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The Wandering Falcon
Winner of the Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize
Shortlisted for the Commonwealth Book Prize and the Man Asian Literary Prize
‘Superb. The work of a gifted storyteller who has lived in the world of his fiction, and who offers his readers rare insight, wisdom and—above all—pleasure’ - Mohsin Hamid
The Wandering Falcon is the unforgettable story of a boy known as Tor Baz—the black falcon—who wanders between tribes in the remote tribal areas where Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan meet, defying his fate and surviving against all odds. The world he inhabits is fragile, and unforgiving, one that is fast changing as it confronts modernity. In Jamil Ahmed’s award-winning debut, this highly traditional, honour-bound culture is revealed from the inside for the first time with vivid colour and imagination.
Shortlisted for the Commonwealth Book Prize and the Man Asian Literary Prize
‘Superb. The work of a gifted storyteller who has lived in the world of his fiction, and who offers his readers rare insight, wisdom and—above all—pleasure’ - Mohsin Hamid
The Wandering Falcon is the unforgettable story of a boy known as Tor Baz—the black falcon—who wanders between tribes in the remote tribal areas where Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan meet, defying his fate and surviving against all odds. The world he inhabits is fragile, and unforgiving, one that is fast changing as it confronts modernity. In Jamil Ahmed’s award-winning debut, this highly traditional, honour-bound culture is revealed from the inside for the first time with vivid colour and imagination.
181 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
226 people are currently reading
4108 people want to read
About the author
Jamil Ahmad
20 books56 followersJamil Ahmad was one of the few English writers of Pakistani origin to have garnered attention outside his country. Though his body of work was small and limited to one book, the Wandering Falcon and a short story, The Sins of the Mother, he is considered as a major writer among Pakistani writers of English fiction.
Jamil Ahmad was born in Punjab, in the erstwhile undivided India, in 1931. After early education in Lahore, he joined the civil service in 1954,and worked in the Swat valley, a remote Hindu Kush area, near Afghan border. During his career, he worked at various remote areas such as the Frontier Province, Quetta, Chaghi, Khyber and Malakand. He served for two decades among the nomadic tribes who inhabit one of the world’s harshest and most geopolitically sensitive regions. With his mesmerizing and lyrical tales, Ahmad illuminated the tribes’ fascinating attitudes and taboos, their ancient customs and traditions, and their fiercely held codes of honor. He also served as the a minister at the Paksitani embassy in Kabul during the Sovient invasion of Afghanistan in 1979.
He married Helga whom he met during his London years, who was critical of his early attempts at poetry but diligently tried to promote his work. She painstakingly typed his handwritten manuscript on a typewriter with German keys. The Wandering Falcon, published when he was 79, was nominated for Man Asian Prize in 2011. He lived in Islamabad, Pakistan at the time of his death.
Jamil Ahmad was born in Punjab, in the erstwhile undivided India, in 1931. After early education in Lahore, he joined the civil service in 1954,and worked in the Swat valley, a remote Hindu Kush area, near Afghan border. During his career, he worked at various remote areas such as the Frontier Province, Quetta, Chaghi, Khyber and Malakand. He served for two decades among the nomadic tribes who inhabit one of the world’s harshest and most geopolitically sensitive regions. With his mesmerizing and lyrical tales, Ahmad illuminated the tribes’ fascinating attitudes and taboos, their ancient customs and traditions, and their fiercely held codes of honor. He also served as the a minister at the Paksitani embassy in Kabul during the Sovient invasion of Afghanistan in 1979.
He married Helga whom he met during his London years, who was critical of his early attempts at poetry but diligently tried to promote his work. She painstakingly typed his handwritten manuscript on a typewriter with German keys. The Wandering Falcon, published when he was 79, was nominated for Man Asian Prize in 2011. He lived in Islamabad, Pakistan at the time of his death.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 516 reviews
November 24, 2011
This is pretty interesting for a novel with no continuous plot and no appreciable character development. It was written by an eighty-year-old man who had a long civil service career in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas around the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. This is where the book is set. The chapters are only loosely connected, giving a broad view of the customs, laws, and lifestyles of the numerous tribes occupying the region. Their values and attitudes are so foreign to the Western mind, it's no wonder we have so little success when we try to meddle in their affairs.
Jamil Ahmad's writing is quite accomplished in its simplicity. It often has the quality of stories delivered in the oral tradition, but he adds more detail and nuance.
The book is short on humor, but I laughed long and hard when a beautiful woman said to an ogling soldier, "You, there, who has been staring at me for a long time. Do you not know that you are smaller than my husband's organ?"
Jamil Ahmad's writing is quite accomplished in its simplicity. It often has the quality of stories delivered in the oral tradition, but he adds more detail and nuance.
The book is short on humor, but I laughed long and hard when a beautiful woman said to an ogling soldier, "You, there, who has been staring at me for a long time. Do you not know that you are smaller than my husband's organ?"
December 17, 2015
Recent events led me to starting this book, a choice that I now think I should have made ages ago. Then again, an earlier reading would not have resulted in the same breed of appreciation, not while I continued to adhere to the common formula of treating literature and politics as distinct and isolated entities. This is not to say that my interpretation is based on the current flavor of toxic vomit circulating in US media in regards to Pakistan, but rather that I acknowledged its insidious existence and stepped around accordingly. I will never be successful at such careful endeavors so long as my country's fetish for war eyes the lands described in this book (indeed I'm likely presuming too much when I consider my ingrained prejudice will stop in accordance with the times), but this work went well enough for me to look forward to more.
A single word that comes to mind in conjunction with this work is 'unassuming'. I don't say this in the much abused small-town-Americana or the tiny-village-Britannica senses of the word, but in efforts to describe the exact prose, the mix of mental insight and physical description, and the matter of fact observation of death, madness, and the cruelty of both environment and human being. It would make for a quick read if Ahmad didn't glide over a great deal of the myriad cultures and all their clashes within each of the nine links of stories, spending no longer than was necessary to paint a landscape and/or ideological picture before following his Tor Baz, the Wandering Falcon, on the next leg of his journey. The resulting read is both swift, yet sure.
In regards to the low rating, I have my suspicions that people came in for the hysterical badgering of terrorists and those who are popularly known as such in US media for springing out of convenient vacuums. Instead, you will find desert winds of insanity-birthing duration, colonialism, views of World War I in a far less mentioned part of the planet, the brutally jarring alignment of standing cities and migrating tribes, strength, persistence, and a world not as far removed from the United States as its politicians would like to think. Misogyny would be a common indictment of this, but there is a vast divide between the facts of a culture and the mentality of the author, and I did not find anything in the latter that encouraged a hatred of women. As for the selling of others, capitalism does this under the table in far more loftier institutions with the lives of millions and the capital of billions, so it is not something I can judge. In regards to everything else, the author never scorned nor mocked his characters and the ways in which they interacted with the world, so it would not begrudge me to do the same.
One last thing I must mention is the delightfully engaging scene of the planning, performing, and resolving of a kidnapping. It may be nostalgia for the Arabian Nights and other aspects parsed through Disney and the like that's doing it, but as I am now more than ever intrigued in my four-volume set of the former, I'd say it worked out.
A single word that comes to mind in conjunction with this work is 'unassuming'. I don't say this in the much abused small-town-Americana or the tiny-village-Britannica senses of the word, but in efforts to describe the exact prose, the mix of mental insight and physical description, and the matter of fact observation of death, madness, and the cruelty of both environment and human being. It would make for a quick read if Ahmad didn't glide over a great deal of the myriad cultures and all their clashes within each of the nine links of stories, spending no longer than was necessary to paint a landscape and/or ideological picture before following his Tor Baz, the Wandering Falcon, on the next leg of his journey. The resulting read is both swift, yet sure.
In regards to the low rating, I have my suspicions that people came in for the hysterical badgering of terrorists and those who are popularly known as such in US media for springing out of convenient vacuums. Instead, you will find desert winds of insanity-birthing duration, colonialism, views of World War I in a far less mentioned part of the planet, the brutally jarring alignment of standing cities and migrating tribes, strength, persistence, and a world not as far removed from the United States as its politicians would like to think. Misogyny would be a common indictment of this, but there is a vast divide between the facts of a culture and the mentality of the author, and I did not find anything in the latter that encouraged a hatred of women. As for the selling of others, capitalism does this under the table in far more loftier institutions with the lives of millions and the capital of billions, so it is not something I can judge. In regards to everything else, the author never scorned nor mocked his characters and the ways in which they interacted with the world, so it would not begrudge me to do the same.
One last thing I must mention is the delightfully engaging scene of the planning, performing, and resolving of a kidnapping. It may be nostalgia for the Arabian Nights and other aspects parsed through Disney and the like that's doing it, but as I am now more than ever intrigued in my four-volume set of the former, I'd say it worked out.
June 14, 2019
(A caveat at the beginning: I read this book in Malayalam translation, and pretty bad translation at that. It may be better in the original.)
