It goes without saying that with great expectations comes a greater possibility for disappointment. and perhaps the stakes were higher than ever for the Lahore Literary Festival, which has in its three years so far seen everything - fame, exaltation and harsh criticism. This year an administrative hurdle was introduced by a security-obsessed government, owing to the (Un)known terrors looming large over the progressive circles of the country. The suspenseful drama revolved around the question of whether the Literary Festival would finally go ahead or whether Lahore - marred by its fair share of security alerts and school shutdowns - would be deprived this year of a creative space it most longed for. Lahoris remained gripped - literary and non-literary alike.
What followed was an announcement: the Lahore Literary Festival would indeed continue but wrap up in a span of two days, instead of its previous three-day schedule. Its internationally acclaimed panelists - with the likes of Sharmila Tagore, Ned Bleuman, Mona Eltahawy - did indeed grace the sessions, but the absence of some of the regulars such as the beloved, late Intezaar Hussain did leave a gaping, irreplaceable void for many.
The festival would now take place at the Avari Hotel rather than the Alhamra Arts Council. The latter notice, coupled with the omission of Day 1 of LLF left prospective attendees questioning the legitimacy of this year’s Festival itself. The absence of sessions in Punjabi - including some cancelled sessions which were majorly centered around Lahore, its history and the plight of its architectural heritage under threat - left many skeptical about the diversity of the city’s seminal literary meet-up.
But how does one please an estimated 6000 people with rising, evolving expectations from LLF, every year? Is the Festival a welcome respite from everyday life in Pakistan, or is it a mere diversion for the elite, a cultured version of the bread-and-circus routine used by all governments since the Romans to keep people happy?
Sherry Rehman at the LLF - Photo credit - Tapu Javeri
The highlight of Day 1 was the much-awaited celebrity sighting - Sharmila Tagore
The highlight of Day 1 of LLF was perhaps the much-awaited celebrity sighting; Sharmila Tagore from the Pataudi family, who crossed the border to participate in the keynote session which featured a discussion moderated by Hameed Haroon on the actress’s life, career and her decades-old relations with Bollywood. Heavily attended by an almost awestruck audience, it is fair to conclude that a 9 am celebrity call was a perfect way to start Day 1 correctly.
One panel discussion featured Intezar Hussain’s contemporaries, with likes of Kishwar Naheed, critic and teacher Nasir Abbas Nayyar Masood Asher, as well as Eruj Mubarik and Ikramullah Khan. Seeped in nostalgia, the session opened up with a few choice lines from Intezar Hussain’s most famed novel ‘Basti’:
“Other people’s history can be read comfortably, the way a novel can be read comfortably. But my own history? I’m on the run from my own history, and catching my breath in the present.”
The panel mused on the significant loss that the country’s progressive, literary circles had suffered with the passing of the writer. It was seen as imperative that the government claim him as one of the greatest post-modernist writers of our history and create a memorial in his name with his collection and publication of his books. It is poignant that Intezar Hussain’s life in Lahore - where he had lived for the past many decades - was a life predominantly private and simple. The panel recalled: “He had barely any idea of the routine matters of life around him; he had no knowledge of getting a national identity card or from where to collect a passport. He was a serene, silent soul, to this day shy of conversation with his female following. But he was undoubtedly the greatest Urdu fiction and non-fiction writer of the 20h century.”
A view of the audience at an LLF session - Photo credit - Tapu Javeri
A warm welcome was also given to panels on South Asian music and language, such as the traditions of Qawali and the preservation of heritage in the form of old Urdu journals. It is heartening to note that a link between the preservation of a city’s old traditions and societal resilience was acknowledged. A roundup of the throngs of youth at the sessions on the life and times of Mir, ‘Urdu Nazam kee Rawaayat’ and an almost frenzied response to Zia Muheyuddin’s book-launch - and his readings on Ghalib - formed a deafening response to those who claimed that the festival was pre-dominantly an English-dominated and elite-oriented luxury.
For most, the discussions on Aag ka Darya and Urdu Nazam kee Riwayat posed questions on pressing issues of our past that needed to be addressed. One such question arising from Quratulain Haider’s novel was brought up: What is the extent or boundary of freedom and does a reversion to history truly bring about a reflection of our present self? The philosophical discourse of truth and reinventing our versions of it remained a prevalent theme in the majority of the panels thus. Last year, Sabeen Mahmud was brutally gunned down for attempting to grapple with questions which are not permitted in our country. Dedicated to holding a conversation on the plight of Balochistan and its missing people, she was remembered profusely as one of the beleaguered voices for a tolerant, secular Pakistan and its fight against the shackles of extremism.
Egyptian activist and journalist Mona Eltahawy received a warm welcome at the LLF
Sharmila Tagore's appearance at the LLF was widely hailed by Lahore's literati and glitterati
The frenzied response to Zia Muheyuddin's book-launch challenged claims that the festival was pre-dominantly an English-dominated and elite-oriented luxury
A session led by Mohsin Hamid, Ned Beauman and Tania James zeroed in on the idea of an enclave of opportunities, a metropolitan transfusion of races and class. Each of the writers at the panel shared common denominators - protagonists heavily caught up with the material life of the American land and one of the most profound conclusions drawn from the discussion was from Hamid: “You dont have to pick sides,” he reasoned. The identity crisis that finds us labelling ourselves in order to fit into society’s notions of acceptability – it is all based on myths.
And when I look back, this was easily the most enjoyable part of LLF for me.
As I bustled my way past crowds of festival-goers, listening to conversations from every age and class, spotting gleeful foreign writers being pulled into selfies by a group of avid fans and others sombrely pondering over the darker revelations on Harper Lee’s Atticus Finch, all amidst a crescendo of violins emerging from the makeshift live music performance by young Qawaals, I looked out at the scene before me and couldn’t help but feel grateful for Lahore, its relentlessly positive citizens, and ever more deeply - for LLF this year.
