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Street Singers of
Lucknow and Other Stories
Qurratulain Hyder was different from her contemporaries and probably reveled in it. The redoubtable Ismat Chugtai might have derisively called her ‘Pom Pom Darling’ because she dared to break free of the iron mould in which the story writers of her generation had cast themselves in, but in doing so she unapologetically wrote about characters and subjects that were part of a world that was decaying and dying. Often she chose a subject that gave her a bird’s-eye view of history and the passions that govern mankind, but her underlying interest remained with the day-to-day struggle that we feverishly wage. In the process, if a red line is crossed here or stretched there, then so be it, but there is no mistaking the human spirit that refuses to surrender even in the face of the inevitable diminishing of the self. Street Singers of Lucknow and Honour fall in this category. While the former is the story of motley characters who try to swim with the current more in hope than with design to win and lose, the latter is a story of a character that was too rigid and ill-equipped to come to terms with life when the plot she had believed was her destiny went astray. Shamshad Begum, the proud descendant of the Rohila Pathans traverses a road paved with the professed good intentions of others only to become a ‘Bua’ in a brothel house! In fact, a sense of loss to the accompaniment of melancholy is the undercurrent that pervades through most of the stories and there are two, The Story of Catherine Bolton and Tea Gardens of Sylhet, that focus on characters in denial of their identities so as to improve their current station. Of the two, Catherine Bolton is the more pathetic as she is juxtaposed with characters that are solely driven by the emotions of blood ties. Incidentally, for those who see the influx of Bangladeshis at the root of number of Indian problems would be surprised by the sub-plot of Tea Gardens of Sylhet, where the influx is a two-way process. Presumably, this was before the Green Revolution began to beckon the agricultural labourers from Bihar to Punjab and Haryana. It is obvious that Qurratulain Hyder has little use of the slogans and purposefulness that marked the progressive writers of her time, but she is as effective without claiming the mantle of change. The Missing Photograph is not merely a touching story of a lovable character but also a graphic documentary of the social values gasping for breath. It is for the reader to grasp the full import of ironies and hypocrisies that pervade in life. All the stories have been translated by the author and therefore, there is always the possibility of her having edited or changed slightly in doing so. It would serve no purpose, as far as the appreciation of the stories goes, to dwell upon the debate. Suffice it to say that Qurratulain Hyder is refreshingly different from Urdu writers and one who is not afraid of working on a bigger canvas. Melancholic she might appear, but her concern for human beings and their passions is deep and abiding.
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FOR
many among us who have come to associate with Urdu story writing, what
came to be known as ‘progressive’ writing, Qurratulain Hyder’s Street
Singers of Lucknow represent a genre that refuses to be defined by
clich`E9s and the need to serve the purpose of class conflicts. In fact,
Hyder’s choice of subjects are likely to interest successive
generations for, free as they are of the burden to serve a greater
cause, they unfold human drama that is both gripping as well as
disturbing.