Tuesday, May 27, 2008

A Short Historical Perspective of Urdu : Gopi Chand Narang

With thanks to : http://www.museindia.com/showfocus3.asp?id=661
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Gopi Chand Narang : A Short Historical Perspective of Urdu

Urdu is a major language of South Asia, and it has been gaining in popularity since the independence of the Indian sub-continent. It is one of the eighteen national languages of the Union of India as well as the declared national language of Pakistan. Although influenced by Arabic and Persian, but quite unlike Arabic and Persian, Urdu is an Indo-Aryan, language akin to Hindi, which originated and developed in the Indian subcontinent. Both Urdu and Hindi belong to the new Indo-Aryan sharing the same Indic base. At the phonological and grammatical level, they are so close that they appear to be one language, but at the lexical level they have borrowed so extensively from different sources (Urdu from Arabic and Persian, and Hindi from Sanskrit) that in actual practice and usage each has developed into an independent language. This distinction is most marked at the orthographical level, where Hindi uses Devanagari, and Urdu uses the Arabo-Persian script indigenously modified to suit the requirements of an Indo-Aryan speech. According to a general estimate, Urdu and Hindi taken together form the third largest speech community in the world today.

In Pakistan, Urdu is the official language used in instruction at government schools, at the district level administration, and in the mass media. According to the Census of Pakistan, 1981, the number of Urdu speakers in Pakistan has been estimated at almost 11 million with the largest concentration in the metropolitan city of Karachi, and in the Punjab. The Urdu speakers in India number almost 44 million (Census of India, 1991) with the largest numbers in the state of Uttar Pradesh, followed by Bihar, Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra and Karnataka, which together account for 85% of the national Urdu-speaking population. Delhi still enjoys being the major centre of Urdu literature and publishing. Urdu is also spoken in countries surrounding India and Pakistan, such as Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Nepal. Practically, Urdu has become the culture language and lingua franca of the South Asian Muslim diaspora outside the sub-continent, especially in the Gulf and the Middle East, Western Europe, Scandinavia, U.S.A. and Canada.

Historically, Urdu developed in the post-12th century period under the impact of the incoming Muslims as a linguistic modus vivendi from the sub-regional apabhramshas of north-western India. Its first major folk poet is the great Persian master, Amir Khusrau (1253-1325), who is known to have composed dohas (couplets) and riddles in the newly-formed speech, then called ‘Hindavi’. Through the medieval time, this mixed speech was variously called by various speech sub-groups as ‘Hindavi’, ‘Zaban-e-Hind’, ‘Hindi’, ‘Zaban-e-Dehli’, ‘Rekhta’, ‘Gujari’. ‘Dakkhani’, Zaban-e-Urdu-e-Mualla’, ‘Zaban-e-Urdu’, or just ‘Urdu’. There is evidence to establish that the name ‘Hindustani’ was in vogue in the late 11th century, which later became synonymous with Urdu. Literally, the word ‘Urdu’ (originally Turkish) means camp, or the royal camp. It also stood for the city of Delhi which was the seat of the Mughals for centuries. Nonetheless, major Urdu writers kept referring to their speech as ‘Hindi’, or ‘Hindavi’ till as late as the beginning of the 19th century:

najane log kehte hain kis ko suroor-e-qalb
aya nahin ye lafz to Hindi zaban ke beec

Mir Taqi Mir (d. 1810)

Mushafi farsi ko taq pe rakh
Ab hai ashaar- e-Hindavi ka rivaj

Mushafi(d.1824)

The divide between Urdu and Hindi occurred under the colonial impact with the growing cultural consciousness as part of the processes of political modernization. A beginning, in fact, was affected at the Fort William College, Calcutta (established 1800), under John Gilchrist (1789-1841). There is enough evidence to show that the British rulers tied down the question of the varieties of 'Hindavi', first to the cultural heritage and social hierarchy, and later to religion and political power play. Thus, it was at the Fort William College that the two distinct trends in literary prose writing came to the fore. On the one hand, we had Mir Amman's Bagh - o - Bahar (1800-1802) and Hyder Bakhsh Hyderi's Aaraish - e - Mehfil (1802-1804) as Urdu prose, and, on the other, Lallu Lal's Premsagar and Sadal Mishra's Nasiketopakhyan as Hindi prose. Later, with the rise of India's freedom struggle, Mahatma Gandhi sensed the communalization of the language issue and the political twist given to it by the British. He, therefore, supported the composite concept of Hindustani as a common variant of the colloquial usage written in both the scripts as the national language of the country. It is interesting to note that much before Mahatma Gandhi's proposal of Hindustani as a language of composite Indian culture, Raja Shiva Prasad in his book of grammar, in the year 1875, reiterated that Hindi and Urdu have no difference on the level of the vernacular. He wrote: "The absurdity began with the Maulvis and Pundits of Dr. Gilchrist's time, who being commissioned to make a grammar of the common speech of Upper India made two grammars... The evil consequence is that instead of having a school grammar of the vernacular as such... we have two diverse and discrepant class books, one for the Mohammedan and Kayastha boys and the other for the Brahmins and Banias." (cf. Srivastava p.3O). But the die had been cast and, spurred by the cultural renaissance, the linguistic divide was there to stay. After the partition, though there were no official takers of the idea of Hindustani, it is this common core speech that rules the roost. It is in fact the vehicle of communication at the level of mass culture, and is widely used in movies and all forms of entertainment.

Grammatically, the hallmark of Urdu based on Khariboli of Delhi is its '-a' ending in masculine nouns and adjectives, 'is', 'us' and 'in', 'un' as oblique forms of pronouns, and a sound sequence of a long vowel with a non-geminate single consonant, i.e., -vcc > vc. The dialectal base of old Hindi including Brajbhasha, Kanauji and Bundeli show 'au' or 'o' as the nominal ending, and have 'ya', 'wa' form of pronominal. On the other hand, Punjabi and Bangaru preserve the sound sequence of double consonants preceded by a short vowel. They also retain the homorganic nasals while the a-ending dialects show in their word formation a development of nasalised long vowel. When the Muslims came to Delhi and Agra, it was this a-ending dialect which was gaining prominence in the speech communication system of the people of the north. The Urdu vocalics are the same as Hindi with slight variations in the short vowel allophones. Urdu also retains a complete set of aspirated stops, a characteristic of Indo-Aryan, as well as the retroflex set except n (as in Krishn) which is simplified n > n. Of the loans, Urdu does not retain the complete range of Arabo-Persian, consonants. The largest number of consonants retained being among the spirants, i.e., 'f, 'z', 'zh', x', 'gh'; and only one sound among the stops, i.e., glottal 'q'.

The grammatical and lexicographical tradition of Urdu is now almost three centuries old. Initially, it was attended to by the European orientalists, beginning with the Dutch scholar, Keteiaar, in the 17th century, and continuing through Schultze (1744), Ferguson (1773), Gilchrist (1800), Shakespeare (1817), Forbes (1848), Fallon (1879), Plalts (1884), and others down to Grierson in the early 20th century. While Platts' work has become a classic, and is reprinted time and again, and Grierson's Linguistic Survey of India cannot be replaced, the others have been forgetten. The notable indigenous lexicons include Farhang - e - Asafiya (1895-1908) by Syed Ahmad Dehlavi, Noor - ul - Lughaat (1924-31) by Noor-ul-Hasan Nayyar Kakorvi, Jame - ul - Lughaat (1934) by Feroze-uddin, and Standard English - Urdu Dictionary (1937) by Baba-e-Urdu, Abdul Haq.

Lately, with inputs from modern linguistics, and the fresh impetus given by the new status of Urdu as a national language as well as a cultural vehicle of the South Asian diaspora, the need for new studies is ever on the increase. The work of modern scholars such as M.A.R. Barker, R.S. McGregor, Ralph Russell, Christopher Shackle, R.N. Srivastava, Ashok Kelkar, Eugene Glassman, Donald Becker, Bruce Pray, C.M. Naim, Tej Bhatia, Helmut Nespital and others is considered significant. Ruth Laila Schmidt supported by Gopi Chand Narang has lately published Urdu : An Essential Grammar (1999), which is the first comprehensive reference grammar of Urdu.

Urdu literature made its beginning away from Delhi, in Deccan, in the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. As the Mughal rulers in the north generally patronised Persian, court patronage came to the new speech in South India, i.e., Golkunda (present Hyderabad) and Bijapur, where for literary pursuits the new speech was used in the first place by the Sufi saints and folk poets. Hence, the name Dakkhani. The earliest work extant is a verse narrative, Kadam Rao Padam Rao by Nizami (1421-1434). Sabras , an allegorical tale by Wajhi (d.1635) is considered the first prose classic. The major Dakkhani poets include Mohammad Quli Qutb Shah (d.1626), Gawwasi (d.1631), Nusrati (d.1674), Ibn-e-Nishati (d.1655) and Wali Aurangabadi (d. 1707). Inspired by Wali's example, the Delhi poets adopted their speech for poetry, considering it as elegant for poetic creation as Persian. This virtually proved the turning of the tide in favour of Urdu.

