Between Clay and Dust

by Musharraf Ali Farooqi

In an old ruined city, emptied of most of its inhabitants, Ustad Ramzi, a famous wrestler past his prime, and Gohar Jan, a well-known courtesan whose kotha once attracted the wealthy and the eminent, contemplate the former splendour of their lives and the ruthless currents of time and history that have swept them into oblivion.

Genres: Pakistan, Fiction, Historical Fiction, Novels, Literary Fiction, Asian Literature, Asia

216 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2012

About the author

Musharraf Ali Farooqi is a critically acclaimed Pakistani author, novelist and translator.

His novel "Between Clay and Dust" was shortlisted for The Man Asian Literary Prize 2012 and longlisted for the 2013 DSC Prize for South Asian Literature. Farooqi's second novel "The Story of a Widow" was shortlisted for the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature 2011, and longlisted for the 2010 IMPAC-Dublin Literary Award.

His most recent children's fiction is the novel "Tik-Tik, The Master of Time" Pakistan's first English language novel for children. His other works for children include the picture book "The Cobbler's Holiday Or Why Ants Don't Wear Shoes" and the collection "The Amazing Moustaches of Mocchhander the Iron Man and Other Stories" which was shortlisted for the India ComicCon award in the Best Publication for Children category.

He is also the author of the critically acclaimed translations of Urdu classics "The Adventures of Amir Hamza" and the first book of a projected 24-volume magical fantasy epic "Hoshruba".

Farooqi now divides his time between Toronto and Karachi.

Reviews

[Anum Shaharyar · Rating 3 out of 5]

This review will probably be my laziest review to date, and that’s because this book was incapable of rousing any emotion in me. I read it the way one flicks through a magazine while waiting at a dentist’s office: you might stumble across an interesting article, and there might be something that might catch your eye, but at the end of the day you willingly leave it behind you when your name is called.

Probably the reason for this book’s failure to engage is in its inability to dig a little deeper, to give more complexity to issues just begging to be discussed. Musharraf Ali Farooqi writes from a distance, and the short chapters, lack of extended dialogues, and overall aura of aloofness in the writing does the setting a disservice.

It was not so much the changing times that troubled her, but the worst they seemed to bring out in people.

And this aloofness is a damn shame because on the surface this book has got some really cool stuff going on. It’s set some time after partition, and while it remains unclear whether we are in India or Pakistan, the extraordinary part of the story is that it doesn’t seem to matter. For all the obsession in post-partition literature with the creation of two separate, distinct states, Farooqi renders them both the same, marking with one swift stroke one of the most repeated points about the subcontinent’s partition: that even with all the animosity between the two countries, we are really still the same.

Nobody expected that in Partition’s wake would follow a slow disintegration of values that would unravel the inner city.

The partition is recent, the city is in turmoil, and our two main protagonists, a pahalwan (wrestler) called Ustad Ramzi from a famous wrestlers’ akhara (clan), and the tawaif (courtesan) Gohar Jan from an equally famous kotha, are slowly coming face to face with the realization that their days of glory are ending. Most of the story focuses on Ustad Ramzi’s conflicted relationship with his younger brother Tamami, whom Ramzi believes is unable to understand what he calls the sanctity of the akhara.

Ustad Ramzi was disappointed by his brother’s disregard of what his elders held a sacred ritual of their creed. He told himself that if Tamami failed to realize the important and purpose of those humble rituals, he would never understand the essence of the creed.

Most of Ramzi’s single-minded determination to preserve the holiness of the art of wrestling was lost to me, because for god’s sake, it’s just a game. But try saying that to my brother when he yells at the TV screen when the referee makes a wrong decision and I get a very different response, so clearly games aren’t just games to some people.

Funnily enough, the discussions about the wrestling preparations and the intricate details of how wrestlers ate, lived, and breathed are what actually lend this book its air of authenticity. Musharraf Ali Farooqi has done his research, and it’s fascinating to read about the ridiculous amount of food Tamami eats in preparation of one of his bouts, or the almost religious fervour with which wrestling matches were treated.

Much less fascinating are the going-ons at the kotha, which is supremely disappointing since there was so much potential there. The female relationships, the complexity of the power feminine allure wielded in that time, the cultural relevance: there was so much material to work with, but Farooqi barely touches it, choosing to focus more on the wrestlers and less on the females in the story.

Gohar Jan did say once that in this world a tawaif’s identity is the only one allowed to women like her.

In fact, the basic premise of the story, that of the friendship (or romance? Is there a romance?) between the two main characters is so entirely flimsy that it’s hard to remember what it’s supposed to be about. Ustad Ramzi and Gohar Jan are accidental acquaintances, barely passing each other by, with no interesting conversations to keep us invested. It’s hard to understand why we root for their relationship, or even what their relationship is supposed to be based on. Why does Ustad Ramzi keep going to Gohar Jan’s kotha after the mehfils have stopped? Why does Gohar Jan go out of her way to ask a favour of the mayor when Ramzi’s akhara’s cemetery gets flooded with sewage water during heavy rains? I have literally no idea, because there’s no sense of connection.

Those who watched Ustad Ramzi for any signs of becoming infatuated with the tawaif were disappointed. At the end of the mehfil, he always left her kotha with others.

