Nazir Jahangir
To my knowledge, no prominent Kashmiri writer ever formed a literary organization. Noted writers like Akhtar Mohiuddin and Amin Kamil neither joined nor showed interest in such associations. This holds true for others like Rehman Rahi, Mirza Arif, Muzaffar Azim, Hari Krishan Kaul, Hriday Kaul Bharti, Bansi Nirdosh, and many more. Some were even against the very idea of forming and maintaining literary associations.
Having spent time with them, I understand their nature and literary journeys. In personal interactions and literary discussions, I gathered insights into their perspectives. My three years at the Daily Aftab also provided me with a deeper understanding of local writers and journalists.
One day, I asked a prominent Kashmiri writer, “Sir, why don’t you form or join a literary association?” He replied, “Literary associations are formed and taken an interest in by those who want to establish their identity in literature. This is a group that neither knows literature nor possesses the skill to write literary works. They form and take an interest in literary associations merely to provide a platform for their nonsensical outbursts to justify their existence in the literary world, aiming to gain access to and recognition from established writers. This is a kind of ‘identity crisis’ where a section of society tries to gain a reputation and wisdom by associating themselves with literary circles. This desire leads some people towards establishing literary organizations. However, it is true that some genuinely interested and serious individuals in these associations, if given the right environment, can become good writers.”
Akhtar Mohiuddin’s views on this matter were unique. He believed that renowned writers always consider themselves superior, and thus, two prominent writers cannot coexist in the same association, as neither would be willing to give a higher position to the other. Therefore, if two cannot coexist, how can more than two?
Moreover, those who are already famous have no need to become more famous. Such renowned writers have already achieved enough popularity that they do not seek further recognition. They are well-known in society, and prominent people are aware of them. Therefore, these famous individuals are not easily willing to stand beside lesser-known people and help them become popular.
“Haq baat aake ruk ce geye thee kabhi Shakeeb
Chaaley padey hoyey hein abi tak zubaan per”
(Truth once came to a halt, Shakeeb
Blisters still linger on the tongue)
There have been people who, unfortunately, damaged local literature by adopting literary pursuits. These sick-minded and decayed-hearted individuals, with their cliques, overshadowed the great imaginative minds and the masters of the pen. They struck the delicate soul of literature with the whip of self-interest and greed, inflicting such blows that left it helpless. These lowly individuals buried the masterpieces of true artists and creators under the debris of their nonsense through their lobbyism. They are guilty of erasing the essence of our literature and are the dreaded killers of our literary heritage. They crushed the budding talents under the altar of their self-interest and ego, knowing that if these genuine warriors of the pen rose, their paper ships would sink. These ill-wishers thickened the waters of the literary river with their polluted thoughts so much that while their paper boats remained afloat, the true swimmers could not dive. In this way, these opportunists blocked the paths for our genuine writers to become literary ambassadors.
If I take my own example, I can confidently and credibly present my name. My writings have their own dignity and credibility, and I always feel a sense of pride in expressing my literary achievements. I keep myself away from hypocritical modesty. I say this with absolute certainty and confidence: my stories were deliberately not brought forward or given importance due to a specific conspiracy, plan, and malicious intent. My creative standards and style would have overshadowed the so-called big names, and they would appear as “Waana penji writers, waana penji philosophers”—the writers and philosophers who nourish on the outposts of shops made of wooden planks, street vendor-type writers and philosophers compared to this thought and style which I projected and presented. I say it with a claim that the intellectual standard of my stories carved new creative paths over time, causing the hollow pens to fear. They took advantage of my indifference and disinterest in worldly matters by keeping my creations and stories out of the spotlight, making their mentions brief and limited. As a result, the general reader and literary circles remained unaware of my writings, while paths were left open for such fools who entered the literary field with their nonsense labeled as literature, resulting in genuine literature being lost in the noise of a large crowd of fools, and superficial pseudo-writers seizing opportunities to gather accolades and positions.