The 18th and 19th centuries are considered to be the golden period of the classical Urdu poetry, when language reached its highest degree of sophistication and excellence. The great masters include Mir Taqi Mir (d.1810), Sauda (d.1781), Khwaja Mir Dard (d.1784), Insha (d.1817), Mushafi (d.1824), Nasikh (d.1838), Aatish (d.1847), Momin (d.1852), Zauq (d.1854) and Ghalib (d.1869). They were mainly poets of the Ghazal (lyric). For masnavi writing the highest honour is given to Mir Hasan (d.1786), Daya Shankar Nasim (d. 1844) and Nawab Mirza Shauq (d.1871). Nazir Akbarabadi of Agra (d.1830) is considered the folk poet par excellence of Urdu. In Marsiya (elegy) writing no one surpassed Anis (d.1874) and Dabir (d.1875) of Lucknow. Ghalib who was a contemporary of the last Mughal ruler, Bhadur Shah Zafar, is considered to be the last of the classicals as well as the first of the moderns.

Though prose had made its beginning in the 18th century, Ghalib's letters set the standard for modern prose, followed by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan (d.1898), Mohd. Husain Azad (d.1910), Hali (d.1914) and Shibli (d.1914). During the 19th century, the cyclic tales running into thousands of pages and several volumes like Tilism - e - Hoshruba and Dastan - e - Amir Hamza (1881-1917) gave way to shorter prose tales, such as Bagh - o - Bahar (1802) and Fasana - e - Ajaib (1831) by Rajab Ali Beg Suroor. The beginning of the novel, however, was made by Nazir Ahmad (d.1912), Ratan Nath Sarshar (d.1902) and Mohd. Hadi Ruswa (d.1931). The 20th century saw the rise of the Urdu novel with Premchand (d.1936), whose Godan is considered to be a classic. The other modern classics include short fiction by Saadat Hasan Manto (d.1955), and novels like Aag ka Darya (1960) by Qurrat-ul-ain Hyder, Udas Naslen (1963) by Abdulla Husain, Ek Chaadar Maili Si (1962) by Rajinder Singh Bedi, Basti (1979) by Intizar Husain and Khwabroo by Joginder Paul.

Allama Iqbal (d.1938) is considered to be the most outstanding Urdu poet of the 20th century followed by N. M. Rashid (d.1975), Miraji (d.1949), Josh Malihabadi (d.1982), Firaq Gorakhpuri (d.1982), Faiz Ahmed Faiz (d.1984), Makhdoom Mohi-ud-Din (d.1969) and Akhtar-ul-Iman (1996). The notable essayists, non-fiction prose writers, literary critics and scholars include Baba-e-Urdu, Maulavi Abdul Haq (d.1961), Abul Kalam Azad (d.1958), Patras Bukhari (d.1958) Mahmood Shirani (d.1946), Sheikh Mohd. lkram (d.1973), Syed Mohd. Abdulla (d.1986), Masood Hasan Rizvi Adib (d.1975), Abid Husain (d.1978), Kalimuddin Ahmad (d.1983), Ehtisham Husain (d.1972), Mohd. Hasan Askari (d.1978), Imtiyaz Ali Khan Arshi (d.1981), Qazi Abdul Wadood (d.1984), Malik Ram (d.1993), Kanhaya Lal Kapoor (d.1980), and Rashid Ahmad Siddiqui (d.1977).

Voluntary Organisations

Some important voluntary organizations working for the promotion of the Urdu language and literature in India are:

• Idara Adbiyat-e-Urdu (Diwan-eUrdu, Panjugutta, Hyderabad - 500082) • Abul Kalam Azad Oriental Research Institute (Public Gardens, Hyderabad - 500004) • Aiwan-eGhalib (Mata Sundri Lane, New Delhi - 110002) • Anjuman-e-Taraqqi Urdu (Hind) (Urdu Ghar, Din Dayal Upadhiyaya Marg, New Delhi 110 002) • Ghalib Academy (Nizamuddin West, New Delhi - 110 013) • Anjuman-e-Islam Urdu Research Institute (Dadabhainaroji Road, Bombay V.T.)
The State Academies
• Andhra Pradesh Urdu Academy (11-4-637, AC Guards, Hyderabad - 500004) • Bihar Urdu Academy (Urdu Bhawan, Ashok Rajpath, Patna - 800004) • Delhi Urdu Academy (B-Block, 1st Floor, 5, Shyam Nath marg, DElhi-110054) • Gujarat Urdu Sahitya Academy (Old Assembly Building, Sector - 17, Gandhi Nagar - 382017)

• Haryana Urdu Academy (Kothi No. 516, Sector - 12, Panchkula - 134 112) • Himachal Academy of Art, Culture and Languages (Shimla, H.P.) • Jammu and Kashmir Academy of Arts, Culture and Languages (Lal Mandi, Srinagar/Canal Road, Jammu)

• Karnataka Urdu Academy (14/3, Nrupathunga Road,. Bangalore - 560 002) • Madhya Pradesh Urdu Academy (Sanskriti Bhawan, Ban Ganga Road, Bhopal - 462 003) • Maharashtra State Urdu Academy (D.D. Building, 2nd Floor, Old Custom House, Shaheed Bhagat Singh Road, Mumbai - 400 023) • Orissa Urdu Academy (Paryatan Bhawan, Museum Complex, Bhubaneshwar - 751 014) • Rajasthan Urdu Academy (J 3, Subhash Marg, 'C' Scheme, Jaipur - 302 001)

• Tamil Nadu Urdu Academy (3 Santhome High Road, Chennai-600004) • Uttar Pradesh Urdu Academy (Vibhuti Khand, Gomti Nagar, Lucknow) • West Bengal Urdu Academy (75/2-A, Rafi Ahmed Kidwai Marg, Calcutta-700 016)

Libraries in India rich in Urdu collections are at the Aligarh Muslim University; Delhi University; Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi; Osmania University , Hyderabad; and Kashmir University , Srinagar. Besides, The Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library (Bankipur, Patna) and The Raza Oriental Library (Fort, Rampur) are designated as libraries of national importance, and maintained by the Union Government.


Bibliography

Bhatia, Tej. A History of the Hindi Grammatical Tradition; Leiden: Brill. 1987.

Faruqi, Shamsur Rahman, Early Urdu Literary Culture and History, Oxford, 2001.
Kelkar, A.R. Studies in Hindi-Urdu I; Poona: Deccan College, 1968.
King, Christopher. One Language, Two Scripts; Delhi: OUP, 1994.
Russel, Ralph & Khurshidul Islam, Three Mughal Poets, Oxford.

Sadiq, Mohammad. A History of Urdu Literature; Delhi: OUP, 1964.
Schmidt, Ruth Laila. Urdu: An Essential Grammar; London: Routledge, 1999.
Zaidi, Ali Javed, A History of Urdu Literature, New Delhi, Sahitya Akedemy.

Jon Elia Ghazal: Allah Hoo Kay Barrey MeiN

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فرقت میں وصلت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

آشوبِ وحدت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

روحِ کُل سے سب رُوحوں پر وصل کی حسرت طاری ہے

اک سرِّ حکمت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

بے احوالی کی حالت ہے شاید یا شاید کہ نہیں

پُر احوالیت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

مُختاری کےلب "سلوانا" جبر عجب تر ٹھہرا ہے

ہیجان غیرت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

بابا الف ارشاد کناں ہیں پیشِ عدم کے بارے میں

حیرتِ بے حیرت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

معنی ہیں لفظوں سے برہم "قہر خموشی عالم" ہے

ایک عجب حجّت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

موجودی سے انکاری ہے اپنی ضد میں نازِ وجود

حالت سی حالت برپا ہے، اللہ ھُو کے باڑے میں

Jon Elia poem: Roo Poshi

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رُو پوشی

یاد میں خوف ہے

سخت اُفتاد ہے

جاں گسل جبرِ تعزیرِ ایجاد ہے

لمحہ لمحہ درختانِ پُر سایہ کی شامِ ناشاد میں خوف ہے

خش خشِ بادِ تنہائی افتاد میں

پرتو نیم رنگِ گماں ہائے دل زاد میں خوف ہے

میں تو اب یاد سے

یاد کے جاں گسل جبرِ تعزیرِ ایجاد سے

اپنے دل کو بچائے ہوئے

بود کی رایگانی میں رُو پوش ہوں

خود فراموش ہوں

یاد میں خوف ہے

Jon Elia Ghazal: Hasrat e Rang Aaee thhee

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حسرت رنگ آئی تھی، دل کو لگا کے لے گئی

