Stories from Hazara …… Dr Naazir Mahmood
The tradition of writing historical novels in Urdu is over a century old. From Abdul Halim Sharar and Rashidul Khairi to Aslam Rahi, M Aslam, and Naseem Hijazi, there is a list of dozens of writers who penned hundreds of novels about famous events and personalities in Muslim history.
These writers are mostly responsible for glorifying Muslim history and presenting Muslim warriors as indomitable fighters for the supremacy of their religion. General Ziaul Haq was a fan of such writers and arranged for the dramatization of many such stories for PTV, as such dramas helped him in his propaganda to create a jihadist mindset in the country.
This trend has, unfortunately, misled and misguided at least four generations of readers in Pakistan who now display their extremist tendencies, from Swat and Sargodha to Sahiwal and Sialkot. Such literature is easily accessible in nearly all college and school libraries and has sold millions of copies.
Then there is a more serious stream of novels in Urdu that cover a certain period of history in the Subcontinent. A prime example is ‘Aag Ka Darya’ (River of Fire) by Qurratulain Hyder, which covers a vast span of history in a more inclusive and objective manner. Abdullah Hussain’s ‘Udaas Naslain’ (Weary Generations) is another marvellous piece of literature that deals with the history of the early 20th century with a particular reference to world wars and their impact on India, especially in Punjab.
‘Dara Shikoh’ and ‘Ghalib’ by Qazi Abdul Sattar are more novellas than novels, but give a realistic portrayal of these personalities. Good historical novels are few and far between in Urdu.
In the 21st century, Akhtar Raza Saleemi has tried to explore the history of Hazara – including Abbottabad, Haripur, and Mansehra – presenting it in his three novels – I would say one novel and two novellas: ‘Jaagey Hain Khaab Mein (Wide Awake in Dreams)’, ‘Jinder’ (Watermill), and ‘Lawaakh’ (Campfire) . Saleemi emerged on the literary scene as a poet with his first collection of poetry ‘Ikhteraa’ (innovation) in 2003 and two subsequent collections ‘Irtifaa’ (sublime) and ‘Khaabdaan’ (Dreamland) in 2008 and 2013 respectively.
His first novel, ‘Jaagey Hain Khaab Mein’ (2015) was a landmark in that for the first time we read about 19th-century Hazara in an Urdu novel. The writer made use of historical narratives and local folklore, focusing on the establishment of the Sikh empire in the region in the early 19th century under the guidance of Maharaja Ranjeet Singh, and the struggle of Syed Ahmed Barelvi and Shah Ismael Barelvi against the Sikhs, culminating in the Battle of Balakot in 1831.
The Jihad Movement of the two Barelvis that aimed to establish ‘khilafat’ in the Hindko- and Pashto-speaking regions of the present-day province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa miserably failed.
But the novel does not employ a linear narrative to unfold events, rather, it begins in the 21st century when a character named Zaman keeps visiting a cave site where he dreams of strange events from days long gone. The cave site is near an old passageway to Taxila. The story starts with Raja Rasalo, whose wife Rani Koklaan indulges in adultery; the Raja kills the infidel Rani and throws her paramour into the cave. Then the character of Mahnoor enters the life of Zaman but ultimately marries another man.
Zaman keeps dreaming, and then the nearly 200-year-old story of political struggle in Hazara unfolds as he battles with his dreams about his forefathers who fought against the Sikhs. He dreams of an old ‘haveli’ (mansion) that his forefathers built and which occupies a significant place in his family history, full of battles and bravery.
Saleemi’s second novella ‘Jinder’ (2018) spans hardly 120 pages, but it is an excellent portrayal of a dying culture of watermills in Hazara. An old man running a watermill is waiting for his death in the compound of his home. His impending death triggers his fears about the possible delay in his funeral due to his son’s relocation to Islamabad.
The son would find it hard to come to his father’s funeral due to business engagements. ‘Jindoroee’ (the watermill owner) fears that his dead body will be consumed by insects before anybody comes to know about his passing.
Then he ponders over the possibility of his death 25 years earlier when the local culture was still intact, and the villagers frequented his watermill in droves. That was the time when electricity was yet to arrive and people slept early. Grinding grains by watermills was a daily chore and the rotating mill generated melodious sounds that the jindoroee found soothing. When he got married, his wife did not like the noise from the mill and moved out, resulting in their separation of sorts.
Then he recalls how his forefathers built that watermill during the Sikh rule in Hazara in the 19th century. The local Sikh Raja was hostile to his subjects, and the people of Hazara did not surrender easily or accept their subjugation meekly. The grandfather of his grandfather Ahmed Khan with his brother Muhammad Khan built the watermill within a month; it was an unimaginable feat at that time without paved roads and no automobiles to carry loads and stones.
There is a detailed mention of the rains of 1841 that uprooted many watermills in the region which had to be rebuilt. Gradually the British took over the region and the entire fabric started changing.
Saleemi’s latest novella, ‘Lawaakh’ carries the journey forward with a different narrative revolving around the resistance of the local people against British domination and a failed attempt to capture Maree from the Hazara side during the 1857 War of Independence.
Nearly a 100-year-long history of Hazara comes alive with this 180-page novella, which is a gripping story of both betrayal and bravery. While the Muslims of Hazara are breathing a sigh of relief after the removal of the Sikh yoke from their shoulders, within a decade a tumultuous series of events unfolds.
As rumours about an impending revolt against British rule circulate, there is a renewed flurry of activities for supporting mutineers in New Delhi that Bahadur Shah Zafar was leading. ‘Lawaakh’ is a campfire that the locals use to convey messages across the hills and mountains. The protagonist of the story carries an account of the adventures his forefathers indulged in; but if captured, that written account may land him in jail and possibly lead to the gallows.
The people of Hazara could have defeated British soldiers camped on the Murree Hills but a traitor informs the enemy who responds with ferocious force and annihilates the freedom fighters.
These three pieces of fiction are a treat to read. Saleemi has been successful in writing them concisely rather than expanding the material to a full-length novel of 500 pages or so. Some writers inflate the material of a novella to a novel and the unnecessary expansion makes it a tedious read.
Saleemi’s understanding of psychological issues and the writings of Freud and Jung is evident in his writing and he makes careful use of their ideas. His fiction is a good addition to Urdu literature, as it discusses themes hitherto unexplored.
The only shortcoming that one notices in all three is the absence of any strong female characters apart from a couple of them who play on the sidelines. While at times glorifying the warriors of Hazara, Saleemi does not fall into the trap of Haleem Sharar and Naseem Hijazi’s idealization. The writer appears to be well aware of the subtle difference between occasional glorification and persistent idealization.
The writer holds a PhD from the University of Birmingham, UK. He tweets/posts @NaazirMahmood and can be reached at: mnazir1964@yahoo.co.uk
Courtesy The News