THESE days, our literary world seems to be no different from the other spheres of life. Only a few writers appear to have the seriousness and devotion that are vital to literary pursuits. That is why so many of them are seen dabbling in affairs that are more personal and parochial than literary.
In recent years, a number of writers have launched tirades against one another. This gave rise to pamphleteering. Some people who relied on their research ability wrote books in which they tried to prove that their rivals were plagiarists. Ironically, they fared better in this than their scholarly works.
Pamphleteering soon degenerated into anonymous letter writing where slanders would go unchecked. The slanderers felt free to be as abusive as they could.
In the past we used to have literary controversies that would be about a clash of two different points of view regarding literature. Here there are no such pretensions; personal motives are at work. The attackers find anonymous letters as suitable means of giving vent to their malice against certain people.
One such letter, in the recent past, targeted Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi, who in his capacity as director of the Majlis-i-Taraqqi-i-Adab was at the time engaged in a fight with the department dealing with the Majlis. He tendered his resignation in protest, which was accepted by the department. He had the sympathy of writers and journalists in his struggle, and they launched a campaign demanding that he should return to his post. The anonymous enemy chose that moment to bring out a charge-sheet against Qasmi enclosed in a letter. But the letter failed to achieve its goal. As a result, and because of the campaign in his favour, Qasmi returned victorious to his office. But what happened next was something quite unfortunate.
Qasmi Sahib returned to his office in a vindictive mood. In his eyes, culprit number one was, of course, Enver Sadid, who had been writing all sort of things about him. And for some reason Enver Sadid found an entry into the newly-constituted governing council of the Majlis. It was something that annoyed Qasmi. But no damage was done to Enver Sadid and he stood unharmed with his place intact on the governing council. So the culprit next to him had to bear the brunt of Qasmi’s anger. This was none other than Yunus Javaid, who, being next in position to Qasmi Sahib in the Majlis, had taken temporary charge of the post when the latter relinquished control of his office. Immediately after his return, Qasmi Sahib issued orders for Yunus Javaid’s dismissal.
This incident made numerous people in the literary world sympathetic to Yunus Javaid, and now these sympathizers are in a mood to censure even those who had raised their voice in favour of Qasmi, including this writer. Last week I had to face an angry mob of such sympathizers at the Tea House.
A young man hurled a question at me: “Don’t you think Yunus Javaid is a writer?”
“How can you deny it?” another young man chimed in. “Recently when his research work on Halqa-i-Arbab-i-Zauq was published, you were all praise for it.”
“I still am,” I said, “And not for this work alone. He also deserves our praise for his research and compilation of Nasikh.”
“Then he should also deserve your sympathy for being ousted so unceremoniously from the Majlis”.
“Of course.”
My praise for Yunus Javaid’s research work helped me to pacify the angry crowd. However, my compliments were not just meant to cool them down. I genuinely feel that because of his seniority in the Majlis and his valuable research work, he deserves a treatment better than what has been meted out to him.
Having said that, there’s something more that I must mention. In this entire saga, the one thing that really needs our attention and sympathies, more than Qasmi and Yunus Javaid, is the poor Majlis-i-Taraqqi-i-Adab. We seem to have reserved all our sympathies for individuals, and not for the institution.
There was a time when the Majlis was one of the main institutions that promoted literature in the country. Syed Imtiaz Ali Taj, who was the architect of this body, made painstaking efforts to conserve Urdu classics, poetry, daastan and drama. Even after his death the Majlis maintained its tempo. But as time passed by, it started to lose its charm. And these days, it is in tatters.
Now that Qasmi Sahib has come back with the good wishes of the literary world and with the support of prominent journalists, he should feel strong enough to chalk out some concrete programme to revive the Majlis. He is expected to come up with a plan pretty soon; and if he finds any impediments in his way, he should take the literary world, scholars, and journalists into confidence and explain to them the nature of his job and the Majlis’s importance.
THESE days, our literary world seems to be no different from the other spheres of life. Only a few writers appear to have the seriousness and devotion that are vital to literary pursuits. That is why so many of them are seen dabbling in affairs that are more personal and parochial than literary.