یاد تھی، اپنے آپ کو یاد دلا کے لے گئی

خیمہ گہہِ فراق سے خیمہ گہہِ وصال تک

ایک اُداس سی ادا مجھ کو منا کے لے گئی

ہجر میں جل رہا تھا میں اور پگھل رہا تھا میں

ایک خُنَک سی روشنی مجھ کو بجھا کے لے گئی

ایک شمیمِ پُر خیال شہرِ خیال میں ہمیں

خواب دکھا کے لائی تھی ، خواب دکھا کے لے گئی

دل کو بس اک تلاش تھی بے سروکارِ دشت و در

ایک مہک سی تھی کہ بس رنگ میں لا کے لے گئی

یاد، خراب و خستہ یاد، بے سر و ساز و نا مراد

جانے قدم قدم کہاں مجھ کو چلاکے لے گئی

یار خزاں خزاں تھا میں، ایسی فضائے زرد میں

نکہتِ یادِ سبز فام مجھ کو خود آکے لے گئی

دشت زیان و سُود میں بُود میں اور نبُود میں

محملِ نازِ عشوہ گر مجھ کو بٹھا کے لے گئی

محفل رنگِ طَور میں خونِ جگر تھا چاہئیے

وہ مری نوش لب مجھے زہر پلا کے لے گئی

سَیل حقیقتوں کے تھے، دل تھا کہ میں کہاں ٹلوں

اور گُماں کی ایک رَو آئی اور آ کے لے گئی

تُو کبھی سوچنا بھی مت تُو نے گنوا دیا مجھے

مجھ کو مرے خیال کی موج بہا کے لے گئی

صرصرِ وقت لے گئ ان کو اڑا کے ناگہاں

اور نہ جانیے کہاں ان کو اڑا کے لے گئی

موجِ شمالِ سبز فام قریئہ درد سے مجھے

جادہ بہ جادہ کُو بہ کُو ، دُھوم مچا کے لے گئی

Jon Elia Ghazal: Juzz GumaaN aur Thha hi Kiya Mera

Jon Elia Ghazal in Urdu Script. Please set character encoding of your browser to UTF8. Thanks. Munir

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جُز گُماں اور تھا ہی کیا میرا
فقط اک میرا نام تھا میرا

نکہتِ پیرہن سے اس گُل کی
سلسلہ بے صبا رہا میرا

مجھ کو خواہش ہی ڈھونڈنے کی نہ تھی
مجھ میں کھویا رہا خدا میرا

تھوک دے خون جان لے وہ اگر
عالمِ ترکِ مُدعا میرا

جب تجھے میری چاہ تھی جاناں
بس وہی وقت تھا کڑا میرا

کوئی مجھ تک پہنچ نہیں پاتا
اتنا آسان ہے پتا میرا

آ چکا پیش وہ مروت سے
اب چلوں کام ہو چکا میرا

آج میں خود سے ہو گیا مایوس
آج اک یار مر گیا میرا

مآخذ: شعری مجموعہ - گُمان

Jon Elia Ghazal : Lab tiray Hisht aut tiray Pistaan Hisht

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لب ترے ہِشت اور ترے پستان ہِشت
ہِشت جاناں جان، جاناں جان، ہِشت

تجھ سے بڑھ کر وہم ہے تیرا خدا
ہِشت اے انسان، اے انسان ہِشت

ہِشت اے حالِ گُماں ، سوز وجُوب
اے گماں سامانیئ امکان، ہِشت

بیچ میں کیا ہے ؟ فقط شرمِ وجود
ران ازل کی اور ابد کی ران ہِشت

میں تمہیں خاطر میں لاتا ہی نہیں
ہِشت اے دشوار، اے آسان ہِشت

مآخذ : شعری مجموعہ - یعنی







Jon Elia Ghazal : Kissi say Ehd o PaimaN kar na Rahiyo

This Ghazal is composed in Windows Urdu script. Please set your browser's character encoding to UTF 8. It may appear differently then typed. Please send me a note at munirsaami@yahoo.com , I may try to assist. Thanks. Munir

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کسی سے عہد و پیماں کر نہ رہیو
تُو اس بستی میں رہیو پر نہ رہیو

سفر کرنا ہے آخر دو پلک بیچ
سفر لمبا ہے بے بستر نہ رہیو

ہر اک حالت کے بیری ہیں یہ لمحے
کسی غم کے بھروسے پر نہ رہیو

ہمارا عمر بھر کا ساتھ ٹھیرا
سو میرے ساتھ تو دن بھر نہ رہیو

سہولت سے گزر جائو مری جاں
کہیں جینے کی خاطر مر نہ رہیو

بہت دشوار ہو جائے گا جینا
یہاں تُو ذات کے اندر نہ رہیو

سویرے ہی سے گھر آ جایئو آج
ہے روز واقعہ باہر نہ رہیو

کہیں چھپ جائو تہہ خانے میں جا کر
شبِ فتنہ ہے اپنے گھر نہ رہیو

نظر پر بار ہو جاتے ہیں منظر
جہاں رہیو وہاں اکثر نہ رہیو

مآخذ: شعری مجموعہ شاید




Publish Post

Jon Elia - Qat'a

یوں تو اپنے قاصدانِ دل کے پاس
جانے کس کس کے کےلیئے پیغام ہیں

جو لکھے جاتے رہے اوروں کے نام
میرے وہ خط بھی تمہارے نام ہیں

مآخذ: شعری مجموعہ - شاید

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Urdu in India since Independence - By Ralph Russell

Urdu in India since Independence -By Ralph Russell

(RALPH RUSSELL is Reader Emeritus at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London.)

The link language of everyday communication in India continues to be, as it was before Independence, one which is as much Hindi as it is Urdu. It is true that since independence the government has shown apathy and worse towards Urdu. But the proponents of Urdu focus almost exclusively on the injustices done to Urdu. They too often call upon somebody else – such as the government – to do something instead of doing it themselves. They have failed to take advantage of factors that favour Urdu. The defence of Urdu requires an increase in the number of people who have a command of it. The first step is education. But one need not depend on government-run Urdu medium schools. Those who have a command of Urdu can start teaching it in their own neighborhoods. Confining Urdu to the Persian script also works against its spread. There is a large readership for Urdu works written in Devanagari script and also for Urdu works introduced through English.

In 1949-50 I spent the greater part of my study leave at Aligarh.* In those days, in the area regarded as the heartland of Urdu, UP and to a lesser extent Bihar, the state governments were doing everything possible to destroy it. This was achieved by an absurd interpretation of the ‘three language formula’ devised by the government of India. This recommended that in every state three languages should be taught in the schools – (1) the language of the state (which would normally be the mother tongue of the majority of its inhabitants) (2) another modern Indian language (Hindi would often be chosen where the first language was not Hindi), and (3) one other language. A good deal of elasticity was envisaged in the implementation of this formula, and in UP Urdu, the language of most inhabitants of UP after Hindi, could, and should, have been chosen. The UP government decided instead to declare Sanskrit a modern language, and the teaching of Urdu in the schools – it had been taught in all UP schools before independence – was discontinued. On the whole that situation has continued ever since, at any rate until fairly recent times, when I understand some minor changes have taken place in the situation. In the first years of independence the main reliance of those people in the Urdu field who wanted to preserve Urdu as far as it could be preserved, to allow for its development and to counter the policies being pursued against it was to rely upon the sympathies for Urdu that existed at the level of the government of India. Nehru, who spoke Urdu well, was in favour of doing something to support it and was opposed to the policies of the UP government; but the centre was not in any position to dictate the course which UP government should follow, and the best it could do was to provide funds and other support for organisations manned by the supporters of Urdu.

Let me consider the measures taken by central government over the last two decades or so. The government of India, at any rate from Indira Gandhi’s time onward, had its own reasons for doing something to support Urdu. There were political considerations motivating this, which did not necessarily have much to do with sympathy for Urdu. A committee was set up in 1972, headed by I K Gujral, to consider how the cause of Urdu could be advanced. The report of the committee, which amounted to more than 250 pages, was presented in 1975 and 187 recommendations were made. This report was ‘put on ice’ and the main reason for this was the vigorous opposition of Jagjivan Ram to anything being done for the cause of Urdu and Indira Gandhi’s desire not to alienate him in the political situation which obtained at that time. However, in due course the Gujral report was laid before parliament. Then, successively, two committees were set up to look once more at the situation of Urdu – one headed by Ale Ahmad Suroor "a sub-committee to examine the recommendations of the...Gujral Committee" (set up in 1979; reported in 1983) and one headed by Ali Sardar Jafari (set up in February 1990; reported, with unusual promptness, in September 1990). The Jafari committee discovered that 95 per cent of the recommendations made in the Gujral report had not been adopted. The state government of Bihar, and shortly afterwards that of UP, recognised – on paper – Urdu as an official language of their respective states.

Som Anand, in an article written in 1992 says that quite substantial financial support was given to Urdu, but that the situation in the Urdu-speaking community was such that it had not been able to make proper use of the support which was given. He says the government of India makes considerable efforts to help the Urdu press, but the Urdu newspapers are in no position to derive any benefit from this. The United News of India (UNI), at the instance of the government of India, decided to start an Urdu teleprinter service for the newspapers with a grant of several lakh rupees from the government. The UNI offered this service to 40 Urdu newspapers, but this offer has not yet been taken up. But this is not the only difficulty. To get such a service operating, you need good translators, and these are not available. The fact is that the new generation of Urdu speakers has grown up at a time when Urdu is not taught, so how could you expect to find young people who know Urdu well? And on top of that, in the so-called Hindi area of northern India, the standard of education in English has also declined very considerably. The result is that Urdu translators who are employed by the Urdu newspapers know neither good English nor good Urdu.