Jamil Ahmad was a civil servant in the Pakistan Civil Services, and he worked extensively in the hilly regions which serve as the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan (and Iran). These places are mostly inhabited by nomadic tribes who largely play by their own rules - nations and governments mean nothing to them. During his long tenure, Ahmad had the chance to interact with these people extensively, and this book is the result of those interactions.
This could be called a picaresque novel - though it would be better to term it a set of connected stories, linked by the character Tor Baz (who is born in the first story and is seen as a young man, maybe in his thirties, in the last). The time period, though not explicitly mentioned, must be the years immediately after the British left the subcontinent. Pakistan as a fledgling state was in the throes of formation, and one can see the bewilderment of these wandering tribes in the sudden appearance of impermeable national boundaries.
The novel starts with a couple of refugees reaching a border outpost: they are an illicitly wed couple on the run from the girl's father (who is the tribal chieftain) and her husband, whom she has abandoned to elope with her lover. They ask for asylum, which the soldiers cannot give, as they are forbidden to meddle in tribal matters. They agree to give them shelter, however - their stay drags on for a few years for the woman to give birth to a child, before they are discovered by her father's people.
On the run again, nemesis finally catches up with them. The man does what they have always planned: he shoots the woman and their c, and offers up the five-year-old child to her father, as her daughter's blood and eligible for protection of the tribe. Then he meets his fate, which is being stoned to death for adultery. The child, however, is not taken by the tribe and left near the dead
camel - to be discovered and rescued by a group of outcast Baluchis, in the next story: and the journey continues...
This child (later named Tor Baz) is only an incidental character, just a plot device to connect these tales - in the later stories, his importance diminishes so that he becomes a mere shadow (and that is the main weakness of this book). The tales are actually about the various tribes of this wild region: the Baluchis, the Afridis, the Kharots, the Mahzoods, the Wazirs... and many others; about how these hardy people carry on with their lives in this practically inhospitable region, and the violence and rough justice that is part of their existence.
The backdrop of the story is fascinating - however, after the initial chapters, the novel loses steam. The narrative is too jumbled to keep one's interest (the POV shifts to the first person for just one chapter - something I found totally bizarre), and Tor Baz is there just as sort of timekeeper, just to tell the readers that so many years have elapsed since the first tale. And the final two-three chapters were a real let-down: and the ending was totally lame.
However, I give it three stars for introducing me to this enchanting universe.
Jamil Ahmad was a civil servant in the Pakistan Civil Services, and he worked extensively in the hilly regions which serve as the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan (and Iran). These places are mostly inhabited by nomadic tribes who largely play by their own rules - nations and governments mean nothing to them. During his long tenure, Ahmad had the chance to interact with these people extensively, and this book is the result of those interactions.
This could be called a picaresque novel - though it would be better to term it a set of connected stories, linked by the character Tor Baz (who is born in the first story and is seen as a young man, maybe in his thirties, in the last). The time period, though not explicitly mentioned, must be the years immediately after the British left the subcontinent. Pakistan as a fledgling state was in the throes of formation, and one can see the bewilderment of these wandering tribes in the sudden appearance of impermeable national boundaries.
The novel starts with a couple of refugees reaching a border outpost: they are an illicitly wed couple on the run from the girl's father (who is the tribal chieftain) and her husband, whom she has abandoned to elope with her lover. They ask for asylum, which the soldiers cannot give, as they are forbidden to meddle in tribal matters. They agree to give them shelter, however - their stay drags on for a few years for the woman to give birth to a child, before they are discovered by her father's people.
On the run again, nemesis finally catches up with them. The man does what they have always planned: he shoots the woman and their c, and offers up the five-year-old child to her father, as her daughter's blood and eligible for protection of the tribe. Then he meets his fate, which is being stoned to death for adultery. The child, however, is not taken by the tribe and left near the dead
camel - to be discovered and rescued by a group of outcast Baluchis, in the next story: and the journey continues...
This child (later named Tor Baz) is only an incidental character, just a plot device to connect these tales - in the later stories, his importance diminishes so that he becomes a mere shadow (and that is the main weakness of this book). The tales are actually about the various tribes of this wild region: the Baluchis, the Afridis, the Kharots, the Mahzoods, the Wazirs... and many others; about how these hardy people carry on with their lives in this practically inhospitable region, and the violence and rough justice that is part of their existence.
The backdrop of the story is fascinating - however, after the initial chapters, the novel loses steam. The narrative is too jumbled to keep one's interest (the POV shifts to the first person for just one chapter - something I found totally bizarre), and Tor Baz is there just as sort of timekeeper, just to tell the readers that so many years have elapsed since the first tale. And the final two-three chapters were a real let-down: and the ending was totally lame.
However, I give it three stars for introducing me to this enchanting universe.
December 9, 2020
Jamil Ahmad, The Wandering Falcon
Jamil Ahmed is a talented writer and a gifted storyteller. He offers rare insight into the remote regions of Pakistan—the tribal belts. Like the landscape itself, the characters portrayed in these short stories are desolate, crude, unyielding and grotesque in their own way.
Although these very strange lands are an integral part of my motherland, it pains me to say that I've never visited any of these places, and these very places—with their crude yet riveting beauty—appear to the city dweller a far off dream, a mirage, a tale woven out of The Arabian Nights; such is the plight of the modern, urban man. Jamil had been in the civil services at lucrative posts in these parts, and therefore, his knowledge of the customs of these lands and their topography is insightful, and a rare treat to ignorant readers like myself.
Jamil's language is crisp and effective; make no mistake, he is no Gogol or Proust of his times, but what he does—the art of storytelling—he does that really well. Ah, the whims of the heart; ofttimes I imagined myself sitting around a bonfire with a group of people, riveted to the voice of an old man sitting a little further from us, all eyes fixed upon his wrinkled face; a crescent moon smiling upon us, innumerable twinkling stars looking down upon us, listening intently to this withered, frail man in his eighties narrating these queer and heartrending tales. But alas....
Perhaps, the most striking aspect—that is portrayed so aptly throughout these stories—is the divide between the nomadic—the tribal—way of life and the metropolitan style of living; sadly, instead of harmony and acceptance of other norms of life, what is most aggravating is the fact that certain power brokers—for their ulterior motives—have constituted policies, fomented pathways and hoodwinked the populace into believing a complete farce as the absolute, irrefutable truth, thus giving rise to polarization.
Jamil Ahmed is a talented writer and a gifted storyteller. He offers rare insight into the remote regions of Pakistan—the tribal belts. Like the landscape itself, the characters portrayed in these short stories are desolate, crude, unyielding and grotesque in their own way.
Although these very strange lands are an integral part of my motherland, it pains me to say that I've never visited any of these places, and these very places—with their crude yet riveting beauty—appear to the city dweller a far off dream, a mirage, a tale woven out of The Arabian Nights; such is the plight of the modern, urban man. Jamil had been in the civil services at lucrative posts in these parts, and therefore, his knowledge of the customs of these lands and their topography is insightful, and a rare treat to ignorant readers like myself.
Jamil's language is crisp and effective; make no mistake, he is no Gogol or Proust of his times, but what he does—the art of storytelling—he does that really well. Ah, the whims of the heart; ofttimes I imagined myself sitting around a bonfire with a group of people, riveted to the voice of an old man sitting a little further from us, all eyes fixed upon his wrinkled face; a crescent moon smiling upon us, innumerable twinkling stars looking down upon us, listening intently to this withered, frail man in his eighties narrating these queer and heartrending tales. But alas....
Perhaps, the most striking aspect—that is portrayed so aptly throughout these stories—is the divide between the nomadic—the tribal—way of life and the metropolitan style of living; sadly, instead of harmony and acceptance of other norms of life, what is most aggravating is the fact that certain power brokers—for their ulterior motives—have constituted policies, fomented pathways and hoodwinked the populace into believing a complete farce as the absolute, irrefutable truth, thus giving rise to polarization.
October 8, 2011
This is a difficult book to review, although I must say from the start that I truly enjoyed it. If you read it, I have a suggestion. Pretend that you are at a library or an outdoor event, in a group gathered around to listen to a great storyteller. There is tea for everyone and perhaps some dates, nuts, and other little snacks. Then the 80 year old Jamil Ahmad begins to tell strange and wonderful stories about the people of the tribal areas of Afghanistan and Pakistan.
He gives some idea of the harsh landscape and living conditions, but for the most part his stories are about the people he has worked among and understands. Tribal leaders who make their point in meetings through parables, men who treat their animals better than their women, women who nevertheless manage to exert influence on decisions for the tribe, children who know instinctively who to trust.
In short, this isn't a novel as you normally think of it. A child, the Falcon, who is 5 years old in the first story is the thread upon which Ahmad weaves his fictional tales. In another story he is 7, then 13, then a young man. He appears in each tale but sometimes only in a cameo appearance. The stories tell about the customs and unwritten laws by which the tribal people of this wild country govern their entire lives.
I've read a little about the city people of these countries but wanted to know more about the mysterious tribal people. This is Ahmad's first book, but I hope that even at his advanced age he will continue to tell these stories. I highly recommend this book.
