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Khushwant Singh

Khushwant Singh

MJ. Akbar must be the most prolific journalist of our times. He heads the editorial board of India Today, edits the Sunday Guardian, financed by Ram Jethmalani, writes for many other papers, including The Times of India. He frequently appears on TV channels and has over a dozen of books to his credit. His latest is Tinderbox: The Past and Future of Pakistan (Harper Collins). He is tireless and highly readable.

I take credit for some of Akbar’s achievements, like a father would of his son’s successes. Akbar started his journalistic career as a trainee picked by me. He met his wife-to-be in my office and nominated me godfather of his daughter. Few people could be closer than he and I. Despite our closeness I went woefully wrong on one important issue. I had assumed that like me he was an agnostic. He is a devout Muslim. He fasts throughout the month of Ramzan but celebrates Id-ul-Fitr in my home. He has performed the Haj pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina. He has many years to go before he retires. I expect he will have done much to leave his name to posterity.

From Baluchistan

A prolific journalist of our times, M. J. Akbar’s (extreme right) Tinderbox: The Past and Future of Pakistan is highly readable Photo: PTI

It is hard to believe that The Wandering Falcon (Penguin-Viking) is the first work of fiction by 76-year old Jamil Ahmad, a retired civil servant of Pakistan. He writes about a barren rocky countryside of Baluchistan, where there is no greenery and water is very scarce. In winter, chilly winds blow, raising clouds of dust. In summer, there are hot gales and swirling dust devils. Its inhabitants are split into many warring tribes and human blood is cheaper than water. His language is crisp and concise as that of an established novelist. Since Pakistan has no publishing house for English fiction, Pakistani novelists try to get themselves published in America, England or India. Their works have better sales in India than in any other country because we have so much in common and have little difficulty in grasping what the author is trying to say. I will not divulge his story but will give one instance of his styling of writing:

"Conscience! broke in the old man’s voice. ‘Jangu, do not talk to me of conscience. What kind of a guide is it when it comforts the evil man in his labours no less willingly than another who struggles against wrong. Never have I seen a man truly troubled by his conscience. Conscience is like a poor relation living in a rich man’s house. It has to remain cheerful at all times for fear of being thrown out. Our cause is right, because we think it is right – but never depend on conscience, yours or another man’s’.

Turbulent Times

Sentences of repentance sometimes easily break into pieces
Like biscuit crumbs of promises
Spectrum strikes like lightning
And shadows in a moonlit night
Proceed to Tihar Jail
The ripples in politics
Slowly recreate nightmarish dreams
Something elusive and
treacherous
Scan emerges out of democratic theories
The game of hide and seek with justice
Is played with utmost care
Arguments crumble like castles
And opinions break on strong sycophantic rocks
Egos do not yield to persuasions
A person gets arrested only once in a while
From where on earth shall I make
An anonymous call for true
justice
The land has become so resilient
To the sharp claws of dinosaur called Corruption.

Tailpiece

Judge to a wife seeking divorce: ‘Did you say that every night he attacks you with a deadly weapon?’

Wife: ‘No, your honour, I said that every night he attacks me with a dead weapon’.

(Contributed by Amarinder Bajaj, Delhi)