In this age of sadness, what makes me happy is reading those who are younger than me. Not just younger, more talented, more astute. Perhaps, it may be explained as a measure of the socio-biological instinct in an artist, when an artist is simply committed to the procreation and promotion of art in times that are not enabling and encouraging for any form of art and literature.

Those younger than me whose work fascinates me these days include Syed Kashif Raza and Fatima Mehru in poetry, Rafaqat Hayat and Mudassar Bashir in fiction, Irfan Javed and Mehmood-ul-Hasan in non-fiction and, again, Syed Kashif Raza and Fazal Baloch in translations.

Unlike many others who are ‘writing beyond means’, these people read more and write less. They read, imbibe, reflect and apply themselves. And, it shows in what they produce. Both their original writings and translations are laced with the understanding of nuance, metaphor, similes and inventiveness. They are abreast of what is happening in global literature.

Mehru is a poet who offers a distinct charm and sensibility. Besides, she combines the feminine sensibility with feminist undertones. This rarely happened among her predecessors. Hayat has found himself a grip over narrating fiction with ease. The casts he creates to mould his tales to engage readers are near-perfect.

Bashir knows that he is not a sprinter but a marathon-runner. He is prolific and, sometimes, when I read his nonfiction, it seems to me that he is in a hurry. But when I pick up his fiction, it is calm, engrossing and insightful. His latest novel, Goyel, in Punjabi is no less than a treat for a serious reader of fiction.

Javed’s pen portraits of people he came across and found interesting are a class apart. His fiction has definite merit as well. Hasan is a quiet chronicler of Lahore’s literary life and beyond. Leading critic, scholar, poet and fiction-writer Shamsur Rehman Faruqi once said that Mehmood-ul-Hasan has become a walking and talking Lahore in our times.

Unlike many others who are ‘writing beyond means’, these people read more and write less. They read, imbibe, reflect and apply themselves. And, it shows in what they produce.

Baloch’s translations of the prominent Balochi language poet Mobarak Qazi into English remain one of the best translations one has read in years. They can easily be compared to Asir Abid’s translation of Mirza Ghalib’s Urdu verse into Punjabi or Christopher Shackles’ translation of Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai’s Sindhi verse into English.

One whose name is mentioned twice in the opening lines above is Syed Kashif Raza. To be honest, I was a bigger fan of his fiction, translations, compilations and literary editing than his poetry, until recently when he came out with his third collection in Urdu titled Gul-i-Dogana [Two Flowers Stemming From One Eye], including absolutely riveting ghazals and nazms.

Raza’s concerns in life are diverse — ranging from polity and society to art and aesthetics. Raza’s novel Chaar Dervish Aur Aik Kachhwa [Four Dervishes and One Tortoise], which was published seven years ago, was an absorbing read and got favourable reviews from critics and readers alike. He has translated Noam Chomsky, Arundhati Roy, Mohammed Hanif and Maniza Naqvi into Urdu. I am sure he is up to translating more fiction and non-fiction into Urdu that people like us consider significant, because it resonates with a certain kind of sensibility that people like us possess.

Raza’s Gul-i-Dogana begins with a prose piece he has written that is wide-ranging and self-indulgent. While it is provocative in places — for instance when he compares Urdu poetic tradition with the Western one in a rather simple fashion — he remains gentle in dealing with contradictory ideas. He has tried to fully lay out the issues that irk him, from understanding the reason for writing and the purpose of understanding poetry, to dealing with composite personal identities that all of us espouse and keep dealing with.

Raza’s piece is followed by Rafaqat Hayat’s assessment of his poetry, and it is a heartfelt assessment. Only someone who has watched the poet from close quarters for many years could have written that. Hayat rightly says that readers of this volume of poetry will remain enchanted for a long time.

Raza’s ghazals are contemporary but he does not break away from the tradition. I do not think he even wishes to when writing ghazals. Ghazal’s form, genre, history and style do not let even the most powerful poets with modern sensibilities escape their influence. Raza says: “Mansab-i-ishq se kuchh uhda bar’a main hi hua/ Teray koochay mein sar’afraaz-i-wafa main hi hua” [Only I could live up to expectations of the pedestal of love I was placed on/ Only I could live up to the expectations of constancy of staying in your lane].

The nazms in the collection have fresh and inspiring imagery, offering a unique experience. All are not easily accessible and make the reader think. Raza has cultivated that purely poetic trait of ‘Ibham-i-Lateef’ [Tender Ambiguity] in his nazms. In ‘Zindagi Junction’ [Life Junction], he writes: “Kaisa resham tha woh/ Jis ki tarsi hui ungliyon ne zubaan seekh li/ Uss ke chehray ne ek aaina darmiyaan rakh liya/ Aur nazrain milayi nahin” [What silk thread was that/ Whose yearning fingers learned the language/ Her face kept a mirror in the middle/ And her eyes refused to meet my eyes].

The writers of today enrich us so much. We should celebrate their work instead of rejecting and ridiculing everything, something that has become a national pastime.

The writer is a poet and essayist. His latest collections of verse are Hairaa’n Sar-i-Bazaar and No Fortunes to Tell.

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, August 24th, 2025