Category Archives: Language

Fahmida Riaz Ki Farhang-e-Nau

by Zubeida Mustafa

Fahmida Riaz is an eminent Urdu poet, author, translator and activist. Currently, she is the Managing Director of the Urdu Dictionary Board, Pakistan. Her first poem was published in Funoon when she was only fifteen.

Fahmida Riaz has written several short stories and novels, the most well known being Pathar ki Zubaan, Khatt-e-Marmuz, Godavari, Zindabahar Lane; and Reflections in a Cracked Mirror. Some of these have been translated into English.

As a poet she has been very popular. She subtly weaves her activism into her poems thus conveying a powerful message.

In her poem on the Urdu dictionary, which she wrote on the occasion of the launch of the 22-volume lexicon, Fahmida Riaz in effect analyses the factors that have led to the decline in the fortunes of the Muslims of South Asia.

I had quoted a few lines from this poem in my column, “Will Pakistan follow Egypt?” (23 Feb 2011). Here is the complete poem for Fahmida Riaz’s fans. And she certainly has many of them.

Come let us create a new lexicon
Wherein is inserted before each word
Its meaning that we do not like
And let us swallow like bitter potion
The truth of a reality that is not ours.
The water of life bursting forth from this stone
Takes a course not determined by us alone
We who are the dying light of a derelict garden
We who are filled with the wounded pride of self delusion
We who have crossed the limits of self praise
We who lick each of our wounds incessantly
We who spread the poisoned chalice all around
Carrying only hate for the other
On our dry lips only words of disdain for the other
We do not fill the abyss within ourselves
We do not see that which is true before our own eyes.
We have not redeemed ourselves yesterday or today
For the sickness is so dear that we do not seek to be cured
But why should the many hued new horizon
Remain to us distant and unattainable
So why not make a new lexicon
If we emerge from this bleak abyss
Only the first few footsteps are hard
The limitless expanses beckon us
To the dawning of a new day
We will breathe in the fresh air
Of the abundant valley that surrounds us
We will cleanse the grime of self loathing from our faces.
To rise and fall is the game time plays
But the image reflected in the mirror of time
Includes our glory and our accomplishments
So let us raise our sight to friendship.
And thus glimpse the beauty in every face
Of every visitor to this flower filled garden
We will encounter “potentials”
A word in which you and me are equal
Before which we and they are the same
So come let us create a new lexicon.

نئی ڈکشنری
بناتے ہیں ہم ایک فرہنگِ نو
جس میں ہر لفظ کے سامنے دَرج ہیں
وہ معانی جوہم کو نہیں ہیں پسند
جرعہٴ تلخ کی مثل پی جائیں گے
اَصل کی اَصل جو بس ہماری نہیں
سنگ سے پھوٹتا آبِ حیواں ہے یہ
جوہمارے اشارے پہ جاری نہیں
ہم فسردہ چراغ، اِک خزاں دیدہ باغ
زخم خوردہ اناؤں کے مارے ہوئے
اپنی توصیف حد سے گزارے ہوئے
اپنے ہر زخم کو ہر گھڑی چاٹتے
دبلیاں زہر کی چار سُو بانٹتے
دوسروں کے لیے صرف نفرت لیے
خشک ہونٹوں پہ حرفِ حقارت لیے
جو خلا ہے جہاں اس کو بھرتے نہیں
چار آنکھیں حقیقت سے کرتے نہیں
کامراں ہوسکے ہیں نہ کل اور نہ آج
مرض پیارا ہو گر کیا کریں گے علاج
کیوں گریزاں رہے، ہم سے روٹھی رہے
آنے والے زمانوں کی صد رنگ ضو
کیوں بنا لیں نہ ہم ایک فرہنگ نو
اس اندھیرے کنویں سے نکل آئیں گر
چند قدموں کا ہے اِک کٹھن راستہ
بے کراں وسعتیں ڈھونڈتی ہیں ہمیں
روشنی ہے جہاں، پو پھٹے کاسماں
سانس تازہ ہواؤں میں لیں گے وہاں
ایک شاداب وادی ہے چاروں طرف
ٓٓآ رہے ہیں ہر اک سمت سے کارواں
اپنے چہرے سے دھو دیں گے گردِ ملال
وقت کا کھیل ہیں سب عروج و زوال
وقت کے آیئنے میں جو تصویر ہے
اِس میں شامل ہیں ہم خوش وضع باکمال
دوستانہ نگاہیں اٹھائیں گے ہم
دلربا خال و خد دیکھ پائیں گے ہم
اس گلستاں کے ہر ایک مہمان کے
روبرو ہوں گے ہم اصل اِمکان کے
جس کے آگے برابر ہیں میں اور تو
جس کی نظروں میں یکساں ہیں ہم اور وہ
بناتے ہیں ہم ایک فرہنگِ نو

The poem has been translated into English by Aquila Ismail
who holds a degree in Electrical Engineering and is editor and writer of several books on development issues. She has translated Urdu fiction into English, (including Zindabahar Lane and Godavari by Fahmida Riaz). She has been published in Dawn and Newsline. Her debut novel based on the Bihari experience in East Pakistan and Bangladesh in 1971-72 will be published at the end of 2011.

Will Pakistan follow Egypt?

THE question above is agitating many minds today. If we believe in the domino effect, other states should follow suit. Egypt came after Tunisia and now there are rumblings in other parts of the Arab world.

I tried to look for the answer to this explosive question in the poem Fahmida Riaz recited at the Critical Discourse session of the Sindh Education Foundation recently. The Critical Discourse is designed as a staff capacity enhancement programme.

