Tasveer-i-Yaar [The Picture of Dorian Gray]
By Oscar Wilde
Translated by Arif Waqar
Readings
ISBN: 978-627-510-113-0
274pp.
It is Oscar Wilde’s notoriously difficult masterpiece, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the translation of the novel into Urdu could not but be a monumental task.
Simply put, the story — a literary classic more than 130 years old — centres on the transformation of an Adonis-like young man into a saffaak [cruel] figure. Wilde, as the crafty author, embeds cutting irony and paradox into even the most ordinary scenes, adding to the knottiness of the prose (pun intended). In addition, the text is as scenic as it is theatrical; it offers vivid descriptions of both exterior landscapes and interior environments.
Set against the backdrop of Victorian London, Dorian Gray, as the focus of the narrative, shines as an embodiment of masculine beauty and, soon, the readers realise that it is his obsession with his youth and charm that eventually destroys him.
First published in 1890, the original English novel consists of 20 chapters. It begins with a ‘Wildean’ preface that sets the stage for its complex philosophical debates. It proceeds into the novelist’s exploration of the complex aesthetic and philosophical questions intricately woven into the plot. Wilde, renowned for his penchant for paradox and witty aphorisms, ensures the surface of the work is not taken for granted.
Oscar Wilde’s celebrated tale of beauty, vanity and moral decay finds a new linguistic home, opening one of English literature’s most complex novels to Urdu readers
Consequently, Wilde’s marvellous text, which demands creative fidelity, can offer little choice to the translator. Readers of Wilde expect an Urdu translation to grapple with these complexities, maintaining the tension between the surface brilliance of the prose and its deeper philosophical ironies.
Tasweer-i-Yaar, as is the title in this Urdu translation by Arif Waqar, begins with the Wildean preface. The very first feeling one gets is that this translation is intended for a sophisticated Urdu readership rather than a general one. The prerequisite for reading this translated version is an understanding of literary Urdu expressions, such as “Sinki mizaaj insaan” [an eccentric or whimsical person], “tum amrat dhara ho meray liyay” [you are the elixir of life for me], and the description of the portrait becoming an “atoot hissa” [inseparable part] of the protagonist’s life. Regarding the translation method, the translator has neither employed any footnotes nor endnotes; the fluency and continuity of tone are preserved without such interventions.
Since there is no typical translation foreword, one supposes that the translator primarily concentrated on making this masterpiece accessible to Urdu readers, so the important question is: does the Urdu prose feel natural?
Waqar, a former PTV director who worked for many years with BBC’s Urdu Service, has avoided a mechanical, word-for-word approach, showing a clear preference for fidelity to the target language. Instead of mimicking English syntax, Waqar’s sentence structure respects the discursive limits of Urdu. And yet, what is most striking is that, to a large extent, the translation mirrors Wilde’s unique linguistic play, his craft for paradox.
One of the chapters in the original prose details Dorian’s tastes and his experiments with indulgence. The chapter contains brilliant descriptions of jewels, tapestries, musical instruments and perfumes; one can sense that grasping the sheer taxonomy of these items must have been a challenge. These many intricate explanations, which form his rhetorical style, determine the tone and essence of the work, which is less about the plot and more about the brilliance with which Dorian Gray’s life is described.
Arif Waqar renders these many terms in Urdu and uses terminologies such as “sanober ki chhaal”, “banafshay ke phoolon ki khushboo”, “champa ki mehkaar”, “mushk-i-naafa”, “baalchharr ki tez saugandh”, and “alwa ki bheeni bheeni mehkaar.” Here, one can’t help but conclude that the translation of these passages has been reproduced not only by dictionaries of the highest calibre but also by a rigour of the rarest kind.
Undoubtedly, some of the more obscure British aristocratic references, impervious even to native English readers, have been streamlined. Yet these omissions hardly scar the work. Furthermore, to emulate Wilde’s use of French expressions and fashion terminology, Waqar has been remarkably inventive. He employs Persian to convey that same sense of high-society sophistication, lending the characters a linguistic elevation that resonates within the Urdu literary tradition.
This brings to mind Canadian translator Sherry Simon’s insights on translation. She stresses that translation today “certainly partakes of the incompleteness of cultural belonging” and involves a “difficult and never-ending transaction between the uncertain poles of cultural difference.”
How far is the title, Tasweer-i-Yaar, justified? It obliquely captures the underlying theme: Dorian’s pathological obsession with his eternal youth, which leads to his downfall. Following the structure of the original book, the translation maintains the original chapter count and preserves the aesthetic and philosophical debates.
However, the lexical landscape occasionally feels uneven. On the one hand, the use of words like dayalu, meaning ‘kind person’, or nabigha to refer to an ‘exceptionally intelligent human’, elevates the prose to a more scholarly level. On the other, the direct transliteration of some words from the source material shows a preference for a modern flair. The overall effect is a hybrid texture that oscillates between traditional high-literary Urdu and contemporary loanwords.
Similarly, this Urdu translation of Oscar Wilde’s work navigates the complexities of linguistic hierarchy with varying degrees of success, most notably in the fluctuating register of address between Basil and Lord Henry. The reason for the sudden transition from the formal aap to the more intimate tum remains unclear.
Wilde’s narrative arc, which shifts in effect from innocuous to a Gothic horror, eventually forces Dorian to confront his own ugliness and corruption. While the translator captures this descent to a certain extent, Gothic horror remains a peculiarly British Victorian genre, and Urdu literary sensibility naturally absorbs its elements selectively.
However, for the reader, the more important question is whether the translator’s voice tires. Overall, the narrative voice retains its distinctive charm by successfully capturing the emotional horizon. The mounting tension both between and within the characters, the inimitable atmosphere, the chill and horror that accompany Dorian after the murder of his friend, Basil, are all appropriately rendered. In the long run, the protagonist’s decadence, his indulgence in the forbidden, and his pursuit of the abominable as a condition for feeling alive altogether are powerfully captured in the final chapters.
While a bilingual Pakistani reader might instinctively compare the two texts and lament the inevitable ‘loss in translation’, such work must be gauged by its own merits. As a scholar who frequently encounters literary translations, I am keenly aware that no translation is ever perfect. Just as no single reader can claim to fully exhaust Wilde’s original text, no translator can be expected to capture every obscure reference.
Arif Waqar’s translation of The Picture of Dorian Gray stands as a significant contribution to the Urdu language. By making Wilde’s complex aesthetics accessible, Waqar has not merely translated a plot but expanded the expressive possibilities of Urdu, proving that even the most “untranslatable” British classics can find a resonant life in a new linguistic landscape.
Ultimately, this translation does more than just bridge a linguistic gap. It opens a space for significant conversations on literary translations to materialise.
The reviewer is a PhD scholar working on Punjabi poets.
She can be contacted at ayesharamzan83@gmail.com
Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 14th, 2026