What could individual Urdu speakers or small voluntary organisations formed by them have acted to combat the dangers that Urdu was facing? One thing that they could have done was ensured that their own children learnt to read and write Urdu. If the schools were not providing for their education, the parents themselves could have provided it, and by and large they did not. Even in Urdu-speaking families people who were generally devoted to Urdu and whose children were also interested in Urdu, had not taught their children to read and write it. Urdu for them was simply the language of the home. Many of them enjoyed Urdu poetry; they would go to mushairas and most of them could understand what was being said. I remember seeing a young relative of the late Habibur Rahman writing down in Devanagari script Urdu verses which appealed to her. On another occasion I met Ismat Chughtai. She told me that her daughter could not read and write Urdu. So one asks the question, why not? Why didn’t the parents make sure that their children could read and write Urdu? It seems to me that whatever the difficulties, it was, and is, primarily the responsibility of people who love Urdu and Urdu literature to arrange for the teaching of Urdu and Urdu literature themselves. They could and they should do that; and if I am not mistaken, they are not doing it.

It should be obvious that the basic thing that needs to be achieved for the defence of Urdu is a considerable increase in the numbers of people who have a command of it, not simply Urdu colloquial speech, but the Urdu which enables one to read and appreciate Urdu literature. Anyone who is concerned with increasing the numbers of people who are competent in Urdu can do something practical about it without any external support at all. In many immigrant communities in countries like Britain people want their children to acquire a much better knowledge of what some people call their heritage language than is provided for in any official provision in the schools and the educational system. They act accordingly. That is, they themselves set up classes, hire rooms or meet in suitably sized rooms in their own houses and impart some instruction to their children. And there is absolutely no reason why Urdu speakers in India shouldn’t do the same.

Obviously, there are some spheres in which nothing very substantial can be done by individuals or small-scale voluntary organisations. There are bodies established in the states and at the all-India level to promote the cause of Urdu.
It seems to me that in order to make a fair assessment of what these bodies have done – or failed to do – we need to know a great deal more about them. The questions I would like to ask are: what is the extent of government funding; what is the constitution/terms of reference; who are the members of its governing body, and how are they chosen; does it issue regular reports of its activities, if so, how often, if not, are there informal accounts of its work available.

I learnt through correspondence in 1996 with the chancellor of Jamia Millia that "[Anjuman i Taraqqi i Urdu] is not entirely dependent on government funding. It gets a government grant of Rs 1.30 lakh annually from the Delhi Administration. Its income from rent of its own multistoried ‘Urdu-Ghar’ is more than sufficient for its needs. It has a general body of 40 members and elections are held every five years. I doubt if they have any regular system of reporting to government." He also wrote that the "[Taraqqi Urdu Bureau] is entirely dependent on government funding. Reporting to government does not appear to be regular. The Bureau is passing through a ‘retiring’ phase."

As I wrote in an article in the Indian Review of Books (September 15-November 15, 1995), one of the most disappointing features of the picture is the idleness and ineffectiveness displayed by those who have seen themselves as the trustees and leaders of the Urdu-speaking community. Substantial resources were from very early days made available by the central government to organisations established to support and promote the interests of Urdu. But the record of these organisations is a far from impressive one. In 1949-50 I spoke personally to some of those who sat on the governing body of the Anjuman i Taraqqi i Urdu and urged them to draw up a coherent plan of activity and proceed to implement it.

Tne thing I drew attention to was the fact that we did not have good, accurate texts of even the greatest Urdu classics. I gave them the example of the Oxford Classical Texts of the great Latin and Greek authors, saying that the sole aim of those who prepared these texts was to publish as accurate a text of each author as it was possible to establish. If the Anjuman i Taraqqi i Urdu did nothing but that, it would be an enormously valuable service to the cause of Urdu. Twenty years later its total achievement in this field was the publication of one such text, Imtiyaz Ali Arshi’s edition of Ghalib’s Urdu verse. There were other ambitious projects allegedly started but never proceeded with, or, if proceeded with, never completed: and work done in connection with these projects which could and should have been published without impairing the success of the projects as a whole, never appeared.

I well remember a conversation I had with Ale Ahmad Suroor in 1965. I urged that a plan to publish all of Ghalib’s writings in good, reliable texts should be initiated at once so that these could appear in the centenary year, 1969. All that did appear was a disgracefully produced reissue of a volume of Ghalib’s letters first published in the 1930s. In the same conversation he told me that he had received a glossary of the vocabulary of Nazir Akbarabadi, which he had asked Maikash Akbarabadi to prepare. I said, "Publish it now. It can still be used as material for the full-scale Urdu-Urdu dictionary you are planning". He rejected the idea. And 30 years later we have neither a full-scale dictionary nor the glossary. I was told in later years that Maikash’s glossary had been lost.

Rashid Hasan Khan, in an interview with Ather Farouqui says:
The Taraqqi Urdu Board [Bureau] long ago planned to produce a comprehensive Urdu dictionary in four or five volumes. Some extremely famous people...[who?] were chosen for this task and one volume was allotted to each. For years together regular payment was made to these people, and each was given an assistant. Years later it was learnt that work on the dictionary had not been completed. When the time came for them to render account of what they had done, these revered gentlemen returned their materials in the same state as they had received them...no work is now being done. There is an urgent need for an Urdu dictionary, but after 10 years of continuous effort the Taraqqi Urdu Board has to this day not been able to compile one...Granted, a concise dictionary has been printed. I read it...and found not a single page in which there were not one or two mistakes of one kind or another.

The University Grants Commission made a plan for a history of Urdu literature in four substantial volumes. An appropriate grant for this purpose was given to Aligarh Muslim University. At first the University prepared an excellent plan, and the details they presented convinced me that this history of Urdu literature would be a work of really high quality. Nine writers, all of them very well-known and highly regarded, were involved in the project. The first volume was to cover the period from the 12th to the 17th century AD. When the first volume appeared I read it – and you cannot imagine my astonishment...All its references were completely unreliable, nor could one rely on the accuracy of the passages quoted. I wrote a detailed review of it at the time...This was reproduced in a number of periodicals and was much talked about. As a result all copies of this first volume were taken off the market and piled up in Aligarh, and a statement was issued that it would be corrected and then re-issued. To this day no corrected edition of the first volume has appeared, and neither have the remaining volumes (Akhbar i Nau, December 2-8, 1988).

Atiq Ahmad Siddiqi tells us in his article ‘Status of Urdu in India’ "the [Taraqqi] Bureau for the Promotion of Urdu set up by the central government has brought out about 700 useless books; most of them are translations. Similarly, Sahitya Academy and National Book Trust, both government organisations, have brought out a large number of useless Urdu books (The Nation, Lahore, October 4, 1993). Later in the article he is similarly critical of the Urdu academies that were established in many states and which have been "rendering so-called useful services".
Shamsur Rahman Faruqi in his interview with Ather Farouqui says that teachers at the university level started a retrograde strategy to save their jobs. Urdu teachers convinced university authorities that since enrolment in Urdu was dwindling seriously, it was necessary that even those students who did not read Urdu at any level whatsoever, or inferior students, should be granted admission if they wished to study Urdu as a subject in BA or MA. This resulted in the intake of incompetent candidates as Urdu students. These incompetent people, having obtained their degrees, joined the Urdu departments as teachers. "Then followed the illiterate line of students taught by these illiterate teachers. It seems that now this phenomenon of generations of illiterates after illiterates will never come to an end" (The Nation, Lahore, July 8, 1994).

Not only did the champions of Urdu fail to do what they should have done on their own initiative, they failed to do what they had promised – and what they had been paid – to do. To crown it all they themselves took active steps which in Shamsur Rahman Faruqi’s words "proved very harmful for Urdu". I think it regrettable that Rashid Hasan Khan does not name all the distinguished people whom he characterises in harsh (and fully justified) words. These people do not deserve the protection of anonymity – they need to be thoroughly exposed.
I am well aware that dissatisfaction with the role played by bodies like the Anjuman i Taraqqi Urdu and the Taraqqi Urdu Bureau commonly leads people to wash their hands of them. In that this leads to the formation of organisations that make it a policy to refuse to accept government funding and free themselves of all obligation to governments and their policies. This dissatisfaction is welcome. Such completely independent organisations are indeed necessary. The Maulana Azad Research and Educational Foundation was one such. I learnt from a letter that "the Maulana Azad Foundation was registered in 1989...From the very first day it has been our policy not to accept any kind of help from the government of India, so that government policies cannot influence us either directly or indirectly. To continue the work of an organisation run on these principles is extremely difficult, but we are putting up with all such difficulties... The Muslims of Sikandarabad are the sole source of our funding." Another letter said, "From the very outset it was resolved that the members of the Foundation would not accept employment by the government of India, would not accept membership of any governmental or non-governmental committee and would not establish any relationship, direct or indirect, with the government of India. Members would not accept any financial assistance from the government of India, or any grant, or any prize. They would also as far as possible try to abstain from taking part in any seminar or mushaira connected in any way with the government of India. As far as possible they would refrain from publishing anything they write in Urdu periodicals partly funded by the government."

