Cretivity, especially of the literary variety, is not something one generally associates with bureaucrats. They are known more for their stiff necks and a ‘we-know-all’ attitude that together keeps them away from the everyday reality of life lived by lesser mortals.

The more senior a bureaucrat gets in the hierarchy, the more distant he becomes with the issues and emotions, and the highs and lows that characterise the existence of the common person. Frankly speaking, this is not a mere stereotype; it is the way it is.

Even in retirement, they masquerade as intellectuals, writing newspaper articles in which they discuss problems that they themselves were part of, and suggest remedies and solutions that they never implemented when they were themselves in a position to do so. With the advent of the electronic era in the life of national media, the opportunities for such analysts and experts are truly endless.

It is more so for the retired ambassadors because talk shows on foreign policy are a fad that no television channel worth its name can dare to ignore. This, again, is not a stereotype.

Exceptions to the rule, however, are always there and Karamat Ghori is one of them. Having spent a life in the national diplomatic corps during which he represented Pakistan as ambassador to various destinations, his short stories suggest he was never a bureaucrat at heart.

The 16 short stories that are part of the collection are actually vignettes of human life as it is lived across the planet. These contain no ‘let-me-tell-you’ sermons and no ‘I-told-you lectures’; just stories of individuals that have been told with literary finesse in a flowing diction.

These are stories where the backdrop keeps changing from Baghdad to Bosnia, from Frankfurt and London to New York and Toronto, and from Istanbul and Dubai to various locales in Pakistan.

Ghori clearly picked up the plots of these stories during his various postings which means he was alive as a writer even when he happened to be with the Pakistan Foreign Service.

‘Even when I was part of the establishment, I was a rebel [and] paid a price for being so. The literary circles kept me at a distance because they considered me a bureaucrat, and the demigods of bureaucracy never allowed me access to the mysterious insides because to them I was more of a non-bureaucrat,’ he writes at the very outset.
This reminds one of a couplet by Murtaza Barlas, who also experienced a similar situation.

Said Barlas:Dostoun kay halqay mein hum who kaj-maqaddar hain Afsaroon mein shaa’ir hain; shaa’iro’n mein afsar hain (In the circle of friends, I am the ill-fated outsider, being a poet among officers and an officer among poets.)
However, even without having access to the ‘mysterious’ inner cores and despite being the ‘ill-fated outsider’, both Ghori and Barlas grew in their respective services of choice which is as much a reflection on their talent and potential as it is on the level of professionalism — at least some semblance of it — within the bureaucracy.

In the case of Ghori, his postings abroad, came handy for the writer in him to observe firsthand life in its many forms. This he has acknowledged in as many words, saying: ‘The globe-trotting that was part of my life in diplomacy has given my stories the massive canvas that is generally beyond the reach of most writers.’

Having the canvas, however, is only part of a writer’s life. To personally feel the emotions of others without actually going through their experiences and then to be able to portray them with life and verve within the literary confines are skills without which literature cannot be produced.

While employing various techniques — narrative, descriptive, flashback, dialogue, even emails — to convey the essence of a theme properly, the author has made a conscious effort never to be abstract in his approach. This has enabled his stories to communicate directly with the reader and to take him along page after page.

While the broad canvas has given him the opportunity to portray varying colours which gives his stories a touch of modernity as far as subjects are concerned — geopolitics, identity crisis that bothers the expatriate community on foreign shores, terrorism, Pakistani politics, divine justice and so on — but his expression never leaves touch with the classical tradition when it comes to choice of words and metaphors.

Seen in the context of what is being churned out these days in the name of modern fiction-writing techniques on the pretext of dealing with modern subjects, Karamat Ghori’s decision to stick to the traditional mould is refreshing.
He is Urdu literature’s characteristic storyteller for whom communication with the reader takes precedence over everything else.