This idea of keeping the reader at a distance finds its way into the historical representation as well. Musharraf Ali Farooqi does exactly what Kamila Shamsie did in Burnt Shadows, but to lesser effect. Like Shamsie’s book, he takes a large-scale event (in Shamsie’s case, the atomic bomb, the partition, 9/11, and in this book, the creation of a new state) and brings it down to the human, the personal, but it’s hard to decide whether it was an exceedingly poor attempt or if it was done so well that I missed it entirely. There’s a sense of things crumbling and falling apart, but there’s no urgency, no tension in the text, which leaves one only very remotely concerned about the lives of these characters.

He remained there in the growing silence, as darkness fell over the inner city.

On a parting note, the one thing that really endeared itself to me in this book was the lack of pandering to a western audience. Musharraf Ali Farooqi writes with authority for a reader who knows, in a manner that seems to encourage those who don’t to ask more questions, to remain curious and interested. There are no long winded explanations shoved in as side notes or awkward sentences that explain what a kotha or an akhara is. In this book, context explains everything, and that is as it should be.

Recommendation

When a friend asked me whether she should read this book, I told her why not, because it’s not that long. Now ideally that’s not the best recommendation one can give. It’s like saying, ‘you might as well, because it’s not that big a waste of your time’, but on the other hand I did think it was worth reading, even if only once. Musharraf Ali Farooqi writes well, the setting is fascinating, and where else would you get to read about wrestlers and courtesans within one, singular text? When you’re lazy and in the mood and can’t find anything else to read, I say give this a go.

***

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[Vidushi · Rating 5 out of 5]

What would a tale of two fading giants - Gohar Jan and Ustad Ramzi - hold for a reader who has no context or reference to the old era of Pahalwans (Fighters) and Tawaifs (Courtesans)?

Musharraf Ali Farooqi's 'Between Clay and Dust' may be set in an age today's generation would not relate to but the story connects every aspect of life, transcending context. Propriety and Delinquency, Fame and Fall, Life and Death, Tolerance and Prejudice, Respect and Reproach. The ideas that make up the fabric of our existence have been laid bare in this poignant tale that stirs you and stills you at the same time.

Read on as Ustad Ramzi and Gohar Jan battle with the degeneration of their art and their lives and watch their worlds fall apart. Distanced in demeanor but together in compassion, they struggle to make sense of what is left of their rapidly upturned lives.

A must read for those who enjoy nuanced storytelling.

[Asim Bakhshi · Rating 4 out of 5]

The following review is originally published in Dawn's Books and Authors .

Even the closest reading of a translation is affected by a tendency to pronounce invisibility of the translator. Lens of a critic always focuses on an overlapping semantic space where authorial voice merges with the translator’s. Deconstructing any masterful translation is therefore beyond a mere judgment on fidelity, fluency and beauty. Furthermore, when there is cultural isomorphism between source and target, the challenge becomes twofold. The debate is far from settled but most often in such cases, translator refuses to take a backseat, rip off his subjective straitjacket and tries to assume a more active role. Often he becomes a creative dissimulator taking revenge for the fundamental invisibility of his being. His ultimate aim: a creative coup.

Contrary to all expectations, Afzal Ahmed Syed does none of that. Being an Afzal Ahmed completist, I struggled hard to find a rationale underlying this passivity. Is it because this is a unique case where write and translator are conjoined in an almost dicephalic relationship and I am mistakenly considering them apart? (After all, both Musharraf Ali Farooqi and Afzal Ahmed Syed have now translated each other’s works.) Or is it because of a more rational, yet often misunderstood preferential choice by the translator, namely a good translation should essentially come across as a translation?

Those who have read the ‘Between Clay and Dust’ are well aware of its lyrical power and elegant simplicity. Its force lies not as much in the fact that it brings together two seemingly disjointed institutions of wrestling and courtesanship in a singular theme, but the elegiacal lament of the ideals those two protagonists ascribe to. In other words, it’s the existential angst and individual suffering that becomes the instrument to incessantly amplify the crackle of crumbling and decay. On top of that, it doesn’t give away its central premise easily. There is a particular ineffability which gives a wizardly murkiness to its air.

It is in such innumerable fleeting moments that Afzal Ahmed Syed achieves an amazing transportation of the ineffable. As far as the craft of translation is mothered by the art of poetry, he demonstrates how the former cradles the latter. Urdu, when Afzal Ahmed Syed wears his translator’s cap, amplifies the tension between meaning and music, body and soul, and concrete and abstract; all of these being defining characteristics of ‘Between Clay and Dust’.

It is only after reading them side by side that the mystery of subservience finally unfolds. One slowly realizes that our translator chooses to let go of his creatively majestic space, and decides to whisper and speak like the author. Unlike many modern translators, he refuses to forget that the original should be seen breathing in the translation. It is as if he is seeing through the translation and trying to preserve the original which is lurking underneath it.

While we are on things sublime, there are of course some exceptional instances – though very few – where this careful attempt at preciseness achieves a rare puzzlement. Take for instance the opening sentence of the novel which speaks about a supposed attribution of “ruination of inner city to time’s proclivity for change”. Here the intertwining of decay and devastation with deterministic nature of time is hard to miss but semantic space for the translator is still vast and he has to ultimately discover the overriding sense which is intended to be carried by the word ‘ruination’.

