by Zafar Syed

Pakistani short story writer Daniyal Mueenuddin recently told an interviewer that he might not have enjoyed the kind of media attention he is getting if he were a Bulgarian. This was a reference to the fact that Pakistan is all over the place in international news these days, and there is an interest in people to know about the country which has been called by President Obama as “the most dangerous place in the world.” The interviewer was quite taken aback by this frank disclosure from Daniyal but there might have a modicum of truth in it. Whether it’s because there is a sudden burst of creativity or perhaps for non-literary reasons, there is no denying that Pakistani writers are getting a lot of attention in the West these days. Realizing this, Granta, a renowned British literary magazine, has recently published a rich “Pakistan Number.”

Although this special number is not on the scale of the monumental “khaas numbers” of Nuqoosh that most Urdu readers would be familiar with, what the issue lacks in girth it gains in depth, as the 288 page are brimming with vitality and vigor of Pakistani literary and visual art.

There are several remarkable stories, articles and poems in the collection. One of the most notable among them is “Butt and Bhatti” by Muhammad Hanif, the author of the ingenious debut novel “A Case of Exploding Mangoes.” It appears that even in a short span of time Hanif has been able to cultivate an uncannily original style. He focuses his attention on a snapshot of life and tilts the lens just a little to create a reality that is realistic and eerie at the same time. The milieu he created in the “Exploding Mangoes” was all too familiar, but he managed to convert the real into surreal with astonishing assurance. He has applied this de-familiarization technique in “Butt and Bhatti” as well: A Karachi crook named Teddy Butt tries to declare his love to a nurse by – gasp! – pointing a Mauser at her head. He is the product of an effeminate “Kalashnikov Culture” which knows to attain self-confidence only through the medium of violence. When the nurse doesn’t return the favors, Butt, in his rage, creates a commotion that, through a bizarre chain reaction, stops the city of Karachi for three days. This approach beautifully fits into the crazy situation that the city of Karachi is going through for the last several decades. Form meets function. The contained has congealed to form the container.

This story is reportedly the part of Hanif’s upcoming novel. From the mouth-watering premise of the story, one can hardly resist the urge to barge into the study of Muhammad Hanif and have a peek at the rest of the manuscript at Mauser-point!

Another sparkling story is “Ice-Mating” by Uzma Aslam Khan, author of three novels so far, most notable among them “Geometry of God.” The most telling aspect of “Ice-Mating” is the voice – the voice! – which is quite a literary feat in itself. It is hard to imagine how a woman – much less a Pakistani woman – could embody a man’s mind (complete with some colorful vernacular!) so perfectly. “Ice-Mating” is about, among many things, two glaciers in the upper Kaghan valley. Glaciers? Kaghan? It rang a bell but I could not quite place my fingers on it. But halfway through the story, I remembered the indomitable Dervla Murphy’s book “Full Tilt,” a travelogue of her journey from Dublin to Delhi on a bicycle. One of the chapters is “Two Wheels over Nine Glaciers: From Babusar to Abbottabad.” The glaciers in question are the ones she has to surmount on her bicycle. But Uzma Khan’s glaciers couldn’t be more different. Not only do they have genders but they also mate in an outlandish ritual ceremony in the high mountains of Kaghan. The story of the glaciers go hand in hand with the ups and downs of the relationships of a Pakistani couple who had met in San Francisco and then travel together to spend some time in the high mountains.

Mohsin Hamid’s story “A Beheading” is slightly disappointing in the sense that, in my opinion, it takes the paranoia of Pakistani writers to the extreme. In an interview (available online at fora.tv), Mohsin Hamid and Daniyal Mueenuddin describe their anxiety over being a writer in Pakistan. They talk about the “menace” that they feel in the streets. I don’t know if that “menace” is real or imaginary because I know several Pakistani writers who write about much more ‘controversial’ subjects in Urdu. But then again, who reads Urdu? So contemporary Urdu writers might be even more obscure in Pakistan than these English writers in a country where only two percent of the population can read English.

Unexpectedly, there is no story by Daniyal; he is represented by a poem instead. Nadeem Aslam’s opening story “Leila in the Wilderness” is a beautifully imagined and masterfully written piece, which is somewhat different than the general grain of the magazine, as it takes place in the distant past of the country.

There are several non-fiction pieces as well. The most prominent among them is “The Portrait of Jinnah” by the New York Times’ correspondent Jane Perlez, which tells how different portraits of the founder of the nation change meaning according to the office in which they are displayed. Another foreign correspondent, Declan Walsh of the Guardian, is also one of the contributors. His creative non-fiction story “Arithmetic on Frontier” about a tribal leader is one of the highlights of the issue. Fatima Bhutto’s socio-political “Mangho Pir” has its moments. I also liked Kamila Shamsie’s “Pop Idols,” who has weaved the tumultuous history of the country through the tinted glass of its pop scene. Articles about the Kashmir conflict and the failed NY bomber Faisal Shehzad are also thrown in for good measure.

A few translations also incorporated. Celebrated Urdu writer Intizar Hussain makes a guest appearance in “The House by the Gallows,” recounting his experiences during the times of General Zia’s oppressive dictatorship. I understand that the editors of the special issue wanted to present a certain kind of picture of Pakistan: A blighted place, choking in the self-created miasma of religious tyranny, runaway terrorism, chaotic coup d’états, etc. Otherwise they could have selected far better works by Intizar Hussain, as well as by other current and past Urdu writers.

Any discussion of this special issue of Granta will be incomplete without mentioning the art that envelopes it. The most prominent, of course, is the title, which is specifically prepared for the magazine in the famous “truck art” style by a real truck artist Islam Gull. Complete with fantastical scenery, a tiger and a panther, two colorful birds and the customary Baab e Khyber, this spirited title tries hard to cheer up the otherwise rather somber mood of the magazine. Artworks from contemporary Pakistani artists are scattered throughout the magazine in the form of color inserts. Each story has its own appropriate title art, ala Urdu digests. Admittedly, I wasn’t able to fathom some of the included post-modern high art, but still, it gives a very nice flavor to the magazine.

As said earlier, Granta “Pakistan Number” presents a bleak picture of Pakistan. Whether you agree with this picture or not, there is no doubt that this is a real collector’s item for lovers of Pakistani literature, and the editors of Granta deserve a pat on the backs for the nice job. It remains to be seen when – and whether – they would publish a special number on Bulgaria.

Tags: Baab e Khyber, Daniyal Mueenuddin, Declan Walsh, Faisal Shehzad, Fatima Bhutto, General Zia ul-Haq, Granta, Guardian, Intizar Hussain, Islam Gull, Jane Perlez, Kamila Shamsie, Mohsin Hamid, Muhammad Hanif, Nadeem Aslam, New York Times, Pakistan, Pakistani literature, Urdu, Uzma Aslam Khan

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