The foundation has also been running two Urdu medium junior high schools in Sikandarabad. The only other Urdu schools in UP are run by the Aligarh Muslim University. In these two schools both Urdu and English are available as the medium of instruction, and most parents choose the English medium for their children, although the level of proficiency in English of these children is such that this is an intolerable burden for them, even though the level of English used is extremely low. In short, Urdu medium is at its last gasp in both these schools and within a few years this so-called Urdu medium will cease to be used.

Ather Farouqui writes in an article in the Economic and Political Weekly: "At a few places Urdu medium primary schools are run by local bodies where teachers were appointed...Most of the people appointed...the so-called Urdu teachers, generally do not even understand what is meant by the term Urdu medium... Therefore, in UP, Urdu education means teaching Urdu as a subject. It is unfortunate that few of the so-called Urdu teachers in UP can even read the books in Urdu script meant for primary classes. It has also been observed that the Urdu teachers in UP are engaged in their family occupations like agriculture and milk dairies and go to the school once or twice a month."
Urdu in India since Independence -IV By Ralph Russell

Dissatisfaction with government-sponsored organisations is justified, and the setting up of independent bodies to defend Urdu and assert and campaign for its rights is a welcome development. But it should by no means follow that no further interest should be taken in government-sponsored initiatives. If associations and bureaus and academies set up to advance the cause of Urdu are not doing so satisfactory, this needs to be said in organised public criticism of them, and, even more important, plans of activities which they should be carrying out need to be worked out, and widespread campaigning initiated and sustained to press these bodies to adopt these plans. It follows that bodies like the Maulana Azad Foundation should similarly have a coherent programme of activities which they should publicise, and for which they should enlist practical support on as large a scale as possible. The same applies to approaches to the government of India.

The protagonists of Urdu seem to me all too often to call upon somebody else to do something instead of doing it themselves, and that there is a historical background to this attitude, formed in the centuries when Muslims constituted the ruling elite of India. Shamsur Rahman Faruqi, who is himself a member of the UP Urdu-speaking elite strikes a rare – and welcome – note when he says in his interview (in English) with Ather Farouqui published in the Lahore paper The Nation on July 8, 1994: "The Muslims of Uttar Pradesh...have a sense of superiority, which I consider quite stupid really...The UP sharifzada will never do for himself anything that he can command, persuade or cajole anyone else to do for him."
There is a proposal that the teaching of Urdu should be taken on as one of the main tasks of the religious foundations, the madrassas and so on, which are primarily established for the imparting of Islamic learning. I do not think that there is any point in this at all. In the first place, why should the job be handed over to other people. The champions of Urdu are looking for someone else to do work which they ought to be doing themselves and which they are not doing. In the second place, there never has been the least evidence that these organisations are interested in the teaching of Urdu, or at any rate in teaching it to any very worthwhile level. These madrassas have functioned continuously both before independence and throughout the whole period since independence and not one of them has ever shown the least interest in teaching Urdu to the level which would introduce their students to Urdu literature. They are concerned with religious questions and only with religious questions. It is not in the least likely that they will undertake this task on anything like a large scale. As far as my experience goes there is no reason to assume that the attitude of the teachers in religious institutions has changed much since the time of Ashraf Ali Thanavi when, almost a hundred years ago now, he wrote Bahishti Zevar. He has a chapter in Part Ten in which he lists all the kinds of books which women should not read. But two things have to be said about that. Firstly that we want women to be able to read everything that men can read. Secondly, the disapproval of the kind of literature which Ashraf Ali Thanavi, censures obviously extends to the literature which men read. In Bahishti Zevar, he lists among other books that should not be read: "divan aur ghazalon ki kitaben" "divans and books of ghazals" – in other words, virtually the whole of Urdu poetry and certainly that part of Urdu poetry which is the most valuable; the Indar Sabha; the story of Badr i Munir, that is the story of the masnavi of Mir Hasan; Dastan i Amir Hamza, Gul i Bakavali and other books. To expect people who are dedicated to religious teaching to teach people to read some of these best works of Urdu literature seems to me quite unrealistic.

I come now to what I think the protagonists of Urdu should do. I do not object to them saying that other people, like the government of India, state governments and so on, ought to be doing this, that or the other, and should be pressed to do so. I do not object to them saying that we should try and get teachers in religious institutions to take up Urdu. I do not object to these things, but they should pay far more attention to what they themselves should do, regardless of what other people are or are not doing. There are some important activities in which all protagonists of Urdu need to engage themselves and all others whose support they can obtain. One such is the production of Urdu materials in the Devanagari script. It would be extremely helpful to people who know Urdu but who cannot read the Urdu script and to the cause of Urdu generally if Urdu teaching materials and works of Urdu literature were published in the Devanagari script.

All organisations – government-sponsored and voluntary – ought to consider the implications for them of the fact that many Urdu speakers know Urdu but do not know the Urdu script. They are anxious to read Urdu, but they can only read it if Urdu literature is presented in the Devanagari script. In my opinion it should be entirely within the remit of the government-funded organisations to produce texts of important and popular Urdu authors in Devanagari script. They should not wait for other people to do this. If they are concerned with the advancement and promotion of Urdu they should provide for the needs of those Urdu lovers who know Urdu and want to know more about it and to be able to read more of its literature, but do not know the Urdu script.

Publications of Urdu works in the Devanagari script, of course, serve a wider audience than that which I have just described. They serve the audience of Hindi speakers who do not know Urdu but are interested in what Urdu literature has to offer. I think that Hindi speakers offer the next most favourable audience for Urdu literature after that of Urdu speakers themselves. True that there are people – some people – in the Hindi speaking community who are the most vociferous opponents of Urdu, but it would be a great mistake to think that all Hindi speakers share their attitude. There are among Hindi speakers substantial numbers of people who do not want to make Urdu their first language, but are nevertheless interested in getting access to what Urdu literature has to offer. This is proved by the number of publications of Urdu works issued by Hindi publishers in the Devanagari script. Quite numerous selections from popular Urdu poets are being published by Hindi publishers. I know that in her later years, according to what she herself told me, Ismat Chughtai could always find a publisher for her stories in Devanagari before any Urdu script version was published. And Muhammad Umar Memon of the University of Wisconsin, US, tells me that almost all of Manto’s works are now available in Devanagari. My experience is that champions of Urdu are for the most part simply unaware that this is going on and even if they are aware they take an attitude towards it more or less of indifference – and they certainly should not.

Already in the early 1950s there was a multi-volume publication called Sher-o-Sukhan. This was a comprehensive selection of Urdu poetry presented in the Devanagari script with, at the bottom of the page, explanations in Hindi of the meanings of Urdu words which the editors thought their readers would not otherwise understand. A periodical published in Allahabad, Urdu Sahitya, presented contemporary writing in Urdu in the Devanagari script and with explanations of difficult words. An anthology of Urdu verse in English was published in 1995. This is a bilingual book with Urdu text on the left-hand page and the English translation on the right-hand page. At the suggestion of the publishers Urdu text is presented in the Devanagari script. Again this is clear evidence that there are more people who want to read Urdu poetry in Devanagari script than in the Urdu script. Masterpieces of Urdu Ghazal from the Seventeenth to the Twentieth Century published in 1990 gives the Urdu text in the Urdu script on the left-hand page and on the right-hand page an English translation and then a transliteration or transcription of the Urdu text written in roman letters. There are two other collections – Masterpieces of Urdu Rubaiyat and Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm.

Rahi Masum Rasa in a stimulating interview in Akhbar i Nau (February 9-15, 1990) said that unless the classics of Urdu literature were published in the Devanagari script they would cease to exist for future generations. He also said that Urdu speakers should discard their traditional script and adopt Devanagari instead. My own view is that there should be no compulsion to adopt the Devanagari script, but equally there should be no opposition to those who choose to do so. Every support should be given for publication of Urdu works in Devanagari as well as in Urdu script editions.

Adoption of Devanagari was also one of the recommendations of the Gujral Committee report: "There is a strong case for publishing Urdu books in Devanagari script...The diwans of Urdu poets and the anthologies of Urdu poetry in Devanagari script have sold in thousands. In our opinion, the experiment should be extended to cover fiction and humour also." The Suroor sub-Committee repeated this recommendation adding that "the government should earmark some funds" for this purpose (Recommendation no 84). And the Jafari Committee reiterated all this. These recommendations were very welcome ones. What one would like to know is whether the government, or the organisations established to promote Urdu, have taken any notice of them.

Ali Sardar Jafari, the chairman of the third of the three committees, had already taken an admirable initiative many years ago in producing Devanagari editions of Ghalib and Mir.
One important, and much to be desired, consequence of making as much Urdu literature as possible available in Devanagari is that it would do something to hinder the efforts of Hindi chauvinists to expel from contemporary Hindi what they falsely call ‘un-Indian’ elements. Urdu in Devanagari script will help to maintain in Hindi the use of much vocabulary which is still, despite all the efforts of the Hindi chauvinists, common to the two languages.