Is it decay, devastation, destruction or a general sense of abandonment or desolation? Whatever the case may be, it is very hard to argue against the fact that the overall import of the word is bleak. Syed’s answer is, however, none of the above. He chooses to keep it more neutral by using a compound ‘taghayyur-e-haal’. It is as if he doesn’t want to paint ruination of the inner city too brightly by using a word like ‘barbadi’ or ‘khasta-haali’. Would these alternatives invoke too strong colors? Not sure what his answer might be but as they say, every literary puzzle is a gift for the reader.

Besides this metamorphosis of the inexplicable and transference of the ambiguity of the original, there is a lot more that a good translation has to capture. This is the realm of the discernable. Here, while transmuting the observable, Afzal Ahmed Syed reshapes the original. These are spaces where he refuses to be subservient and speaks in his own resounding voice; at times amplifying, at times corrective. An intriguing example of the latter is the word ‘nayika’ which Farooqi employs to describe trainee girls. Syed switches it with a more accurate word ‘nochi’ since these are, in fact, trainee girls under an experienced courtesan; the experienced courtesan being the ‘nayika’. There are of course other instances where translation performs its usual function of amplifying. Any reader of the original cannot miss instances such as those where a culturally foreign word like ‘pirouette’, when rendered by the Hindi original ‘ghumri’ achieves a more rooted motif, thereby precisely picturing the technicalities of a sub continental dance form. In such cases, translation becomes more than simple rendering of the concrete forms but actually makes the observable relevant to its original milieu.

‘Between Clay and Dust’ feeds on its ritualistic atmosphere where tradition doesn’t come directly in conflict with modernity, rather it goes through an unfathomable, and almost deterministic, internal decay. In trying to make sense of this ambiguous amalgam of cruel historical forces, we the readers join hands with the characters. But while we share their curiosity, Farooqi’s narrative keep us at bay as if coming too close would compromise the sense of wonderment. Afzal Ahmed Syed, while trying hard to maintain that distance, achieves something original through its self-triggered transformations. We are, in fact, pushed a little closer by the sheer force of the translated narrative. And this infinitesimally small push is the magic of his translation.

[Asim Bakhshi · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's always an educating experience to read both the original and translation side by side. The lyrical prose of Musharraf Ali Farooqi is captured well by Afzal Ahmed Syed in Urdu translation, who is undeniably a master of lyrical prose at an altogether different level. However, it is one of those cases where original surpasses the translation, though I expected it to be the other way round for obvious reasons of the locale. The reason is somewhat paradoxical since Afzal Ahmed Syed seem to remain literally loyal to text, even in cases where he could have used his translator's discretion. But besides this somewhat controversial point of choice, the translation is extraordinarily fluent and captures the pervasive sadness of the story well.

[Mark Staniforth · Rating 4 out of 5]

It may have the sport at its core, but it would be doing a great disservice to Musharraf Ali Farooqi's 'Between Clay And Dust' to describe it simply as a wrestling yarn. This is no paean to the golden era of Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks; nor is it likely that a ripped-up Mickey Rourke will pop up playing the title role in Hollywood any time soon.
Across the sub-continent, wrestling has always been about so much more than masked avengers and overweight pantomime villains. To many, it has embodied the very essence of masculinity itself; a sport shrouded in myth and legend, adhering to a strict etiquette unchanged over centuries.
'Between Clay And Dust' is set a decade or so after Partition in an unnamed city - it is also unclear whether it is part of India or Pakistan, but the author's inference is clear: it is of no consequence, for this is a story that breaches man-made borders of time, religion and politics, a land in which rival clans wrestled for superiority in the sacred akharas or wrestling arenas, where the ultimate prize was the Ustad-e-Zaman - the highest ranking wrestling title in the land.
The novel's central character, Ustad Ramzi, has devoted his life and soul to the sport. But Ramzi is facing up to the erosion of this world, which is the only one he covets. Partition has led to the steady crumbling of old-fashioned cultures, and has diminished the importance of the akhara. Ramzi's own plight mirrors that of his sport: his health is declining, but he cannot bring himself to entrust the superiority of his clan to his younger brother Tamami, whom he believes does not pay heed to wrestling's sacred rituals. Tamami, for his part, is growing frustrated at his brother's stubbornness, and their mutual frustration will escalate towards the point of tragedy.
In a parallel narrative, the ageing Gohar Jan runs a kotha - effectively, though not implicitly, a brothel - in the courtesan's quarter. Like the akhara, the kotha and its almost Geisha-like traditions and structures are buckling under the weight of change. As Ramzi's plight worsens, he seeks solace in Gohar Jan's evening sitar recitals: together, they mourn a world upon which they are slowly losing their grip.
If there is any criticism to be made of 'Between Clay And Dust', it is that this secondary plot element takes some time to develop, not through any particular failing of its own part, but simply because it is overshadowed by Farooqi's rich and vivid portrayals of the wrestling life and in particular the extraordinary training regimes of its protagonists.
'Between Clay And Dust' is a welcome antidote to the silliness and stereotype that so often attaches itself to stories with sport at their centre. You won't find lurid tales of personal redemption here. Sad, elegant and under-stated, Farooqi's is a beautiful novel: a book about the inevitable passing of time; a reminder of the importance of striking a balance between preserving old traditions whilst paving a way for the new.

