Despite being a staunch communist, Sajjad Zaheer never quite succeeded in his mission to make Pakistan tread on the path of social justice
ONE fine morning, soon after the creation of Pakistan, a middle-aged, bearded gentleman was seen walking along the Bunder Road (now the M.A Jinnah Road) in Karachi. Suddenly, he saw another middle-aged, bearded gentleman, walking along on the other side of the road. He instantly recognized him. It was his buddy from Bombay (now Mumbai).
Delighted to find an old friend in a new country, the first bearded fellow tried to utter his friend’s name, but didn’t. He trudged away silently with droopy shoulders. The reason he did not call out his friend’s name was the fear that the latter — poet, Maulana Mahirul Qadri — would also recognize the former and reveal his identity, which would alert all sleuths of the then regime. Here, enough of the suspense, I’m referring to Syed Sajjad Zaheer.
Syed Sajjad Zaheer, a highly educated and cultured gentleman from Lucknow, a prominent member of the Communist Party of India, had recently come to Pakistan with a mission.
In the wake of the Holocaust, the world was changing at a brisk pace. On the global chessboard, old pieces were disappearing and new pieces were appearing to play different, enigmatic roles. France and Britain were finding themselves in reduced circumstances and two upstarts, the US and the USSR, had assumed the role of the new ‘superior powers’.
India had just gained its independence and two new states, Pakistan and Israel had also come into being. America, flaunting its might and wealth all around, was in no hurry to woo the newcomers; but the Soviet Union was a country with an ideology and a mission. And the mission was to check the capitalist-imperialist domination in the eastern and western parts of the world, liberate the proletariat and make the world a happier place. Having failed in its bid to secure Iran, Greece and Turkey and finding Tito of Yugoslavia too unruly, the Soviet Union welcomed the emergence of Israel and Pakistan, and took up the task of luring these fledgling nations into the socialist camp.
Here one would like to mention the intriguing similarity between the grand mission of Sajjad Zaheer and the assignment of English author (and secret agent) Somerset Maugham who, 30 years ago, was dispatched to Russia to checkmate the German-backed Bolsheviks and keep the pro-British Kerensky in power. And Sajjad Zaheer must have felt thrilled like a Communard on the barricades, hopeful of accomplishing much with the help of such brilliant friends and associates like Mian Iftikharuddin, Faiz, Safdar Meer, Sibte Hasan, Abdullah Malik, Hameed Akhtar, Zaheer Kashmiri, Ibrahim, Mansour etc.
The founder of the new country, the Quaid-i-Azam, wanted Pakistan to be a liberal and enlightened nation, serving as a model for the struggling countries of Asia and Africa. He expected Pakistan’s social leaders, educationists, journalists, writers and poets to play their sorely needed nation-building roles.
As a man of letters, Sajjad Zaheer was blessed with a an impressive personality. Spearheading the cultural avant-garde in the ‘30s, he had made a remarkable contribution to modernizing, liberalizing and revolutionizing Urdu literature, by publishing a book Angarey (embers) — a collection of short stories penned by audacious authors — that shook the establishment. Besides, he had also founded Urdu’s the Progressive Writers Association (PWA) to represent the new breed of writers. Quite familiar with the social and cultural traditions of the eastern part of the world, Sajjad Zaheer was equally at ease when it came to issues related to the Western society and personally knew many of the English, French and Russian literary luminaries. Therefore, Sajjad Zaheer was a very appropriate person to play an uplifting role in the life of the new nation, long suffering under the influence of a feudal cum tribal establishment.
The sad fact, however, was that the decision-makers of the new country were not ready at all to promote liberal democracy. As an indicator to the grim future, came the arrest and banishment of a popular romantic poet, Sahir Ludhianvi. He was being punished for writing a protest poem. Moreover, as far as the progressive movement led by Sajjad Zaheer was concerned, signs were not encouraging either. Bombay’s Khetwari Main Road building hall, where the PWA’s weekly literary meetings were held, was adorned with the portrait of comrade Joseph Stalin. He was a ruthless autocrat of the Soviet Union, a cold-blooded liquidator of thousands of peasants in the name of collectivization and an uncompromising believer in the dictatorship of the proletariat. Such a heartless tyrant was the idol of progressive poets who used to write poems in his praise. Kaifi Aazmi, in a rush of blood, once defied Stalin as the new Sun-god.
