Unsung heroes
Malcolm Gladwell’s essays are about ordinary people doing extraordinary things
By Jazib Zahir
Malcolm Gladwell is a familiar name in the realm of non-fiction having churned out bestsellers like Tipping Point, Blink and Outliers. These titles have proven popular among educationists and managers for their lessons on risky decision-making and understanding of disparities in human performance. And for most of us they offer intriguing insights into human psyche that only a social scientist of the calibre of Gladwell can serve up.

100 years
A word about letters
By Kazy Javed
Strange it may sound but it is not beyond the realm of probability to say that Punjab could not produce Iqbal, Faiz, Manto or Qasmi if, instead of Punjab, a young scholar had veered towards Calcutta or Hyderbad Deccan in search of refuge during the middle years of the 19th century. The gory events of 1857 in Delhi had made Maulana Muhammad Hussain Azad leave his hometown and turn to Lahore. His fateful arrival established a link between Lahore and Urdu literature and was to turn the city into the hub of Urdu literature and journalism in the decades to come. He was a contemporary of Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, Maulana Hali and Shibli as well as a pupil of Muhammad Ibrahim Zauq who was a feared rival of Mirza Ghalib and the ustad of the last Mughul emperor Bahadar Shah Zafar.

Laying bare biases
Two writers look out across the border
By Anahita Mukherji
Earlier this week, two Punjabi writers from both sides of the Line of Control talked peace and took panga with war. "You’re a fellow Punjabi so you know what the word ‘panga’ means. You look like the kinda guy who takes pangas," said Chetan Bhagat, India’s pop fiction writer and youth icon, to Mohammed Hanif, Pakistani writer who painted a satirical picture of life under General Zia in his book, A Case of Exploding Mangoes.

A panhandler in New York begs, "Spare some change?" the jokes begins. A man with literary taste, on his way to work, responds, "Neither a borrow nor a lender be." Then, like salt on a wound, he adds, "Shakespeare!" It takes a panhandler a moment to gather his wits about and he retaliates with fowl language and then, "David Mamet!" I don’t think the joke would’ve been possible if there hadn’t been a The Catcher in the Rye, the iconic — yet an iconoclastic — novel published in 1951 by Jerome David Salinger who passed away at the age of 91 on January 28, 2010.

This reviewer’s literary career, too, might not have occurred at all if he hadn’t chanced upon a forgotten copy of the The Catcher in the Rye that a passenger had forgotten on a local train in San Francisco. The deadly combination of the yellow letters on a crimson background had sealed his fate. He remembers opening the first page and reading the first sentence and the words such as "lousy childhood" and "crap" and the overall tone struck an irresistible chord. The first short story he ever wrote was heavily influenced by a similar sense of apathy, disenchantment and anger that Salinger had created in his novel.

It was only gradually, though, that this reviewer became aware of the stature of the The Catcher in the Rye, through friends and strangers as they passed comments upon seeing him reading it either on a bus or in a café.

But about this reviewer’s relationship to the novel will have to wait for another time. This is a moment to pay homage to Mr. Salinger and his quintessential piece of art.

Many decades earlier the avant-garde movement in the west had been borne out of artists’ discontent with modernity and industrialisation, the new society of mass culture and capitalism, failed to deliver its promise, enslaved men and women in new ways. The American noir films of the 40s had already insisted on seeing life through cynical eyes that detected a lurking criminal in the human soul. The long reign of depression and large scale destruction of humanity on the world theatre during the WWII, not to mention Hiroshima and Nagasaki and Holocaust, were enough to make a cynic out of an otherwise cautious artist.

American literature, music and art have juggled an inherent tension: locally developed vis-à-vis borrowed from Europe, most obvious in Jazz vs. Classical Music, and poetic style of Whitman vs. Eliot. One careful reading of the opening of the The Catcher in the Rye will reveal which camp Salinger aligns with. Holden Caulfield speaks to us:

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth."

In one simple stroke Salinger slew two patriarchal paradigms: one American, as the narrator plainly tells the reader that he is quitting the traditional, the other English (Charles Dickens), which is a nod to Thoreau’s advice. The Salingerian sentiment will find its cinematic expression two years later in Brando’s word, "What have you got?" when asked, "What are you rebelling against, Johnny?" On its heels come Ginsberg’s Howl and the whole Beat movement.

Salinger’s corpus is rather small. He wrote a well-received collection titled Nine Stories and two novellas. It is, however, his novel that has captured the imagination of American generations. It captures the youth idiom with amazing finesse and lends credibility to the angst of younger generations, voice their distrust of the adult world. There are factors which help explain the development of Holden Caulfield.

