Lahore, a centre for the arts and learning in the early 20th century, has been the custodian of a plural, vibrant culture for decades. Its walled city, unlike several other old settlements, has continued to survive despite the expansion of the city. So have its peculiar features: its dialects, cuisine, community linkages and, of course, rich festivals such as Basant. As the capital of Punjab, Lahore used to celebrate Basant — the arrival of spring — in a colourful manner.

Since the medieval times, Basant was acknowledged and celebrated by the Chishti saints. Nizamuddin Auliya of Delhi turned it into an act of devotion, and Amir Khusrau’s songs captured the multi-layered evolution of this festival.

Punjabi poets such as Shah Hussain gave a Sufi flavour to it. Hussain, in one of his kaafis, says: “The Beloved holds the string in his hand, and I am His kite.” The festival offered a meaning to all and sundry: from playful kids to lovers and Sufis; from profit-seekers who developed livelihoods around the festival to the community as a whole.

Basant was celebrated by all communities prior to Partition: Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs treated it as a Lahori festival with an identity linked to the city. In this milieu, Allama Iqbal was known to be an avid kite flier. But the post-1947 rise of clerics meant that inclusive cultural practices were to be treated with suspicion. For many decades, the Pakistani mullahs have ranted against Basant as an “unIslamic” festival and one that endangered public morality.

Unfazed by these fatwas, Lahoris continued with the festival. It even received state patronage on various occasions. A citizen of Lahore, Mian Yousaf Salahuddin (the grandson of Iqbal), turned his old Lahore haveli into a cultural hub and, over time, Basant celebrations became an international attraction. By the 1990s, proactive civil servants turned Basant into a great regional festival. Lahore’s then deputy commissioner, Kamran Lashari, provided full backing to the holding of this event in the 1990s. That was perhaps the time when Basant also became most controversial due to its scale and the increased hazards of unregulated kite-flying in which metallic or chemical-coated string was used.

The use of this string instead of the traditional dor caused many deaths each year and the local government was unable to enforce regulations on its usage. The metallic wire would get entangled in electricity cables in the old city, leading to electrocution. The courts intervened and asked the Punjab government to ban the festival in 2007.

Ironically, the banning of Basant did not take place in the name of religion but through a public interest litigation. However, the ideological opponents of Basant have been happy with the outcome and have created an uproar each time someone raised the question of reviving Basant after putting safety measures in place. But Lahore is a poorer place now. It is devoid of this public celebration, especially for thousands of impoverished workers in the old city and neighbouring towns where Basant was celebrated with great fervour. (more…)

There is no city like Lahore/ Everything that is wrong is set right here

It is a mystery as to how a layered city such as Lahore has attracted little scholarship in the past few decades. This is why Anna Suvorova’s book “Lahore -Topohilia of Space and Place” is a major book of our times. Suvorova is a distinguished scholar and currently heads the Department of Asian Literatures at the Institute of Oriental Studies, Russian Academy of Sciences. Her earlier works on Urdu, Sufism and numerous translations of Urdu prose works are well known. This book, while a work of formidable scholarship is distinctive for its personal dimension. Like countless others, Suvorova is an ardent admirer of Lahore and tells us why Lahore has survived historical vicissitudes and also why its memory is so lovingly remembered, invoked and reproduced.

The third Karachi Literature Festival concluded recently. I am posting a short piece of mine which was published by the News on Sunday. Another report that I wrote for TFT can be found here. Faiza S Khan’s review is most interesting. Another review by Umair found it sterile and comments on the technocratic discussions that took place on ‘national’ issues. And a comprehensive round up at DAWN’s Books & Authors magazine here.

“When our lives are written about in the English language, the books become best sellers,” thundered Pakistan’s rebel poet Kishwar Naheed at the Karachi Literature Festival. This was a session where I had the rather undeserved honour of introducing and talking to Naheed and the other master poet, Iftikhar Arif. She added that there was little emphasis on quality as the books you were supposed to buy at the airports for light reading were now ‘high’ literature. This was an oblique, yet unambiguous reference to the Pakistani writing in English. The two worlds — “native” and English — remain quite separate in a manner that Kipling had envisioned. English writing from Pakistan has received global attention and is celebrated at festivals across the globe. Yet how many Pakistanis have an idea of what it is all about? This is an uncomfortable question that we need to ask and perhaps keep on asking.

