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Smile please. All eyes are on you

Updated on: 08 February,2011 02:19 PM IST  | 
Fiona Fernandez | fiona.fernandez@mid-day.com

Kitschy cabaret dancers, reluctant fundamentalists, and skunk girls are protagonists in a refreshingly buoyant literary revolution that's unfolding in Pakistan. Great conflict is producing great writing, and Indian readers are lapping it up. Fiona Fernandez reports

Smile please. All eyes are on you

Kitschy cabaret dancers, reluctant fundamentalists, and skunk girls are protagonists in a refreshingly buoyant literary revolution that's unfolding in Pakistan. Great conflict is producing great writing, and Indian readers are lapping it up. Fiona Fernandez reports

It's not a statement that's going to go down well with readers this side of the Karakoram mountains, but William Dalrymple says it anyway.


ILLUSTRATION/JISHU DEV MALAKAR

"I think, if there were a Pakistan Fiction XI, it would give the Indian Fiction XI a run for its money," says the author, literary commentator and co-founder of the just-concluded DSC Jaipur Literature Festival.

And if you were to look at sales figures of titles by Daniyal Mueenuddin, Kamila Shamsie, Fatima Bhutto, Mohsin Hamid, Nadeem Aslam, and Ahmed Rashid, all Pakistanis writing in English, you'd have to keep that prejudiced eyebrow-leaping in check.

It's not just India. The West is curious too, and literary pundits are already hailing the literary revolution as one that will ignite a culturally sound generation in contrast to all that is stereotypical of the nation and its social fabric. The signs are ominous.

Me-too greatness
"It's difficult to explain the phenomena. It probably revolves around a group of writers who are spurring each other to greatness. It's a remarkable generation responsible for producing remarkable literature. It wasn't like this ten years ago," says Dalrymple, reminding us of Indian fiction reaching its peak in the 1980s and 1990s, when Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh and Arundhati Roy led the way. "Today India is producing better non-fiction. Basharat Peer and Sonia Faleiro are examples."

The domino effect is obvious. If Ahmed Rashid's Taliban and Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist hadn't sold in millions, a lot of writers would probably think twice before giving up their day job, believes Aysha Raja, Co-Editor of Life's Too Short: Literary Review 01 (Hachette), an anthology of new writing from Pakistan. And she's not referring to the prospect of making lots of money, as she is to the confidence of knowing what you write may have international, if not mass appeal.

Breaking new ground
One of the younger authors, 32 year-old Islamabad resident Shehryar Fazli's just-launched debut novel, The Invitation (Tranquebar/Westland) is centred on the cabaret scene of 1970s Karachi. One look at the risque jacket and it's clear how the new-age author isn't afraid to push the envelope.

He is clear that Pakistani society deserves more credit. "The problem is with the bureaucrats. Most Pakistanis are used to frank content, literature and movies. It isn't as conservative as it's made out to be. The polity is very vocal and critical."

Fazli's novel, in which most of the action unfurls at the Agra Hotel which hosts a nightly cabaret witnessed by the movers and shakers of the city, reminds us that Pakistan lost what was an open society. "Today, it's about bad laws and dictatorships," says the regional editor and senior analyst for a Brussels-based research body focussed on resolving conflicts.

And yet, he is positive of expressing his creativity now -- "There is a dramatic reversal of the brain drain. Novelists are reclaiming the story, especially the young who feel that depictions until now have been incomplete, inaccurate and partial."

Bad times mean good writing. Pakistani-American writer Sheba Karim, whose book for young adults, Skunk Girl (Penguin) is set for an India release shortly, feels Pakistan's difficult time (post 9/11), makes it an exciting time to be a writer.

But exploration of varied styles is wanting. Raja says Pakistani writers rarely write outside of the Pakistani experience, and there are no sub genres yet. "No comic writing, no experimental fiction, no historical fiction. But these are early days. One could very easily have said the same about Indian fiction in English in its formative years."

But some themes, like the Partition, continue to be a big inspiration. "Because the role of the State and Army is so overriding, so is politics and religion. Women, and their suppression or fight to assert their independence, is another recurring element to appear overtly or covertly," says Renuka Chatterjee, chief editor Tranquebar/Westland.

And for Pakistani writers based in the West, having been away from home for long has brought with it rootlessness and longing.