Although Salinger’s father was Jewish, his mother wasn’t (and never converted) but Salinger only found that out much later. Salinger fought in WWII and was among the first to witness the places where German Jews were killed by criminal Nazis. For any sensitive American at the time if the America’s own history with ongoing mistreatment of African Americans and segregation in the South wasn’t enough to make him sick, the WWII certainly was. He also lost a girlfriend to Charlie Chaplin.

Though in fiction Salinger’s characters only show their disdain for the Anglo-Saxon/Protestant ethos of the American culture, Salinger himself oscillated between Hinduism and Dianetics.

In American culture, generally, boys resist becoming men; that’s why they are often referred to, in the literary lexicon, as boy-men. It is in America, too, that people prefer fantasy over reality. The early pioneers of Hollywood understood that well and re-oriented their films accordingly. Salinger himself came from a comfortable position and there was no room for the disadvantaged people in his narratives. His is a white upper-crust world. But he lowered the language register, allowing his readers an easier entry into a world most could not taste. He thus allowed millions of readers, teenagers and grown-ups alike, to empathise with the angst of an upper middle class boy as if he was one of them. The experiment succeeds in parts because in prose the readers find an original American voice and of course Holden Caulfield’s confidence is infective. To be able to pull that off with such ease is a miracle.

Lastly, Salinger is more a man’s author and one finds writers from John Updike to Philip Roth acknowledging some debt owed to the deceased writer. The shortage of manpower in the US created by the WWII tuned out to be a blessing disguise for the American women. As men began to trickle back in as the war ended, they wanted their privileged position and jobs back. Women had tasted economic independence and they weren’t going to be pushed around easily. The men since then haven’t really adjusted to their lost status and it is that tension that is a subtle presence in most of Salinger’s writing and lends it almost a perfect edge.

Malcolm Gladwell is a familiar name in the realm of non-fiction having churned out bestsellers like Tipping Point, Blink and Outliers. These titles have proven popular among educationists and managers for their lessons on risky decision-making and understanding of disparities in human performance. And for most of us they offer intriguing insights into human psyche that only a social scientist of the calibre of Gladwell can serve up.

Building upon the success of these earlier books, Gladwell has now released a collection of short essays that have been published at various times in The New Yorker, which is a more upscale version of Reader’s Digest. Each essay spans about 30 pages and ensures that the book can be digested in several sittings without losing fluidity. The dozen or so essays are loosely coupled into three distinct themes but draw upon such a variety of illustrations and anecdotes that the book is like reading several different short stories.

In keeping with the Gladwell way, each essay is special because it reveals something new about how people think and react to their environment. As explained in the preface, the title of the book is inspired by an essay where a situation is rationalised from the perspective of a dog rather than its owner.

Part One of the book discusses heroes and their stories of valour. But Gladwell is not interested in heroes of the battlefield or those who have already earned their due from the public. He picks stories of unsung heroes, people of humble origin who were mavericks in terms of the products they made and the methods they adopted to promote them. This is probably the weakest portion of the book in that there is a tendency to go into excruciating detail into background elements that are unlikely to appeal to the casual reader. But the section is saved by the fact that everyone can relate to the clichéd tale of underdogs coming out on top and the virtues of serendipity.

Part Two is the crux of the book and probably the one that will leave the most indelible impression. The general theme of this section is information and how humans react to it. Much of the value is derived from the use of contemporary political and scientific examples focusing on fine details that few of us would be aware of. Two essays in particular are standouts. Open Secrets focuses on the Enron meltdown and introduces the difference between a puzzle and mystery. Gladwell suggests that we failed to pre-empt the Enron scandal because there was just too much information about its activities and thus we were not able to sift through it to identify obvious shenanigans.

The Art of Failure is probably the most compelling essay in the collection and draws upon anecdotes of tennis players and students taking standardised exams to distinguish between situations where people choke under pressure and when they panic. This essay is enlightening because it tries to render logic upon something we all witness and experience and even proposes means to minimise the onset of such conditions in our practical lives.

 Part Three attempts to be the most practical and focuses on aspects of personality and intelligence that have consequences in practices of human resource management. The most intriguing essay here is The Talent of Myth that posits that hiring of people based on perceived intellectual superiority often backfires. Turns out that such superstars are encouraged to take risks and seldom reprimanded for their shortcomings. The result is the kind of unbridled recklessness that can bring an Enron to its knees.

