it is a novel. The pernicious shadow of Alipur ka Aili hovers over it.
There is no harm in being autobiographical for a novelist. Philosophy, political ideology, religious belief, autobiography — anything can inspire a novelist and can seek a place in the novel. The only condition is that it should obey the laws of fiction. The trouble arises when it refuses to obey these laws and so, is adamant to dissolve in the scheme of the novel. Ahmad Bashir’s novel suffers from this trouble.
Ahmad Bashir has an ambitious plan in view which is that all that he has seen and experienced in his personal life and all that he has witnessed happening on the national and international level in his times should form part of the novel. It begins in a normal fictional way. We feel that we are reading a novel. But soon the trouble begins. Events, particularly those happening on a national level, refuse to undergo the fictional process.
The egotistic personality of the author, too, begins asserting itself and turns into an irritant. The result is that the novel is soon pushed aside. Soon the central character Jamal discloses his identity as Ahmad Bashir and begins narrating what he has seen and experienced in a direct way. And as his friends know well, Ahmad Bashir knows no humility. So this narration appears spiced with personal assertions.
The moment I realized that I was reading a plain and simple autobiography divested of the fig-leaf of the novel, my involvement with the book grew. Ahmad Bashir has, after all, led a life full of experiences. And he has the courage to say all that he has experienced. He has a terse style and a bold way of saying things. With these qualities, he fascinates his readers.
Seen in the background of this boldness on his part, I can hardly reconcile with his poor attempts to hide the identity of men whom he is trying to expose. For instance, while talking of his days in the Imroze, he doesn’t feel the necessity to hide the identity of Maulana Chiragh Hasan Hasrat. He describes the man in plain words as he found him. He admires him and yet boldly points out his weaknesses. Then why should he try to hide the identity of Ayub Kirmani by calling him Mahboob Hydrabadi? He tries to expose him as a party member and as an assistant editor of the Imroze, but at the same time takes care to give him a factitious name. In the case of Syed Sajjad Zaheer, too, he dare not call him by his real name while castigating him for his political conduct. In this account, he is simply Syed Sahib. It has been left for you to guess who this Syed is.
In the realm of national affairs, he appears to have some precious information in respect of some personalities and events. For instance, we hear from him for the first time Maulana Hasrat Mohani’s adverse comments on the Objectives Resolution. While on a visit to Pakistan, the Maulana had stayed in Lahore with Mian Iftikharuddin. Ahmad Bashir was deputed on behalf of his paper to attend on him. On that occasion, he saw the Maulana making adverse comments on the resolution. At this, he expressed his wonder that Maulana was opposed to the Resolution in spite of the fact that it endorsed God’s sovereignty over Pakistan.
The Maulana, as reported by Ahmad Bashir, replied, “The slogan of La Hakm-au-Illha was first coined by the Khwarij. They had not believe in any kind of state structure. They had coined this slogan just to save their status as sardars.” And he adds: “Do you know the comment made by Hazrat Ali? He said that this is a great truth, haq, which is being made to serve the cause of batil.” And he, as reported by Ahmad Bashir, further added: “Liaquat Ali Khan intends to rule Pakistan with the help of the landlords and the Maulvis.”
On other national issues, too, he offers this kind of rare information.
Novel or no novel, the book is excellent. For the benefit of those who insist on form, I may say that it is an odd mixture of the novel and the autobiography. What is important is the fact that this odd mixture reads well. The book has been published by Ferozsons.
CAN an account, half-factual and half-fictional, be considered a novel? I feel compelled to ask this question after reading what Ahmad Bashir has presented to us in the name of a novel titled, Dil Bhatkai Ga.
