HAVING been the victim of supposed security measures by the Punjab government, the Lahore Literary Festival (LLF) provoked much dialogue this year. While it started out as a typical annual event, it soon stirred debate and discussion on whether the No Objection Certificate (NOC), which was withdrawn by the government, had any substance or not. Was there a threat or not? Rumours began to float that security was not the issue at all; in fact the withdrawn NOC was petty backlash by the government for some other reason.

Alhamra being a free public space, where everyone under the sun could easily walk in without thinking twice wasn’t given to LLF organisers. Instead the event was condensed from three to two days and moved to the nearby Avari Hotel, and instead of Friday, was held on Saturday and Sunday. Any questions as to why Friday was unsafe and the other two days were not, and why Alhamra was unsafe, and the hotel next to it was not, were left unanswered and hung in the air throughout the festival.

The narrative, as Mohammed Hanif said in one of the sessions, which was read and heard by most of the public was inevitably the government’s. In ‘Whose Narrative Is It Anyway?’ Hanif began by bringing up this year’s LLF issue and challenging this narrative. The fact is that the narrative itself has a lot to do with what happened. The fact that it was never questioned was another major point. Organisers preferred to speak off the record and did not utter any words which could later cause them problems.

“We had to shave off a lot of sessions and tell a lot of the foreign guests not to come,” said one of the key organisers. “It has been quite embarrassing for us. We had to refuse many of the Indian delegates including Mahesh and Pooja Bhatt … because of security issues.”

Others who strongly supported the festival said that the government did not want discussions in a free public space, especially discussions against any of its controversial projects. Regardless of what the narrative had been, none of the government representatives except Zakia Shahnawaz was present at LLF, not as patrons, and definitely not out of personal interest.

In ‘Whose Narrative Is It Anyway?’ panellists discussed the problems of dominant narratives — that they are used as propaganda while the other narrative, which is the perspective of the oppressed and marginalised sections of society, never surfaces.

Tania James, who discussed the three voices that she used in her novel The Tusk That Did the Damage — a mad elephant, a documentary filmmaker and a hunter turned poacher said, “I tried to remove the story from the hands of the person who usually gets to tell it. I chose more marginalised voices, including the elephant. It may seem strange but elephants have quite complex emotions.”

James’s view of writing in the United States where she was born and brought up — is that often writers in the US do not want to remove themselves from their sphere of comfort.

This brought in Susan Abulhawa’s perspective of narratives that are suppressed especially in a society like Palestine whose existence has been denied, and the dominant narrative is that of Israel’s. “Some nations share collective wounds and therefore collective pain, which is the point where all people of that nation meet, and understand each other regardless of their background. These collective wounds include Indian and Pakistani traumas of Partition, the black Americans’ painful history of centuries of enslavement, and mass incarcerations, the Jewish Holocaust for the Jewish [people], and the Palestinians’ ethnic cleansing,” she said. “But when members of the oppressive society step in and speak on behalf of the oppressed people, it is not right”.

The question of whose narrative is important, but what is the narrative is also important. For instance, South African writer Zukiswa Wanner believes it is important to have done your research — only then can you step into someone else’s voice and speak for them, otherwise fiction could never be produced. Meanwhile in a session titled ‘Bound: Literature and the Shackles of Politics’, the panel discussed numerous aspects of the issue. Pakistan’s literature has more than several times been associated with the politics of its era. And writer Mohsin Hamid may not be entirely wrong when he opines that politics cannot be separated from literature.

“It’s like saying someone has no skin colour, or has no sex,” he said. “There is no such thing as non-political writing and maybe people won’t acknowledge it but the impact of most of my writings has been to produce political discussions.” Egyptian-American political correspondent, Mona Eltahawy, who is known for bringing the feminist aspect to her work, said that for her writing “sexual is the next step to being political”.

Hamid disagreed strongly with Plato’s Republic concept, pointing out that art makes one feel, and produces emotions and empathy. And empathy, he said, is a big chunk of justice. “Justice cannot be viewed in black and white rationalism, nor only emotionalism. Empathy for a just society is important”. “Humour, too, is part of this, and it is a great threat to totalitarian regimes because humour is a place where the masses are powerful,” said author Sorayya Khan. “And it is cathartic too. Satire and cartoon likewise are subversive in a similar way and not only that they threaten the regimes by ridiculing them.”

Discussions aside, some sessions were punctuated with presentations, and audio visual clips, including the one on recently deceased David Bowie, one of the most flamboyant singers of his time who brought about a new trend in not just music, but also in fashion. With a vast array of musical styles from Goth to disco and funk to new wave, Bowie always kept on transforming himself as a musician. Whether it was as the Thin White Duke, or Ziggy Stardust, Bowie’s personalities were theatrical, subversive, even androgynous, overthrowing the status quo and mainstream norms. He challenged societal norms, and said it was okay to be yourself.

The lighthearted but informative talk was between Leon Menezes, who was once in The In Crowd, Karachi’s legendary band of the ’70s, fashion designer Kamiar Rokni, Eltahawy and Shahid Zahid who was a huge fan and had had the chance to view Bowie live in concert in the prime of his musical career. One of the pioneers of music journalism, Fifi Haroon, moderated the session, ‘Inside the Labyrinth: a Take From Pakistan on David Bowie.’

A.R. Gurney’s Love Letters, performed on both evenings, held the audience enthralled, and the two leads Rehana Saigol and Imran Aslam were marvellous as Melissa Gardener and Andrew Makepeace Ladd III. Directed by Hameed Haroon, the play has been performed worldwide, and has even previously been translated for the Hindi-Urdu speaking masses as Tumhari Amrita played by Shabana Azmi and Farooq Sheikh.

Visitors at LLF said that having a play was a unique addition, as usually musical performances took place in the evenings. And they loved how music relevant to that time and era popped up in several parts of the play. There was Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s classic ‘Summertime’, and Nat King Cole’s ‘Straighten Up’ and ‘Fly Right’. But what really stood out was the fact that as soundtracks do, the music was very much part of the play itself giving emotion and meaning to every turn of the production.“The extent of validation by the delegates, and the wonderful discussions left us so proud of the festival,” Nusrat Jamil said. “So did the level of young people and their participation in the discussions. The Urdu sessions were fantastic. The second day turned out to be better than the first.”

Even though some attendees thought Alhamra would have been a better place, Jamil says that in many aspects the hotel provided better facilities. “The halls were much larger and open and that is also why the turnout was better. But it is true we had to get rid of all the wonderful food stalls and the children’s activities had to be stopped.”

“Since several foreign delegates had already arrived for the festival, their sessions were duly prioritised in our reworked program,” says Razi Ahmed, CEO of LLF. This was apparent from the revised schedule that reflected these constraints and considerations. “It took a year to develop and build the original three-day programme, which was rich and diverse,” he says. “But both our foreign and local delegates, including those who were scheduled to discuss regional Pakistani literature, have been very understanding of the challenges we faced and provided their unreserved support and cooperation to the festival.”

By the time the festival ended one thing had become clear. The festival itself had become a symbol of resistance against any status quo forces that did not want it to take place; it became the personification of resistance.