Dr Aslam Farrukhi wrote for Radio Pakistan and taught Urdu at the S.M. College, Central Government College and the University of Karachi | Asif Farrukhi
Make no mistake: the Urdu language is not losing its essence. Yes, the subcontinent’s partition has politicised its cultural significance. Yes, it is no more the language that Mir Taqi Mir or Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib wrote and spoke. Yes, it doesn’t seem to have, anymore, a Noon Meem Rashid to exploit the creative possibilities that it entails. But the fact remains that it is still, arguably, the most poetic, spoken and understood language on both sides of the Wagah Border (Hindi has many words and verb patterns in common with Urdu). And we, to date, have books written by writers in Urdu that bristle with idiomatic expression rooted in the soil and sentences strung together like diamonds in a necklace. The reference is to the inimitable Dr Aslam Farrukhi, a collection of whose works has been published by Sang-e-Meel Publications, Lahore, with the title Majmua: Dr Aslam Farrukhi. Readers of Urdu language and literature should be eternally grateful to the publishing house as Majmua is one of those rare books for which one can safely use the word ‘unputdownable’.
Farrukhi was a multifaceted writer. He wrote on a number of subjects — on Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, on the life and works of Mohammad Hussain Azad, critical essays, etc. What really made him stand out and identified him as someone in a league of his own was the biographical pen-sketches (khaake) that he wrote of eminent writers, poets and the people whom he befriended or interacted with in his lifetime. Majmua is a compilation of the khaake that Farrukhi penned over his career. It includes the following works: Aangan Mein Sitaare, Guldasta-i-Ahbaab, Laal Sabz Kabootaron Ki Chhatri, Mausam Bahar Jaise Loag, Raunaq-i-Bazm-i-Jahan and Saat Aasmaan.
The first, Aangan Mein Sitaare, is the perfect start to a rare linguistic journey because even if someone is not familiar with Farrukhi’s writings, she or he will immediately get the hang of his ability and the quality of his penmanship. One of the men he writes about in this section is the renowned Ghalib scholar Malik Ram. The first thing that stands out in Farrukhi’s narrative is the respect with which he introduces the scholar (introduces to his own world, that is, by way of going down memory lane) and the humbleness with which he doesn’t allow his own erudition to come in the way of his writing.
Writer, poet, scholar and broadcaster Dr Aslam Farrukhi’s pen-sketches are a unique treat
Guldasta-i-Ahbaab will be of great interest to those who want to familiarise themselves with the kind of intellectual nomenclature that Pakistan, and especially Karachi, was getting to be known for after independence. Here Farrukhi discusses colleagues such as Tabish Dehalvi and Shanul Haq Haqqi, who have had a profound influence on the post-Partition literary scene of the country. But he illuminates their worth by highlighting their individual facets — family background, educational qualifications and personality quirks. For example, when he writes about Dehalvi’s linguistic prowess, he dedicates a few paragraphs to the poet’s mother who was a cultured individual, knew thousands of Urdu verses by heart and was a stickler for correct pronunciation. She wouldn’t tolerate incorrect usage or pronunciation of Urdu words. Farrukhi writes that once he used the word peela [yellow] in front of her, to which she instantly objected and said, “Arre mian ye peela kia hota hai, zard kaho zard… rang zard hota hai [Why do you say peela, the word you should be using is zard].”