[Nathan Rostron · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a way that reminded me of both Salman Rushdie and The Arabian Nights, Musharraf Ali Farooqi's novel Between Clay and Dust is dreamlike enough that it reads like a fable, yet so sensuously detailed and rooted in history that it also felt like truth. Which is just another way of saying that it's artful and accomplished storytelling. There's serious Indian mud wrestling (really), geisha-like courtesans, brotherly love/hatred/competition unto death, a wrestling promoter who's like an unctuously evil Pakistani Don King—all set against the backdrop of a country that's just been partitioned into two, its people falling into the freshly torn-open gap.

[Irfan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a masterpiece by Musharraf Ali Farooqi.The story beautifully portrays complex emotions and relationships of two individuals(A Pahalwan and a Tawaif) who are at the end of their glory days.

[George Ilsley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Set in Pakistan shortly after partition, that is at an unsettling time when norms and traditions were being upended.

The text hovers above the characters and the reader is privileged, but always kept at a distance. There is much telling; I longed for more showing. I wanted to see characters and hear them; rather than just be told about them. Characters are rarely even physically described.

Yet this book still manages to be quietly compelling, and offers a glimpse into disappearing traditions and ways of life.

[Anum · Rating 4 out of 5]

I would rate this book 3.5

The book is on a very different aspect of partition and on dying art, we never think what will happen if the profession we are accosiated with dies how will we react what will we go through.

Musharaf beautifully writes about the two dying arts, which many may not think of art. This is not a story about people but about passion for what they did, their accosiation which is with this arts, how they try to preserve it till the last breath and how at it consumes them.

The details are excellent and well researched, however the ending felt a bit rushed had the writer worked towards the ending this book would have been a solid 4.

[Anita Sosinka · Rating 5 out of 5]

Before I write anything else I must say that “Between Clay and Dust” is beautiful. And before it starts to sound tacky I must add that there are very few books about which I would say so.

The characters, few in number, are incredibly engaging. Like people in life, we meet them knowing little, with time find out more but we never get to know them inside out. They manage outlive the pages, outsmart the narration, outreason our assumptions and while revealing their emotions, motives and acts, still remain a mystery. Partially because they are highly complex, not always logic, not always predictable, in which Farooqi shows how deeply he understands humans and how well he can observe them. Partially because they exist mainly in the present, they do not talk much about their past, and they do not reach in the future.

And what is the present like then? Elusive. We do not know the time, although some background descriptions hint modern days (cars), we do not know for sure how much time covers the plot, a year, two maybe. We do not know the place either, inner city of a city placed somewhere in south-east Asia, but we are given no names, a city which in a way is also a character in the story. All this does not matter, as what anchors this novel is the truth about human nature, not time and place. And this makes the story deeply universal.

What is the story about then? It’s a story about love towards brother, towards foster child, towards other human being. A story about destructive power of misunderstanding where there should be trust, assumptions where there should be questions and most of all silence, where there should be words. It’s also about tradition that may daze regard of the presence and inevitable changes that may betray the past instead of respecting it. It’s a story about taint and strife and rage and sinking.

All this is written in remarkably concise and clear style, there is not a single word that wouldn't bear meaning or precision. Yet the clean style is not simple, it avoids fancy adorning but syntax is complex and vocabulary evokes associations with past times of plentiful and beauty (opposed to present ruination), orient, Tales of 1001 Arabian Nights, being at the same time at almost opposite edge than these tales. This aura of ancient tale, aura of peace and composure encases a story of pain, solitude and reckoning.

Some reviewers reproach the story being too short - by no means. It is perfect the way it is. If Musharraf Ali Farooqi's forthcoming books will be of that quality, he is definitely an author to keep in mind, as we will see him among important literary voices of our times.

First sentence of the book:
The ruination of the inner city was attributed to time’s proclivity for change.
Last sentence of the book:
He remained there in the growing silence, as darkness fell over the inner city.

[Sunny · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the topic of the story rather than the story itself. The Book is predominantly about a wrestling clan set in pre-Pakistan India (I think). The Pehlvaans (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pehlwani) engage In a type of wrestling carried out in the Indian subcontinent and in Iran also where the word comes from. It’s a subject I have always been fascinated with ever since I read about this crazy dude: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gre...
His training regime and generally speaking the training regime of Pehlvaans is quite unlike anything you will have heard of in your life. The stamina and strength of these guys would put most Olympic athletes to shame.
The story is about a rivalry that takes places between 2 clans and parallel to the story is the story of a well-known prostitute whose decay and atrophy is aligned to the deterioration in the protagonist wrestler’s life. Having done a very small amount of boxing in my own life I have a lot of respect for these athletes and their training regimen is incredibly awe-inspiring (be it slightly damaging to ones health in the long run). Here is an example of what a few of the characters got up to in the book:
“Warmed up from the run, Tamami would exercise the muscles of his arms and shoulders and turn the Akhara clay and smooth it. Afterwards he was fed a quarter kilo of myrobalan preserve and given a breakfast consisting of 2 kilos of mutton fried in butter. A short rest was followed by Tamami doing the wheelbarrow exercise with 2 trainees who lifted his legs for support as he walked on his hands. Then he took a 2/3 hour nap. When he woke he was fed a kilo of rabri and handed a mattock to turn the clay of the Akhara for an hour. For lunch Tamami had one and a half kilos of roasted meat and after his siesta he again turned the Akhara clay and followed that with 500 pushups.”