There is another constituency of Urdu literature, that of those who can only approach Urdu literature through the medium of English. My own two books written in collaboration with Khurshidul Islam, Three Mughal Poets (1968) and Ghalib: Life and Letters (1969), were meant for people in the English speaking world. When they were a year or two ago, they sold quite well, obviously here in India. The publishing firm Rupa is anxious to publish English translations of works of Urdu literature.

It is not only publishers’ realisation of the existence of this wider audience for Urdu literature in English that has made them ready to publish books like these. Since the rise of the women’s movement and since the emergence of a strong anti-racist movement in the west, respectable publishers are frightened of being seen as in any way conforming to the values of racism or anti-feminism and one of the interesting results of this has been that Asian woman who has translated from Urdu, stands a very good chance of having your translations accepted for publication in the UK and the US especially if it is women’s writing that she has translated. This is a digression, but I wanted to make the point because even if there are quite fortuitous reasons which have not got anything to do with the value of Urdu literature, but which nevertheless make it possible for Urdu literature to be presented to a wider audience, we should not hesitate to take advantage of such factors.

There is another, I think increasingly important, audience for Urdu literature presented in English in the second and third generation immigrants from Urdu speaking areas into the English speaking and the English knowing world and there are substantial numbers of such people both in North America and in Britain, and to a lesser extent in other European countries. In short, there is a much wider audience for books presenting Urdu literature in English than there was, say, 30 or 40 years ago. There was published in England, The Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, selected and translated by Mahmood Jamal (1986), and in India a Penguin book on Ghalib (Pavan K Varma, Ghalib: The Man, The Times, 1989) and numbers of translations of Faiz, including The Rebel’s Silhouette: Selected Poems, translated by Agha Shahid Ali.

Those organisations which are concerned with the promotion of Urdu need to be concerned with all these audiences and not simply with the audience of those who are already able to read the Urdu script. For example, the Anjuman i Taraqqi i Urdu or the Taraqqi Urdu Bureau, needs to give support, including if necessary financial support, to any of those bodies, voluntary bodies, publishers, others, in this country and in other countries who are doing things which help the advancement of Urdu.

In my readings I have noticed that the extracts from the English and Urdu press are full of all the injustices done to Urdu, and there is very little else. The account they give is perfectly accurate, and the greater part of this paper too has been devoted to them. But that is not the full picture. There are factors which are working in favour of Urdu and these too need to be described if an accurate, full picture is to be presented.

Waheed-ud-Din Khan says in an article:
My complaint is not against the national press, but against the Muslim press. At present all Muslim newspapers are trading in protests, complaints and the community suffering. It is a fact that the present Muslim journalism is protest journalism, not constructive journalism in any way. This is the main problem. I may be allowed to say that the Muslim intellectual class itself is devoid of any positive thinking. Then, how can they work to promote positive thinking among ordinary Muslims? What are the Muslim newspapers doing? They are indulging in convincing the Muslims that they are an oppressed and deprived minority for whom all avenues of living and progress are closed. The reality is that problems and opportunities are always there in the world. The correct approach, therefore, is to find out the opportunities lurking among the problems and urge the people to utilise them while overlooking the problems. The correct formula is to ‘starve the problems, feed the opportunities’ (The Nation, Lahore, July 9, 1993).
Then there are distortions – dishonesty, to be quite blunt – in the picture presented of the historical context within which the problems facing Urdu have to be seen. Perhaps because Ather Farouqui’s thesis is the longest sustained treatment of these problems that I have read, I find him more guilty of these than most. His attacks on Hindu and Hindi chauvinists are fully warranted, but he greatly exaggerates the weight they carry on the Indian political and cultural scene. On the other hand he (and most other writers) are silent about the equally pernicious (and much more long-standing) Muslim chauvinism which is widely prevalent in the Urdu speaking community. Writers correctly assail the Uttar Pradesh government for declaring Hindi as the sole official language of the state. By exactly the same logic they should assail the government of Jammu and Kashmir for making Urdu its sole official language, when, as Syed Shahabuddin points out in his article in Mainstream Annual 1988: "Urdu is the official language of the state and the medium of instruction and yet declared as mother-tongue in 1971 or in 1981 as a household language by a very small proportion of the population who regard Kashmiri or Dogri or Hindi as their language". But I have never heard of any Muslim who takes the proper stand on this question.

Ather Farouqui argues, sometimes openly, and sometimes by implication, that Urdu speakers who have supported Congress or have consented to serve in government-financed organisations have ‘sold out’ to the enemies of Urdu. No doubt some of them have, but again this is much too simplified a picture. In particular his attacks on those Muslims who, long before independence was won, were with the Congress, are quite unwarranted. To describe Hayatullah Ansari as one "who raised the slogan of Urdu but who in fact had no interest in the welfare of Urdu and Muslims" (The Nation, Lahore, July 15, 1994), is completely unjust. He writes, "I consider the 20-lakh-signatures movement started by Dr Zakir Husain as an extremely unrealistic, escapist movement. Naturally, it did not yield any result". In what way "extremely unrealistic, escapist"? And why "naturally"? It is quite fair to say that the signatures campaign did not achieve the result it aimed at, but this does not mean that it was of no significance.

Waheed-ud-Din Khan’s advice is to starve the problems, feed the opportunities’, or, in other words, build upon the factors which help the cause of Urdu. Three of these have great significance. First, despite the efforts of the Hindi chauvinists the lingua franca, the ‘link language’ of everyday communication, continues to be, as it was before independence, one which is just as much Hindi as it is Urdu. This is evidenced by Teach Yourself Hindi (1989). On a typical page of the vocabulary provided at the end of the book, out of 73 entries 54 are words of this kind and there are only 18 words at the most which would perhaps not be understood by Urdu speakers. Secondly, the immensely popular Hindi films could equally accurately be called Urdu films. The Gujral Committee in para 140 of its summary of its conclusions rightly says that "the major contribution of films is that they have not allowed any barriers to grow between Urdu and Hindi". These two factors alone indicate that spoken Urdu is a language widely understood by millions of Indians, many of whom are not Muslims. Thirdly, interest in Urdu and its literature (especially its poetry) is widespread among very large numbers of people who do not know the Urdu script and have only a partial understanding of the literary language.

I therefore quarrel with Ather Farouqui’s view that Urdu is now essentially the language of the Muslims. And this is nothing new; Urdu always was essentially the language of the Muslims, notwithstanding that before independence it was also the language of much greater numbers of non-Muslims than it is now. I do not fundamentally disagree with Ather Farouqui on this point, but in the light of the positive factors I have spoken of, what is the point of constantly stressing that the Urdu speaking community and the Muslim community are virtually one and the same? Such a stress obscures the important point that the defence of the rights of Muslims and the defence and promotion of Urdu is not the concern of Muslims alone. These things are the concern of all those who uphold the declared ideals of independent India, and Urdu speakers need to reach out to all of them and work in harmony with them for these common ideals.
* I am a lecturer in Urdu at the School of Oriental and African Studies in the University of London. I have been in India on one-year study leave three times, the last of which was in 1965. During these I had an opportunity to observe at close quarters what was going on in the world of Urdu. My other sources are newspaper articles and correspondence with people connected with the promotion of Urdu.

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http://www.indowindow.com/sad/article.php?child=14&article=5

Khurram Ali Shafique on Jaun Elia

Ghazal is more suited to express the complexities of the modern age than nazm and Mir Taqi Mir, by virtue of being more ancient, may be appreciated more by the present generation as compared to Ghalib who is some sixty years closer to our times.

It is very interesting, at times quite shocking, to listen to Jaun Elia – one must admit this whether agreeing with him or not. It may be due to the fact that he is one of the few remnants of a culture now on the verge of extinction – the Urdu speaking society which is located close to its Arabic and Persian roots. Jaun Elia is unique phenomenon in being a rebel of that society, one who has discarded some of the dearest beliefs of his culture and yet lives up to remain a true and loyal representative of its intellectual heritage – an embodiment of its ethos. Know for his dispersed poetry more than for his one belated anthology published four years back, Jaun Elia speaks about his poetry, his influences – and his unrequited love affair with classical Arabic literature:

“As I was growing up to appreciate poetry I began to like the Persian poets better than the Urdu poets. Raudki (the father of Persian poetry), Firdousi, Urfi, Nazeeri, Hafiz, Moulana Roomi … these were considered to be masters. I studied them like a student – an exercise I did not undertake with any of the Urdu poets. I considered the latter group to be a “group of friends” – it was partially because I knew that they had themselves studied the same masters as myself. In a way looked at all of them as fellow students belonging to the same university. Some of them could have been my senior, no doubt.

For instance, I could have been a class ninth student as compared to Mir and Ghalib who seemed like final year students – but ‘college mates’ nevertheless. The great Persian masters were a different matter altogether. They were the murshids, the mentors. And all of the great Urdu poets have themselves acknowledged their debt to these Persian masters. Ghalib, for instance, mentions Firdousi as the poet par excellence in one of his letters. In the same letter he mentions Avicena as the greatest philosopher. Indeed this was the general ethos of the Muslim society up to our times: the Persian poets to be the prime examples of achievement in poetry and the Arabic philosophers (‘Arabic’, not ‘Arab’), since most of them were non-Arabs writing in the Arabic language) to be the masters of thought.