They have the numbers
And the success of across-the-border literary buoyancy is reaffirmed by figures. "Pakistani writing always evoked an interest among Indian readers; it's magnified now because the media has stepped in to point it out," publisher Kapish Mehra of Rupa & Co. says.

Sivaraman Balakrishnan, Manager-Marketing, Crossword Bookstores throws in all-India sales numbers to prove the rise. "Last year, writing from Pakistan accounted for 9 per cent of our total book sales. We are talking huge numbers here. Most titles fell under literary fiction."
u00a0
Indian readers prefer Pakistani writing because it's well written, serious fiction (or non-fiction), and tends to be picked up by serious readers. "We ensure that stocks of Pakistani titles never run out since the demand is constant," says Sivaraman.

And the West is playing its part. The Autumn 2010 edition of legendary literary magazine of new writing, Granta, is an example. John Freeman, Editor, Granta, is clear about Pakistan's newfound standing in the literary world. "Obviously, Pakistan is in the middle of some massive social and political changes, and the outcome will affect the world. It's natural to want to read about what is happening, and to turn not just to reporters, or the state, but to novelists and poets too. They are, after all, the chief skeptics -- at least they should be, of official narratives. That is what makes literary art powerful."

Freeman is not stingy with praise. He calls Pakistani writers 'realists, maximalists, miniaturists, fabulists, traditionalists, satirists and political essayists'. "They are writing as if something very important is at stake, and it shows in the work."

Conflict works wonders to produce great writing. It rarely occurs when a country gets comfortable. "Look at France. Where is the good writing? I remember Lahore-based Nadeem Aslam telling me, 'It's like writing with a quill with one end on fire'!" says Dalrynmple.

It was conflict-spurring talent that prompted Anurima Roy, Publicity Manager, Hachette India to work on Life's Too Short Review, an anthology of new writing from Pakistan. "We felt Pakistani writing was coming of age and there was a substantive body of work enough to generate several volumes." The likes of Ahmed Rafay Alam, Mehreen Aziz, Sabiha Bano, Danish Islam, Bilal Tanweer and Musharraf Ali Farooqi feature in the 2010 release.

Soul sisters

So, while the literary world welcomes a new wave of writers into its fold, Indian readers have been accommodating the Pakistani writer on their bookshelves for years. Karim says when she visited a Karachi bookstore for the first time, she realised that a chunk of Pakistani and Indian authors were available only in the subcontinent. A fraction of these books make it to the West. "So, there was already a history of Indians reading Pakistani writing in English, and vice versa. Now that Pakistani writers are garnering acclaim abroad, their writing is all the more popular."

The linguistic and cultural commonalities between the two countries create a sense of intimacy and recognition for Indian readers, particularly those from the North.

And while political borders maybe cast in stone, culturally, a partition has never existed. "You have to attend just one literary festival to see the camaraderie between Indian and Pakistani writers. Writing from Pakistan is appealing because it gives us a glimpse into life in cities and places that could have been part of our own country, had it not been for Partition," says Chatterjee.

Did someone refute that saying about the pen being mightier than the sword?

Whou00a0sold the most inu00a0India?
1. Fatima Bhutto
2. Mohsin Hamid
3. Daniyal Mueenuddin
4. Ahmed Rashid
5. Nadeem Aslam
6. Atish Taseer
Other favourites: Bapsi Sidhwa, Kamila Shamsie, translated works of Sadat Manto
(Across the Crossword bookstore chain in 2010)


What works in Pakistani bookstores
"Reading tastes in Pakistan are not too different from those in India," says Anurima Roy, publicity manager at Hachette Book Publishing India.
>>u00a0Literary, serious fiction
>> Non-fiction (topics include the Partition and Islam)
>> And political biographies work best.

The Karachi noiru00a0genre
Commenting on Shehryar Fazli's (left) book, Kamila Shamsie said it has kicked off the Karachi noir style of writing, that was waiting to unfold. "Invitation is very much a story of power, wealth and the intrigues and machinations of the people who have it." The book is set in 1970s Karachi, and much of the action takes place at the Agra Hotel, where there is a nightly cabaret. Here, the movers and shakers of the city meet to drink and enjoy themselves, but also to conspire. Shahbaz, the narrator, returns to Karachi after 19 years and finds that more than a homeland, he has lost a certain place in society that would have been his right had he stayed back. To regain that place, he enters into an unholy alliance with certain powers-that-be and ends up betraying his closest friend. "The Karachi noir shows the dark underbelly of the city, and of politics," says Renuka Chatterjee of the genre.