[Christine · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'd have to say this was one of the better books that I have had read in the past couple of years. I was very surprised at how this initially simple-seeming story became so compelling that I finished it in a couple of hours.

The book told the story of Ustad Ramzi who at one time was the best wrestler around. Many younger wrestlers came to learn from him, and he was well-respected. Also, at the same time, the reader was introduced to the courtesan Gohar Jan who was known for her singing and beauty.

Ustad Ramzi's younger brother begins to challenge him, and this leads to many problems and sorrow for the two brothers.

The three main characters are well-developed, and I enjoyed reading about their past and present. The reader gets snippets of their lives, but not the full story. Still, it was very interesting to see how their actions affected each other, and how the story unfolded.

I'm very happy to have had the opportunity to read this book.

I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads. Thank you!

[Hammad Bajwa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Had been suffering a long break from inconsistent reading, with many unfinished books. This is one of the fastest book I had ever read. Loved it. Canvassed the old dying sport beautifully, with lovely trails of sports rituals, human relationship and love. Amazing. Writer has kept the story at an optimum level if details, with out drawing away your attention. Some one must make a movie on this.

[Bushra · Rating 2 out of 5]

Musharraf Farooqi knows the art of turning into a good story the most common and cliced things in life that fell short of an story usually. t was incredible talking to him in person about his views around Pakistani Literature at LLF and of course getting this book signed by him for me.

[Caralyn Rubli · Rating 4 out of 5]

I won this book in a giveaway through Goodreads. About changing times and one brothers decision to let the younger brother take his place or not. A lady must decide whether to let go of her business or not. Very good! I want to know more.

[Umair · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great read, and a fantastic example of character development and beautiful pensively written prose telling a simple yet powerful story about human nature.

[Trevor Pearson · Rating 4 out of 5]

http://bindblottyandcajole.com/2015/0...

[Kumam · Rating 4 out of 5]

a fantastic novel about the end of an old era at the birth of a new one in 1947/partition told through the lives of ustad ramzi and gohar jan. it's a deeply saddening story but worthy of reading.

[Katherine Reay]

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It felt like afternoon tea... I need to explain that. I was fully engaged and intrigued, but never rushed. And... Very pleased to stay to the end.

[Guneet · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the finest novels I have read. Reread it again in November 2022

[Adnan Ashraf · Rating 4 out of 5]

I started reading this novel here in Lahore, on my iPhone, using my Scribd subscription. If I understand correctly, the story is set around (or right after) partition, the turbulence of which has negatively affected a tawaif. Initially, I didn't look up the word tawaif, which the author did not explain, but later I satisfied myself with a definition from Wikipedia: "A tawaif was a highly successful entertainer who catered to the nobility of the Indian subcontinent, particularly during the Mughal era. The tawaifs excelled in and contributed to music, dance (mujra), theatre, and the Urdu literary tradition,[1] and were considered an authority on etiquette."

Gohar Jan is the novel's tawaif, but Ustadh Ramzi is the protagonist, Ustadh-i-Zaman, the (best) wrestler of the time, a duty-bound, sober, celibate man who treats as a sacred trust his responsibility to protect his title from challengers and to guard the legacy of his multi-generational wrestler's family against desecration.

The author did a good job rendering the relationship between wrestler Ustadh Ramzi and his younger brother, Tamami, and the other wrestlers of their school, and their counterparts in a rival group. The promoter Gulab Din and manager Kabira were convincing, too. Decent element of suspense as well. Maybe the author chose not to delve deeply into the relationship between Gohar Jan and the young lady she adopted -- Malka, if I recall the name. I might have opted for more complexity in its rendering for the sake of balance and symmetry in the parallel narratives, but maybe that's not what the author wanted. Having finished the book now, his handling of Malka's character makes more sense to me than it did initially.

The language used to narrate the story is definitely austere, I would reckon by most standards, and this austerity is maintained from start to finish and seems to reflect Ustadh Ramzi's characteristic sternness. When Gohar Jan smilingly assures Ustadh Ramzi that the authorities will pump out his flooded property, towards the end of the book, the effusiveness of her emotional expression, a mere sentence or two, stands out in stark contrast with the rest of the narrative. The spare images of roses that appear at the beginning and towards the end of the story offer another instance of high contrast.

The repeated descriptions of Ustadh Ramzi's inviolable routines and rituals of the clay wrestling ground give the book its earthiness. The narrative never strays far from this restricted boundary, within the inner city (modeled on old Lahore, perhaps, where I accidentally discovered a wrestlers' training area next to the Badshahi Masjid in winter 2021). Tamami's growth as a wrestler is described with admirable skill, and the bouts are convincingly and briefly described as well. Besides the wrestling school of Ustadh Ramzi (known as an akhara), the only other locale described in any detail is the home of Gohar Jan, elsewhere in the inner city, where she performs her own daily routine of musical recital with instrumental accompaniment, which the author merely gestures to a few times without describing, except briefly perhaps on one occasion.