Avicena and Farabi hold a position in our tradition which is parallel to Plato and Aristotle in the western system of philosophy. Right from Quli Qutub Shah, all Urdu poets have admitted the same feelings of indebtedness and gratitude towards their Persian mentors. Only during the last fifty years has this influence begun to fade out – apparently due to the decline of Persian language.

“I did slightly change, however, my viewpoint on the Urdu poets later on. I began to appreciate Ghalib and became quite impressed by him, extracting a lot of pleasure from his poetry. I think Ghalib influences you more if your social problems are simple and straight, and if your feelings of alienation are more theoretical rather than being an intense personal experience. However, when you grow up more, and go through the real agony of being ‘the outsider’, then you are likely to appreciate Mir better. Before 1947, our problem was simple and the answer was clear: obtain freedom from the British. However, the problems became more complex after we became independent.

“As I went deeper into the mires of ‘industrial loneliness’ and came across extremely painful experiences of solitude, I too began to like Mir Better than Ghalib.

“Ghalib had, in fact, foreseen the defeat of his society and accepted it as a rational conclusion to the decline of society. This was evident from his attitude to the fighters of 1857 which included his best friend Moulana Khairabadi. His sarcastic remarks on the new edition of Ain-e-Akbari prepared by Syed Ahmed Khan too reflected that stance. To both of themhe said that the Mughal India has to go, and the British Raj is destined to come because it is a superior system.

The case was different with Mir, who lived two generations earlier to Ghalib. The fate of the Mughal India had not become evident by his times, and therefore he still had hope in the order under which he was living. His agony came from the genuine anxiety of seeing the worse things happening before him, and yet wishing from his heart for the best to take place. That sounds familiar to us; the intellectuals of the post-British period. Our sorrow is more complex and deeper than Ghalib’s, more like Mir’s. And just like Mir we have not given up hope – we won’t like the British or the Americans to take over the country again.

“And yet there is another great reason to like Mir. He is the only Urdu poet who is ‘unique’. I say this because virtually all other Urdu poets have their equivalent – actually their ‘betters’ – amongst the Persian masters. Ghalib, for instance, owes his repertoire to his formal thoughtfulness, wit and a holistic approach to life. But this can be found in his Persian precedent Nazeeri, whom we may consider as his ‘original’ in a way. One can easily do away with Ghalib, saying ‘why should I read Ghalib when I have access to Nazeeri’. In the same way, Iqbal can be more than replaced by his ‘mentor’ Roomi. Josh, who is known for his rhythm, melody and a kind of grandeur, loses some of his originality when we discover these very qualities treated to a greater perfection in the poetry of Q’ani.

“Mir, on the other hand, is a different case altogether. He is a purely Indian poet who has absorbed the richness of Persian, moulding it especially for Urdu. He has that ‘Indianness’ which is missing in Ghalib. Consider, for instance, the following couplet:







“It reflects a tone which is definitely not borrowed from Persian at all – an example of the essentially Urdu element in his poetry!

“And yet it is difficult for me to say which one of these great poets has most affected my tone and diction. In my poetry I have reflected three or four different tones which may be represented by the following couplets:

















“Perhaps a critic who may sit down to analyse my poetry will be better entitled to say which poets have affected my diction more.”

Just as he chooses Mir to depict the sentiment of the present age, he points out ghazal as the genre which is best suited to express the problems of the contemporary words…

“Throughout 1960s I kept on writing poems on social and political issues, mostly against the martial law imposed by field Marshal Ayub Khan. Also, in 1962, I started what I intended to finish as a long epic poem.The working title was Nai Aag Ka Ehednama or The Testament of the New Fire. I have now changed the title to Ramos but the poem remains unfinished.
“I do not have any bias against either ghazal or nazm.

I just follow my inspiration, which keeps shifting from nazm to ghazal and back. However, I feel that the complicated problems of the present day call not for a simple language, and therefore ghazal rather than nazm.

He is somewhat reluctant about the publication of his poetry I the form of anthologies. “About six of seven volumes are already prepared for publication and one of them may appear by April. My well wishers want all of them to be out soon but I would rather like some of my prose work to be published first.”

These “prose works” certainly deserve some detail here. For although Jaun Elia is better known as a poet, he is also a scholar of no less metal. Among his achievements are his translations and studies of classical Arabic literature, including Hallaj and Ikhwan us Safa.

The latter was an assignment he first accepted as part of his services for the Research and Publications Department of the World Ismaili Centre in the ‘60s. It has now become a labour of love. “I used to work at the Centre on Islamic history and philosophy. I suggested Urdu translation of the 52 volumes of encyclopedia compiled by the secret brotherhood of Ikhwan us Safa. They lived during the Fatimid period, and for some reason they kept their names unknown. However, they are generally believed to be Ismailis, and the Ismailis own them too.

These encyclopedia are supposed to have inspired such revolutionary French thinkers as Rousseau and Voltaire, and also the French encyclopedists and lexicographers of the eighteenth century. Indeed these 52 volumes cover wide range of topics from numbers and mathematics to astrology, music and occult sciences, etc. I had translated up to twenty volumes when the Ismaili Centre was moved from Karachi to London in the late ‘60s. Thus it left the project unfinished. And then I lost the manuscripts of my translation except for five of them. Recently, when I made up my mind to publish them privately, I discovered to my dismay that the very first volume, Numbers, was missing! Now I want to begin with the first volume in any case. I think I shall have to translate it again, and that I can accomplish in twenty-five days but the non-availability of the original text is posing a great problem.”


The other major topic of his study was Hallaj, the mystic martyr of the 3rd century of the Muslim era. The study spanned a period of 18 years and over 300 sources. With tears in his eyes he states that the fruits of this labour – his manuscripts on Hallaj – are lost due to some mishaps of his private life.

“What was the significance of Hallaj in your mind when you chose him as a topic of study?” I asked this question to find out any parallel that he might have drawn between the spirit of the Sufi rebel of the early Muslim period and the ethos of our age.

“Hallaj was a sufi, as you know, and love of humanity is the essence of Sufism along with the concepts of a ‘holistic religion’ (Deen-e-Kull) and pantheism (Wahdat ul Wujood). Secondly, Hallaj was also known for his radical political beliefs. Most of his approximately thirty books listed in Nadeem’s Al Fehris are about politics rather than anything else. Contrary to popular belief, I think he was executed for the political threat that he had become for the Abbassid rulers. The charge on him that he declared himself to be the Lord by saying ‘Ana al haq’ was merely a cover. The Muslim society was never so bigoted as to have a man executed just for saying something like that. The same society had tolerated for more offensive ‘blasphemies’ of the earlier Sufi Bayazid.

He is even reported to have said on one occasion, ‘I am greater than God’. Hallaj, on the other hand, had only said something which could easily have been translated as ‘I am the truth’. By the way, this statement rather reads like a translation of a sentence from the Upanishads, i.e., ‘aham Brahma’ or ‘I am Brahma’. Hallaj would never have been taken to the gallows if he had not desired certain political changes contrary to the interests of the rulers of his time. My interest in this great mystic was mainly due to his political activities and beliefs.”
No description of Jaun Elia can be considered complete if it does not mention drama – his second choice among art forms. “I first became famous in my home town (Amroha) while still in my early teens – not as a poet but as a playwright and performer. I used to write my own plays, and then stage them with other boys of my age. These were usually historical plays, set in the early centuries of the Muslim period. My practice of writing plays has definitely left a mark upon my poetry, including my ghazal for my verses often acquire the tone of a dialogue. Indeed, if I were not a poet I would have expressed my sentiments through drama (mostly historical) and my thought through history and philosophy.”

Yet he has allowed poetry to become his first obsession. What he says here about drama may serve as a background for what he has written in the preface to his anthology, Shayad, published in 1990: “ I would venture to say that drama is an art form of a second category as far as its poetic essence is concerned …. My argument is this: drama is the art of personification and an idea loses its vitality when personified. In drama, the idea is confined in the form of a character, thus dissolving into well-defined but limited time and space – a holistic thought of innumerable applications thus turns into what is nothing more than part space, part time and part manifestation .
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Originally published as:
"Ideas Lose Vitality When Personified" By Khurram Ali Shafique. DAWN: Tuesday Review, Jan 3-5, 1995

Introduction of Four collections of Poetry , and Poetry Recital at Writers Forum - August 27 @ 2PM

Writers Forum will hold a unique literary meeting that will include introduction of 4 poetry collections of important Urdu poets. These include Jon Elia, Anwar Shaoor, Javaid Shaheen, and Ajmal Siraj.

The meeting will also include poetry recital by selected Urdu and Punjabi poets. The program is follows:

Date; Sunday, August 27, 2006
Time : 2 PM
Place: North York Central Library
5160 Yonge St. Toronto
TTC/Subway: North York Center

Agenda:

Introduction of Books:

Aur Mein Sochta Reh Gaya - Ajmal Siraj - Introduced by Kaleem Zafar
Mee Rqasam - Anwar Shaoor - Introduced by Muslim Hasany
Hawa Ka Waada - Javaid Shaheen - Introduced by Nuzhat Siddiqui
Lekin - Jon Elia - Introduced by Munir Saami

Poetry Recital by selected Poets: Names will be announced in the next notice.

