Pigeons, boundaries & streets

Kabutar, Banerey Tei Galian
By Zubair Ahmad
Sanjh Publications, Lahore; Pp 104; Rs 100

The foreword to Zubair Ahmad’s latest short story book Kabutar, Banerey Tei Galian is written by Mahmud Awan from Dublin, Ireland. It is titled Vailey Di Taaki Vich Jagdi Kahani. Mahmud Awan observes that thought contents of his first book culminate in his second book. He says “Ais Kitaab Diyan Kahanian Sirf Ik Lokaai Tei Rehtal Diyan Kahaniyan Nahi ... Aei Dais Dais Wasde Punjabian Da Chit Tei Rooh Nei” (all the stories in the book are not related to just one society. They relate to the Punjabis settled in various parts of the world). They start from Gurdaspur to Krishen Nagar and reach Boston and Dublin (page 10). We shall see the legitimacy of this observation by taking few stories in the book under review.

The first story ‘Murda Tari’ relates an immigrant’s dilemma that desired to go to the US but accidentally landed in Rome and ended up in staying there for twenty one years. Abroad he always dreamt of his old house that used to full of life back home. It is like dusk which is a blue sky that turns into polluted colours as the time passes but it is only the memories that turn dreams into grey evenings. Like the character of this story, poet Iftikhar Nasim too had left his country of origin for better horizons. Despite all the facilities available in the US, he still longed for his old house back home. He said in his poetry book Aabdoz that ‘Udas Baam, Khula Dar Pukarta Hei Mujhey/Jila Watan Hun, Mera Ghar Pukarta Hei Mujhey’ (poignant house, open doors cry for me to return but my hands are tied). Once when he visited Faisalabad, he was disappointed over the stagnancy prevalent in his old city. He could not but write ‘Hiley Makaan Na Safar Mein Koi Makeen Daikha/Jahan Peh Chore Gaye They Usey Waheen Daikha’ (neither the house moved nor did I meet any inhabitant. Where ever I had left it, it stood there). Seeking new commitments and relationships was natural in the West (as these were of temporary nature) but it made both the poet as well as the writer of the book under review lonelier. Themes of those living aboard or those who have spent longer time of their lives abroad therefore are almost the same; nostalgia, desire to return, missing their kith and kin, love for their homes, cities and countries of origin except that their expressions whether in poetry or in prose are varied. Such themes of the sensitive souls though hackneyed shall persist as long as some of us chose to remain immigrants.

The second story ‘Sawa Tota Chunj Daryawe Bohr Gaya’ relates to duties of school staff in a pooling booth during elections in a far flung village that are forced to share their abode with Army Jawans on a cold day. During this sojourn, the writer makes friends with a Jawan narrating him story of his failed love. The story ‘Bajwa Hun Gal Nahi Karda’ (Bajwa doesn’t speak to me anymore) relates to the story of two friends who meet and separate in the humbug of the city of Lahore. The old Mall Road is no more a place for walk as it used to be in 1960s. Now it is filled with smoke of vehicles. The writer awaits Bajwa with ‘Chacha Siyasi’ (political uncle). While waiting he recalls how he had made friends with Bajwa who would share all the secrets with him but as the time passed, he started getting estranged till the writer saw him showering rose petals on his head during a lawyers’ procession much later. He kept on smelling this smell till he lived. While reading Zubair’s stories one notices that the vocabulary of his prose is not easy to comprehend but the essence is somehow caught. This reviewer wonders why we choose such difficult path as our aim is to reach to the masses and not to impress a few intellectuals about our diction.

As a child this reviewer was a frequent visitor to his maternal grandfather’s house. Most of his aunts and their children would also spend their Saturday nights there. His grandmother had kept a servant namely Bhaiya Sakoor (Shakoor) from Bareli and even married him to a woman Hajira from Bareli. The couple with passage of time had taken over all the jobs of the household like stock keeping in the kitchen, cooking, making beds and doing cleaning etc. Not a bird moved without their consent. Both died in my grandparent’s house. Similar story is knitted by Zubair titled the same as the title of the book. It is about a woman Gamme who spent her life in Masi Aishan’s house in a room located on the top of the house in Krishen Nagar. She would feed the pigeons and save them from the cats while living in Barsaati on roof top. Once she was married but she soon returned to Masi and lived there till her death. Such were the loyalties of that time. The writer after his return to Krishen Nagar was looking for Masi Aishan’s house and found out that Masi was under litigation about her house which was in dilapidated condition. Before she could win the litigation, she joined the Almighty. Gamme was found to have found another Masi Aishan for rest of her time she lived! Awan observes that writing on women emancipation, their plight is a very cumbersome task for a writer on male gender

The other stories titled ‘Pura Pura’ relates to a docile man who is too timid to respond to the advances of a younger woman and ends up in a dry life as though a shadow from his body had chosen to slip away to take rest on a bench! The story ‘1 Kahani’ is about memories that hits a person in the middle of night. The story ‘Pandh’ is about a child’s attachment with his grandmother who dies while the child still clinging to her. It has been a pleasure to read Zubair’s stories that are so down to earth and expose the calamities, sincerities, loves still prevalent in our culture.

From : Daily Times 30 September 2014