Unexplained subcultural terms unknown to me like tawaif (entertainer, as mentioned above) and nayika (close in meaning to "heroine" it seems, in the context of a dramatic romance), I initially didn't look up. But then, incidentally, my family took me to the Shalamar Gardens here in Lahore as a Father's Day surprise. There, a security guard pointed out to me how the terraced landscape included a platform for a certain kind of entertainment, involving music and women, and I was forced to confront a possibility that I had never before sought to verify, that the cultural practices of the heads of the Mughal polity had at times been at variance with Islamic tradition. But that's not what this novel is about.

I recall one reference made in passing to the partition of the subcontinent, a complex, monstrously large historical event, and how it has negatively impacted the entertainment business of which Gohar Jan is a part. More explicit, in the narrative foreground, is the strong and growing sense of the highly aged, lugubrious, and perhaps increasingly unsafe residential building that she cannot now afford to maintain, and the risk of its being wrested away by the authorities or covetous real estate developers.

The spare language and constrained but highly charged filial conflicts of characters whose desires are rendered with clarity and an almost athletic economy manifest an identity for this novel that seems authentically bound to the inner city traditions and locale it depicts. Where global novels by Western-educated Pakistani authors writing in English impress reviewers with their multifarious, worldly elements and knowing international perspectives, this book shows how less is more in a way that should be of interest not only to readers but to fiction writers (interested in applying such a credo to narrative form).

[Hammad Anwar · Rating 5 out of 5]

The review originally appeared at the website Urdu Point

ذاتی طور پر جب بھی کسی کتاب کا ترجمہ پڑھنے لگوں تو ذہن میں پہلا خیال یہ ہی آتا ہے کہ کیا مترجم اصل کتاب سے انصاف کر پائے گا؟ کیا ان الفاظ ، خیالات اور احساسات کی صیح طور پر ترجمانی ہو سکے گی؟ یہ ایک ایسا سوال ہے جس نے شاید آج بھی ادبی برادری اور قارئین کو تقسیم کررکھا ہے۔ ایک طرف وہ لوگ ہیں جو سمجھتے ہیں کہ ایسا کرنا بہت مشکل ہے مگر نا ممکن نہیں اور دوسری طرف کہا جاتا ہے کہ ایک تو کسی اور خیالات کو مکمل طور پر سمجھنا اور پھر خودایک دوسری زبان میں ڈھالتے وقت کہیں نہ کہیں مترجم کی پسند ناپسند سے اس مواو کا اصلی پن متاثر ہونا لازم ہے۔

کچھ ان خیالات کے ساتھ ہی میں نے حال ہی میں شائع ہونےوالی کتاب 'خاک ہوجانے تک' شروع کی جو کہ مشرف علی فاروقی کے انگریزی ناول Between Clay and Dustکا اردو ترجمہ ہے جو کہ سنہ ۲۰۱۲ میں شائع ہوا تھا۔


مشرف علی فاروقی ایک ناول نویس، داستان شناس اور ترجمہ نگار ہیں، اور لوک روایات اور کلاسیکی متون میں دلچسپی رکھتے ہیں۔ فاروقی نے اردو کلاسیکی متون داستانِ امیر حمزہ اور طلسم ہوش ربا کا انگریزی میں ترجمہ کیا ہے۔

فاروقی آن لائن اردو تھیسارس اور اسٹوری کِٹ پروگرام کے بانی ہیں۔
زیر نظر کتاب کا ترجمہ افضال احمد سیدکی کاشوں کا ثمر ہے۔ افضال احمد سید کسی تعارف کے محتاج نہیں۔ آپ ۱۹۴۶ میں غازی پور، اترپردیش، ہندوستان میں پیدا ہوئے۔ شاعری کی ابتدا ۱۹۷۶ کی اور اپنی نثری نظموں اور غزلوں کی بدولت اپنا منفرد مقام حاصل کیا۔ ان کی کلیات مٹی کی کان ۲۰۰۹ میں شائع ہوئی۔
افضال احمد سید نے میر تقی میر کےفارسی کلام کو اردو میں منتقل کیا ہے۔ وہ مختلف زبانوں سے شاعری، فکشن اور ڈراموں کا ترجمہ بھی کرتے رہے ہیں۔
یہ ناول ہمیں تقسیم ہندوپاک کے بعد کے دور میں لےجاتا ہے جہاں لوگ ابھی بھی تقسیم کی تباہ کاریوں کے اثرات سے باہر نہیں آسکے۔ اندرون شہر وہ رونقیں جن کا پورے شہرمیں شہرہ تھا، وہ ماند پڑتی جا رہی ہیں۔
ان حالات کے اثرات سے طوائفوں کے کوٹھوں اور پہلوانوں کے اکھاڑے بھی محفوظ نہ رہ سکے۔ آزمائش کی اس گھڑی میں دو کاملینِ فن کی اپنی اقدار کی پاس‌داری ایسے تکلیف‌دہ فیصلے کرواتی ہے جن کا مداوا اور تلافی اُن کے اختیار میں نہیں رہتا۔
تاریخی طور پر برصغیر میں ان دونوں پیشوں کو بڑی اہمیت حاصل رہی ہے کیوں یہ ایسے اداروں کا کردار ادا کرتے تھے جہاں پر سخت اصولوں کے تحت رسم رواج، تہذیب و تمدان او ر تر بیت کا اہتمام کیا جاتاتھا۔
ایک جانب نوجوانوں کی جسمانی تربیت اور نظم و ضبط پر زور تھا تو دوسری جانب شرفا ان کوٹھوں کو شرف بخشتے جہاں پر ان کی روح کی تازگی کا اہتمام ہوتا۔ مگر بدلتے وقتوں کے ساتھ استاد رمزی اور گوہر جان جیسے کاملین فن کے لیے رسم ورواج کی جدید دور میں پاسداری ایک امتحان سے کم نہیں۔
استاد رمزی ایک ایسے پہلوان ہیں جن کی طاقت اور مہارت کا ایک زمانہ گرویدہ ہے۔
15 سال پہلے انہوں نے رستم زماں کا خطاب جیت کر اپنے دف کا نام اونچا کیا تھا۔ اس اعزاز کا بار بار دفاع کر کے انہوں نے اپنا نام دف کے عظیم ترین سپوتوں میں درج کروا لیا ہے۔ ریاستی سرپرستی تقریبا ختم ہونے کے بعد اب اکھاڑے مشکلات کا شکار ہیں۔ مگر ان حالات میں بھی استار رمزی اپنی زندگی اور پیشے کےسخت اصولوں پر قائم ہے جس سے اس کے خیرخواہوں کی تعداد میں کمی ہی ہو رہی ہے۔

