The way it was: Why oh why? —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
In a tragic
or a light-hearted vein literature has demonstrated an unusual capacity to alter
human perception, refine feelings and ways of thinking and believing. It
occasionally encourages the reader to laugh at his own vanity and reflect on
prejudices and follies
“Why oh why are my intellectual horizons not being expanded?” asked a man
named Informidius Lackedus, who had an immense thirst for information. A
vegetable vendor pushing a cartful of the season’s fresh vegetables, stopped
and enquired, “Sahib! What information do you want? If you need to know the
prices of carrots and turnips, I can provide you with those.”
Informidius Lackedus was annoyed at the temerity of the vendor and waived him
off saying, “Don’t be absurd! Every housewife knows the price of a carrot.
What I want is real information.”
A smart new recruit to a travel agency, who was waiting for a rickshaw,
overheard the remark, and eagerly enquired if the gentleman needed to know the
distance from Lahore to Lyallpur or between Pindi Bhattian and Pindi. When he
got a dirty look in return he quickly added, “Perhaps you want to know about
the flights to Cambay, Cathay or Canada?” Informidius Lackedus was convinced
that the genial youth attired in a safari suit was a creep. He found him grossly
insulting towards his superior intellectual concerns.
In the meantime a weary middle-aged man, dressed in a well-worn black jacket and
a glossy black tie, who was striding towards an unknown destination, stopped
next to him, looked into his eyes and asked, “Perhaps you would like to know
about the state of the Constitution?” Informidius Lackedus was a bit baffled
why an advocate should be interested in his constitution. But feeling a little
flattered at the concern shown for his health attempted a smile and responded,
“Sir, thank you for your concern, all is well with my health and
constitution.”
The man in the black jacket with visible change of complexion and tone of voice
persisted, “Would you like to know the distance between Democracy and the
Parliament?” Our man snarled back, “Go on! Why must all of you bring in
politics?”
In the meantime a burly fellow, with a day old stubble, a cigarette dangling
from his lips, stopped his cycle and without any preliminaries enquired in a
hoarse voice, “Baoo, you want to go anywhere?” “No I don’t!” was the
sharp reply. “Look here, don’t be upset, if you want to go to Bhati or
Lohari, I am going that way and can easily take you along.” “No! No! Be
gone,” was the curt rejoinder.
In the meantime quietly with steady haste an old man ambled through the noisy
traffic from across the street. He gave our distraught Informidius Lackedus a
benign smile and amiably asked, “You seem to be lost young man!”
“I am certainly not!” was the cocky reply. “I just like to collect
information.”
“What information would you want?” asked the old man.
“I don’t know what you mean. Information is information,” he replied.
“Yes, information is information, but what do you want it for?” the old man
asked again.
“Nothing in particular, it is always good to have it handy. It helps to expand
intellectual horizons.”
“Son”, affectionately replied the wise old man who had appeared from
nowhere, “horizons are widened by knowledge, and not by knowledge of
information.”
“I don’t understand you old man.”
“Young man! Information can be a pillar of knowledge but it is not knowledge
by itself.”
“Old man, don’t try to confuse me. If that is so, tell me then which are the
other pillars of knowledge?” asked Informidius raising his voice.
“You yourself are the central pillar,” gently the old man answered.
“Me?”
“Yes you! You! Your thoughts, your feelings and, and other faculties. Above
all your own courage to put them to practice — put them to some use,” the
old man persisted.
“Old man you are painting a very tedious and complicated prospect.”
“No I am not! Take my advice and stop collecting information. Ask questions
instead. The information you need to collect will rush to your feet like a pet
dog.” The old man patiently explained.
“Is that so simple?” asked Informidius.
“Life has always been that simple. It was created in all its diversity of
textures and temper out of a simple life cell. So I am told.”
“Is that really so?”
“I really don’t know what is real, and truly I don’t really care what is
true. All that I do know is that I have many questions to ask. I have always one
ready in the chamber to fire at any time.”
“Who are you, old man?”
“I am glad you asked. I am your first question.”
Having said that the wise old man ambled away and disappeared into the muddy
crowd and was never seen ever again. Soon he was forgotten like the dust swept
under a carpet. Any time it is smarter to be better informed, than to be better
educated.
Postscript: Intizar Hussain one of our eminent short story writers, I am sure
would insist on adding to this; so let me conjecture what he may have said.
Literature is neither about gardening or gathering information nor about
acquiring knowledge. However in a tragic or a light-hearted vein it has
demonstrated an unusual capacity to alter human perception, refine feelings and
ways of thinking and believing. It occasionally encourages the reader to laugh
at his own vanity and reflect on prejudices and follies.
Reminiscing about the past can provide a chance to resurrect events, revaluate
lost opportunities, and help to reaffirm archaic belief in friendship.
Literature and art can enable us to laugh for the pleasure of laughter, to
perceive the ridiculous in the sacred and the profound in a profane place.
Literature can give man courage to climb back to the Garden of Eden on to the
canopy of the rain forest from where his forefathers, the hominids, out of
curiosity descended to the dangerous, dark, dank forest floor. In the subsequent
long winding torturous process becoming what they are, the humans.
There is also another way of looking at it. The man and woman were created
without their consent and ejected at short notice. They arrived on a strange
barren earth without a map or morsel. They kept each other warm through freezing
winters, fended for food across millenniums. Unarmed they defended themselves
against beasts and mythical monsters. They jointly discovered and harnessed the
elements, and established civilisation. Actually he hasn’t done badly. Has he?
During this entire period, creative and aesthetic faculties helped man and woman
remain human. Even today the best of humans are on trial, for no offence of
their own. Condemned for a slip of their ancestors. Literature and art
strengthens the spirit of man to persist being human. It induces him to make the
best of a bad bargain — he doesn’t even know when it will end. The virtue of
Literature in that sense lies in itself. I fear Intizar Hussain will not agree
to this explanation either. He would find it long and a trifle argued.
Literature needs no apologists. It is tragic that it needs to be defended and
protected in my own country today.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist