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With a pot of meat simmering away on the stove, half a cup of warm milk on my side, looking out of the window of my lounge, I see the sun retreating. It has been a dusty few days. Like its going to rain but it does not. It is just the sand that is suspended in the air. Anyway, the illusion created in an air conditioned room is that the weather is Englishisque.
A long time ago in my teenhood, during summer vacations I got hold of a copy of Akhri Chattan by Nasim Hijazi. Coming from an English medium school Urdu reading was rare for me, though I loved the few story books my cousins lent me. I enjoyed the familiarity of the situations and language as much as I was enamoured by the culture and literature of the west. The title was interesting because a, a serial play had been running on tv with the same name when I was a child and b, because my mom had been an avid Hijazi reader.
The book was refreshing but I was to read another Hijazi novel only after more than a decade. After moving to Dubai, I got to visit my country after months of being away and even though bookstores like Borders made me spoilt for choice, I never missed my chance to haunt delapidated ''book corners '' of Lahore or even the shops that carried the said signboard but stocked up only on stationary, how to do books or exam papers.
During the day social calls, bazaar trips and family would keep me busy but at night I would sneak in between the covers with thick books, only to wake up googly eyed the next morning. But it would be worth it. "Kaisar aur kasra"
revived my thirst not only for Islamic history but also restored my faith in creative fiction. The power of Urdu language was anew. Later on when I read Phillipa Gregory's books I would try to compare the writing style of these two. I know there is no comparison; Hijazi writes in Urdu, is occasionally didactic and his pen is soaked in Islam whereas Gregory writes in English and she never preaches, rather she makes one want to question. Still both mould fiction out of history ( I am not going to debate on the accuracy of the facts) and write with full control on a plot and characters.
Gregory, I must note, does not command the following that Hijazi does in his readers. This is my opinion entirely. Gregory's work maybe good fiction, but Hijazi's is like opium.
With a pot of meat simmering away on the stove, half a cup of warm milk on my side, looking out of the window of my lounge, I see the sun retreating. It has been a dusty few days. Like its going to rain but it does not. It is just the sand that is suspended in the air. Anyway, the illusion created in an air conditioned room is that the weather is Englishisque.
A long time ago in my teenhood, during summer vacations I got hold of a copy of Akhri Chattan by Nasim Hijazi. Coming from an English medium school Urdu reading was rare for me, though I loved the few story books my cousins lent me. I enjoyed the familiarity of the situations and language as much as I was enamoured by the culture and literature of the west. The title was interesting because a, a serial play had been running on tv with the same name when I was a child and b, because my mom had been an avid Hijazi reader.
The book was refreshing but I was to read another Hijazi novel only after more than a decade. After moving to Dubai, I got to visit my country after months of being away and even though bookstores like Borders made me spoilt for choice, I never missed my chance to haunt delapidated ''book corners '' of Lahore or even the shops that carried the said signboard but stocked up only on stationary, how to do books or exam papers.
During the day social calls, bazaar trips and family would keep me busy but at night I would sneak in between the covers with thick books, only to wake up googly eyed the next morning. But it would be worth it. "Kaisar aur kasra"
revived my thirst not only for Islamic history but also restored my faith in creative fiction. The power of Urdu language was anew. Later on when I read Phillipa Gregory's books I would try to compare the writing style of these two. I know there is no comparison; Hijazi writes in Urdu, is occasionally didactic and his pen is soaked in Islam whereas Gregory writes in English and she never preaches, rather she makes one want to question. Still both mould fiction out of history ( I am not going to debate on the accuracy of the facts) and write with full control on a plot and characters.
Gregory, I must note, does not command the following that Hijazi does in his readers. This is my opinion entirely. Gregory's work maybe good fiction, but Hijazi's is like opium.
posted by Raigzaar | 6:42 AM
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