He gives some idea of the harsh landscape and living conditions, but for the most part his stories are about the people he has worked among and understands. Tribal leaders who make their point in meetings through parables, men who treat their animals better than their women, women who nevertheless manage to exert influence on decisions for the tribe, children who know instinctively who to trust.
In short, this isn't a novel as you normally think of it. A child, the Falcon, who is 5 years old in the first story is the thread upon which Ahmad weaves his fictional tales. In another story he is 7, then 13, then a young man. He appears in each tale but sometimes only in a cameo appearance. The stories tell about the customs and unwritten laws by which the tribal people of this wild country govern their entire lives.
I've read a little about the city people of these countries but wanted to know more about the mysterious tribal people. This is Ahmad's first book, but I hope that even at his advanced age he will continue to tell these stories. I highly recommend this book.
November 24, 2019
With a unique snippets-like format, this book takes the reader into the deeper recesses of the cultural landscape of the tribal region of Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iran. To me it seemed like a mini narrative to challenge the modern world's prevalent conceptions of society, culture, and above all the strict laws ruling the international borders. Being a Pakistani who grew up marvelling in shock at each representation of the life in tribal areas via media (i.e. news and drama series), I must say that the book was very successful in shocking me even more by going into further insights of what life is like for tribal people and the way they think, feel and adjust to the harsh conditions surrounding them. On the whole, a must read for anyone and everyone interested in unravelling the complexity that is the tribal system of this region.
July 9, 2019
This book has a very weird format. The weirdest I’ve read yet, because it seems to be composed of disparate short stories, which then link with each other with our protagonist as the common point. And of course other authors have also used this particular format of writing, some with quite a reasonable amount of success, but what’s weird here is that some of these short stories don’t seem to be able to stand on their own, reading as chapters in a larger narrative rather than as a cohesive whole on their own. Which means we shift from loosely linked short stories to two or three chapters of one continuing plot, and then back to clearly differentiated parts.
That isn’t to say that the reading experience itself isn’t good. I actually really liked this series, with its exploration of the culture of an area of Pakistan that I don’t get to read much of. It is clear that Jamil Ahmad has written from a place of authority and experience: his authorial notes mention the fact that as a member of the Civil Service of Pakistan, he served in the Frontier province and Balochistan area. This exposure shines through in almost all his tales, not so much in the characters than in the tribal culture he describes and the ways in which the people over there live and what they believe. So not only did the stories have a strong sense of being backed up by reality, they also introduced things that I had never heard of, and which frankly sounded a lot like fantasy world-building to me.
In the tangle of crumbling, weather-beaten and broken hills, where the borders of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan meet, is a military outpost manned by two score soldiers.
I hadn’t realized that I had already read the first story in this collection until I got to the third page and recognized it as an entry in Granta’s Pakistan edition. It was possibly one of the best stories in that anthology, and I still remember loving the tale of a couple who eloped and were being hunted. Even though it had such a heart-breaking ending, I really liked the sparse, minimalistic writing style (something I’ve actively been against in my usual reading experience) as well as how true to the story’s narrative the author remained. Jamil Ahmed remains consistent in both his writing style as well as in his descriptions of the rituals and cultures of the pre-talibanised tribal areas in the junction of Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran borders that our characters inhabit. The character who survives the first tale, Tor Baz, is the wandering falcon of this series who drifts between all these stories, sometimes as a major player, other times barely a part of the overall narrative.
He snorted derisively. “To me only a few things are important and seeking out one’s past is of little consequence. What good comes of looking for it?”
As a kid who is constantly moving from one group of caretakers to another, Tor Baz manages to exist on the periphery of multiple fascinating tales, all of whom blend in together to ensure that various themes get covered. Not only do we have tales which focus on the individual, with themes of love and loyalty and passion, we also see the overall tribal culture, and how it treats matters of honour and honesty. There are soldiers stationed at outposts and whole caravans on the move which face these soldiers, guns and camels pitted against each other. Men and women in these stories are often the bearers of their own fate, with agency and an understanding of their surroundings.
“Do not talk to me of conscience. What kind of a guide is it when it comforts the evil man in his labours no less willingly that another who struggles against wrong?”
With nine short stories which wander from one narrative to another, there were moments when I found myself not really caring about what happened to the new crop of characters, especially when some endings felt inconclusive and abrupt. It was at those moments when I felt like I would have preferred that this be a longer tale, one with a contained plot and a clear beginning, middle, and end. Thankfully, those moments of irritation were few and far between, and this was primarily because the author does not attempt to sugar coat anything. He offers no judgement in his writing, taking the role of an omnipresent narrator whose only job is to relay the events without inserting himself into the narrative.
This form of storytelling—which offers no critique of the horrible strands of misogyny, cruelty, and oppression within its tales—is not my favourite, and has usually elicited quite strong feelings of anger from my end. Which is why I was quite amazed at how well Jamil Ahmad managed to distance himself from the story without alienating the reader. While I prefer that the good team defeat the bad and justice triumph over wickedness in the stuff I read, the minimal prose within this short volume prevents just that sort of overanalysing, which meant that I had to take the stories at face value, and rather than decrease their worth, it just added a whole new dimension of fascination to my reading experience.
Recommendation
I’d say give this a go purely because very little literature has been produced about the setting which Jamil Ahmad has chosen to write about. It’s entirely possible that there is abundant material in the regional languages of the area, but my lack of fluency in those languages limits me to the material being produced in English and Urdu, and within those languages, Jamil Ahmad is one of the few who has written such an interesting collection of stories set in the tribal areas. Recommended.
ORIGINAL REVIEW:
Loads of really interesting stuff to discuss in here. Review to come.
***
I review Pakistani Fiction, and talk about Pakistani fiction, and want to talk to people who like to talk about fiction (Pakistani and otherwise, take your pick.) To read more reviews or just contact me so you can talk about books, check out my Blog or follow me on Twitter!
That isn’t to say that the reading experience itself isn’t good. I actually really liked this series, with its exploration of the culture of an area of Pakistan that I don’t get to read much of. It is clear that Jamil Ahmad has written from a place of authority and experience: his authorial notes mention the fact that as a member of the Civil Service of Pakistan, he served in the Frontier province and Balochistan area. This exposure shines through in almost all his tales, not so much in the characters than in the tribal culture he describes and the ways in which the people over there live and what they believe. So not only did the stories have a strong sense of being backed up by reality, they also introduced things that I had never heard of, and which frankly sounded a lot like fantasy world-building to me.
In the tangle of crumbling, weather-beaten and broken hills, where the borders of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan meet, is a military outpost manned by two score soldiers.
I hadn’t realized that I had already read the first story in this collection until I got to the third page and recognized it as an entry in Granta’s Pakistan edition. It was possibly one of the best stories in that anthology, and I still remember loving the tale of a couple who eloped and were being hunted. Even though it had such a heart-breaking ending, I really liked the sparse, minimalistic writing style (something I’ve actively been against in my usual reading experience) as well as how true to the story’s narrative the author remained. Jamil Ahmed remains consistent in both his writing style as well as in his descriptions of the rituals and cultures of the pre-talibanised tribal areas in the junction of Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran borders that our characters inhabit. The character who survives the first tale, Tor Baz, is the wandering falcon of this series who drifts between all these stories, sometimes as a major player, other times barely a part of the overall narrative.
He snorted derisively. “To me only a few things are important and seeking out one’s past is of little consequence. What good comes of looking for it?”
As a kid who is constantly moving from one group of caretakers to another, Tor Baz manages to exist on the periphery of multiple fascinating tales, all of whom blend in together to ensure that various themes get covered. Not only do we have tales which focus on the individual, with themes of love and loyalty and passion, we also see the overall tribal culture, and how it treats matters of honour and honesty. There are soldiers stationed at outposts and whole caravans on the move which face these soldiers, guns and camels pitted against each other. Men and women in these stories are often the bearers of their own fate, with agency and an understanding of their surroundings.
“Do not talk to me of conscience. What kind of a guide is it when it comforts the evil man in his labours no less willingly that another who struggles against wrong?”
With nine short stories which wander from one narrative to another, there were moments when I found myself not really caring about what happened to the new crop of characters, especially when some endings felt inconclusive and abrupt. It was at those moments when I felt like I would have preferred that this be a longer tale, one with a contained plot and a clear beginning, middle, and end. Thankfully, those moments of irritation were few and far between, and this was primarily because the author does not attempt to sugar coat anything. He offers no judgement in his writing, taking the role of an omnipresent narrator whose only job is to relay the events without inserting himself into the narrative.
This form of storytelling—which offers no critique of the horrible strands of misogyny, cruelty, and oppression within its tales—is not my favourite, and has usually elicited quite strong feelings of anger from my end. Which is why I was quite amazed at how well Jamil Ahmad managed to distance himself from the story without alienating the reader. While I prefer that the good team defeat the bad and justice triumph over wickedness in the stuff I read, the minimal prose within this short volume prevents just that sort of overanalysing, which meant that I had to take the stories at face value, and rather than decrease their worth, it just added a whole new dimension of fascination to my reading experience.