Sajjad Zaheer had naively come to Pakistan as cultural commissar of a global order that was bent on promoting such a harsh and impractical system.
But those were difficult times for the Leftists. Russia’s recent victory over Hitter’s Germany had given them fond hopes. Then in 1949 communists triumphed in the world’s most populous country, China. This came as a blow to the easy-going United States. The dreaded Smith Act began to be used against the suspected communists. “Something must be done immediately to halt the new Yellow Peril,” president Truman must have soliloquized, “else the whole of Asia would become red.” From now on America’s attention was focused an Pakistan and a search for useful personalities had begun. Suharwardy and Daultana were considered ineffectual and a bit unreliable. How about Maulana Maududi and his followers? The state department smirked with satisfaction and decided to lend its support to this ultra-rightist group that was always bound to oppose the ‘godless’ commics. With Banney bhai in one corner and Abul Aala in the other, Pakistan had suddenly become a country that both the US and the USSR were interested in.
Ilya Ehrenberg, the noted Russian novelist and propagandist, had toured many countries to get support for the Soviet cause. Time had now arrived for him to pay a visit to the new southern neighbour, but instead, on Sajjad Zaheer’s sound advice, Mirza Tirsoon Zadeh, the energetic Persian writer, was chosen to lead a Soviet cultural delegation that triumphantly toured Pakistan. All Leftists felt exhilarated and very hopeful. They thought that time was propitious for storming the ‘Bastille’ of reaction, and the auroral shelling of the ‘Winter Palace’ of aristocratic authority to pull the new nation out of its feudal and colonial rut. And in this crusade, writers and poets were expected to play a vital role.
At this juncture, Sajjad Zaheer and his colleagues committed a terrible mistake. They let the PWA become the literary shadow of the Communist Party. The Soviet Union was demanding complete obedience of the parties of all nations, yet Palmiro Togliatti of Italy, Marshall Tito of Yugoslavia and the Chinese had managed to maintain their distance. But, sadly enough, and to the detriment of Pakistani literature and the progressive movement, Sajjad Zaheer, succumbing to the pressure of zealous proteges, opted to act in the style of his friend, Jacques Duclos of France, who bad very slavishly followed Russian directives. Many eminent, but self-respecting authors — Manto, Askari, Meerza Adeeb etc — were fatuously expelled from the association, because they were no longer in a mood to accept the ‘dictatorship of the commissariats’ in literary matters. Sajjad Zaheer should rather have encouraged the PAW to follow, in essence, the open and permissive pattern set by Meerajee’s Halqa-i-Arbab-i-Zoq and Niazmandan-i-Lahore, a liberal and cosmopolitan cultural circle launched by such acclaimed men of letters as Dr Taster, Patras Bukhari, Salik, Taj, Sufi Tabassum, Hari Chand Akhtar and Hafeez, and not allowed the PWA to be transformed into a communist study circle or the John Reed Club. One wonders why such learned and discerning persons as Sajjad Zaheer and Faiz Ahmed Faiz failed to take into account the social and economic realities of the new country, the history and ethos of the nation, and permitted themselves to be to duped. The outcome emerged in the form of defeat, not only of the progressives, but also of all liberal and democratic groups.
Today’s Pakistan is certainly more intolerant and fragmented than it was in 1947. So, what has been the progressives’ contribution to the noble task of Athenizing the Sparta of our grim society? In much the same way as Allama Iqbal’s poetry is used by our media tsars, ghazals of Faiz and Faraz accompanied by light music take us somewhere else, not where they intended their poetry to lead. Thus, after Iqbal, leading progressive and revolutionary poets have also been rendered utterly ineffectual by the hearty embrace of the all-powerful establishment. “Remember, even your socialists are feudal and your progressives reactionaries,” opined Akhtarul Iman, the noted Indian poet, 25 years age. And that’s quite true.
What was (and is) the biggest problem of Pakistan? In one sentence: social injustice emanating from obscurantism that has enabled the feudal lords, tribal heads and spiritual chieftains to control the lives of the people and mercilessly exploit them in the name of religion and national traditions.
Who was the most enlightened, liberal and progressive leader of Pakistan? Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the one leader who firmly believed in equal opportunity for all citizens, including women. This is the crux or the matter.
Despite being a staunch communist, Sajjad Zaheer never quite succeeded in his mission to make Pakistan tread on the path of social justice 
