By Intizar Husain 

HOW intriguing that at a time when English, with its status as a global language, is swaying South Asian literary minds, one seasoned English fiction writer settled in London has taken a jump in the reverse direction and started to write in Urdu. The first of his Urdu short stories have appeared in the latest issue of Dunyazad. The writer is Aamer Hussein.

Hussein, as he tells us, spent the first 13 years of his life in Karachi after which he moved to London. It was there that he completed his education in Persian and Urdu alongside English. He was also an Urdu teacher for a few years. But he decided upon English for his medium of expression and soon won recognition as a short-story writer. He has now several collections of short stories and two short novels to his credit.

What then prompted him to attempt writing in Urdu,  and at a time when we see young literary talent in South Asia trying its luck in English? This, in fact, is a new phase in the literary history of South Asia. Looking back we find that it was in the aftermath of 1857 that the young generation of writers felt dissatisfied with the prevalent modes of expression in Urdu literature. They were in a state of revolt against the old literary tradition and aspired to bring about a big change under the influences coming from English literature through their new English mentors. With this revolt started a process of change in thinking as well as in literary expression. Not only in Urdu but in other languages of undivided India, there was a general trend of welcoming influences coming from the Western world while also staying true to their respective languages.

But it was during the post-Partition years that these writers developed a fondness for writing in English. This perhaps was the start of ‘Third World literature’, which was originally defined as literary works by writers from the developing world who have chosen to write in English. Such writings were guaranteed international recognition, bringing prizes in their wake. The idea worked wonders. Soon came writers from India with novels written in English and they were duly rewarded.

Now in South Asian countries a host of young English writers are enjoying international recognition, which has created a lure for expression in English and at the same time a dislike of local languages. More particularly, in Pakistan, a number of Urdu writers seem to have developed an acute feeling of lagging behind because of their choice of language. It is amid this scenario that Hussein has chosen to write in Urdu. Should his decision be taken as a reaction to this craze of writing in English and the consequent frustration among some Urdu writers?

Hussein explains his position. He recalls Qurratulain Hyder, whom he called Annie Khala, asking him, “Mian, tum Urdu main nahin likhtay?” He says he felt a little nervous and replied, “No.” This was in 1986. In spite of his reply her query cut deep. He realised his position with respect to Urdu and started wondering why he had not attempted to write in Urdu. And it took him years to gather the courage to do so.

In fact, it was a remark made by a journalist about Urdu that led him to make this decision. Writing in Urdu, she remarked, was just like riding in a tonga, while English, in comparison, brings with it the impression of speed and a modern car. These speedy vehicles, he thought to himself, make so much noise and are a nuisance. Why should I not try travelling in an old, slow-moving carriage? And he decided to write in Urdu. His domestic situation also helped him in making this decision. He remembered his mother reciting stories from Urdu books and visitors such as Shaista Ikramullah and Professor Ahmad Ali conversing in Urdu.

Hussein tells his stories simply. The very simplicity of description has a charm. After all, it is not always easy to write with such simplicity. It requires familiarity with the language to tame it to this purpose. So the stories also reveal a lot about the writer’s preparation before starting his journey in Urdu.