استاد رمزی کا چھوٹا بھائی تمامی اس کا قدرتی وارث سمجھا جاتا ہے مگر اس کی سہل پسندی اور روایات سے روگردانی کی وجہ سے استاد رمزی اس سے مایوس ہے۔ دونوں بھایئوں کی یہ کشمکش صرف دو لوگوں تک محدود نہیں بلکہ یہ دو طرز فکر کا تصادم ہے جو ہمیں ناول میں جگہ جگہ نظر آتا ہے۔ ایک جانب روایت کی جدیدت سے جنگ ہے تو کہیں عزت کا شہرت سے مقابلہ ہے۔
اختتام تک قاری اس کشمکش کا شکار رہتا ہے کہ کہیں استاد رمزی کی بات ٹھیک تھی تو کچھ جگہ تمامی کی بات میں بھی دم تھا۔ یہ اس کہانی کی جوبصورتی ہے کہ یہ قاری کو اپنے ساتھ ان کرداروں کے سفر میں شامل کر لیتی ہے کہ ہر پڑھنے والا کسی نہ کسی کردار کی سوچ سے اپنے آپ کو متفق پاتا ہے۔
دلچسپ بات یہ ہے کی مصنف نے یہ کتاب لکھنے سے پہلے کبھی اکھاڑا دیکھا بھی نہیں تھا مگر کتاب پڑھتے وقت ایک عام قاری بھی کشتی کے ان مقابلوں میں اپنے آپ کو یوں مگن پاتا ہے جیسے برسوں سے ان کا شیدائی ہو۔
یہ بلاشبہ مصنف کی محنت اور عمدہ تحقیق کی نشانی ہے۔
گوہر جان کا شمار اپنے وقت کی حسین ترین عورتوں میں ہوتا ہے۔ اس کا کوٹھا اندورن شہردہلی میں سب سے بڑا اور سب سے زیادہ مشہو ر تھا۔ اس کے کوٹھے پر لڑکیاں رقص و نغمے کے فن کا درس لیا کرتی تھیں۔ وقت کے ساتھ ساتھ یہاں ک�� رنقیں بھی ماند پڑتی جا رہی تھیں۔ ایک ایسی دنیا جس کا گزروبسر ہی لوگوں کی قدر شناسی اور دولت پر تھا اس پر زندگی کی ٖغیر یقینی نے بڑا گہرا اثر ڈالا تھا۔
مالی معاملات میں تنگی کی وجہ سے اب نوبت زیورات بیچنے پر آگئی تھی مگر گوہر جان کے کوٹھے نے اپنی روایات کا بھرم رکھا ہوا ہے۔
افضال احمد سید خود بھی ایک عمدہ پائے کے لکھاری ہیں اوراس ناول میں انہوں نے نہ صرف کہانی کی روح سے انصاف کیا ہے بلکہ ان کا انداز بیان اس قدر خوبصورت ہے کہ میرے نزدیک یہ ایک ترجمے سے کہیں بڑھ کر ہے۔ اٖفضال احمد نے اس میں اپنا رنگ بھر کچھ یوں بھرا ہے کہ کہانی رہی تو مشر ف علی فاروقی کی مگر اور نکھر گئی ہے۔
کہانی پڑھتے وقت آپ کئی ایسے الفاظ سے متعارف ہوتے ہیں جن کا ذکر روز مرہ کی گفتگو میں نہیں ملتا۔ مصنف کے اسلوب کو برقرار ر کھتے ہوئے مترجم نے کچھ اس عمدگی سے اس کو لکھا ہے کی گر آپ نے اس کا انگریزی ناول نہیں بھی پڑھا تو بھی آپ اس اس کتاب کو ایک مکمل اور دلچسپ کتاب کے طور پر پائیں گے۔
یہ کچھ انسانی کرداروں کی محبت، عزت، بے دفائی، اصولوں اور یقین کی کہانی ہے جن کے اردگرد کی دنیا بہت تیزی سے بدل رہی ہے مگر وہ اپنے اصولول اور ماضی پر کوئی سمجھوتا کیے بغیر اس بدلتی دنیا کا حصہ بننے کی کوشش کر رہے ہیں یہاںتک وہ خود خاک نہیں ہو جاتے۔

