This is the first attempt to put together the story of Urdu journalism and Urdu literature. In Urdu Literature and Journalism: Critical Perspectives Shafey Kidwai has made space for Ghalib and Faiz, Firaq Gorakhpuri and Manto, Premchand and Rabindranath Tagore. Talking of Tagore, Kidwai puts an entirely new spin to the stalwart’s image. He treads new territories, talks of Tagore’s influence on contemporary Urdu writers and poets and, through famous poet Josh Malihabadi, makes bold to say something not oft-heard in literary quarters.
That Tagore had another not-entirely-laudable side. Kidwai reproduces what Malihabadi wrote in his autobiography, Yaadon ki Baraat . Recalling the six months he spent in Santiniketan at the Tagore’s invitation the poet wrote: “He was obsessed with a thing that left me completely annoyed. It was his penchant for publicity…Whenever a foreigner came for his interview, he would sit at a high-up place after getting himself fully spruced up.... he would give the interview in such a manner that the interview seeker would get the impression that he was speaking to a divinity.”
However, Kidwai does not project Tagore only in a negative light. At another place, Tagore comes across as man keen to do much more with his life, and quite dismissive of the body of the work he had already accomplished. Kidwai reproduces what Tagore reportedly said, “I regret that hardly any time is left for me. I have to do a lot but I hardly see any opportunity. My hands have become useless, how could I find sensitivity of fingers. There is no flexibility left in my body. I have lost everything. If I get some more time, I will complete the works that are pending.”
Then Kidwai shifts the focus to Premchand and his equation with Tagore. He also looks at how much of the language’s early romanticism derived from the Nobel laureate. Says Kidwai, “So many Urdu writers owe their ornate language, their mushy expression and sentimentalism to Tagore. This ‘gulabi Urdu’ is actually regarded Tagorean in literary circles.” Among those influenced by Tagore were stalwarts like Premchand and Abul Kalam Azad. “Premchand acknowledged that he learnt the art of story writing from Tagore. Abul Kalam’s work was often full of rhetoric, which again owed its inspiration to Tagore.” Not a surprise then when Tagore’s Gitanjali won the Nobel Prize, the book was promptly translated and published by Urdu publishers.
In the book, Kidwai charts the contours of Urdu’s development. “There was a phase of romanticism, then the age of Progressive writers. Then, in the most modern times, writers started looking beyond despair and deprivation, alienation and estrangement.
They were in tune with modern-day challenges and opportunities. Their sensibilities are different. In the past all who were poor were good, being rich was not good. Now newer themes are tackled by writers. For instance, Masood uses non-linear narration. There is no regimentation in the language today. The writers have no fixed pattern. In some ways, it is the age of subversion.”
Like it was when Ghalib wrote, “ Hum ko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat lekin, dil ke khush rakhney ko Ghalib ye khayaal achhaa hai ”? He agrees, adding, “In some ways, yes. Ghalib too wondered about paradise as being too perfect a place. In modern literature, as far as the subjects go, it is like the tail wagging the dog.”
Kidwai does not limit his audacity to the language. He talks of famous poets as critics, as writers. For instance, he has thrown new light on Firaq Gorakhpuri, arguing that it is not fair to term him an impressionistic critic. “His work was actually quite electric,” he says. Then happily adds about a lesser known poet Mushafi. “No Urdu poet had used the word ‘colour’ as many times as Mushafi did and he used this image judiciously. Hence one could aptly describe Mushafi as a poet of five senses.” Poet of five senses? You could say that about Shafey Kidwai, the author, too. He can smile some more. Until his probing eyes take him to a new literary platform.