Please mark your calendars now and plan to attend!

Thanks. Munir Saami



------------------------------- "Dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible... The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship." Ismail Kadare , Albanian Novelist. Munir Pervaiz (Saami)

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Situation of the Urdu Writer: A Letter from Bara Banki

The Situation of the Urdu Writer: A Letter from Bara Banki
(December 1993 - February 1994) /*/
From:

Ambiguities of Heritage:
Fictions and Polemics

by C. M. Naim

ISBN:969-8380-19-1 / 9698380191

Dear Editor: As I sit down to write for your special issue I have spent almost three months in Bara Banki, a small town in northern India, thousands of miles away from the seminars on literature at Chicago. On the other hand, Bara Banki is only seventeen miles from Lucknow, the fast-decaying capital of the state of Uttar Pradesh, which was once famous for its elegant, Urdu-dominated culture; it is also only seventy miles away from Ayodhya, where exactly one year ago a frenzied mob, led by some very deliberate people, tore down a sixteenth-century mosque. A few weeks ago, at a musha'ira or poetry reading attended by several hundred people, I heard a young Urdu/Muslim poet recite a banal verse which nevertheless drew loud applause: "They all love me, but none is "mine" / I exist in this country like Urdu." Given these circumstances, I feel little inclined to discuss "magic realism" in Urdu fiction or the decline of the "abstract" story in this "postmodernist" period. I can only talk about Urdu and what it is like to be an Urdu writer in India today, in this forty-sixth "postcolonial" year. So bear with me.

Urdu is one of the sixteen or eighteen constitutionally recognised major languages in India, and I am told that the 1981 census showed it to have some 35 million speakers. There is, however, no region specific to it. Years ago, for some obscure political reason, it was declared to be a state language in Kashmir, but the mother tongues of the people of that beleaguered state are Kashmiri, Dogri and Ladakhi, not Urdu. On the other hand, in the states where millions of Urdu speakers have lived and died for centuries, Urdu has no status, not even that of a full-fledged second language. (My mother recently wrote her will in Urdu but, in order to get it legally registered, had to have it translated into Hindi.) Urdu-speaking children in Lucknow and Bara Banki do not receive primary or secondary education in Urdu. (I write to my sister in Urdu; she must correspond with her sons in Hindi.)

Perhaps I should say that the Urdu-speaking children in northern India cannot receive primary or secondary education in their mother tongue -- guaranteed to them in the Indian Constitution -- because the state refuses to provide it. In fact, the state has put an end to what was available even during the colonial period. When it happened, soon after India became independent, many Muslim parents started sending their children to what were then and still primarily are religious schools: the madrasas. Previously there, children learned to vocalise/memorise the Qur'an - -without understanding a word of it -- and the basics of the Islamic faith. Now, in that same context, they are taught to read and write Urdu, but little else. Eventually they return to the regular schools and find themselves trailing behind their peers in almost every subject. Better Muslims, perhaps, but handicapped for the mundane competitions of life, and not really true heirs to all that was always claimed for Urdu.

One invariable claim made about Urdu was that it stood for synthesis and harmony; that it represented the commingling of Iran and India, of Muslims and Hindus. Now such a claim would make little sense. Today, in India, Urdu is almost exclusively a language of the Muslims. But not of all Muslims. Not, for example, of the Muslim peasants or fishermen in Bengal and Kerala, nor of the illiterate, lower-class Muslim women in northern Indian towns and villages. At best, it is the language of high culture for the vast majority of urban Muslims, particularly men, more particularly in northern India. It is they who feel culturally most threatened by the state antagonism to Urdu. They may be the people most of whose elders not too long ago raised the cry of Muslim nationalism and created Pakistan, but must the "sins" of the fathers be visited upon the children?

"Urdu is such a sweet language." I dare not count the times I have heard this from speakers of other Indian languages when they discover that I speak and teach Urdu. But does their own language not sound sweet to their ears? How do they measure this "sucrose" in Urdu? Unfortunately, all that is meant is that they enjoy a certain kind of singing and take delight in going to movies with such titles as "Mere Mahbub" (My Beloved), "Pakiza" (The Pure One), and "Chaudhvin ka Chand" (The Full Moon). Urdu, for them, is ghazal poetry and the culture of the courtesan and her patron. It would appear that the sweetness of Urdu lies in what in other contexts is called "decadent" and "feudalistic."

Then there are those Urdu speakers who proudly assert, "Urdu is the sweetest language of all." They too have something similar in mind, except that they view it as cultural sophistication. Curiously, I have never heard an Urdu speaker call Marathi or Tamil sweet. I have, however, heard them use that term concerning such northern Indian "dialects" as the Braj or the Avadhi -- in this case, invoking the image of village belles, love songs, and rustic ways. In other words, to be called "sweet," a language must be perceived as something remote, a part of the nostalgia, even carrying a whiff of decay. To see Urdu's future in India in the increasing number and popularity of ghazal singers is macabre -- as macabre as the "Muslim" set designs for the ghazal shows on Indian television, the same television that has only five minutes of daily news in Urdu in Lucknow and just one more Urdu programme of thirty minutes each week. And yet, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting of the government of India spends a great deal of effort and money on several hours of a daily programme on short wave called "Urdu Majlis," beamed at Pakistan!

No wonder serious Urdu writers in India form a curious breed: they have to keep surfacing despite the challenges that surround them. Suppose you are a bright young person growing up in a caring, not exactly indigent Urdu-speaking family in northern India. By huge odds, you must be a Muslim too. You would be taught to vocalise the Qur'an at home by a maulvi, who might also teach you to read and write Urdu. But your parents would not find any Urdu-medium primary or secondary school in the city, not to say the neighborhood, and if they did, it would be so bad they would not send you to it. So you would go to some private school (English-medium) or some state school (Hindi-medium). By the time you reach high school, where Urdu might be available as an optional subject, very little Urdu would be left in you. Anyway, that is the time for extra course work in science and math and English, to prepare yourself for the university.

But perhaps you are the persistent kind; you find the time to read in Urdu on your own. How do you get the books? Urdu collections in public libraries have not been maintained; in some instances, in northern India, they were even disposed of in various ways. In bookstores only a tiny fraction of the literature is available, for most of it has not been re-published or gone beyond one printing since 1947. Shipments of books and magazines from Pakistan are rarer still; it is easier to order a book from Brooklyn than from Karachi. What this means is that most Urdu writers in India have little or no knowledge of several generations of poets and novelists of the erstwhile united India, and only a rare few of them have any access to the wealth of Urdu publications in Pakistan.

But let's return to your desire to write in Urdu. You have managed to obtain the linguistic tools, read enough in your tradition, and found your inspiration. You start writing, say, short stories. There are a dozen or so literary magazines to send them to; but fewer than half of these come out regularly, and none has a circulation of more than a thousand copies, except the one published by the Information Ministry. It is also the only one that pays its contributors even a nominal amount. Of course, it only publishes what it considers "safe."

So you persist, and in a couple of years you have a dozen stories to make up a book. Now you look for a publisher. Easy, if you don't ask for money and, on the contrary, are able to bring a subsidy from one of the state-sponsored Urdu academies. If, however, you are not in with the ignorant bureaucrats or their imbecilic advisors from academia, you have no choice but to publish the book yourself. Average first edition: 400 to 1,000 copies.

Congratulations! You now have a book out, but will it sell? A lucky first edition sells out in two to four years. That is the end of your book, unless someone brings out a pirated edition in Pakistan. In fact, you secretly long that someone will. How else will you reach that other audience of yours?

Of course, while all this was going on, you were also trying to find and hold a job, to raise a family. Then one day your daughter comes home from school and tearfully shows you her Hindi or history textbook. It says that the Muslims were aliens in India, that they only destroyed temples and persecuted the Hindus and made no positive contribution; that they must be "brought back into the mainstream of Indian life." Or your son tells you how he was taunted by some boys who called him a "Babur's son." (Babur was the Central Asian prince who conquered parts of northern India in 1526 and laid the foundation for what later came to be known as the Mughal dynasty.) What do you say to them? Or perhaps you have the experience yourself when you go to the corner store and find written on its wall in crude letters: "Babur's children / Go to your graves or to Pakistan!" Should you then not find it amusing that even the ugly slogan aimed at you was written in Hindi while, conversely, it used a jingle form that imitated Urdu? Perhaps not. Hashimpura, Maliana, Bhagalpur, Meerut, Bhiwandi, Baroda, Ahmedabad, Hyderabad, Bombay, Surat, Bhopal -0 what happened in these and many other places was far from amusing.

So, you return home and write a story, in Urdu. For writing in Urdu in India is now definitely a political act. It may not empower you much, but it still lets you assert the fact of your existence. You authorise yourself. In a time of plagues, that is enough.

N O T E S

/*/ Originally published in World Literature Today, 68:2 (Spring 1994).