Mapping Masud’s Mystical Maze!

(This appeared in btwmag.com dated March 15, 2007
By Chander Mahadev
Call it the vestiges of an earlier era or the denouement of a particularly refined culture, Lucknow has inherited both lucre and lure. Lucre, by way of spawning malls & multiplexes, and lure, by way of brilliant scholars and creative geniuses like Naiyer Masud -- men, who trigger the buttons of your mind! Much like the ‘bhulbhullaiya’ (catacomb) at Asifi Imambara,’ he straddles and explores the inner recesses of the human mind!
This self-confessed researcher-cum-writer is at once baffling and mystical. Making waves on the literary marquee with his maiden English literary offering called Snake Catcher; it contains 11 of his dark and foreboding(ly) evocative short stories. The impact of his works can be best gauged by what US-based short story writer Ginu Kamani recently remarked: “I am drawn to the immaculate mazes that Naiyer Masud creates. Reading Masud, I found myself a-MAZE-d.”

Based on the character of the ‘Maar-Geer’ or snake catcher, the stories are an intense personal journey into the metaphysical realms of man, his dreams and dark desires. “Published by Penguin, the book has been ‘faithfully’ translated by University of Wisconsin Professor Mahummad Umar Memon,” states the author. When asked about his preponderance of dreams and his penchant for black, Masud reveals that black covers all colours. “I call it ‘Ojhal,’ which was translated into ‘Obscure Domains of Fear And Desire’ by Memon, the first story in the book. Maybe it is my Shia moorings…or the childhood influence of Moharram, one can never really say,” he reminisces

“Research and writing compliment each other,” reveals the frail and gaunt writer, matter of factly. Laid low by a brain haemorrhage he suffered four years ago, Masud suffers from paralysis and to make matters worse -- only last August -- he fell in his bathroom and broke his hip bone. Hobbling about with a walker, what stands out is the writer’s wry and ready wit. “I love gardening, carpentry, painting and music but had to let go because of my physical predicament,” he impishly remarks. On a more serious note, he admits that his writing style is as metaphysical as it is minimalist; and is shorn of outer trappings and filigree. Not one given to literary flourishes, this self-effacing man of letters reflects the culture, etiquette, and values of bygone Lucknow.

“Creative writing gives me a great sense of freedom and I am not bound by the rigours of research as I am wont to, considering my fondness for Persian studies.” An avid researcher, he taught Persian in Lucknow University for 34 years, (and headed the department of Persian Studies) after his late father relinquished the same post.

An old-word charm permeates the air at the short story writer’s house and one gets a feel of what Lucknawi ‘adab’ and ‘tehzeeb’ stand for. “My writings are not a lament, nor am I in the habit of dramatising the death of Awadhi culture. There are no overt references to Lucknow, but I am told they appear in the uttering or mannerisms of my characters. I am just a keen observer and I chronicle life in the throes of a dying cultural legacy”, says he.

A visit to his abode is both spiritually uplifting and stimulating. Standing in a bustling corner in Turiya Ganj area of old Lucknow, ‘Adabistan’ is an impressive edifice and was built by his father, Syed Masud Hasan Rizvi Adeeb. He was a renowned scholar and his mother was a poet. His wife Sabiha, who belongs to the family of illustrious poet Mirza Dabir is usually the first one to whet his stories, the author reveals.
Born in Lucknow in 1936, he says he has seen the riches of Awadhi culture from up close and confides that he has not earned anything from his creative writings. Ever the one to abhor commercialisation, he points out that the Urdu literary scene in the country is not organised and he has had to spend from his own pocket to get his works published.
The researcher-cum-writer first made his mark on the Urdu literary firmament with his pithy translation of Franz Kafka called ‘Kafka Ke Afsane.’ Asked whether Kafka’s philosophy of the system crushing the man had its overtones in his own works, he candidly admits it must have influenced his subconscious.
He deeply loves his private space, and says his debate with ‘nothingness’ is not negative. It is a state of mind, and they manifest themselves in dreams, he adds. No wonder then, that from the age of 12 he showed a fondness for reading and writing fiction. He wrote his first short story, “Seemiya” but did not start publishing until 1971. The first short story to be published was “Nusrat” (Colour of Nothingness).
With 24 books to his credit which include fiction, children’s books and scholarly publications, he has not only translated short stories by Kafka but also poems from Persian into Urdu. As a scholar and critic, his contribution has been substantial and his translations have received wide critical acclaim. His stories are read across India, Pakistan and the West.
Even the genesis of his English translation of Snake Catcher finds its moorings in Pakistan, he shares. “Hayatullah Ansari, a literary giant in Pakistan was asked by Memon whether he had come across any work of merit lately, and he was told of my book ‘Maar-Geer.’ Thus began the fruitful and productive venture with the translator.” His stories have been translated into English, Finnish and German. When asked as to why his writings have found favour in alien lands rather than in his own, he wistfully shrugs his shoulders. As someone rightly observed: “Authenticity and the suppression of temporal and spatial reality make his short stories appealing in any language.”
To define is to deny Naiyer Masud’s style. Some have called him ‘an existentialist and master of abstraction’ while others have found him a realist. He himself admits his love for Kafka and Edgar Allan Poe. He also has his favourite Urdu writers, Azim Beg Chughtai, Rafiq Husain, and especially Ghulam Abbas.
His short story, “Taoos Chaman ki Maina”, (Myna from Peacock Garden) based on an actual historical event in Lucknow during the reign of Wajid Ali Shah is an uncomplicated narration. It is important to note that most of Naiyer Masud’s stories have no plot. Place and time is not identified; and the characters have no names. In “Nusrat”, “the boy anxiously awaits the trial of the bad woman on unspecified charges”. In “Vaqfa”, the reader discovers that the child narrator is really his father. In “Ojhal", it is hard to tell whether the narrator is a boy or a grown up man, or if he is attracted to his sister-in-law or his aunt.
From a historical perspective, his fascination for houses as unstated metaphors is ‘both evocative and hypnotising.’ To him each house contains a spot of desire and a spot of fear. Varandahs, doors, arches, entrances and side-entrances feature prominently in his short stories. The incantatory quality Masud’s ‘fictional universe’–as translator Memon puts it–would seem ‘witchcraftish to isolated and uncertain readers.’ As Masud himself said that to be able to write, one must either be very good or very different. To read him is to experience the story and not ask for explanations. So be it, dream on, you dreamer of dreams!