Recommendation
I’d say give this a go purely because very little literature has been produced about the setting which Jamil Ahmad has chosen to write about. It’s entirely possible that there is abundant material in the regional languages of the area, but my lack of fluency in those languages limits me to the material being produced in English and Urdu, and within those languages, Jamil Ahmad is one of the few who has written such an interesting collection of stories set in the tribal areas. Recommended.
ORIGINAL REVIEW:
Loads of really interesting stuff to discuss in here. Review to come.
***
I review Pakistani Fiction, and talk about Pakistani fiction, and want to talk to people who like to talk about fiction (Pakistani and otherwise, take your pick.) To read more reviews or just contact me so you can talk about books, check out my Blog or follow me on Twitter!
did-not-finish
March 21, 2020Bored me to tears, had to just let it go
August 2, 2016
পাকিস্তানী সরকারি আমলা জামিল আহমদের চাকুরী জীবনের প্রায় পুরোটাই কেটেছিল পাক-আফগানের বুনো সীমান্তে - অর্থাৎ বালুচিস্তান আর পেশাওয়ার-খাইবার অঞ্চলে। অতিদীর্ঘ এই এলাকার ইতিহাস। এপথেই আলেক্সান্ডার এসেছিলেন ভারতবর্ষে, ব্রিটিশ এবং রুশ সাম্রাজ্যের শতবর্ষী দ্বন্দ্বের (The Great Game) কেন্দ্রবিন্দু ছিল, কিপলিং-এর বিখ্যাত "কিম" কাহিনীর প্রেক্ষাপট। পরবর্তীতে সোভিয়েত রাশিয়া বলুন বা জর্জ বুশের আমেরিকা - এই নিষ্ঠুর পাহাড়-উপত্যকাকে পোষ মানাতে পারেনি কেউই। ১৯৮৯ সালে সোভিয়েত রাশিয়ার অকস্মাৎ পতনের পেছনে রক্তক্ষয়ী আফগান সংঘর্ষে ব্যয়বহুল ও লজ্জাজনক পরাজয়কে একটি আংশিক কারণ বলে মনে করেন অনেকে।
সীমান্তের গোত্রগুলো প্রচন্ড স্বাধীনচেতা, হিংস্র, অদম্য। ওরাকজাই-আফ্রিদি-শিনওয়ারি। প্রথম বিশ্বযুদ্ধের সময়ে জার্মান কাইজার এবং তুর্কি অটোমান সম্রাট এদের ব্যবহার করতে চেয়েছিলেন ব্রিটিশের বিরুদ্ধে। সফল হননি। কিন্তু এর সাত দশক পরে মার্কিন সিআইএ ঠিকই সফল হয়েছিল - আফগান মুজাহিদের কাঁধে চাপিয়ে দেয় অব্যর্থ স্টিঙ্গার মিসাইল, টপটপ করে আকাশ থেকে পড়তে থাকে সোভিয়েত সামরিক যান, ফাইটার-হেলিকপ্টার। আশির দশকের সংবাদ বুলেটিনের নিয়মিত অংশ ছিল। পর্যুদস্ত-বিভ্রান্ত রুশদের রণভঙ্গ না দিয়ে উপায় ছিল না। তবে আমেরিকা মাফ পায়নি। আফগান সীমান্ত থেকেই উঠে আসে ওসামা বিন লাদেন, তার বাদবাকিটা ইতিহাস।
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সাম্প্রতিক খ্যাতি-কুখ্যাতি পাবার অনেক আগে থেকেই জামিল আহমদ এই অঞ্চলকে তার কর্মক্ষেত্র বানিয়েছিলেন। যদ্দুর জানি ১৯৭৯-এর সোভিয়েত আক্রমনের সময়ও তিনি কাবুলের এম্ব্যাসিতে কর্মরত ছিলেন। কাছে থেকে দেখেছিলেন সীমান্তের গোত্রদের জীবনযাত্রা, পাখতুনওয়ালি নামের কঠোর tribal code, তাদের মুখের পশতু ভাষাও রপ্ত করেছিলেন। প্রত্যক্ষ অভিজ্ঞতাকে সম্বল করে সত্তরের দশকের গোড়ার দিকে লেখেন বেশ কিছু ছোটগল্প। বিভিন্ন দৃষ্টিকোণ থেকে দেখা সীমান্তজীবনের এই বিচ্ছিন্ন গল্পগুলোর একটিমাত্র কমন চরিত্র - শিরোনামের ফেরারী বাজপাখি "তোর্ বাজ"।
প্রথম গল্পেই (The Sins of the Mother) শিশুটিকে এতিম ফেলে রেখে মরুভূমিতে নৃশংস মৃত্যু ঘটে পলাতক দম্পতির, তোর্ বাজের বাপ-মা। নানান অভিভাবকের ছায়ায় বড় হয়, এক সময় একা পথে নেমে পড়ে স্বাধীন জীবনের খোঁজে। তার নাম থেকে সেই জীবনের কিছু ইঙ্গিত পাওয়া যায় - ফেরারী বাজ কোথাও বাসা গড়ে না - চকিতে চকিতে তাকে দেখা যায়, কখনো সে সীমান্তবর্তী টাউনে গুপ্তচর, কখনো দূরবর্তী গ্রামে সন্ধান করছে মূল্যবান খনিজ, আবার কখনো সে গাইড, বিপদসংকূল পাহাড়ি পথ দেখিয়ে নিয়ে যাচ্ছে বহিরাগতদের। কোন গল্পেরই সে প্রধান চরিত্র নয়, এক গল্প থেকে আরেক গল্পের কোন সম্পর্কও নেই, যেন আলাদা আলাদা অনেকগুলো ফটোগ্রাফ - কিন্তু সবগুলো ফটোতেই ফ্রেমের কোণে দেখা যাচ্ছে তোর্ বাজকে, যেন অশরীরী এক অস্তিত্ব ভেসে বেড়াচ্ছে বালুচ-খাইবারের এক মাথা থেকে আরেক মাথায়, গল্পে তার নির্দিষ্ট গৌণ ভূমিকাটি পালন করেই আবার মিলিয়ে যাচ্ছে বাতাসে।
পাখতুনওয়ালির বিধিনিষেধের কোন খোলামেলা সমালোচনা করেননি লেখক। দেখে গেছেন, বলে গেছেন। সীমান্তের গোত্রদের প্রতি তার যে এক প্রকার মোহ আছে, তা পরিষ্কার। সাথে মিশে আছে সম্মান, ভয় আর ভালোবাসার অদ্ভুত সংমিশ্রণ। নারীর শরীরে পরিবার বা কুলের সম্ভ্রম খুঁজে পাবার যে হাস্যকর গর্হিত চর্চা চলে আসছে উপমহাদেশে, সেই অবসেশন আফগান গোত্রদের মধ্যে আরো অনেক বেশি প্রকট, আরব সমাজের অনুরূপ অবসেশনের চেয়ে কোনদিক দিয়ে কম নয়। গল্পগুলোর অন্যতম প্রধান প্রসঙ্গ এটি, বিশেষ করে নারীজীবনে তার প্রভাব কিভাবে পড়েছে। আরো আছে পাখতুনদের প্রতিনিয়ত সহিংসতা ও প্রতিশোধপরায়নতা, ছোট বড় নানা কারনে রক্তের বদলা নেবার প্রবণতা। এখানেও লেখক কোন সরাসরি জাজমেন্টে যান না, যদিও তীর্যক সমালোচনা হয়তো খুঁজে পাওয়া যায়। (উদাহরণ: ওয়াজির আর মাহ্সুদ গোত্রের সহস্র বছরের কোন্দল নিয়ে লেখা A Kidnapping গল্পটি।)
আরেকটু দক্ষিণে বালুচ সীমান্তের যাযাবর গোত্রদের জীবন নিয়েও কয়েকটি গল্প আছে শুরুর দিকে। খারোট, আহমদজাই, দুররানি, বালোচ - শীতের প্রথম শিহরণে এই "পাওয়িন্দা" যাযাবরেরা নেমে যেতো সমতটে, সাথে যেতো উট, গরু-বাছুর আর মেষের পাল। শীতের কয়েক মাস লোকালয়ে খুচরো কাজবাজ করে কাটিয়ে দিতো, অতঃপর বসন্ত এলে পরে আবার উঠে যেতো আফগান পাহাড়ে, স্ত্রী-পরিবার পশু-পাখি সমেত। চিরন্তন এই রিদম, অনাদিকাল ধরে চলে আসছে। পঞ্চাশের দশকের আগে পর্যন্ত সীমান্ত ছিল ঝাঁঝরের মত, গোত্রদের প্রায় তরল প্রবাহে কেউ কখনো বাঁধা দেবার চেষ্টা করেনি। ঝামেলা লাগে যখন নতুন দেশের সীমানা কড়াকড়ি ভাবে বেঁধে দেয়ার আয়োজন শুরু হলো - বর্ডার, চেকপোস্ট, আইডি, পারমিট এইসবের আমদানি হলো। দেশহীন যাযাবর গোত্রদের জীবনে কি পরিবর্তন এসেছিল, কতটা রক্তের বিনিময়ে তার করুন কাহিনী বিধৃত আছে The Death of Camels ছোটগল্পে।
"The Kharot tribe numbered about a million men whose entire lives were spent in wandering with the seasons. In autumn, they would gather their flocks of sheep and herds of camels, fold up their woven woollen tents and start moving. They spent the winter in the plains, restlessly moving from place to place as each opportunity to work came to an end. Sometimes they merely let their animals take the decisions for them. When the grazing was exhausted in one area, the animals forced them to move on to another site.