 The New Boy Network is also worth a mention as this essay depicts the superficial impressions we make of people when we interview them and the consequences of this bias. Overall there aren’t too many epiphanies in this section that have not highlighted in one of his earlier books and been analysed to death by many other commentators since then. The conclusion of the book thus is somewhat anticlimactic.          

The strength of the book is derived from the meticulous and methodical detail in which Gladwell describes the social science experiments upon which he bases his conclusions. He is also able to pick anecdotes that we can all relate to and a particular focus on contemporary issues like the financial crisis, terrorism and healthcare ensures that the book provides excellent fodder for discussion at your next social gathering. Gladwell desists from appearing exuberant over his conclusions and lets his reader assess the implications of much of the material.

As can be expected, the essays are not of uniformly high quality but we must credit Gladwell for not attempting to foist a regurgitation of his previous books upon us — a fallacy which is the norm in the world of management literature. At the very least the book will pique your interest in psychology and make you think about how to apply the lessons to yourself, your children and your subordinates.

Strange it may sound but it is not beyond the realm of probability to say that Punjab could not produce Iqbal, Faiz, Manto or Qasmi if, instead of Punjab, a young scholar had veered towards Calcutta or Hyderbad Deccan in search of refuge during the middle years of the 19th century. The gory events of 1857 in Delhi had made Maulana Muhammad Hussain Azad leave his hometown and turn to Lahore. His fateful arrival established a link between Lahore and Urdu literature and was to turn the city into the hub of Urdu literature and journalism in the decades to come. He was a contemporary of Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, Maulana Hali and Shibli as well as a pupil of Muhammad Ibrahim Zauq who was a feared rival of Mirza Ghalib and the ustad of the last Mughul emperor Bahadar Shah Zafar.

Maulana Azad spent the rest of his days, spread over more than forty-five years, in Lahore. His first benefactor in the city was Maulvi Rajab Ali who arranged his meeting with the secretary of the governor of Punjab, Pandit Mun Phool and the Maulana was given a job in the provincial education department. With this humble beginning, Maulana Azad, a former student of the Delhi College, rose to be the professor of Arabic and Persian literature at Government College, Lahore and earned the title of "Shamsul Ulema" in 1887 when Queen Victoria’s golden Jubilee was celebrated.

Maulana Azad played an important role in supporting and strengthening Urdu as a new medium of education in Punjab. He also compiled text books. He founded a literary society under the name Anjman-e-Punjab in 1865 which is now credited with introducing modern trends in Urdu poetry. The Anjuman played a pivotal role in turning Lahore into the centre of Urdu literature during the last decades of the 19th century under the aegis of Maulana Azad and Colonel Hollride who was the director of education in Punjab.

Maulana Azad wrote many books on Urdu and Persian literature, history and ethics which were all penned and published during his days in Lahore. Aab-e-Hayat, Qasas-e-Hind, Nairang-e-Khyal, Sukhandan-e-Faras and Darbar-e-Akbari are the titles of his famous books.

Dr Aslam Farukhi has compiled a two-volume book on him and Dr Tabassum Kashmeri has written about the contribution of the Anjuman-e-Punjab to the development of Urdu literature, especially modern Urdu poetry in Punjab. I have been reminded of the Maulana by his 100th death anniversary that fell in January 2010. However, the good news is that the Punjab University Oriental College did not let the event pass in silence. It organised a two-day international seminar under the title "Azad Sadi" to mark the occasion. Scholars came from Turkey, Iran, India and Japan to pay tributes to Maulana Azad and discuss his books. The College also published five books consisting of the Maulana’s manuscripts.

The launching ceremony of the publications was performed by the Vice-chancellor of Punjab University Dr Mujahid Kamran who also presided over the inaugural session of the 2-day international seminar.

I find myself agreeing with Dr Ziaul Hasan who describes Dr Halil Toker as a "Pakistani Turk" for his great passion for our country as well as Urdu language. He heads the department of Urdu at Istanbul University and writes poetry in Urdu. Two of his volumes of verse have already seen the light of day under the titles Aik Qatra Ansoo and Akhari Faryad. He admires Allama Iqbal and has published a book on him, Iqbal and Turk in which he discusses Iqbal’s ideas about the Turks and modern Turkey. Dr Halil Toker organised an international symposium on Iqbal at his Istanbul University some years ago and has also launched the publication of an Urdu journal Iratbat.

