The strange saga of animosity between India and Pakistan is not without
strong bonds of shared language, literature and culture. Will these
bonds survive the clouds of suspicion that hang heavy after Kargil, asksNirupama
Dutt
GULZAR: ``For the third generation, Pakistan will be Pakistan and India
will be India. It will last as long as the memory of grandparents
lasts.''
JAVED AKHTAR ``The Indian Muslims have reiterated their stand against
the two-nation theory. It is for the other side to come out and say so
too, for nations should not be based on religion.''
When guns fire, solders die and the wall of mourners pierces the
overcast sky in Kargil, it certainly is not the time to write poetry.
The brave do not write poetry. They die and they are dead: so said
Russian poet Joseph Brodsky. Then one doesn't really write poetry on sad
days: a sentiment expressed in verse by a prominent Hindi poet known for
his political poetry, Kumar Vikal. When the brave die and the days are
sad, one looks desperately for a line of poetry to hold on to as one
hold son to life. It could be a soothing verse from the scriptures or an
Urdu couplet accompanying the photograph of a young soldier in an
obituary notice in a newspaper. Or a marching song, which the sad father
recalls at his son's funeral, of flowers blooming where martyrs fall.
Poetry infiltrates with a difference. It comes bringing hope, peace and
love. Poetry is not propaganda and it runs far deeper than patriotism,
even though poets are often pressed into the service of the nation. A
Gulzar giving his poetic message on the radio to soldiers in Kargil or a
Javed Akhtar addressing people at Aye Watan Tere Liye, a starry nite
organized in the Capital. But this they do in their individual capacity
as citizens. When they turn to writing poetry, humanity replaces
geographical considerations.
Petry knows not the division of ours and theirs. The dawn of
Independence that broke upon India and Pakistan was sullied with blood,
rape and devastation. The poet could not but voice his despair. It was
Faiz Ahmed Faiz who said that this was not the dawn of freedom that had
been looked orward to: yeh dagh, dagh ujala, yeh shab-guzida sehar;
Intezar thha jiska yeh who sehar to nahin. Half a moon and a star
fluttered on one side and the tri-colour on the other, and there were
many who felt, truly, this was not the face of the dawn for which heroes
had gone to the gallows. It was Amrita Pritam who invoked Waris Shah to
speak again of the sorrows of the land of Punjab torn in two, and the
poem was loved on the other side of the barbed wire too. The lot of
poets on the other side was often to be behind bars for offending the
dictatorial regime. Faiz, undergoing a jail term in the Fifties, sent
out a couplet: Badha hai dard ka rishta yeh dil garib sahi; Tumhare naam
pe aayeinge ghamgusar chale (This bond of suffering is great even if the
heart be imporverished; Just call us and we'll be there to share your
sorrows). It at once touched hearts on both sides.
The two countries shared a dard ka rishta (bond of suffering) and Sahir
Ludhianvi, one of the finest lyricists of Hindi cinema, explicitly said
that be it the blood of the Hindu or the Muslim, it was the blood of
humanity. Years later, when Pakistan suffered humiliation and Bangladesh
was created, Sahitya Akademi Award winning Punjabi poet S S Misha wrote
an empathetic poem even as victory songs were being sung on this side.
He described the strange saga of animosity' which brought a tear even to
the `victor's eye during the surrender of arms.
But how long will these bonds hold as fundamentalists on both sides seem
to working towards an exclusive culture? Ask this of poet and film-maker
Gulzar and he says: ``What the two countries share is not just
contemporary poetry. We share Baba Farid, who is a part of the Guru
Granth Sahib. The question is that will this common culture survive for
the generations to come? For the third generation, Pakistan will be
Pakistan and India will be India. It will last as long as the memory of
grand parents lasts. The breeze has to keep blowing if the shared
heritage is to mean anything to those who follow.''
Alas! It is a hot wind which seems hellbent on scorching that which is
tender on both sides. While fundamentalism of the Pakistani variety has
been only too well known, our side too is now making up for lost time
with vengeance. The guardians of Hindutva seem to have found in Kargil a
scapegoat for their cultural crusade. The guns were trained on M.F.
Husain for his paintings, then on Shabana Azmi for her role in Deepa
Mehta's Fire and now on the Dadasaheb Phalke Award winning actor Dilip
Kumar to return the Nishan-e-Imtiyaz award to Pakistan.
Poet Javed Akhtar says: ``What happened at Kargil was unfortunate. But
its repercussions in the body politic of Pakistan are significant. For
the first time, people have come out openly against the fundamentalists.
A showdown is inevitable. If Pakistan goes a more reasonable way, the
cultural ties between the two countries are bound to improve.'' And what
about this side? Have not the Indian Muslims been called upon to wear
the badge of patriotism? Akhtar's answer to these questions is: ``To
some extent it is understandable. A section of people may doubt the
loyalties of the Indian Muslims. But the Indian Muslim has reiterated
his/her stand against the two-nation theory. It is for the other side
also to come out and say so too, for nations should not be based on
religion.''
Says Delhi-based playwright Asghar Wazahat, who penned the modern
classic Jis Lahore Nahi Dekhea O' Jamea Nahin, which addressed the issue
of communalism, using the shared poetic experience and interspersing the
play with the poems of Nasir Kazmi who migrated to Pakistan in 1947 and
whose poems reflect the agony of Partition. Wazahat's play, a raging hit
in India, was also to be performed in Karachi. But the Pakistan
Government did not allow it to be staged. `` It had only two exclusive
shows in the Goethe Centre, Karachi, in 1991. But the reviews it got
there were similar to the reviews here. This means there are liberal,
secular people there too,'' adds Wazahat.
The poem which the liberals are holding on to for dear life in these
troubled times comes from Pakistan. It has been penned by Fehmida Riyaz,
a poet well-known to India. Having earned the wrath of the mullahs
during Zia-ul-Haq's regime, she lived in exilein India for seven years.
The poem is a scathing comment on the rise of fundamentalism on this
side of the border: Tum bilkul ham jaise nikle, Ab tak kahan chhupe thhe
bahi. She says that the folly and bigotry in which they passed a
century, is now knocking at our door. With her tongue firmly planted in
her cheek she cries out, ``Congratulations, many congratulations to
you!''
``This poem'', says Delhi-based Hindi poet Manglesh Dabral: ``is the
poem of the times. As long as such poetry is being written, there is no
fear of the bonds snapping between the two countries which have shared
history over a millennium.'' Such is the bond of suffering between
people of the two countries that Faiz spoke of--a bond that could spell
the much-needed peace for the subcontinent.
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