With the coming of spring they would start back to the highlands, their flocks heavy with fat and wool, the caravans loaded with food and provisions purchased out of the proceeds of work and trading; men, women and children displaying bits of finery they had picked up in the plains. This way of life had endured for centuries, but it would not last for ever. It constituted defiance to certain concepts, which the world was beginning to associate with civilization itself. Concepts such as statehood, citizenship, undivided loyalty to one state; settled life as opposed to nomadic life, and the writ of the state as opposed to tribal discipline.
The pressures were inexorable. One set of values, one way of life had to die. In this clash, the state, as always, proved stronger than the individual. The new way of life triumphed over the old. The clash came about first in Soviet Russia. After a few years, the nomad died in both China and Iran. By the autumn of 1958, with the British empire dismantled and the once fluid international boundaries of high Asia becoming ever more rigid, both Pakistan and Afghanistan challenged the nomads. Restraints were imposed on the free movement of the Pawindahs, the ‘foot people’."
আধুনিকতা আর প্রাচীনপন্থার সংঘর্ষ কখনোই ভালোভাবে শেষ হয় না। উপরের জার্নালিস্টিক অংশটি কেবল লেখকের প্রেক্ষাপট নির্মাণ - গল্পের মূল কাহিনী খারোট গোত্রের একটি নিস্ফল মরিয়া যাত্রাকে ঘিরে।
"The firing was indiscriminate. Men, women and children died. Gul Jana's belief that the Koran would prevent tragedy died too. Dawa Khan fell dead in the raking fire.
The Pawindahs made two more attempts, and more camels died each time. After the third try, the Pawindahs started their trudge back. By the time they reached Fort Sandeman, hundreds of dead camels and sheep had fallen by the wayside. By the time they reached the border, most of the animals of the three kirris were dead."
সাংবাদিক আনা বাদখেন সীমান্ত এলাকা থেকে প্রচুর রিপোর্টিং করেছেন, তিনি জানাচ্ছেন যে সত্তরের দশকে যে পরিমান পাওয়িন্দা এই পরিযায়ী জীবনযাপন করতো, আজ তার অর্ধেকও অবশিষ্ট নেই। তবে মাথার উপর মার্কিন ড্রোন আছে এখন, হঠাৎ ছোবল দেয়া নিশ্চিত নিষ্ঠুর মৃত্যু।
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সত্তরের দশকে লিখে রাখলেও কোন কারনে গল্পগুলো তখন ছাপা হয়নি, পাণ্ডুলিপি ড্রয়ারে ফেলে রেখেছিলেন জামিল আহমদ। বহু বছর বাদে ২০০৮ সালে - লেখকের বয়স তখন আশি ছুঁইছুঁই - তার ছোট ভাইয়ের পীড়াপীড়িতে ধূলিমাখা গল্পগুলো বের করে একটি কম্পিটিশনে জমা দেন তিনি। তারই ফলশ্রুতিতে কয়েক বছর পরে বেরোয় এই সংকলন - লেখকের একমাত্র প্রকাশিত গ্রন্থ। কিছুদিন আগে মারা গেছেন - তাই হয়তো এই একটি বই-ই আমরা পাবো তার থেকে।
তবে সাহিত্য হিসেবে এই একক প্রচেষ্টা স্বার্থক, হয়তো ইউনিক-ও বলা চলে। এই অঞ্চল নিয়ে নন-ফিকশন, মূলত ভ্রমণ এবং ইতিহাস, লিখেছেন অনেক পশ্চিমা লেখক, পিটার হপকার্ক তাদের সবচেয়ে উল্লেখযোগ্য। কিন্তু একদম ভেতর থেকে, এতটা বিশদে জেনেশুনে বালুচ বর্ডারল্যান্ড নিয়ে আর কেউ কোন গল্প-উপন্যাস লিখেছেন বলে আমার জানা নেই - অন্তত ইংরেজিতে। জামিল আহমদের সরল অথচ কাব্যিক গদ্য যেন নির্মম অথচ অপরূপ সীমান্তের মাটি আর মানুষের বিশ্বস্ত প্রতিকৃতি। আনা বাদখেনের ভাষায় - "a language as unhurried and precise as the sparse and iambic landscape they traverse... a beauty that is almost sublime, akin to the beauty his nomads find in the land that nourishes and bedevils them."
May 17, 2018
Hope does not die like an animal - quick and sudden. It is more like a plant, which slowly withers away.
Jamil Ahmad spent most of his life working in the Pakistani Civil Service, a labor that stationed him in several remote territories along the Afghan border. He was also, for a time, posted as a minister to the embassy in Kabul. His long years tending to the concerns of these neighboring countries brought with them a comprehensive understanding and respect for the tribes and traditions he encountered. His experience fostered an ardent desire to set pen to paper - to chronicle what he felt might very well be the waning days of a culture. The Wandering Falcon is his only book, and an elegant achievement of that ideal.
Offered through the graceful turns of a fable, Ahmad presents a series of encounters loosely strung around an orphaned boy who would come to be known as Tor Baz (the black falcon). His parents emerge from a sandstorm, barely alive and on the run. His first guardian, the blind leader of a rag-tag group of rebels, falls through his trust in a promise never made. Down come the migratory Afghan highlanders, attempting to bring their herds to winter on the plains. Tradition though this may be, it proves no match for the dictates of a civilizing regime. Slaughter ensues, and a mad mullah, a ritual kidnapping; a Jirga...and ever at each drama's periphery, the wandering Tor Baz.
A rich slice of Afghan life - and a reminder that we are, all of us, nomadic by the end.
Jamil Ahmad spent most of his life working in the Pakistani Civil Service, a labor that stationed him in several remote territories along the Afghan border. He was also, for a time, posted as a minister to the embassy in Kabul. His long years tending to the concerns of these neighboring countries brought with them a comprehensive understanding and respect for the tribes and traditions he encountered. His experience fostered an ardent desire to set pen to paper - to chronicle what he felt might very well be the waning days of a culture. The Wandering Falcon is his only book, and an elegant achievement of that ideal.
Offered through the graceful turns of a fable, Ahmad presents a series of encounters loosely strung around an orphaned boy who would come to be known as Tor Baz (the black falcon). His parents emerge from a sandstorm, barely alive and on the run. His first guardian, the blind leader of a rag-tag group of rebels, falls through his trust in a promise never made. Down come the migratory Afghan highlanders, attempting to bring their herds to winter on the plains. Tradition though this may be, it proves no match for the dictates of a civilizing regime. Slaughter ensues, and a mad mullah, a ritual kidnapping; a Jirga...and ever at each drama's periphery, the wandering Tor Baz.
A rich slice of Afghan life - and a reminder that we are, all of us, nomadic by the end.
October 30, 2013
This book gets the distinction of a "one-sitting read". Aside from refilling my whiskey on the rocks, I just couldn't stop.
Whichever publisher brought this book to fruition should get a bonus. Everything about it was perfect. Its cover w/ built-in leaf flaps, the uneven page cuts, the coverwork, the size. It's just a cozy book.
The voice of this first-time author (at 80 years young) is unique. It is, endearingly, unromanticized or critical of its characters. He narrates tragedies and joys alike, with an unemotional "and so it was" detachment. In this instance, the lack of character development worked well, because it is the way in which they live in their wasteland of a world. "You were here. That happened. It sucked. Now we are moving on." Come follow me reader to the next scene.
Which leaves the reader, me, free to absorb the strangeness of the world I know nothing about. Learning about new worlds is always a plus in my books, so that's a star right there for it's insider view onto something new.
That new world being the harsh plains and ridges of Pakistan and Afghanistan and its nomad tribes...a place seemingly unaware of words like "carefree" or "easy". Obviously my view is hugely skewed by being an American, a woman, and despite my best efforts, subjected to a bias media. I think that is why the writing style worked so well, it was easier to digest the information given because (until the last couple of chapters) my emotions were not engaged and free of emotional pull I could simply go, "hmmm that's an interesting way of doing things,".
The book cover leads you to believe that the Wandering Falcon is a character that grounds the book. But it didn't feel that way. It felt more like short stories with related characters that gave you a view of the landscape and it's people. The Wandering Falcon was less a boy/man, and more like the taxi you took to get from place to place.
