Emotions and Ideas

November 22, 2014

174

Exploring a poetry-prose duo of publications

In the contemporary cultural milieu, the galore of book publication continues unabated but the irony is that increase in discreet readership of literary books does not satisfactorily correspond to the phenomenon. The reason is not far to seek. The ‘onslaught’ of computer is one of the major causes of this unhappy disequilibrium. Despite the all-pervading gloom, here and there we have books that would engage and grasp an avid reader’s attention for the freshness of their content as also the artistic fecundity of their authors.

This review is meant to explore a poetry-prose duo of such publications, lately having seen the light of day.

Kulliyat-e-Bismil

Nawab Sajjad Ali Khan was the elder brother of Shaheed-e-Millat Nawabzada Liaquat Ali Khan, the first prime minister of Pakistan. He had been a member of the legislative assembly and a deputy minister of the province of West Pakistan in Dr. Khan Sahib’s cabinet. His daughter Shahida is married to Dr Shahzad Qaiser, an eminent litterateur and a well-reputed bureaucrat.

This collection of the late Nawab Sahib’s verse has been assimilated by his son Nawabzada Farhad Ali Khan from the former’s published work Afkar-e-Bismil and his personal diary. It comprises some sixty-three numbers of nazm and ninety ghazal besides a few qat’at.

Prof Sajida Pervin, Arsalan Ahmad Arsal, and Dr Shahzad Qaiser have contributed useful introductory notes to the edition, highlighting the author’s person and art. They are unanimous in their appreciation of the fine literary quality of the work backed by an all-pervasive spiritual ambience.

Nawab Meerza Dagh Dehlavi was Sajjad Ali Khan Bismil’s mentor in versification. The former focused on the physical features of his object of love whereas the latter tended to assume the persona of a mystic in his verse contemplating the horizontal and vertical aspects of life that incorporate the triangle of aesthetics, existence, and metaphysics, as viewed by Dr Qaiser in his estimate of his (Bismil’s) poetic creed. He also envisions the immanence of ‘Oneness’ in Bismil’s verse.

Aye jalwa-e-haqiqat zaib-e-majaz hoja

Har dil ko Toor karday khud barq-e-naz hoja

The divine poems in the opening section of the book reveal Bismil’s deep dedication to religion. As a true Muslim, he seems to have an unshakable faith in the cardinal principles of Islam and the human and moral values that it espouses.

Bismil yeh zindagi hi nahi hasil-e-hayat

Darpesh aur bhi hai safar is safar kay ba’ad

Qalb ko zauq-e-tapish aaNkhoN ko shauq-e-justaju

Hai naveed-e-zindagi dard-e-nihaN mairay liyay

In the ghazal portion, too, the poet reflects over the harsh facts of life side by side with the pangs of separation and the yearning for fulfilment. The diction here bears a semi-classical touch which is in keeping with the general tenor of his verse.

All said, the collection is expected to impress a discreet reader of poetry with its form and content. In passing, it would be worthwhile to mention that proof-reading of the book should have been carried out a little bit more carefully pre-empting some avoidable syntactic as well as prosodic omissions.

Kulliyat-e-Bismil

Author: Nawab Sajjad Ali Khan

Publisher: Sang-e-Meel Publications, Lahore

Pages: 222; Price: Rs.500/-

(Wisdom Salad)

Muhammad Osman Ali Chaudhry, an 18-year old young but prodigious Pakistani scholar at Bard College Berlin (Germany), has sprung a surprise in the world of letters by publishing his instant work named after his band (Wisdom Salad) – parentheses being his own – at such an impressionable age. The very format of the book, let alone its content, bespeaks his remarkable creative verve.

The textual design of the book is laid on a non-chronological, impressionistic pattern suited to the alchemy of a reflective potpourri (salad!), as it were, of vignettes, poetry, and ‘flash fiction’ encapsulating a variety of existential themes bearing on the zeitgeist. It has also been described as ‘a thematic mixture of religion, death, love, hate ….. you name it!’ Apart from that the book touches upon nostalgia, frustration, socio-economic incongruities, the generation gap, Sufism as a self-censuring creed, and illusions of sorts. An undercurrent of sarcasm, emerging from the increasing gap between idealism and fulfilment, characterises the satiric tenor of the work. At least the writer is loyal to what he professes or believes.

The book reads like a dramatic monologue bespattered with cryptic undertones of distrust and disgust terminating in the uncanny exclamations of la dee da (bored but still happy!) and idjits (idiot!). Satire, if it is not sardonic, does verily shake off self-complacency and breeds wisdom. The young author has a long way to travel; time and tide will ripen his aesthetics and sensory perceptions to the benefit of his readers.

Some excerpts from the book will highlight its purport and intent, if any:

‘Again, what’s the point? What are we doing here? Why have we come here, of all places? Folly. We don’t even matter. Yet we don’t care that we don’t matter and don’t stop caring! What are we? Inklings on a pale blue dot! (Hello Nietzsche. And you too, Sagan.) That’s all. Since relativity counts. In relation to all there is, or we think there is (for there are no boundaries), yes we count for nothing. Love, hate, science, faith, power, submission, famine, surplus and all we can kill for, or die for … counts for nothing. So just let it be … Just … let it be.’ (The Illusion of Importance)

‘Futility. That’s what we’re about. Futility, misconception, illness, health, love, hate, war, peace, faith, scepticism, truth, falsehood. Easier to say than to do. So we talk. We come into this world. We cry. We get older. We cry, more silently perhaps. We’re chaos. Cacophony. Disharmony. The world needs peace. Quiet. All is quiet. Quite so. All is … muted. Some cry. Some hug. All of them … romanticise. Gloss over. The dirt is shovelled. Then, none remember. One fine day, we’ll be gone. At least there’s always something to look forward to.’ (Russelled)

‘My world turns on its head,

My drool amongst the stars

Just another dream in my bed,

Yet thoughts and drool do go far

Whispering voices voicing their disbelief

Elusive lucidity sometimes regained

Get a hold of yourself

Senses wither … ghosts embrace’

(Delirium)