“IS there a symbiotic relationship between psychological disorders and creativity?” It is with this question that Shamim Ahmad starts his study of writers whom he regards “abnormal cases” in his recently published book, Torment and Creativity: A Psychoanalytic Study of Literature and Literati (Ushba Publishing International, Karachi).

Well-armed with his studies of Freud, Jung and Adler, he has discussed them one by one. What attracted my attention is the fact that he has chosen to include a few Urdu writers along with Western writers in his study. It is perhaps for the first time that any scholar has studied the personalities of writers such as Manto and Yagana from this angle. However, Ahmad warns us beforehand that “before we proceed in that direction, it may be underlined that neurosis by itself does not make anyone a great artist, nor is every genius a neurotic.”

When discussing Manto, Ahmad arrives at the conclusion that “the absence of love from his father gave rise to a quintessential Oedipal situation [and] Manto carried the bitter memories of his father’s indifference and maltreatment for the rest of his life. This resulted in revolt not only against his father but also against the father figure. The father figure can manifest itself in a number of forms. It could be an individual, an institution, a concept, a religion, an authority, a community, or the whole humanity, which can acquire the attributes of a father.”

Sahir Ludhianvi too, according to Ahmad, was a victim of the Oedipus complex. He deeply loved his mother and hated his father: “His life history reveals that he also suffered from gamophobia (fear of marriage) and gynophobia (fear of women in general) which were the result of the complex he was afflicted with.”

The case of Yagana Changezi has been discussed in Torment and Creativity in comparative detail. “The life of Yagana,” says Ahmad, “presents a fascinating study in human psychology, the underlying dynamics of behaviour, unconscious motivations and their manifestations.” He adds that his life was the epitome of the doctrine of Adler. “Adler,” Ahmad tells us, “postulated that the primary motivation is the struggle against the feeling of inferiority, be it real or imaginary, physical, social, or psychological.” And that when it arises from the unconscious, it can pose serious psychological problems. He refers to Yagana’s behaviour, who ran down all his contemporaries including the great masters Iqbal, Urfi, and Ghalib. “His behaviour thus demonstrated an archetypal example of compensatory behaviour born out of inferiority,” writes Ahmad.

But now, quite unexpectedly, Ahmad stops short and, setting aside the cases of neurotics, he turns to those who are poets in a “normal way” and have achieved fame in a grand way with a certain glamour associated with them. Their glamour tempts Ahmad to write about them. The two such poets who attract his attention are Faiz and Iqbal. One wonders that Ahmad does not notice the acute case of Miraji and jumps to Faiz, who, in his own words, was a “normal, well-adjusted, tolerant, and mild human being, a good friend, a loving father, a successful professional, a devoted husband, and a doting grandfather.” Of course, Ahmad has some justification, which hardly convinces us.

Ahmad also did not care to go back in the history of Urdu literature, which would have offered him two more cases very relevant for his study — that of Maulana Mohammad Husain Azad and Mir Taqi Mir.

Mohammad Husain Azad had the terrible experience of coming face to face with his ‘hamzad’. His neurotic condition gradually led him to go mad. What is significant is the fact that he went on writing during this period. These writings offer an analyst rich material for study.

Mir, too, went mad. After his recovery he recorded his experience in a masnavi, telling us:

It was the face of a fairy appearing in the full moon and attracting him.