by Raza Rumi
I have been upset the entire day. Perhaps it does not matter in the larger scheme of things. But this is a sad, sad day. Qurratulain Hyder, the literary giant of our times is no more. At a personal level it is not just the death of another literary figure but it is far greater and deeper than that. Ainee inspired generations of Urdu readers and there is not a single Urdu writer of post-independence era who has not been influenced by her.
Ainee had a civilizational consciousness that took us beyond the nation-state identities that we are so familiar with in our everyday lives. And, of course there was romance - the notion of eastern and Indic romance - that touched our lives. As I wrote earlier, that the way I have understood the world and perhaps parts of myself were deeply influenced by Ainee.
And 
now her death is a blow that this source of inspiration is not there anymore; as it is we are living in barren times where literature is about marketing and packaging and catering to consumers.
Ainee primarily wrote for herself but reached out and made her mark - and in the process she connected with millions of readers. And I am just one of them. My friends and I have talked today and we recounted how she shaped our inner lives.
I have at least avoided a regret - I met her after years of longing. Met her twice at her house in her frail state and enjoyed the hours. The impressions were indelible. Of course, the ambitious self had planned a meeting later this year.
But there will be nobody in that Noida house. That little temple opposite her house will remain and the sound of Azaan from a neighbouring mosque will also heard. But the hearty laughter, quick witted lines and inimitable writings will not be there.
However, as a friend said - writers die, their stories don’t -makes me a little content.
Farewell, Ainee Apa. May God keep you happy wherever you are…
Photo Credits: The black-and-White photo in this post is courtesy of Prashant Panjiar
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qurratulain ki maut…ek ahad ke khatme se tabeer ki ja sakti hai.lekin sach yeh hai-ki achha likhne walon ki aaj bhi koi kami nahi–waheed ahmed ka novel..zeenu, ashraf shaad ke 3 novel..wazeer azam, bewatan, sadre aala, asim butt ka daira, achhe novel hain..aur bade bhi—guftugu ka darwaza is liye nahi khul raha hai..ki ..ab mna naqqaad hain…na wo padhne waale–pakistan ke adeeb zyadater pak ke adeebon ko jaante aur unhi per likhte hain.hind ke adeeb hind ke logon ko–pak aur hind ke alawa bhi..urdu ki ek aalmi basti hai-khud mere novel BAYAN ke baare mein mashoor naqqad..DR.MD .HASSAN ne likha ki azaadi ke baad urdu mein aisa novel nahi likha gaya..pokemon ki dunia, aur..prof s. ki ajeeb daastaan via tsunami..mere naye novel hain—lekin kitne logon ki nazar se yeh kitab guzri hai–farooqi apni bekaar kitaab…novel ko apne chand chaapluson ke zariye..main stream mein le aate hain.lekin kitne adeeb self projection ka hunar jaante hain—is liye..qurratulain ke baad bhi..bahut achha adab likha ja raha hai—shayed un se behter adab..kam log hain is ka ehsaas hai..lekin adab zinda hai
Dear Raza and other friends,
I can shed some light on why Ainee left. Going to Lucknow University before Partition my father was close personal friends with her.Many years after his death I spent the day with her in 1998 at her house in Noida and asked her exactly why she chose to leave Pakistan. She told me that at the time she was making a documentary on some rural folk dancing in what was then East Pakistan.The only problem was that the women were dancing around the figure of Krishna. The Ministry of Information and Broadcasting told her that they could release the documentary but the footage of Krishna had to be cut. It was at this point she told me she was utterly disgusted at this senseless censorship and decided to return to India.
Sophia
I can’t help but remember a line from the translation of the part of t. s. eliot poem printed right in the beginning of the novel (I am sure it was from Four Quartets).
Time the destroyer is time the preserver
waqt jo tabahkun he–qaaim bhi rakhta he
In a different context, we are seeing all these unheard of names in this discussion who played the role of a villain but what happened to them in the end. Time brought even them under the elephant’s foot I talked about earlier and crushed them. In this day and age it is almost as if someone trashed Mir’s or Ghalib’s poetry and reflected on his own calibre.
On a much lighter note, I also remember the scene from Mel Brooke’s movie ‘history of teh world’ where he introduces the critic after the first human art work is created.
Please also see this article in the Jang by Masood As’ar where he talks of the environment created for her and also brings out Ainee’s eccentricities:
http://tinyurl.com/2afht5
MQ: thanks - since the civil servant was an all powerful member of Pak establishment for years, his view reflects the bias clearly. However, the letter was badly edited :(
Shahran: thanks for the link. I have read this and Mr Aly’s conclusion is pretty tentative as he says himself at the end of the article. Mr Aly and many others of his ilk were a little startled by Ainee’s decision to move back.
It was not the martial law but the intellectual climate of Pakistan where you had to be in sync with the official history or else you would be an outcast.
Here is what Q Hyder said in her 1988 foreword to Aag Ka Darya:
“There is such a well-established chain of rumors and fictional spin stories about this novel that any refutation of them is simply beyond me. Recently, Qudrat-ullah-Shahab’s Shahab Namah was published. He writes at one place in it, “One morningQurrat-ul-Ain Haider came to me soon after the imposition of the Martial Law with a saddened face, anguished eyes and disheveled hair. Aini said instantly, ‘What will happen now? So now, even barking is disallowed, she inquired in a painful voice. Her eyes were suffused with tears and she tried to smile to hide her tears. Then with a cold sigh, she said rather indifferently, oh brother! Who wants to bark everyday; but freedom of barking is indeed a blessing’. I am inclined to believe that the mere thought of censorship gave her a mental shock. It is not surprising that the reaction to this shock may have turned her pen toward Aag ka Dariya”. I have not reproduced the whole excerpt for fear of its length. Shahab was an extremely good person and a gentleman. I cannot accuse him of fabrication but most assuredly, his memory did let him down because whole of this dramatic scenario is indeed fictional. Firstly, I do not heave cold sighs with teary eyes and disheveled hair. Secondly, I had started Aag ka Dariya in 1956 and had finished the script in 1957. The Martial Law was clamped in October 1958. At that time, the script was in Lahore and Maktabah-e-Jadid had published it in 1959. On the last page of the first edition, the year of publication was printed. Therefore, the mental shock of the Martial Law had not turned my pen toward Aag ka Dariya.”
and here in her own carefully chosen, tactful words:
“I was attached to the Ministry of Advertising, Films and Publications, Information, and Relays. I went to East Pakistan for making a documentary film (see for the details, Kar-e-Jahan Daraz Haiy, Vol. 2, p. 279). On my return, I wrote the script of the first cartoon film of Pakistan, Decimal Coins, for the same department. Afterwards, I took my mother to London for treatment. At that time, many Urdu writers had settled in the west. This process is still continuing. Abul Kalam Azad was a dear friend of my late father. He had prompted me a few years ago suggesting as to why did I not consider returning to India? My return to India, instead of permanently settling in Britain, had nothing to do with Aag ka Dariya.”
So it was neither the martial law nor the contentious novel but the controversies that she had to face and settle on a daily basis that disenchanted her. And, I think it is not a big deal. Pakistan was her second home and she was a regular visitor spending months. Her last visit was in 2006.
Pakistan’s eminent, and perhaps the best, historian KK Aziz is another example. He has been sidelined and lives in the twilight of his life in anonymity in Lahore. When you expose the “Murder of History” and challenge half truths weaved by mainstream academia and state curricula, this is what happens!
I plan to write on K K Aziz soon:)
cheers, R