Conclusion: Read this book, it's good. It's different. It's an unredacted look at a place that we don't get to see very often. And it's not cased in international politics or religious agenda. It simply is.
Whichever publisher brought this book to fruition should get a bonus. Everything about it was perfect. Its cover w/ built-in leaf flaps, the uneven page cuts, the coverwork, the size. It's just a cozy book.
The voice of this first-time author (at 80 years young) is unique. It is, endearingly, unromanticized or critical of its characters. He narrates tragedies and joys alike, with an unemotional "and so it was" detachment. In this instance, the lack of character development worked well, because it is the way in which they live in their wasteland of a world. "You were here. That happened. It sucked. Now we are moving on." Come follow me reader to the next scene.
Which leaves the reader, me, free to absorb the strangeness of the world I know nothing about. Learning about new worlds is always a plus in my books, so that's a star right there for it's insider view onto something new.
That new world being the harsh plains and ridges of Pakistan and Afghanistan and its nomad tribes...a place seemingly unaware of words like "carefree" or "easy". Obviously my view is hugely skewed by being an American, a woman, and despite my best efforts, subjected to a bias media. I think that is why the writing style worked so well, it was easier to digest the information given because (until the last couple of chapters) my emotions were not engaged and free of emotional pull I could simply go, "hmmm that's an interesting way of doing things,".
The book cover leads you to believe that the Wandering Falcon is a character that grounds the book. But it didn't feel that way. It felt more like short stories with related characters that gave you a view of the landscape and it's people. The Wandering Falcon was less a boy/man, and more like the taxi you took to get from place to place.
Conclusion: Read this book, it's good. It's different. It's an unredacted look at a place that we don't get to see very often. And it's not cased in international politics or religious agenda. It simply is.
September 1, 2021
An exceptionally unique topic, beautiful yet melancholic, traversing and discovering the remote regions and their inhabitants - rarely discussed, cut-off from mainstream society.
It's a tragedy we didn't come across literature like this in our curriculum.
It's a tragedy we didn't come across literature like this in our curriculum.
August 18, 2016
In the cracks and interstices of modern states (Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran) live people who do and do not belong; nomads and other tribal peoples who negotiate a life with several governments.
This short work is a tribute to them, an account of them in concise stories and anecdotes. The slow courtesies of speech; a tribes’ immense tactfulness towards an old chief who has lost most of his eyesight but leads them out in action nevertheless, when obligation calls; this same chief with his antiquated ethic of an uttered word being a pledge, in a court of law that treats his party as bandits and in their eyes, in turn, is rude, inhumane and uncivilized.
In an interview the author says, “…it appears this type of collectivity is less tyrannical, more just, and has very simple rules of right and wrong, compared to other society. In fact, if you think about it, the amount of brutality committed in the cities and what we know as civilised society is far more than has ever been committed in tribal areas.” He is then asked about what makes them ‘harsh’, and he answers, “I don’t think I would call them harsh. They are, of course, hard – the land makes them hard, their fight for survival makes them hard. But they also have enormous tenderness, and love, and civilised behaviour. That is there too. So, it’s not all brutality and harshness, no, no.”
I am sad to see professional reviews reach for the word ‘brutal’, one after the other, and the worst of them fail to look past the ideas on ‘tribal Afghanistan’ they have brought to this book – fail to notice these elegant turns of mind and speech that he painstakingly portrays. The author wrote in the 70s, in a world innocent of Osama bin Laden or the Taliban; so that if I see another newspaper review telling us these are implicit in the setting or the narrative, I’ll scream. (Because history happens to these people, on the whole; history invades them. This is not a contemporary story, the author says in the interview; haven’t nomads been fettered by states for 2000 years?) Even so, in the 70s, this tribal world was on the brink of extinction; he almost claims so for the Baluch, with an exquisitely-written epitaph; and then there is the story of the nomad people whose ways are shut off one year by the government; it ends with a massacre, and after the massacre, starvation.
A few of these tribes live in poverty, either humbly or with an adversarial attitude; a few live well on the milk and fat of their flocks, until the state intervenes. They have relationships with governments home and foreign that go back to the Great Game and WWI, that are as various as the tribes themselves, their lifestyle, their ethics, the behaviour of women. Women play a large part in these stories, from the one who leads that disastrous crossing of an international line, under threat of guns, to those who abandon husbands, for better or worse fates. One important thing – he says this too in the interview – is that he wants to write how different the tribes are from one another. Those unfamiliar lump them together as an age-old cultural world.
The stories are not even in quality. Neither is the writing. I felt the three early stories were head and shoulders above the later. Once, just once, I thought he defected from his task, when he made a judgemental, outsider’s statement about the ‘character’ or ‘morals’ of a tribe entire – which is what this lovely book avoids. People have bad stories. A deeply ethical mullah ends violently insane. A girl scores a husband with the asset of a performing bear – wealth and status to her poor family’s eyes; but he is more concerned about his single asset than about her. The author’s aim is not that we universalise these stories (they have cruel husbands – mullahs were odd fish). He took these stories from life, from his experience as an administrator for decades around the tribal areas. He writes of them with respect and lament. Although his ethnographic fiction from the 70s was published to acclaim at the end of his life, he has the sorrow – as he alludes to in the interview I read – of knowing that the tribes, whose near-eradication he complained of then, have not won their battles for existence since.
This short work is a tribute to them, an account of them in concise stories and anecdotes. The slow courtesies of speech; a tribes’ immense tactfulness towards an old chief who has lost most of his eyesight but leads them out in action nevertheless, when obligation calls; this same chief with his antiquated ethic of an uttered word being a pledge, in a court of law that treats his party as bandits and in their eyes, in turn, is rude, inhumane and uncivilized.
In an interview the author says, “…it appears this type of collectivity is less tyrannical, more just, and has very simple rules of right and wrong, compared to other society. In fact, if you think about it, the amount of brutality committed in the cities and what we know as civilised society is far more than has ever been committed in tribal areas.” He is then asked about what makes them ‘harsh’, and he answers, “I don’t think I would call them harsh. They are, of course, hard – the land makes them hard, their fight for survival makes them hard. But they also have enormous tenderness, and love, and civilised behaviour. That is there too. So, it’s not all brutality and harshness, no, no.”
I am sad to see professional reviews reach for the word ‘brutal’, one after the other, and the worst of them fail to look past the ideas on ‘tribal Afghanistan’ they have brought to this book – fail to notice these elegant turns of mind and speech that he painstakingly portrays. The author wrote in the 70s, in a world innocent of Osama bin Laden or the Taliban; so that if I see another newspaper review telling us these are implicit in the setting or the narrative, I’ll scream. (Because history happens to these people, on the whole; history invades them. This is not a contemporary story, the author says in the interview; haven’t nomads been fettered by states for 2000 years?) Even so, in the 70s, this tribal world was on the brink of extinction; he almost claims so for the Baluch, with an exquisitely-written epitaph; and then there is the story of the nomad people whose ways are shut off one year by the government; it ends with a massacre, and after the massacre, starvation.
A few of these tribes live in poverty, either humbly or with an adversarial attitude; a few live well on the milk and fat of their flocks, until the state intervenes. They have relationships with governments home and foreign that go back to the Great Game and WWI, that are as various as the tribes themselves, their lifestyle, their ethics, the behaviour of women. Women play a large part in these stories, from the one who leads that disastrous crossing of an international line, under threat of guns, to those who abandon husbands, for better or worse fates. One important thing – he says this too in the interview – is that he wants to write how different the tribes are from one another. Those unfamiliar lump them together as an age-old cultural world.
The stories are not even in quality. Neither is the writing. I felt the three early stories were head and shoulders above the later. Once, just once, I thought he defected from his task, when he made a judgemental, outsider’s statement about the ‘character’ or ‘morals’ of a tribe entire – which is what this lovely book avoids. People have bad stories. A deeply ethical mullah ends violently insane. A girl scores a husband with the asset of a performing bear – wealth and status to her poor family’s eyes; but he is more concerned about his single asset than about her. The author’s aim is not that we universalise these stories (they have cruel husbands – mullahs were odd fish). He took these stories from life, from his experience as an administrator for decades around the tribal areas. He writes of them with respect and lament. Although his ethnographic fiction from the 70s was published to acclaim at the end of his life, he has the sorrow – as he alludes to in the interview I read – of knowing that the tribes, whose near-eradication he complained of then, have not won their battles for existence since.
August 19, 2011
read two or three great reviews for this. The Guardian called it 'one of the finest collections of stories to have come out of south Asia in decades'..
These stories are set on the Afghan/Pakistan border 30 or 40 years ago, before the rise of the Taliban, indeed before the Soviet invasion, more concerned with the aftermath of the British empire (some place names have disconcertingly British names). It gives a great insight into the area - a place ravaged by sand storms (wind rages continuously during the four winter months, blowing clouds of alkali laden dust and sand so thick that men can barely breathe or open their eyes), hunger (and thirst) and hardship - and its tribal affiliations, where honour and tradition and tribal rites are of utmost importance. Hospitality is always offered to strangers and negotiation can be won by telling the best story/allegory. Women are sold in the market place and treated worse than bears: Shah Zarina has been sold by her father to a bear trainer and finds that the bear has the best food and accommodation.