The Karachi Literature Festival has now evolved into a serious annual festival where writers gather and interact with thousands of readers each year. To be fair to the organisers, they have been mindful of the principle of inclusiveness from the very start. Asif Farrukhi, an eminent writer (who is my actual role model for his supernatural powers to write, edit and think with a full time job) has been organising the “regional” side of the literary ramblings at the festivals. Big names such as Fahmida Riaz and others are given due acknowledgment by holding sessions with them. Yet, the emphasis, for obvious reasons, is on the universe of English writings — both by Pakistanis and foreigners. This year, Vikram Seth, William Dalrymple, Hanif Kureishi, Shobha De, Anatol Lieven and several others attracted much attention by their readers, fans and critics. There were a few sessions on Urdu and regional languages’ literature but it was obvious that the attendees were not always the same.

As a young woman confessed at the festival, “I hardly read Urdu, but do you consider Initizar Husain a great writer?” Despite the shocking nature of this statement, I was hardly surprised. The apartheid that exists in Pakistan’s education system marginalises the local and the vernacular compared to the more market-oriented, global English. Aside from its potential “benefits,” English language, for some, remains an odious status symbol. A colonial legacy, a preserve of the postcolonial elites, and a stepping-stone for entry into the deliberately constructed, globalised monoculture. (more…)

Hi Raza Rumi, I wonder if you remember me. Some years back I sent my essay on Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulyia to your site, and you very dearly published it. I had found you on the net, actually I was attracted by your name due to my deep passion and admiration for Mawlana Rumi. But at that time – not a very bright moment of my life, I must say – I didn’t realise who i was sending my message to, neither where. Actually, I discovered only very recently that you really exist, and live and work in Pakistan. Your name appeared in my possible connections in Linkedin, which I joined not long ago thanks to the insistence of a friend. I clicked on your name instinctivly, and later I forgot to go and check your profile and so on. But coincidences are not there for no reason, so few weeks back, while I was travelling with my daughter Sofia in Maharashtra, I read an interesting article on Pakistan on the Hindu, and…there, your name again! Could it be the same Raza Rumi of my essay long time ago? I started to put together the pieces, went back to linkedin, and yes, here you are! Zabardast!

From Tidings Blog featuring my interview which was broadcast on WPKN radio last year. Yes I have been a little lazy in posting all the stuff here.

Hazel Kahan has summarised some of the key points below and but those who can put up with my rants should click here -

In our wide-ranging interview, Raza spoke eloquently and poignantly about his country and what it is like to be living in Pakistan these days.  Through his lens we can see another Pakistan, a parallel society that has been obscured by the prevailing image of militaristic, unreliable and confusing Pakistan given to us by the mainstream media.

 I have summarized some of the significant points Raza made but I do urge you to listen to him in his own compelling voice.

1. ” Much of Pakistan’s seemingly inextricable alliance with Afghanistan and the Taliban can be explained by its existential fear, “a genuine insecurity” of being encircled by India.  Retaining its ties to the militants is one way of protecting itself from its huge eastern neighbor and as leverage ”in the endgame of Afghanistan.”  (What that endgame will be is “shrouded in mystery…nobody really has a clue of how to approach and how to handle it.”)

2. “The shared geography, history and culture of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the continuum between Pakistan and         Afghanistan “makes it very difficult to separate the two.”

3.”Now you have two Talibans, the ones who attack NATO troops and the ones who attack Pakistani people.   Pakistani people want to get rid of the Taliban because their lives have been traumatized…we feel really angry and we’re also suffering…  In this power politics, Afghanistan and Pakistan are burning.” (more…)

  I wrote a piece on Urdu poet Mustafa Zaidi six years ago. Since then I have received immense feedback. Zaidi’s relatives, friends and admirers across the globe have contacted me and provided documents, information and related anecdotes. It is all turning into a book of sorts that hopefully will be written one day.

I had mentioned in my post that the cause of Zaidi’s death was shrouded in mystery while most believed that he committed suicide. As I have learnt, the circumstances of his death suggest otherwise. News reports and eyewitness accounts point to the absurdity of the claim that he died in a hotel as family members claim that he was found dead in his own home. Thanks to Zaidi’s ardent fan Abeer Zaidi, I have come to know of more precise facts. I remain grateful for that.

Zaidi, at his time of death had produced several outstanding, original collections of poetry. He was married to a woman of German descent and had two children but his last companion was a woman named Shehnaz, the love of his life. His last five poems titled ‘Shehnaz’  immortalised her. That October day in 1970, Shehnaz was found unconscious along with Zaidi’s dead body.

Following are the circumstances of his demise and the lack of evidence to support the commonly held view that he committed suicide:

On March 20, 1971, under the headline ‘Evidence of Zaidi’s nephew recorded’, the newspaper Dawn reported: “Mr. Shahid Raza, nephew of the former CPS officer and well known poet Mr. S.M. Zaidi yesterday said that there were signs of a struggle having taken place in the room in which his uncle’s body was discovered last October 12. He was testifying in the Court of the District Magistrate, Mr. Kunwar Idris, in the committal trial of Mrs. Shehnaz Saleem, Wife of Mr. Saleem Khan, who is charged with the murder of Mustafa Zaidi.”