[Amrita Pratap · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is a crippling helplessness that besets you when you see someone you have always looked up to as a wall of strength, start to crumble, as the foundations of their way of life are struck repeatedly by the blows of progress. A person who has always been held in awe and respect all their lives gradually finds themselves becoming redundant to the lives of those around them. It starts with small things. A little less obsequiousness in someone's tone. Having to wait a little longer for an official. Finding yourself just a little less prepared to deal with what life brings. A hurriedly muted laugh at your expense. This is how a person dies inside, long before their body is subsumed by fire or earth. This is how a person turns to dust long before death.
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Between Clay and Dust is a lingering, consuming saga of just such a decay. Not only of Ustad Ramzi, the legendary head of a pehelwan clan, but of the entire way of life of a sport that once occupied the hearts of millions in the subcontinent. As the last vestiges of grandeur threaten to fade away, Ustad Ramzi clings on tighter to ritual and the old way of doing things. So obstinate is his hold on the past that he unwittingly lets the future turn to dust in his hands. His loss is mirrored only by that of Gohar Jan, once the doyen of the tawaif culture, but now a resident of a fast fading, decrepit enclave in the heart of the old city. As she shuts her doors to her patrons, she opens a window to let in some companionship in the person of Ustad Ramzi. And that is how these two travellers journey on, towards an inevitable end.
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This book has lain on my bookshelves for years. Each time the glint of gold on its cover caught my eye, I would pick it up, turn a page or two and keep it back 'for another day'. When I finally read it, I knew I had been right to wait. I needed to be in this particular place in my life to understand the debilitating sense of despair that engulfs Ustad Ramzi. It is not a grand book, it does not pretend to be. It is an unhurried journey, meant to be savoured and felt in all its poetic depth.

[Jerrod · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reminiscent of Satyajit Ray's "The Music Room" (and not surprisingly featuring such a room), this is a masterful tale of order, decay, ritual, and betrayal. It traces the amber dusted years of a champion wrestler, who is searching for ground on which to root his legacy. Perhaps the most charged element of the tale is the wrestler Ustad's tempestuous relationship with his brother, which seems a sour, unsettling rebuke of the story of "The Prodigal Son." Around this dynamic, the novel becomes an illuminating investigation of the routines and behaviors we use to imbue our daily life with meaning and how these same nourishing habits can ultimately constrict and confound us. A bravura performance from Farooqi and a timely work of art in an age of transition.

P.S. Gohar Jan, a woman of profound dignity and emotional insight, provides a moving and eloquent counterpoint to the dominant narrative, and is a masterful creation. You can feel her music in the air.

[Mark Lisac · Rating 4 out of 5]

Barely a novella in scope and ambition (the page count is inflated by a lot of white space on small pages), this extended short story nevertheless delivers an impact in its observation of family conflict, repressed emotion and the erosion of traditions. It is set in Pakistan in the late 1940s or early 1950s, but its folk-tale, almost fairy-tale quality has a simplicity that make it seem to belong anytime in the last 500 years. And the themes would be familiar in any country. The transparent simplicity also leaves an impression that Farooqi wasn't trying very hard. But the miniature he did create is nicely drawn.
The brevity made for an easy read but also made me glad I picked it up at the library rather than paying for it. Not sure it was necessary to leave some words untranslated into English, although that does add colour and their meaning can more or less be guessed.

[Sairam Krishnan · Rating 4 out of 5]

A sad and disconcerting book about obstinate remnants of a sub-continental culture long since extinct, Between Clay and Dust is nothing if not beautiful. There is a certain mood that the writer is able to imbibe the whole narrative with, an understated current of feeling; it sustains the story and charges it with a slow fire.

The characters are few, but brilliantly drawn out: their adherence to a world that's ended brings about pain and suffering. But what can they do? It's all they know, and if they let go of this too, who will they be?

Ustad Ramzi and Gohar Jan are gorgeous characters; Farooqi sa'ab is a masterful writer.

This is a special novel. I will be looking to read more from him.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

There was a sparseness to Between Clay and Dust, which made me long for more details, more depth and a poetic or mythical approach. I felt as though I were watching the story on a stage with stock shadow puppets but I only knew the outline of the story. Perhaps this reflects a cultural difference, both in the telling of the tale and in the nature of the characters themselves. I would be interested to read another of Musharraf Ali Farooqi's books, as well as other novels based in Pakistan, to see whether these qualities were unique to this book or are characteristic of the author and/or the culture.

[Madiha · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was quite a short read with such a big potential. Throughout the story, you just barely touch on the main protagonists of this story, which represented the dying arts of subcontinental wrestling and courtesans, respectively. I wish the author had made a bit more effort in trying to engage the readers. It felt like a coffee table read.

[Eric Henry · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book to ponder upon. The story is simple but multi layered. Musharraf peels the story like onion skin. Layer upon layer revealing the emotions and mind sets of the main characters. The theme of how the past can ultimately end in devastation of the present is beautifully presented here. A book to savour and ponder upon.