She could not understand why the bear had to have a room and they could not. Once she asked her husband. He looked at her coldly and said, ‘I can get another wife, but not another bear’.
The title character is the orphan of two fugitive lovers (like Romeo and Juliet breaking social barriers to be together) hunted down by their tribes and killed. He is brought up by various nomads and is thus unique and troubling to all because he belongs to no tribe. He appears in a few of the stories as a guide and an informer etc. (An informer is an accepted role in the region, and you can advertise youself as one).
The prose is not spectacular, but simple and effective. It doesn't say it's a translation so I assume not - the author was a member of the Civil service posted to the frontier, so probably wrote in English. An absorbing, eye opening read.
These stories are set on the Afghan/Pakistan border 30 or 40 years ago, before the rise of the Taliban, indeed before the Soviet invasion, more concerned with the aftermath of the British empire (some place names have disconcertingly British names). It gives a great insight into the area - a place ravaged by sand storms (wind rages continuously during the four winter months, blowing clouds of alkali laden dust and sand so thick that men can barely breathe or open their eyes), hunger (and thirst) and hardship - and its tribal affiliations, where honour and tradition and tribal rites are of utmost importance. Hospitality is always offered to strangers and negotiation can be won by telling the best story/allegory. Women are sold in the market place and treated worse than bears: Shah Zarina has been sold by her father to a bear trainer and finds that the bear has the best food and accommodation.
She could not understand why the bear had to have a room and they could not. Once she asked her husband. He looked at her coldly and said, ‘I can get another wife, but not another bear’.
The title character is the orphan of two fugitive lovers (like Romeo and Juliet breaking social barriers to be together) hunted down by their tribes and killed. He is brought up by various nomads and is thus unique and troubling to all because he belongs to no tribe. He appears in a few of the stories as a guide and an informer etc. (An informer is an accepted role in the region, and you can advertise youself as one).
The prose is not spectacular, but simple and effective. It doesn't say it's a translation so I assume not - the author was a member of the Civil service posted to the frontier, so probably wrote in English. An absorbing, eye opening read.
November 19, 2011
My goodness, I’ve only read two books from the Man Asian Literary Prize longlist and already I’d be hard-pressed to choose between them!
According to the bio at Fishpond, Jamil Ahmad is a former Civil Servant who worked in the frontier provinces of Pakistan and also in Pakistan’s embassy in Kabul before and during the Soviet Occupation of Afghanistan. Now living in retirement in Islamabad with his wife, he has – at the age of nearly eighty – gained international recognition with this remarkable debut novel.
The Wandering Falcon is superb writing: an elegy for a vanished lifestyle, it will change the way you think about the ‘badlands’ where Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan meet. These tribal areas today are the focus of global attention because their apparently porous borders facilitate the movement of Islamic militants but Ahmad writes of them in the 1950s long before the rise of the Taliban and Al- Qaeda. The British had departed India in 1947, and Pakistan had been created from Indian and Afghan lands, but these lines on the map meant nothing to the tribes who lived there nor the nomads who travelled freely along traditional routes in search of pastures for their flocks. These people had no concept of nationhood or borders but rather, were antipathetic to each other and fiercely loyal to tribal customs.
Ahmad does not romanticise these traditions. The story begins with a couple who have broken the laws of their tribe and have to flee through a harsh landscape to escape retribution. Desperate for food and water, they reach a military outpost in a remote area. Hospitality is obligatory in places where there are no shops or restaurants, but refuge is denied them.
To read the rest of my review, (and other Shadow Jury reviews of books longlisted for the Man Asia Prise) please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2011/11/19/wa...
According to the bio at Fishpond, Jamil Ahmad is a former Civil Servant who worked in the frontier provinces of Pakistan and also in Pakistan’s embassy in Kabul before and during the Soviet Occupation of Afghanistan. Now living in retirement in Islamabad with his wife, he has – at the age of nearly eighty – gained international recognition with this remarkable debut novel.
The Wandering Falcon is superb writing: an elegy for a vanished lifestyle, it will change the way you think about the ‘badlands’ where Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan meet. These tribal areas today are the focus of global attention because their apparently porous borders facilitate the movement of Islamic militants but Ahmad writes of them in the 1950s long before the rise of the Taliban and Al- Qaeda. The British had departed India in 1947, and Pakistan had been created from Indian and Afghan lands, but these lines on the map meant nothing to the tribes who lived there nor the nomads who travelled freely along traditional routes in search of pastures for their flocks. These people had no concept of nationhood or borders but rather, were antipathetic to each other and fiercely loyal to tribal customs.
Ahmad does not romanticise these traditions. The story begins with a couple who have broken the laws of their tribe and have to flee through a harsh landscape to escape retribution. Desperate for food and water, they reach a military outpost in a remote area. Hospitality is obligatory in places where there are no shops or restaurants, but refuge is denied them.
To read the rest of my review, (and other Shadow Jury reviews of books longlisted for the Man Asia Prise) please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2011/11/19/wa...
November 26, 2020
I enjoy how some stories put to shame this conviction that all stories should be told with the same skeleton, the one that is European and now even more American-centered. My first epiphany came with reading “Cities of Salt” by Abdul Rahman Munif and since then I really like stories that goes beyond this scheme of a protagonist and his mental or physical journey. Well, in “The Wandering Falcon” we can find some echo of it, as it’s something that is ancient and I guess, travelled around the world, but this book was so not what I expected it to be. The character who gets the name of a wandering falcon is mere clamp that bring all the stories together but it’s not a book about him. It’s about the people of Afghanistan, who do not really identify with the country. They are tribes, they have always travelled, their traditions and culture is based on their journeys and the ways that now become forbidden. Can they still live in the world that put fake borders and imprison them beneath them? Are Pashtuns and others doomed to change or to extinct and, unlike in case of animals, no one would spare a thought about them?
As always in case of Afghanistan, my heart tingles every time I see the names from that region. Like a memory I am not supposed to have. Stories about this part of the world move me every time and this one was no exception.
As always in case of Afghanistan, my heart tingles every time I see the names from that region. Like a memory I am not supposed to have. Stories about this part of the world move me every time and this one was no exception.
January 24, 2023
Imagine late afternoon, the intense heat beginning to dissipate and a delightful langour overtakes you as your camel eases its pace and you gaze through half-shut eyes at the deepening hue of the sky. Don't fall asleep now! Now is an expanded moment in time, but it will change and you need to be alert.You need to pay special attention to the names of the people and places, for they will confound you when they reappear on your path. Above all,don't get lost but keep in mind your place off the map.
The nomadic, tribal way of life is not romanticized in this delicately written fictional account of the hardship and ruthless laws that threaten it's extinction. Just like the desert mirage is evoked, so we are given glimpses only of the main character, who takes shapes out of odd facts and snatches of dialogue. What we make out of these fragmentary suggestions is abruptly called into question as the book closes and the man must make a crucial decision which will determine the shape of his future.
The nomadic, tribal way of life is not romanticized in this delicately written fictional account of the hardship and ruthless laws that threaten it's extinction. Just like the desert mirage is evoked, so we are given glimpses only of the main character, who takes shapes out of odd facts and snatches of dialogue. What we make out of these fragmentary suggestions is abruptly called into question as the book closes and the man must make a crucial decision which will determine the shape of his future.
July 26, 2016
The Wandering Falcon is set in what is now considered to be a very troubled and indeed, very controversial area, the Federally Administered Tribal Areas of Afghanistan. Of of these areas, Waziristan, has been in the news for some time due to its fame as a Taliban refuge, but Ahmad's focus is on the numerous tribes who occupied this region prior to modern-day conflicts; he examines how they maintain their ways of life as modernity encroaches on traditional societies. The title character is Tor Baz, (Black Falcon) who was born near a military outpost, a "tangle of crumbling, weather-beaten, and broken hills where the borders of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan meet," to a couple of illicit lovers from the Siahpad tribe who had run away from their home. All goes well with this family of three until their pasts catch up with them and they are found by their kinsmen and dealt with in accordance to tribal custom. Tor is spared, but abandoned; he is later picked up by Baluch tribesmen, then handed off from person to person and eventually, he simply strikes out on his own.
Throughout the book, his travels take him throughout the various border areas, serving as the vehicle through which Ahmad brings his readers into the lives of the different tribes who inhabit this landscape: the Wazirs, Mahsuds, Brahui, the Kharot and the Afridi; there are also the Nasirs, the Dortanis and Baluchs. Along the way Ahmad describes how changes in the world outside of these regions have affected the tribespeople. In one story, for example, nomadic Kharot Powindas ("foot people") have brought their livestock to graze along their traditional wandering routes, but now the border is guarded by soldiers who will not let them pass without proper papers. But these documents cost money and require birth certificates, health documents and identity papers, neither of which the thousands of Kharot possess. One brave woman puts the Quran on her head, banking on the fact that she will be protected, and leads her animals forward only to be fired on by soldiers. As others make the same attempt, they and their animals are mowed down in what will become a massacre. In another, tribes are aligned either with the British or the Nazis during World War II; and in still another, the key guide leading climbers up the Tirich Mir in the Hindu Kush area finds himself with no income and unable to provide for his family once the summit is conquered; his daughter is stolen and later sold into prostitution.