THE HANDBOOK
Your guide to Pakistan's big guns

Songs of Blood and Sword: Fatima Bhutto
This historic non-fiction bestseller catapulted Benazir Bhutto's niece onto a never-seen-before platform even as it laid bare the hidden truth and trauma that ravaged the Bhutto family.

A Case of Exploding Mangoes: Mohammed Hanif
This political thriller caught the imagination of readers across the world with its satirical approach to who might have been behind the assassination of General Zia.

Maps for Lost Lovers: Nadeem Aslam
This novel by the London-based author took 11 years to complete. Winner of the Kiriyama Pacific Rim book Award, it explores the lives of Pakistani immigrants in an English town, and proceeds like poetic verse despite a violent centrespread.

Burnt Shadows: Kamila Shamsie
Shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction, Burnt Shadows is an epic historic thriller that traverses the shared histories of two families and crosses continents and cultures with ease.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist : Mohsin Hamid
Shortlisted for the 2007 Booker Prize, this fable plays a subtle reminder of prejudice, and the disillusionment with America.

The interview: Kamila Shamsie

'Sadar Bazaar is like Colaba'

Kamila Shamsie's debut novel, In the City By The Sea was shortlisted for the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, and she bagged the Prime Minister's Award for Literature in Pakistan in 1999. Her second, Salt and Saffron, was released in 2000, after which she was selected as one of Orange's 21 Writers of the 21st century.

Kartography and Broken Verses won the Patras Bukhari Award from the Academy of Letters in Pakistan. Burnt Shadows was shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2009. The 37 year-old is one of the most exciting names to emerge as a new-age role model for Pakistani youth. A Pakistani Muslim, who studied in America and now lives in London, Shamsie effortlessly crisscrosses a clash of civilisations. In a freewheeling chat, she tells Sunday Mid day what keeps pulling her back to Pakistan.


What was your childhood in Karachi like?
Lovely. Surrounded with books. Despite it being the years of General Zia-ul-haq's rule, we didn't live in fear of dictatorship. It was a huge, chaotic city with lots of people. Some of my best memories are from the beach. That was my favourite place to escape.


Did you do any writing back then?
I was a voracious reader. By the time I was nine, I was reading a book a day ufffd mostly fiction. I love dogs, and when I was 11, I co-wrote a book with my best friend, Asad Haider. It was about what happens to a dog after he dies; it was about dog heaven.
It helped that I grew up in a house filled with books. I have memories of my mother (Muneza Shamise, famous literary journalist, compiler and editor) constantly working at her typewriter. In Pakistan, as kids, we only heard of Enid Blyton. It was only after I went to America to study that I came in contact with Indian fiction. I was 18 at the time -- that's when the realisation dawned that fiction can happen anywhere. I read Indian authors including Salman Rushdie, Rohinton Mistry and Anita Desai. At university, I had enrolled in a BA in Creative Writing. I was missing Karachi terribly, and soon began writing short stories about memories of home.

...You like coming back to Karachi.
Always. I return for the winters. I moved to London four years ago. I love Karachi's people -- it's cosmopolitan; you have people from Afghanistan, Central Asia, Bangladesh. There's every kind of social interaction in a liberal ethos.
(When we ask her if Mumbai reminds her of Karachi, her eyes light up) Both cities are by the sea, and were built by the British. In fact, Karachi's Sadar Bazaar is a lot like Colaba. You'll spot the similarities in the Victorian and Gothic structures, and streetscapes. Both possess a commercial character. The big difference is that while Mumbai is known for its high rises, and appears congested, Karachi is a sprawling metropolis.

How do you see Pakistan changed since the time you were a teenager?
Back then, we only had the state-owned PTV (Pakistan Television). Today, the media has a bigger influence. We have fantastic bands making great music. There is more radicalisation. But the concern is that the youth are getting discouraged with the overall scenario.

Are they robbed of self-expression?
The youth have no voice. This must change. Pakistan hasu00a0 around 16 million youngsters. This population has to be told that their presence and expression matters; else they will end up disillusioned, and the chances of them channelising this anger elsewhere are high. That's how extremists creep into the picture.

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