I remember I had briefly mentioned this book earlier in a post on this blog. But well, I hadn't finished reading the book then, and therefore I did not discuss the book in its entirety, and so here is a fresh post.
I think I've also mentioned earlier that in Jadavpur University, where I am a first-year student, there is a big bookstore right beside the building where we have our classes. So, whenever I am free and feel like spending my time alone, I slip into the bookstore and read. I started reading this book last semester, and miraculously, this book hasn't been sold yet, and I got the chance to finish the book. Last Thursday I finished the last story of this collection of sixteen stories, and I was in a very jubilant mood after that, thinking it was nothing short of a great achievement on my part to finish a book this way, in numerous half-hour sittings in a bookstore where I'm very well-known by now.
Anyway, the book. It is a collection of stories, written originally in Urdu and translated into English. M. Asaduddin, the editor of this compilation, clarifies in the introduction that although the stories are classic, they are not necessarily old, because the short story (afsana) genre in Urdu literature is comparatively nascent; in fact, some of the stories in this collection are dated as late as the 1970s.
The collection begins with one of Premchand's stories. Needless to say, Premchand is one of the best writers Urdu literature has ever seen. The Shroud (Urdu name: Kafan) is a story that is both witty, humorous and touching at the same time. The father-son duo of Ghisu and Madho are as indolent as their hunger would allow them to be, unwilling to work as long as they have enough money for food. When Madho's wife dies while in labour, the two of them go around begging for money for a shroud to cover her dead body with. They collect enough money, but end up spending on food and drink, thanking the person who in death granted them a hearty feast at least for one night.
Lajwanti (Urdu name: same) by Rajinder Singh Bedi is one of the numerous stories in this collection that deal with the Partition of India. Literature on both sides of the border at that time, from around the middle of the twentieth century to its end, have dealt with the Partition and its consequences- both the immediate and the long-term. The riots, kidnappings, trafficking, rapes, the huge displacement, the sudden loss of home, property and human lives, the sudden discovery of a lack of an identity- literature written about the Partition deal with all these in a very heart-rending way. I do not know if I am right when I say that perhaps, since the time of authors writing about the Partition, there has been no literature in the subcontinent which has been able to achieve that same greatness as Partition literature did. Perhaps I am making a blind assumption here, based on nothing more than myown feelings as a voracious reader; if you disagree with me, please do not hesitate to make your point.
Kalu Bhangi (Urdu name: same) is set against the backdrop of the Partition but Krishan Chander, the author, actually writes about the class and caste discrimination which has been rooted in Indian society since ages. It is a good story, the writing style worthy of appreciation.
Saadat Hasan Manto's Toba Tek Singh (Urdu name: same), which I found amazing, is one of the best stories in this collection. Like many others, this story too deals with the Partition, specifically the feeling of a loss of a home and near and dear ones, and even one's identity. A very poignant story. If I had to pick my favourite story in this collection, I would probably pick this, although there is another story that can offer stiff competition- The Wind carried all away (Urdu name: Le gayi Pawan Urrha) by Ikramullah, the last story has an inspirational- even unique- style. A dying man, in the course of one night, revisits the life that was, recalling how the Partition tore away from him all that was dear to him.
The Wedding Suit (Urdu name: Chauthi ka Jorha) by Ismat Chughtai is one of the few stories in this collection that is told from a woman's perspective. The author's talent is evident, and the story may also touch you, but overall, it loses out to the other stories.
Ghulam Abbas' witty story Anandi (Urdu name: same), about what is socially acceptable and what isn't, is a delight to read, but The Thal Desert (Urdu name: Thal
) by Ahmad Nadeem Qasimi is not remarkable, although it provides an insight into the reaction of native Indian village people- with all their superstitious beliefs- to the construction of railways by the British, something you will hardly find in history books.
Confessions of St Flora of Georgia (Urdu name: St Flora of Georgia ke E'terafaat) by Qurratulain Hyder may have been written in Urdu and at a time after the Partition, but it is not a story that deals with anything to do with the subcontinent. A youthful angel, barely older than a cherub, accidentally brings the skeleton of St Flora of Georgia to life. Once awake, St Flora asks for a year to live life in the modern world, and for a companion to live it with. The angel then brings to life a priest, and together, the Father and the Saint have exactly an year to live as they choose. The story, which has an open ending, is written so well and is so enchanting, it left me with a desire to read more of the author's works. (Also, I learnt that the distinguished lady, who passed away in 2007, is one of the greatest writers in Urdu literature, which only increases my wish to read more of her.) If you ever get your hands on this book, read at least this short story. I just cannot stop thinking about what must have happened after the stage where the author left off writing.
Intizar Husain's An Epic Unwritten (Urdu name: Ek Binlikhi Razmiyah) and Ashfaq Ahmad's The Shepherd (Urdu name: Gadariya) are both long stories and will take some time to read. I did not find Husain's story, which again deals with the Partition, very remarkable, but Ashfaq Ahmad's story has a touch of innocence; it describes the relationship between a teacher and a student so wonderfully and realistically that the readers themselves develop a sort of reverence for the character of Dauji, the teacher, and the pathetic way in which he is treated in the context of the Partition fills them with anger and frustration.
A Requiem for the Earth (Urdu name: Zamin ka Nauha) by Hasan Manzar is a story that imagines a world without women; in the context of female foeticide and infanticide in the subcontinent, this is a very realistic story. Enver Sajjad's The Cow (Urdu name: Gae) is a very passionate story about a boy's love for an old cow that his father and others decide to sell to a slaughter-house, but unfortunately, a thoroughly city-bred reader like me could hardly identify with the boy's emotions. Sheesha Ghat (Urdu name: same) is again a very poignant story. Nothing about the political or social situation of the subcontinent around or after Partition here; this story is purely about the trials and tribulations of a young boy who is not able to speak properly.
There are two abstract stories in this collection, and like M. Asaduddin says in the introduction, not all readers are able to comprehend what such stories mean. "Even the best writers of the symbolic/abstract story like Surendra Prakash, Enver Sajjad and Balraj Manra wrote stories that are abstruse and inaccessible to common readers. It boiled down to a situation where it was mainly writers reading each others' stories and the critics who either encouraged them or lambasted them," says Asaduddin. Unfortunately, an aspiring writer and critic like me could not make sense of these two stories: Milipede (Urdu name: Hazar Pa) by Khalida Husain and The Scarecrow (Urdu name: Bajuka) by Surendra Prakash; although the stories themselves are understandable, the intended inner meaning was beyond my comprehension. If you have read these stories and understood them, please help me!
It is probably not wise to critique a collection of short stories by reviewing each and every story in the compilation, and since I did just that, this post is insufferably long, but if you've had the patience to read till here, then please let me explain: this collection of short stories was my first taste of Urdu literature (translations, no doubt) and I really wanted to examine each story, not for the sake of my readers, but for my own pleasure. Read this book if you can, and I hope you will enjoy it just as much as I did.
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