There’s been a lot of time spent dedicated to discussing
just whom exactly Pakistani authors using the English language as a medium are
writing for. After all, writing in English means alienating a significant
amount of the Pakistani population who doesn’t speak the language, much less
the readers who can’t afford to buy the expensively published novels.
Even though the usual suspects – Kamila Shamsie, Mohammad
Hanif, Mohsin Hamid, etc - have been subjected to the usual scrutiny in this
case, a number of other authors who have been paid less attention have taken liberties
with their audience as well. A careful perusal of any of these books will show
that even before the writing started there was a specific readership in mind.
Case in point: Saad Shafqat’s Breath of Death and Haroon K. Ullah’s The Bargain from the Bazaar.
Writing in English means alienating a significant amount of the Pakistani population who doesn’t speak the language.
Both books have obvious surface similarities: they were
written by men, in a genre that was relatively untried in Pakistan before
(creative nonfiction by K. Ullah and medical thriller by Shafqat); both books
are set in famous Pakistani cities (Karachi for Breath of Death and Lahore for The
Bargain from the Bazaar); both use terrorism as a major plot point, both
aim to represent the middle class, the ones caught between the politics of
religion and class within Pakistan’s fractured citizens, and most importantly,
both seem to be writing for a specifically western, non-Pakistani audience in
mind.
K. Ullah does this in a number of obvious ways, while
Shafqat tries to keep it more subtle. Within the pages of K. Ullah’s book you’ll read about
the ‘progressive’ west, the ‘polite’ western societies. Even without
the obvious pandering to a western reader, there’s other, more condemning
stuff: most of the book’s non-fiction portion focuses on the history of the
sub-continent and Pakistan’s eventual emergence. Even with the allowances made
for the fact that non-fiction eventually involves dabbling in history in some
form or another, most of the facts in this book border on the childish. The
book tells us that Pakistan came into being in 1947, but which Pakistani
doesn’t know this fact? Even a student in 3rd grade could attest to
this fact without a second’s thought, which then lends the book the air of
speaking to an outsider. On the flip side, Shafqat reveals his intended audience
by his numerous references to things that are obviously American – a Nike ad,
Carnegie Hall, McDonald’s - and can easily be understood by an audience in tune
with the American culture. Even the argument that a number of characters in the
book reside in America doesn’t dissuade one from the conviction that overall,
this book is written for someone who has never set a foot on Pakistani soil.
Both these authors seem to be writing for a specifically western, non-Pakistani audience in mind.
This particular tone of addressing an outsider in terms of
explanation of Pakistani habits, customs and laws finds it way in both the
books. K. Ullah takes time within the narrative to explain exactly what lassi
is: a yogurt-milk drink which tastes like
a tangy milkshake. No Pakistani needs to know this; for us, lassi is a part
of life. So whom does this explanation cater to? This is further exacerbated by
obvious, baseline descriptions of traditions that are both Muslim and Pakistani
in their nature: Shez wore the
traditional red gown and Awais was in a white shalwar kameez, the traditional
Muslim attire for special occasions. Such descriptions of the wedding
dresses and the accompanying festivities are pointless pages of lines for any
Pakistani reader.
In Shafqat’s book, these descriptions are more mundane; an
unnecessary commentary which focuses too much on the telling and not enough on
the showing. Shafqat interrupts a particularly telling scene in the story to explain
to us that beggars are an infuriating nuisance
in Karachi. Despite giving the appearance of absolute poverty, they attracted
little sympathy. Most of them were professional alm-seekers, able-bodied men
and women who had perfected the art of begging and faking physical handicap to
the point where it had become a way of life. Who is the reader here who
doesn’t know what the beggar culture in this country is like? Definitely a
non-Pakistani one.
No Pakistani needs to know this; for us, lassi is a part of life. So whom does this explanation cater to?
There is, in both the books, a sense of being on the defensive,
of explaining to a curious and mostly antagonistic audience how Pakistan is ‘real’
and ‘complex’; while both the reality and complexity of Pakistanis is undeniable,
a tone that verges on justification does both the story and the country a
disservice. K. Ullah explains, a touch condescendingly, that it was what Pakistanis seemed to do best,
coming back from the brink time and time again. Through tragedy and catastrophe, wars and floods,
assassinations and police crackdowns, weak and corrupt leaders, the people of
Pakistan knew only that they must keep marching on towards a better future. Not
only does the notion of the country’s supposed ‘resilience’ seem to excuse
everything wrong that happens in Pakistan, it also amounts to a sympathetic,
almost pitiful way of looking at everything that’s wrong with the country.
Shafqat’s book tackles this complexity by constantly trying to explain how
Pakistanis feel about America: If the
mightiest nation in the history of civilization had designs on you, surely that
meant you were a pretty important nation yourself? Pakistanis would never
openly claim theirs was a country of any importance; it made you sound naive
and gullible, and your own compatriots would be the first people to hoot you
down. An explanation of Pakistani sentiment in reaction to American
policies takes up a significant portion of the story, not in a way that lends
authenticity to the main plot or to character motivations, but as a way for the
author to say ‘I belong to this country, and I know everything about it’.
There need to be more conversations about the audience for
whom Pakistani writers are putting pen to paper. With an unhealthy Pakistani
obsession with America and a colonial background that shows its influence on
every novel ever written in English in this country, it is only through these
conversations that we can decide whether these books provide a valuable service
in their explanations, or if they in fact do us all a disservice.