ONCE again I am tempted to turn to Faiz; there seems to be no escaping it. As this is the centenary year of Faiz, the market is inundated with books on him. One of these is a voluminous book that runs to almost 1,400 pages, bringing together authenticated as well as unauthenticated material about Faiz.

The compiler, Dr Syed Taqi Abdi, enjoys the reputation of being a dedicated researcher who is an expert in putting together facts in the form of thick volumes for the benefit of inquisitive readers. The present volume, Faiz Fahmi, has been dedicated to two of Faiz’s friends, Dr Gopi Chand Narang and Iftikhar Arif.

One of the many qualities of Faiz Fahmi is that it need not be read systematically page one onwards. The writings fall into three categories. The first is compilation of writings and speeches published in different places, the second is articles written specially for this volume, and the third and the most important category includes writings which Dr Abdi has dug out from unexpected places and which reveal precious information about Faiz.

Poets in general are very assertive, making tall claims about their status as versifiers. Faiz never made such assertions. However, one of his statements, reported by Salima Hashmi in her article, mentions how Alys Faiz once questioned him: “It means that at present you are the top most poet of Urdu?” To this, Faiz replied: “I suppose I am”.

At another point, while writing to Sajjad Zaheer, Faiz said: “If I feel in a mood to write love poetry, I will certainly write it.” At the time the Progressive Writers’ Movement was at its peak and those representing it were of the verdict that a poet who does not represent the socio-political realities of the times and instead relishes in talking about the ravishing beauty of a beloved, is an escapist. Though Faiz was committed to the Progressive Movement, he was willing to surrender his ideology to what he enjoyed as a poet. This statement shows him communicating this decision.

There are other instances as well where opinions expressed by Faiz are not in tune with the literary verdicts and opinions expressed by the spokesmen of the movement. Dr Abdi has dug out the script of a discussion between Faiz and Agha Abdul Hameed which was broadcasted from All India Radio’s Lahore station on June 18, 1941. A few excerpts have been reproduced in the volume. In the discussion, Hameed compares Premchand with Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. He rates Sarshar Ruswa, Deputy Nazeer Ahmad and Abdul Halim Sharar as second rate, while Premchand is for him a giant possessed with the qualities of a major novelist who can create real life characters.

Faiz challenges his opinion. As a rebuttal, he refers to Deputy Nazeer Ahmad as a novelist of the first rank. Faiz further asks, “Aren’t Kaleem, Zahir Dar Baig, Ibnul Waqt, and Umrao Jan Ada living characters?”

Hameed is then apologetic for being unjust to Deputy Nazeer Ahmad, but Faiz has more to say. “You are”, he says, “all praise for the realism of Premchand. But someone whose realistic portrayal is restricted to one class of people hardly deserves to be called a realist.” He adds: “The fact is that Premchand was a poor gentle soul. Social realism calls for a man who is more than a gentleman. He should be one who can afford to feel and think in a revolutionary way.”

When Hameed refers to Premchand’s rural idiom, Faiz again differs from him. His rural idiom, according to Faiz, doesn’t go beyond saying hujoor instead of huzoor. “While writing a story, Premchand turns [into] a preacher.” A novel or a short story should not give the impression of being a pamphlet of dihat sudhar.

This outright dismissal of Premchand stands in contradiction to his portrayal by the Progressives, for whom the man was an icon.

The volume also contains interesting photographs and paintings.

Note: In last week’s column, “Writings on oppression: A critical study”, it was wrongly stated that Iqbal’s poems on Trablus did not form part of Bang-i-Dira, when it does.