Urdu literature is far from being a spent force, argues Asif Farrukhi
AN emergent trend that is on its way to becoming a chic attitude with those who have stopped reading Urdu literature is shouting from the rooftops that nothing worthwhile is being written in Urdu and all that is good belongs to poets and writers long gone.
This was stated in no uncertain terms during one of the sessions at the 2012 Karachi Literature Festival. The Pakistani experience is no longer accessible in Urdu, commented an otherwise respectable journalist/author. Even more difficult to digest was his sweeping comment that good literature seems to have become extinct in Urdu. The problem with such assumptions is the insistence that Urdu literature is a spent force. This from an analyst whose views I respect on the current sociopolitical scene. However, the empirical evidence contradicts his statements on Urdu literature.
In a similar vein, a recent letter in Dawn condemned Urdu literature for not producing any masterpieces of fiction or poetry in the last couple of decades. My immediate reaction was amazement that the letter-writer managed to miss the contemporary works which I have read with admiration and pleasure. Or perhaps he employs a different definition of literary masterpieces.
While one may argue over what constitutes a masterpiece, I find it strange that on the one hand we decry the lack of good and significant works and on the other fail to recognise and read the good books that have appeared in the last few years. Poets like Faiz and Jalib served as the conscience of the nation in a way which no politician did, but it would be a mistake to assume that Urdu poetry died with them.
Many would add the name of Ahmad Faraz, more for his political poems than for his romantic ghazals. Zafar Iqbal and Ahmed Mushtaq gave a new impetus to the traditional form of ghazal. The best work of Parveen Shakir belongs to the same period and cannot be summarily dismissed. From the late Munir Niazi to Sarwat Hussain, Urdu poetry covered new ground. Its continuity is maintained by poets such as Zehra Nigah, Fahmida Riaz, Kishwar Naheed, Sarmad Sehbai, Iftikhar Arif, and newer voices such as Nasreen Anjum Bhatti, Afzal Ahmed Syed, Akbar Masoom, Zeeshan Sahil and many others, so much so that I am tempted to say that if this isn’t the best of times, it certainly isn’t the worst!
It has also become a truism that the short story has declined from the days of Manto, Ismat Chughtai and Ghulam Abbas. While this may be true, I wonder if this is more of a lip service, since the works of these writers and many of their contemporaries are hard to find in good, reliable editions. At the same time, how can one chose to ignore a major writer like Muhammad Mansha Yaad who forged a new style and came up with an impressive array of stories? Asad Muhammad Khan has published a volume of collected tales which is a sheer delight. Ikramullah is at his best at long short stories and has several to his credit. I still remember his novel Gurg-i-Shab which I read many years ago. With only a handful of short stories to his name, Muhammad Salimur Rahman is unique and inimitable.
From across the border, the work of Naiyer Masood has been translated into English and some other languages, including Finnish. There must be something wrong if readers in Finland can access this work from Urdu which readers here fail to identify! Diverse writers from India, Syed Mohammad Ashraf, Sajid Rasheed, Zakia Mashadi, Siddiq Alam and Khalid Jawed have given a different shape to the Urdu short story but are less known in Pakistan.
The situation of the novel in Urdu has never been enviable with remarkable works being few and widely spaced. However, the number of good and important novels in recent years is impressive. Shamsur Rahman Farouqi’s monumental Kayee Chand Thay Sar-i-Asaman has attracted the attention of readers and critics, being hailed as an epoch-making novel drawing upon history and tradition.
Mirza Athar Baig’s not one but two novels, contemplative in nature and thoroughly contemporary in their choice of themes and subject matter, should not be ignored in any such discussion. Khalida Hussain’s Kaghazi Ghaat which juxtaposes the personal and the political selves, Nikhat Hassan’s acutely observed Jogging Park, Khalid Toor’s Kani Nikah, Hameed Shahid’s Mitti Adam Khati Hai and Mohammed Asim Butt’s Daira, a compact story set in the old city of Lahore, are significant novels which have all been published in the last few years. In about the same time span, a major short story writer, Hasan Manzar, has come out with three important novels, Al-Asfa, Dhani Bux Kay Baitay and Waba, but these novels have not had the kind of appreciation they deserve. I am sure that if a novel like Al-Asfa had been published in a Central European or Hispanic language, we would have all been eagerly struggling to obtain badly translated versions.
Many readers would find remarkable some of the autobiographies, travelogues and personal sketches from the same period. However this is a digression from the real problem with books published in Urdu, masterpieces or otherwise, as the sad reality is that they fail to reach out to wider audiences, whether due to poor marketing or publication opportunities. Writing alone is not able to sustain the majority of writers who have no recourse but to have day jobs, turning into weekend writers. Even then, many authors have no other option but to self-publish.
The problem of lack of vigorous marketing and limited economic independence is compounded by the fact that good magazines and literary journals are short-lived and have limited circulation. The so-called learned bodies and governmental institutions, including the Pakistan Academy of Letters, serve as hand-maidens to whoever happens to be calling the shots and the media thinks of writers and poets when they have nothing better to do.
Academia has shied away from any meaningful engagement with contemporary literature and students are not encouraged to even read these writers. Yet, in spite of these manifold problems, Urdu literature is alive. It would augur well if we read a bit more and prophesised doom a bit less.
The writer pens fiction and criticism