The report goes on to say that Mr Raza entered his uncles house with police official and a maternal uncle the morning after his death and found the body lying on the bed. The receiver of the phone was dangling off the hook and the cord stretched across his body. There were stains of blood on his back as well as on the bed sheet and furniture. The room was scattered and a sofa was overturned.

The writer Laurel Steel has mentioned this report in her book, ‘Relocating the Post-Colonial Self’ and has also published some letters written by Zaidi to his wife in Germany to help him get a visa to join his family in Germany. Additionally Steel also mentions that on the day of his death he rose at 8 am and washed his car. Later in the day he received visitors including Shehnaz Gul and afterwards told his servant to go home to return the next morning. The question this must be asked, can this demeanor be that of a man bent on committing suicide in hotel room?

Decades later, this case is still an enigma and has left many of those who appreciated his life and work in denial and doubt.

To read my earlier article which was published in The Friday Times in 2005, please click here.

P.S. This post also addresses the issue raised by Kidvai saheb here. Many thanks for his appreciation of my earlier piece.

Today is Sahir Ludhianvi’s death anniversary. Am reposting this poem for the readers.

Sahir Ludhianvi’s immortal poem Taj Mahal has always fascinated me. It takes a most unconventional take at this beautiful monument where the poet protests at the choice of a romantic rendezvous.

Today, I found a lovely translation of this poem. I am reproducing it below – but first a few lines from Urdu:

Yeh chaman zar yeh jamna ka kinara yeh mahal
Yeh munaqqash dar-o-deevar yeh mehrab yeh taaq
Aik shahanshah nay daulat ka sahara lay ker
Hum ghareebon kee mohabbat ka uraya hai mazaaq

Taj Mahal

The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place! (more…)

Not a great recording of my talk at Kuch Khaas, Islamabad.

By Raza Rumi:

By Raza Rumi

“South Punjab, in particular, the districts of Multan and Bahawalpur…, have a vast range of cultural assets. the living culture of the communities carries influences of the inherited ancient civilizations and historical past which flourished in this region and has permeated their present day culture and its expressions. Cultural zones within these two districts are discernable which have infused the living culture of communities influencing their lifestyle, value system and world view; giving the South Punjab region a distinct cultural identity reinforced through their shared language, Saraiki. the earliest, dating back to 3800 BCE, is that of the Cholistan desert, the Rohi made famous by the region’s premier Sufi Saint Khawaja Ghulam Fareed. Although the built assets are contained within the desert yet its intangible expressions of poetry and oral narratives, song and dance is embedded
within the culture of the region, in particular Bahawalpur. The influences of the material culture of the ancient people of the Hakra Valley Civilization can still be found in the pottery making traditions and in the motifs and designs which continue to be used. The other identifiable culture ethos permeating the living culture of the region is that engendered by the advent of the Sufi saints in the 10th century onwards.  The Sufi philosophical and material culture emanated from the ancient cities of Multan and Uch Sharif, the central abode of mystical Islam in the region, which had far reaching impact on the whole of South Punjab and further into Sind and Northern India.  the erstwhile Bahawalpur State (1802-1955 CE) has also had deep influence on the culture of the district and the built form engendered during the State period has left an indelible mark on the built environment of the
entire area, most prominent in its capital city, Bahawalpur and the twin capital Dera Nawab Sahib….”
Read the full report by UNESCO here:  http://unesco.org.pk/culture/documents/publications/Cultural_Expressions.pdf

 Sahir Ludhianvi laments the way Urdu was treated by Indian nation-state as it became alien overnight.

Ikees baras guzray aazadi-i-kaamil ko

Tab ja kay kahi’n hum ko Ghalib ka khayaal aaya

Turbat hai kaha’n us ki, maskan tha kaha’n uska

Ab apnay sukhan-parvar zahno’n may sawaal aaya

(more…)

By Raza Rumi:

In a few days, Mohammad Hanif’s new novel will be available in Pakistan. Last week, I met him at his house in Karachi. The grand dame of Urdu literature, Qurratulain Hyder, used to make fun of people who would ask writers what were they writing about. “Are writers cooks that they should be subjected to senseless questions,” she remarked in one of her essays. With this sentence lurking somewhere in the corner of my mind, I was most hesitant to ask Hanif questions about his new novel. In any case, Hanif is not known for responding to inane questions either. We found ourselves locked in this battle: me not wanting to ask; and Hanif avoiding to pontificate about his latest book. Awkward? No. Funny, Yes.