Dr Halil Toker’s latest offering is a book on modern Turkish poetry which was published by the Sanjh Publications of Lahore in November last year. Titled Jadeed Turkey Shairy, it carries brief introductions of more than twenty modern Turkish poets as well as Urdu translation of their representative poems.

Dr Halil Toker was in Lahore recently to attend the Oriental College’s seminar. Taking advantage of his presence in the city, the local chapter of the Pakistan Academy of Letters arranged the launching ceremony of his book which attracted a number of young and old writers.

Earlier this week, two Punjabi writers from both sides of the Line of Control talked peace and took panga with war. "You’re a fellow Punjabi so you know what the word ‘panga’ means. You look like the kinda guy who takes pangas," said Chetan Bhagat, India’s pop fiction writer and youth icon, to Mohammed Hanif, Pakistani writer who painted a satirical picture of life under General Zia in his book, A Case of Exploding Mangoes.

Exploding Indo-Pak myths was a job the two men proved mighty good at as they faced each other under the spotlight on the lawns of Horniman Circle, at a tête-à-tête for Aman Ki Asha. Their dialogue tackled serious issues but was interspersed with light banter as well, prompting rounds of laughter.

"People don’t realise that Pakistanis have always taken panga with the state, because we’re almost always ruled by military dictators," said Hanif. When asked whether Pakistanis were pre-occupied with India, Hanif said that people in Pakistan were more worried about what’s going on in their own country to worry about India. "They want peace in Pakistan, first," he added.

Both authors agreed on one thing — Pakistan’s troubles are therapeutic for Indians. Every time we feel lousy about the men ruling our country, all we have to do is look across at our neighbour, joked Bhagat. While Indians may have strong views about being ruled by the likes of Lalu Yadav, Hanif felt Lalu looked like "the most normal guy to run Pakistan." He was quick to add he would any day exchange former Pak president General Pervez Musharraf for Lalu.

"So why is it that Indians like our dictators so much?" Hanif asked Bhagat.

Despite Bhagat’s best attempts to convince Hanif that Indians thought Pakistani dictators were as psycho as Pakistanis themselves believed them to be, Hanif was quick to point to the Vajpayee-Musharraf talks a decade ago. He felt that it would help the people of Pakistan if other countries did not legitimise their dictators.

Bhagat said he found it hard to talk about peace with Pakistan without alluding to the 26/11 terror attacks that left Mumbai’s spirit battered — an attack that had its genesis in Pakistan. "After all, peace isn’t touchy-feely organic farming. What do Pakistanis feel about Ajmal Kasab? Do Pakistanis want him prosecuted too?" Bhagat questioned.

"I have yet to meet any Pakistani in his right mind who does not want Kasab prosecuted. As for the Mumbai terror attacks, we were scared out of our wits as we watched TV. Because we knew that if this was happening in Mumbai, it could just as easily take place in Pakistan. And that’s exactly what’s happening. How could anyone who saw the Mumbai terror attacks feel good about the incident?" asked Hanif.

"While it’s natural to want Kasab prosecuted, there are voices in India that want to grab Kasab and try him from a pole. When you get into that realm, you begin to get very close to what the Taliban does. The Taliban believe in a system of speedy justice where they hang people without a trial. You in India have a very complex judicial system that has taken very good care of the country, unlike Pakistan. You have a judicial system and a democracy that you should thank your lucky stars for. If the system is slow, you can take to the streets and protest against it. But please don’t push for summary execution. Because then you become a lot like certain people whom we both don’t like," said Hanif.

After generations of history textbooks on either side of the border having painted the neighbouring country black, both Bhagat and Hanif feel the need for historians on both sides to chalk out a different perspective on history, so that future generations do not grow up with a warped sense of their own country, as well as that of their "enemy."

When both men laid bare the prejudices about one other’s country, it felt less like a portrait of enemy nations, more like looking into a mirror where we see our own reflection, warts and all. When Bhagat spoke of his Aman Ki Asha participation on Twitter, he met with scepticism. Many felt India was trying harder for peace than Pakistan. "Both India and Pakistan need peace. I’m doing this for India," said Bhagat.

"When it comes to Pakistan, most of us live with a subtext of suspicion. Lines get blurred and we mix up governments with people, and people with terrorists, with the result that all communication breaks down," said Namita Devidayal, author of The Music Room, introducing the two writers. "There is urgent need to build dialogue. That is what the Aman ki Asha campaign attempts to do."

Courtesy The Times of India

caption

Bhagat and Hanif take a ‘panga.’