In this way, the literary charlatans did not allow access to my stories to the intellectual community here, keeping them deprived. This was not just an injustice to me but to our literary heritage and the intellectual community who were kept away from my stories. Look at the state of the Kashmiri department at the University of Kashmir and the condition of the heads appointed there, with their decayed, incompetent, and menacing hearts and minds. My Kashmiri story “Gobur Chu Mujrim” gained so much recognition and fame that in 1987, it was included as the best Kashmiri story in an anthology published by the Ministry of Human Resources Development, New Delhi. Later, Kashmir’s eminent scholar and translator Mrs. Neerja Mattoo included it in her book “Stranger Besides Me” as an English translation. In 2023, she published another book, “The Greatest Kashmiri Stories Ever Told,” in which this story was included. In 2004, the internationally renowned stage director, film actor, director, and producer, and a prominent son of Kashmir, Mr. M. K. Raina, dramatized this story with the support of the state government and presented it at Tagore Hall in Srinagar, receiving praise from leading state newspapers. However, this story was not included in the syllabus or curriculum of the Kashmiri department at the University of Kashmir due to malice and enmity. Similarly, my story “Bila Unwan,” published in the National Trust of India’s anthology and included as “God Runs for Safety” in the anthology “Brightest Story Stars of the World” by the American website Story Star, was also excluded from the syllabus. It merits a mention here that this American website chose just 70 stories for its anthology out of 12,000 stories by 5,000 writers worldwide, and among the 70, my story “God Runs for Safety” was published in their anthology and figured at serial 7.
Similarly, my dramas titled “Saltanat” and “Behta Jism,” which were broadcast on Radio Kashmir, challenge the literati of Kashmir to show me such a story in any literature of the world. You can never find a story like “Mussala” in any world literature, as the subject I projected in this story. Yet, you didn’t tell about my literary creations to the students and ignored them in the syllabus of the Kashmiri department at Kashmir University, though they are literary masterpieces. You subjected them to lobbyism and kept them out of the public eye so that you wouldn’t be overshadowed. This was done by both those who have passed away and those who are still around. I neither need nor seek awards, accolades, titles, or positions. Although I was more deserving of every literary award compared to other literary names, the positions remained with those who were part of the biased juries. Let them reflect on their actions and see if their faces don’t reveal their ugly face in their own eyes. Just try it once!
“A blind man I saw
With a house of wood on his shoulders
He travels twelve miles
Yet remains at home”
The conductor at Dargah Hazratbal keeps calling out, “Lal Chowk, Lal Chowk.” He travels from Dargah to Lal Chowk all day long but sees in the evening that despite covering so much distance, he is still standing at the same place he stood in the morning. All he achieved was tiring himself without reaching any destination. The distances didn’t take him anywhere, and by evening, he was still standing at the same place where he stood in the morning, covered in dust and smoke with nothing to show for it. He realizes that he has been like an oil-press bull, going around in circles all day but not making any progress. Similarly, most literary associations here have the same history and geography. They are like locomotive engines that make big noises but do not propel an inch forward. People are still where they were when they formed their association, not having moved an inch forward, not making any progress. They seem to have no objectives, no aims, no ambitions, no enthusiasm, but have narrowed down their functions to a mechanism where some people gather, have some chats, and a few known and unknown individuals share their thoughts, thereby manifesting their ignorance about literature, its norms, techniques, niceties, and the present literary scenarios of the world. Some casual talk happens, a bit of entertainment occurs, people vent their feelings, take some photos with their mobile phones, and the matter ends. This routine has been ongoing for years, and this unproductive activity is called a literary association here. Almost every literary organization here is like a locomotive engine that makes noise but doesn’t move forward. The reason is the lack of expertise and enthusiasm, just some sycophants who install an umbrella and call it an organization.
Yes, I agree that there seem to be some literary sparks emerging in some people, and if they are fanned with support and encouragement and receive proper and genuine guidance, these sparks can turn into literary flames, illuminate minds, and become literary assets.
Literature is a building without gates. Anyone can enter this building at will. It is like the Taj Mahal, its exterior is beautiful, and everyone wishes to see it. No one is forbidden to see its interior. However, not everyone can be Shirazi or write a poem on the Taj Mahal like Tagore. Many Kashmiris travel to different cities in India to sell Kashmiri handicrafts, and some also visit places like Ajmer, the Taj Mahal, Qutub Minar, Red Fort, Gateway of India, Chowpatty, Goa, etc to exhibit their products. There is no prohibition if they call themselves tourists instead of traders. Anyone can call himself anything despite being nothing at all; perhaps, that’s no crime? But if they now compare themselves to Hiuen Tsang or Ibn Battuta, even then no one will stop them either.
Nazir Jahangir is a noted journalist
