At the end of the three days of the Islamabad Literature Festival (ILF) I cannot begin to guess how many out of the originally scheduled 58 sessions took place, and how many out of the 164 expected participants were actually present at the event. Ameena Saiyid inaugurated the festival with a speech about how the festival was returning to Islamabad; now the fourth time in the capital, she said, “you can never visit the same place twice, each time it’s a different story — by the very act of coming back you wipe out what came before.”

Unfortunately enough the fourth ILF was a case of mismanagement, with a poorly selected venue, mediocre arrangements, and lack of coordination managing successfully to wipe out memories of what came before.

Held at the Lok Virsa Complex, a sprawling expanse with small, limited halls, the Islamabad weather was unkind too. Oscillating between glaring sunlight and an occasional drizzle, the trek between halls — incidentally poorly marked — added to the general sense of aggrieved inconvenience the participants were left with.

The festival this year included special tributes to the many incredible literary figures who passed away in the interim between the last ILF and this one. Honouring Fatima Surayya Bajia, Jamiluddin Aali, Intizar Husain and Nasreen Anjum Bhatti through sessions and Ismat Chughtai and Qurratulain Hyder through performances, turned the most literary of ILF sessions into cenotaphs.

Literature festivals should focus on celebrating the written and spoken word, and should bring together those with a love of literature in a common space

Barring the tributes, the majority of the sessions were largely political in nature: ‘Jihad and Descent into Chaos’, ‘Qualified Equality: Minorities in the Constitution of Pakistan’, ‘Regional Connectivity and Stability’, ‘August 1947: The Parting of Ways’, ‘Softening the Hard Country’, ‘Pen on the Pulse of the Taliban’, ‘Cultural Policy and Dynamics in South Asia’, ‘Media: More Independent, Less Responsible’, and ‘The Pakistan Paradox: Instability and Resilience’ had scarce little to do with literature, seeming to and belong more in the auditorium of a college than a literature festival.

Other sessions bridged the gap between literature and politics by discussing books written on international relations, such as Neither a Hawk nor a Dove: An Insider’s Account of Pakistan’s Foreign Relations by Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri, Rethinking Identities in Contemporary Pakistani Fiction: Beyond 9/11 by Aroosa Kanwal and Education Policies in Pakistan: Politics, Projections, and Practices by Shahid Siddiqui. One would have imagined that finding a decent number of literary figures (both Pakistani and foreign) to feature at a literature festival would not be a herculean task.

Finding expertise, however, is another area wherein ILF 2016 disappointed its audience. The Art Now sessions held in a hall devoted to sessions on art — critique, discourse and conversation — were also disorganised. The speakers’ availability was not checked beforehand and formal invitations were issued fairly late. The Rashid Rana and Quddus Mirza session was shifted to the first day without prior warning while a later panel on ‘The Business of Art’ included representatives of some galleries that are not run as businesses. Relatively young artists and curators participated in discussions that they were not yet equipped to handle, turning the sessions into training ground for more informed appearances in the future.

A few years ago at an earlier, better ILF, Indu Mitha had expressed her aversion to the phrase dance is poetry in motion because the two are distinct art forms and to describe the one in terms of another is to denigrate it. Similarly, to hold a literature festival and devote the greatest part of it to political discussion, art and performances does a disservice to literature.

Literature festivals are, however, much more than a form of defiance (as said by Ameena Saiyid) and much more than a space to self-analyse wrongs and rights (as said Hina Rabbani Khar). They are at least conceptually a space to celebrate the written and spoken word, a space to discuss the new and old literary masterpieces of the time ...

The keynote speeches at the opening and closing ceremonies by Hina Rabbani Khar and Christophe Jaffrelot, respectively, discussed international relations with the token reference to literature festivals as being important as they reflect hope and freedom of expression.

Literature festivals are, however, much more than a form of defiance (as said by Ameena Saiyid) and much more than a space to self-analyse wrongs and rights (as said Hina Rabbani Khar). They are at least conceptually a space to celebrate the written and spoken word, a space to discuss the new and old literary masterpieces of the time and to bring together those with a love of literature in a common space.

Certain sessions achieved that, most did not. The tribute to Bajia was an amalgam of character analysis and anecdotes that charmed the audience, while the tribute to Intizar Hussain had panellist references along the lines of ‘and I said this in the Karachi Literature Festival’. Replication of some sessions between Karachi and Islamabad did nothing to keep the experience original.

While speaking about the Lahore Biennale, Rashid Rana in his conversation with Quddus Mirza had mentioned that in a sense nothing is completely unique — a fair statement as someone, somewhere, has thought or is thinking what we are — but originality in topic of sessions is de rigueur. The handful of foreign speakers or panellists were insufficient to enliven the ILF experience.

Some sessions were certainly interesting, such as the ‘What’s Liberal about the Liberal Arts?’ one with Framji Minwalla and Aqsa Ijaz, moderated by Aliya Iqbal-Naqvi, and ‘Love and Revolution: Faiz Ahmed Faiz by Ali Madeeh Hashmi and Over my Shoulder by Alys Faiz’ which was a short conversation with Hashmi and readings of excerpts from the two books. In the former the academic discussion on what constitutes an education in liberal arts and sciences — not quite the meaning one garners from the title — Minwalla quoted from various literary sources while Iqbal-Naqvi gave examples of the value of studying literature. The latter session, of course, was about a great literary icon, and excerpts from both books were beautifully presented.

A particularly annoying aspect of this year’s festival was the number of infants and toddlers brought to the venue and the sessions. Nothing adds to the joy of hearing something interesting more than the squalling of a small child. This was again an unusual development due at least in part to the venue being the Lok Virsa Complex — an open space frequented by families over the weekend. Something that was reinforced when sessions were shifted into the Heritage Library which sits in the centre of the Lok Virsa Museum, and people entering and leaving the sessions ran into — quite literally — families doing the circuit of the museum display.

That the festival took place should be acknowledged as an achievement in itself given the uncertain times that we live in. It brought people out of their homes to listen to conversations by accomplished individuals of various types, if not necessarily about literature. It also got an unusual set of sponsors to begin to spend money in a field completely disconnected with their own business.

There is also a need to recognise that the arts — of which literature is a fundamental part — are in a sense political. They stand against repression and for freedom and to include a plethora of other arts a literature festival is not entirely absurd. The absurdity, however, lies in the preponderance of politics, the singing and dancing segments and the food court (or yard in this case), all of which were more densely populated than the sessions on literature and the book stalls.

ILF 2016 paid tribute to literary legends and was a tribute to an idea that originated with the Karachi Literature Festival held in 2010. Seven KLFs later and after the fourth ILF, the commitment to the written word, the support of literary enquiry and endeavour and the celebration of literature appear to be waning. Nothing has been done to attract a new audience and those who have attended past festivals are left with a sense of having heard it all before.

The resurrection of the litfest will require new ideas, fresh perspectives and better management. At the very least, it requires input from residents of Islamabad so that those unwilling to look at weather forecasts and check the logistics beforehand can be advised on the inadequacy of their selection of date and venue.

In the closing ceremony, Amjad Islam Amjad quoted T.S. Eliot’s ‘Four Quartets’, saying, “Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future.” He was speaking of the apparent prescience demonstrated by classical poets of bygone eras in choice of theme and words but in this context it is safe to say that each literature festival in future cannot in conscience be a re-run of festivals past.