Fahmida Riaz spoke on the Urdu dictionary published last year by the Urdu Dictionary Board of which she is director. This 22-volume publication is no ordinary work of lexicography. In Fahmida’s words, “it actually traces the history of our civilisation, being a discourse on 1,000 years of our culture, tradition and customs”. Hers was an insightful talk on her team’s experience of compiling the Urdu dictionary. The animated discussion that followed made it a wide-ranging dialogue on the Urdu language.

It was her poem that she recited at the meeting that was thought-provoking in the context of Egypt. It shed ample light on our national psyche as it has evolved over the centuries. The fact is that the people who stage revolutions — it is still too early to say how much will change in the land of the pharaohs — should have the capacity for collective action of the kind that was witnessed in Cairo. Do Pakistanis have it?

Please click here to read the full article.

Language in education

By Zubeida Mustafa
Source: Dawn

A CLUTCH of letters has appeared recently in Dawn debating the language issue in education. A very sensible one by Fazal Muhammad Khan from Lahore published last week reads, “There is no denying the fact that students find it very hard to understand subjects when they are taught in English or Urdu, the languages not spoken in their homes and society.”

Mr Khan adds that by making the mother tongue compulsory as the teaching language for primary-level students we can ensure the students would not only remain in touch with their culture, we would also be taking a reformative step towards the betterment of the educational system in Pakistan.

Under the heading, ‘Little sign of English in China’ Mr Umar Mohamad Sajid, an engineering instructor, writes from his five-year experience, “English is one of the biggest stumbling blocks in our progress.”

He says he has “had students who memorised large sections of books and excelled in examinations but they did not understand what they have memorised.”

The issue could not have been summed up more succinctly. These and other letters confirm what language experts — Dr Tariq Rahman of the Quaid-i-Azam university at once comes to mind — have been saying for decades. Dr Rahman has been pleading the case of the mother tongue as the language of teaching at the primary level.

Whether it is Zakia Sarwar who has been striving since 1984 to improve the standard of English language teachers in Pakistan through SPELT, or Farida Akbar, the director of the Montessori Teachers Training Centre who is best qualified to understand the process of language acquisition in a young child, the consensus is, “Use the mother tongue as the language of teaching at least at the primary level.”

The arguments put forward are logical and convincing. Beginning with the physiological aspect, a child learns best in his mother tongue or the language of his environment. English which has been over-emphasised is not the language our children are exposed to in the early years of their childhood (I am not talking about the elite classes but the vast majority).

A very large number of children enrolled in schools are first-generation school-goers in their families and their parents are either illiterate or can read, write and speak only Urdu or their mother tongue but definitely not English. Which means it is left to the teachers to teach them as best as they can.

Most teachers are also new recruits to the English brigade and, as Zakia Sarwar would testify, they are not the very best in English. They also have many other failings but requiring them to teach in the English language when they do not even understand and speak correct English is equally unfair to them as to the children they teach.

True, many teachers are not brilliant in Urdu or their mother tongue either as they have had no training in pedagogy and their knowledge of the subject is poor. But if provisions have to be made to train them in a crash programme it would be easier to teach them their own language rather than English.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not against English or the teaching of the language. English is now accepted as the international language of communication in an increasingly globalised world. It offers distinct advantages to those dealing with the outside world whether in higher education, trade or diplomacy.

English is also the language of science and aviation. Hence the language cannot be ignored. If it is taught as a second language to all children to give them basic knowledge of the subject it will be possible for those who need it in later professional life to build on the initial introduction they have already had.

That hardly requires us to adopt English wholesale as the medium of instruction and entail all the disadvantages listed by Mr Khan and Mr Sajid above. But it does mean that English must be taught correctly and well as a second language. It also means that a core group of teachers must be trained to teach English as a second language.

This calls for shedding the social prejudices we have nursed against non-English speakers and carefully cultivated in our society. I do not find this prejudice against non-English speakers even in countries where English is the language of the people.

The greater use of English to the exclusion of indigenous languages in our society creates a false status for the language which benefits a privileged class by virtue of its command over English. That helps it perpetuate its power and privilege by grabbing the best education facilities and thereby the best jobs. This is a vicious cycle that is difficult to break. Since 9/11 English has become a prop for Pakistan to project itself as a state trying to modernise itself and emerge as a moderate society.

In this context I found an article written by Sir Michael Barber, the British educational expert, who heads the task force on education along with Shehnaz Wazir Ali, intriguing. He speaks of many factors that determine the success or failure of educational reforms in Pakistan. Most of them have been identified ad nauseam by educationists here. It is good that an expert from Britain has been familiarised with the challenges we face.

But the language issue, which I think is at the root of our failure to teach our children effectively, has not been given the importance it merits. Sir Michael Barber writes, “Drawing from the global literature on education reform, the task force’s account combines accountability with capacity-building or, in simpler terms, pressure and support. The pressure for change will come from three sources. First, there should be clear standards for all students in Urdu or the mother tongue, in English, and in maths and science.”

There is a need to address the language issue squarely. Fudging it or being diplomatic about it serves no purpose. Sir Michael Barber would understand that better. It is time we understood it too.

The power of language

By Zubeida Mustafa
Source: Dawn

THIS was in the days when computers and the Internet did not rule the world of communication and only a few people in the West had the facility of what was then popularly called electronic mail.

A gentleman from the International Labour Organisation commented that he did not know how to handle a computer and that made him feel like an illiterate person who lacked access to the knowledge available on the World Wide Web.
Continue reading The power of language