The notion of writing about one’s country is always tinged with idiosyncratic and personal feelings. And if the writers, by any means, are away from their watan (homeland), there is a unique touch of plaintive, melancholic colour to their words. Stories based on the exploration of one’s identity, coming-of-age experiences and one’s bond with the country are, more often than not, sure to find a vast readership. At times, they also soothe the hearts of those going through difficult periods in their lives.
Narrating Pakistan: An Anthology of Contemporary Creative Writing, edited by Saeed Ur Rehman and Khadeeja Farooqui, is a good addition to South Asian literature. The book is distinctive in a way that it comprises 19 varied pieces, both fiction and nonfiction, written by different authors, and does not follow a singular theme. However, the underlying element running through all the contributions remains the same: Pakistan, and the authors’ connection to it or to any of its cities.
The anthology opens with a preface that is conversational and engaging, setting the tone for what the remaining pages hold for its audience. In most of the writings, the contributors have elegantly preserved their reflections about their identities. Some have gone so far as to let readers witness their scars and traumas, to glance into their private lives, and to read their most intimate accounts. They wrote down their experiences and registered their thoughts before they could evaporate into memories.
In the piece "It Will Follow You Home," Kanza Javed grapples with the trauma of depressive episodes in her life. While pursuing her MFA degree in Morgantown, West Virginia, she frequently visits mental health counsellors. With Lahore constantly on her mind, she writes: "Lahore, Pakistan, is a delicious city. A mottled mess of vanishing history and new regimes. Lahore becomes ominous when you are in Morgantown. Lahore becomes a quiet mirage, an odd spectacle hung in time that only moves how you want it to move. It only moves when you want it to move. It does not speak to you or wail for you, yet you write only about Lahore."
The contributors have elegantly preserved their thoughts and traumas, allowing readers to witness their private lives before these experiences could evaporate into mere memories
Khadeeja Farooqui, in her account "Coughing Up Glass,” remembers the time when everything, including her MFA programme, was turned upside down owing to the outbreak of coronavirus across the globe. Physical classes shifted to online mode, and she returned to Lahore to be with her family. She navigates the perks and privileges that affluent households enjoyed during the lockdown in Pakistan. She writes: "Because our access allows us to. Because our class entitles us to. Because our utter lack of responsibility permits us know that if the police raid the restaurant, a few buttons on iPhone will save us and send them crawling back, perhaps a stack of shiny orange notes. We don't even stop for a second to think about what might happen. For a few days, I wait hear whether one of the attendees is sick, but I hear nothing."
Similarly, there is another contribution that revolves around coronavirus and the impact it had on the writer’s life. She recalls the days on which the world went about its routine, following rhythms dictated by the clocks, yet the clock of her own life had gone awry. In her piece "Clocks,” Sadia Khatri writes: "What is it that we think we need and what is it that we turn to? Times of crisis offer a real chance to answer these questions. My crisis was the end of a relationship-a long winter in its own right. I hadn't planned for this. Suddenly, everything was thrown off track, up in the air."
The second last entry of this anthology does not fail to leave an indelible mark on the audience. Written by Usama Lali, "Khicheenk!" is an immensely poignant, evocative and heartfelt portrayal of a son's life and his bond with his father and mother. From infancy to maturity, Lali narrates a tale that may resonate with many of his readers. While visiting the graveyard with his father, he recalls: "He pointed to the grave next to it and said that was my great grandfather’s, and next to it my grandfather’s. He pointed to the dirt ground beyond it and said that’s where he would rest. I pointed to the patch of dusty ground just beyond it and asked if that’s where I will be buried.
He smiled, picked me up and started walking away.
You don’t have to worry about all that just now."
We, as humans, need more stories to understand ourselves, those who surround our lives, and to live more than one life. The accounts of others, when shared through stories, help people wade through the river of life with enlightened hearts and inquisitive minds. The one thing that I think could have been avoided was the inclusion of the nineteenth piece "Narrating the Cities of Pakistan" by ChatGPT. AI can do wonders, but writers reflecting on major cities of Pakistan could have written in a far more powerful and engaging manner. What we feel about our watan or cities, no AI version can replace it.
Overall, it was joyous to read about our own country through different perspectives. Such books remind us how stories can make us feel one, connected and heard.