Literary exodus
We are experiencing a movement towards greener and more ‘civilised’ pastures in Pakistan
The word ‘exodus’ is derived from the Greek word ‘éxodos’, literally meaning a marching or going out. We are experiencing a literary exodus in Pakistan – a movement towards greener and more ‘civilised’ pastures. And those of us that choose to clamber upon this rapidly moving bandwagon claim our flight is in the name of globalisation – we must progress, we argue. We must create a bridge between ‘our world’ and ‘theirs’. And in our quest to emulate their methodology, culture and language, have we not left our own roots?
The award winning tales that we spin – that have come to define Pakistani literature today – tend to vividly describe the simple, colourful and poetic lives of our rural folk, the shanty bazaars and slums of Karachi and Lahore that exude mysticism and mystery and the whimsical life of the common man. Drafted in bedecked rooms located in cities several thousand miles away from Pakistan itself, these works of literature serve to address a specific, upscale, urban audience; an audience that toys with these almost pathetically picturesque tales of a rural Pakistan.
And this is Pakistan’s literary exodus. Its soggy dregs and remnants left in the country are in the form of swanky literary festivals that – once more – cater to a specific class of society and leave the peasant whose lineage you romanticised, the sepoy whose feats in combat you glorified to create a lofty Bildungsroman, and the maid whose marks of abuse and young child in tow you used as inspiration for your novel depicting the ‘real’ face of Pakistan, as objects of convenience that were toyed with in times of need.
Is it fair that this ‘real’ Pakistan – that we so eagerly cast upon crisp sheets of fragrant paper ready for publishing – is left discombobulated, confused and largely detached from the world of literature and the arts? Approximately 67 per cent of Pakistan’s population is overwhelmingly rural. This very 67 per cent is in dire need of salvation through the arts.
But how? The great Pakistani novel is not a measured glimpse from a balcony window into the lives of villagers and slum dwellers and domestic workers eyed by the world as fascinating creatures. On the contrary, it is a tale woven for the masses and by the masses; a tale that embodies the struggles and hardships faced by souls of the soil; that encapsulates their tenderness and gentility; that is written from their perspectives and in their own languages. It is therefore time for us to put an end to this exodus, to understand one another, to delve deep into the many facets and shards and pieces that make our people who they are. Let us not lose sight of where we have come from.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 26th, 2014.
The award winning tales that we spin – that have come to define Pakistani literature today – tend to vividly describe the simple, colourful and poetic lives of our rural folk, the shanty bazaars and slums of Karachi and Lahore that exude mysticism and mystery and the whimsical life of the common man. Drafted in bedecked rooms located in cities several thousand miles away from Pakistan itself, these works of literature serve to address a specific, upscale, urban audience; an audience that toys with these almost pathetically picturesque tales of a rural Pakistan.
And this is Pakistan’s literary exodus. Its soggy dregs and remnants left in the country are in the form of swanky literary festivals that – once more – cater to a specific class of society and leave the peasant whose lineage you romanticised, the sepoy whose feats in combat you glorified to create a lofty Bildungsroman, and the maid whose marks of abuse and young child in tow you used as inspiration for your novel depicting the ‘real’ face of Pakistan, as objects of convenience that were toyed with in times of need.
Is it fair that this ‘real’ Pakistan – that we so eagerly cast upon crisp sheets of fragrant paper ready for publishing – is left discombobulated, confused and largely detached from the world of literature and the arts? Approximately 67 per cent of Pakistan’s population is overwhelmingly rural. This very 67 per cent is in dire need of salvation through the arts.
But how? The great Pakistani novel is not a measured glimpse from a balcony window into the lives of villagers and slum dwellers and domestic workers eyed by the world as fascinating creatures. On the contrary, it is a tale woven for the masses and by the masses; a tale that embodies the struggles and hardships faced by souls of the soil; that encapsulates their tenderness and gentility; that is written from their perspectives and in their own languages. It is therefore time for us to put an end to this exodus, to understand one another, to delve deep into the many facets and shards and pieces that make our people who they are. Let us not lose sight of where we have come from.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 26th, 2014.