“Suna hai janglon ka bhi koi dastoor hota hai
Suna hai sher ka jab pait bhar jaye
To woh hamla nahee karta
Darakhton ki ghani chhaon mein ja kar lait jata hai
Hawa kay taiz jhonke jab darakhton ko hilate hain
To maina apne bache chhor kar
Kawway kay andon ko paron mein tham leti hai
Suna hai ghonsle se koi bacha gir paray to
Sara jungle jaag jata hai…
Suna hai janglon ka bhi koi dastoor hota hai
Khuda wanda, jaleel o mohtbar
Daana o beena, munsif o’ akbar
Mere is shahr mein
Ab janglon ka he koi qanoon nafiz kar” — Zehra Nigah.
That was the representative poem
portraying the feelings of the thousands of educated people, of all classes and ethnicities, who thronged the Fifth Karachi Literature Festival (KLF) a few days back in the city. Yes, when terrorism, target killings and extra-judicial torture and murders are everyday happenings, these bleeding issues are hard to brush aside by the hapless people of the country. The barbarians responsible for these killings have an insatiable hunger but they are not like the ‘sher’ (lion) of the jungle. Each day, people are being attacked and killed. What can one expect from ‘sensitive’ and educated people but to feel sad and pray for the ‘law of the jungle’?
On February 8, 2014, the second day of the KLF, there was a strike call by the MQM to protest the death of their worker who they said succumbed to the torture inflicted by the law enforcement agencies. A day earlier, fiery Asma Jehangir, journalist-cum-novelist Mohammed Hanif and political activist Aasim Sajjad Akhtar, in a jam-packed session were blasting human rights violations by both the state and the terrorist gangs. Asma is hopeful that the people of Pakistan will resist religious fascism. In the long run that indeed would be the verdict of history as the majority of Pakistanis are against the Talibanisation of the country. The thinly veiled sharia of the Taliban and their political agents is fascistic. They want to exploit the religious feelings of the Muslims of the country to achieve their undemocratic goals.
However, for Karachiites, the spring of literature — popularly known as KLF — was too short. Only four days after the KLF concluded, 13 young policemen were killed in an attack by the TTP and 47 wounded, which included some civilians also. Most of the killed had just joined the police force in the last two years, knowing full well that policing has become a dangerous profession ever since the hydra-headed belligerent monster of terrorism has turned against its masters in the establishment.
In the last few years, the killings of policemen have been increasing in Sindh from 24 in 2010 to 190 in 2013, which includes 19 Rangers. While the killings of senior officers linger on in the media for a few days, ordinary policemen are buried, unsung and unwept; such is the sad reality of this highly status conscious society. In a civilised society, when a policeman is killed in the line of duty the city gives him a hero’s burial. Unfortunately, Pakistan now has the distinction of being the most dangerous place in the world for policemen and journalists. One cannot move on to writing on other issues, redeeming or depressing, without paying tribute to all those who die while trying to make Pakistan safe for us.
In this backdrop, for many who feel that Karachi in particular, and the country in general, is facing a threat from terrorism, the KLF is where hundreds of literary flowers bloom and defy intolerant obscurantist narratives.
Each year since it was started by Ameena Saiyid and Asif Farrukhi five years ago, the expanse of the KLF has grown. In three days last week, the KLF packed 110 sessions with over 160 writers coming from 11 countries. At any given time, there were five parallel sessions making it very difficult for the visitors to choose one and miss another, which was equally interesting. The situation reminded one of a famous Lahori refrain, “Haftay dey saat din te atth melay, hai oh Raba me kithay jawan” (seven days in the week and eight fairs, oh God! Where should I go?).
Contrary to some brooding souls, the people who come to the KLF are from classes that have an interest in different genres of literature and non-fiction books. There was also a separate strand for children. That makes it an event for all ages and aptitudes. Of course, only those who have an interest in books and writers will come to spend three days with the writers they like and books they prefer. When a fellow journalist, who is always happy to cover the KLF, asked me what I thought about the corporatisation of literature, my view was that the organizer, Oxford University Press, is a non-profit company and that it did not try to control the content of discussions, accommodating both non-conformist and conformist writers and intellectuals.
I also told my young friend that in the olden days, kings, rajas and the church patronised art and literature but that does not mean that Ghalib’s poetry and Michelangelo’s paintings are of no value. Our litmus test should be whether we can speak out on pro-people issues at such forums or not, instead of missing the opportunity to reach out to thousands of people who throng events like this. Are we willing to listen and question? Left ‘Salafiism’ has led us to dismiss everything that is successful and that which we have failed to do. If we cannot do this then why do we think the corporate sector should not do it? This attitude is rejectionist.
The good thing about the KLF’s programme content is that it caters to a wide spectrum of literature lovers. Urdu, English, Sindhi and Baloch writers talked about their books and trends. The high point of the KLF this year was when revolutionary poet Habib Jalib was remembered by the audience in a jam-packed session. While talking on post-2014 Pakistan, the panel of ex-diplomats painted a realistic scenario — a bitter truth. The experts agreed that the perilous fallout of Afghanistan after the NATO forces drawdown in the current year will be of serious consequence for Pakistan. However, they failed to pin the responsibility of much of the mess on the establishment where it actually belongs.
However, the star attraction of the KLF was learned historian and political scientist Rajmohan Gandhi, who abhors the politics of violence like his grandfather Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi did. He remarked that literature and art do not recognise boundaries — politics creates borders and divides people. At a private dinner, he told me he was very disturbed about the rising Sunni-Shia killings and suggested that young Muslims of the world should launch a movement against this dangerous trend. I thought to myself that when states are funding this proxy war in the world, can pacifists like him and I do something to stop this?
The writer is the author of What’s Wrong With Pakistan? He can be reached at [email protected]