Ahmad writes simply, adding few embellishments to his prose, but it is the sense of place that stands out in this book. From the harsh, dry deserts with their blinding sandstorms to the peaks of the Hindu Kush, the landscape is eloquently and realistically described. Combining his writing with his expert knowledge of the area, Ahmad takes his readers on a journey through lands they might otherwise never see, revealing a longstanding way of life that has been disappearing for some time. The book is also filled with scenes that create vivid images in the reader's imagination; for example, in one story, a wife calls to her husband to come out and witness the beginning of spring:
"There was a full moon, and it hung half hidden behind the northern cliff. The moonlight was strong and dazzling to the eyes... A long distance away on the mountain crest, he could see small antlike figures silhouetted against its orb. There was a long chain of them moving slowly with loads on their backs. These were the ice cutters."
It is very obvious that Ahmad has a deep fondness for the people and the landscape of these areas. He is not critical of the people who inhabit this region; at the same time, he does not idealize them either. Through his eyes perhaps his readers will be able to envision a place, a time, and groups of people before all became synonymous with terror and war.
Many of the book's critics have complained that it is misrepresented as a novel, and I agree. It is really a set of short stories, and using Tor Baz as our eyes and ears in some cases does not imply that the book revolves around his character. The dustjacket blurb is a bit misleading in that respect. However, when all is said and done, whether or not it is a novel or a short-story collection just isn't that big of a deal, because it is such a good book no matter what you want to call it. Definitely recommended.
Throughout the book, his travels take him throughout the various border areas, serving as the vehicle through which Ahmad brings his readers into the lives of the different tribes who inhabit this landscape: the Wazirs, Mahsuds, Brahui, the Kharot and the Afridi; there are also the Nasirs, the Dortanis and Baluchs. Along the way Ahmad describes how changes in the world outside of these regions have affected the tribespeople. In one story, for example, nomadic Kharot Powindas ("foot people") have brought their livestock to graze along their traditional wandering routes, but now the border is guarded by soldiers who will not let them pass without proper papers. But these documents cost money and require birth certificates, health documents and identity papers, neither of which the thousands of Kharot possess. One brave woman puts the Quran on her head, banking on the fact that she will be protected, and leads her animals forward only to be fired on by soldiers. As others make the same attempt, they and their animals are mowed down in what will become a massacre. In another, tribes are aligned either with the British or the Nazis during World War II; and in still another, the key guide leading climbers up the Tirich Mir in the Hindu Kush area finds himself with no income and unable to provide for his family once the summit is conquered; his daughter is stolen and later sold into prostitution.
Ahmad writes simply, adding few embellishments to his prose, but it is the sense of place that stands out in this book. From the harsh, dry deserts with their blinding sandstorms to the peaks of the Hindu Kush, the landscape is eloquently and realistically described. Combining his writing with his expert knowledge of the area, Ahmad takes his readers on a journey through lands they might otherwise never see, revealing a longstanding way of life that has been disappearing for some time. The book is also filled with scenes that create vivid images in the reader's imagination; for example, in one story, a wife calls to her husband to come out and witness the beginning of spring:
"There was a full moon, and it hung half hidden behind the northern cliff. The moonlight was strong and dazzling to the eyes... A long distance away on the mountain crest, he could see small antlike figures silhouetted against its orb. There was a long chain of them moving slowly with loads on their backs. These were the ice cutters."
It is very obvious that Ahmad has a deep fondness for the people and the landscape of these areas. He is not critical of the people who inhabit this region; at the same time, he does not idealize them either. Through his eyes perhaps his readers will be able to envision a place, a time, and groups of people before all became synonymous with terror and war.
Many of the book's critics have complained that it is misrepresented as a novel, and I agree. It is really a set of short stories, and using Tor Baz as our eyes and ears in some cases does not imply that the book revolves around his character. The dustjacket blurb is a bit misleading in that respect. However, when all is said and done, whether or not it is a novel or a short-story collection just isn't that big of a deal, because it is such a good book no matter what you want to call it. Definitely recommended.
September 8, 2011
It took Jamil Ahmad eight decades to pen his debut novel about that border place where Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan meet…a hidden world ravaged by sand storms and hostile inter-tribe relationships.
It is knit together through the life of one man – Tor Baz – the eponymous wandering falcon. Tor Baz is the orphan son of a Romeo-and-Juliet pair of lovers who defied the tribal code and as a result, were stoned to death by their tribesmen. He becomes a nomad in an unforgiving environment, where the harsh climate, rough terrain, and often brutal tribe justice reigns supreme. To add to the hardships, government officials enforce fixed boundary lines between countries for the first time, ensuring chaos and consternation.
After being passed from one “caregiver” to another, Tor Baz grows up to be a confident nomadic wanderer, striving to live peacefully but always the ubiquitous outsider. As readers, we go along for the journey, viewing how these tribes gradually evolve to adapt their cultural practices as borders become more strictly controlled.
Although restricted in its scope, this slight book is really universal in its emotions, exploring loyalty and treachery, honesty and bravery, and the support of being part of a clan larger than oneself. After a lifetime of service as a bureaucrat in these terrains, Jamil Ahmad focuses his laser eye on a complex location with its fierce tribal identities.
The prose isn’t often magical or haunting; rather, it’s simple and effective and some of the stories shine above others. I recommend this mainly as a way to gain insight into the customs and traditions and tribal anecdotes of a place where little remains secret but much is misunderstood.
It is knit together through the life of one man – Tor Baz – the eponymous wandering falcon. Tor Baz is the orphan son of a Romeo-and-Juliet pair of lovers who defied the tribal code and as a result, were stoned to death by their tribesmen. He becomes a nomad in an unforgiving environment, where the harsh climate, rough terrain, and often brutal tribe justice reigns supreme. To add to the hardships, government officials enforce fixed boundary lines between countries for the first time, ensuring chaos and consternation.
After being passed from one “caregiver” to another, Tor Baz grows up to be a confident nomadic wanderer, striving to live peacefully but always the ubiquitous outsider. As readers, we go along for the journey, viewing how these tribes gradually evolve to adapt their cultural practices as borders become more strictly controlled.
Although restricted in its scope, this slight book is really universal in its emotions, exploring loyalty and treachery, honesty and bravery, and the support of being part of a clan larger than oneself. After a lifetime of service as a bureaucrat in these terrains, Jamil Ahmad focuses his laser eye on a complex location with its fierce tribal identities.
The prose isn’t often magical or haunting; rather, it’s simple and effective and some of the stories shine above others. I recommend this mainly as a way to gain insight into the customs and traditions and tribal anecdotes of a place where little remains secret but much is misunderstood.
September 28, 2020
I loved this book. It's a set of nine loosely interrelated stories about the tribal people living where Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan meet. The style is simple -- short and sweet, not a lot of fluff. That seemed perfectly fitting for the setting, which is stark and unforgiving, like the tribal people themselves.
You could almost consider this a fictionalized ethnography. The author was a Pakistani civil servant, working for long periods in Hindu Kush and the Swat Valley, which is how he learned about the culture there. He writes about the (non-existent) rights of women, how they are often sold into marriage or slavery for as little as a pound of opium. How they are battered by their husbands, and literally treated worse than animals. How honor killings settle disputes. Fun stuff...
In this era of #ownvoices, I suppose that one could complain about having a non-tribal man writing from the viewpoint of tribal people. But let's not get too picky or PC. The author did a wonderful job of taking us into a little-known culture, and making us feel like we're right there with a marauding band, or a child bride, or a lover hunted by her own kin. No wonder the book was nominated for the Man Asian Literary Prize.
You could almost consider this a fictionalized ethnography. The author was a Pakistani civil servant, working for long periods in Hindu Kush and the Swat Valley, which is how he learned about the culture there. He writes about the (non-existent) rights of women, how they are often sold into marriage or slavery for as little as a pound of opium. How they are battered by their husbands, and literally treated worse than animals. How honor killings settle disputes. Fun stuff...
In this era of #ownvoices, I suppose that one could complain about having a non-tribal man writing from the viewpoint of tribal people. But let's not get too picky or PC. The author did a wonderful job of taking us into a little-known culture, and making us feel like we're right there with a marauding band, or a child bride, or a lover hunted by her own kin. No wonder the book was nominated for the Man Asian Literary Prize.
March 8, 2012
It's possible that I am so ethnocentric that I don't appreciate the story-telling tradition and style of another culture. Either that, or this book was written terribly. To me it read like a realy choppy and uneven cliff-notes summary.
I have no problem with the general device of having the main character of the story appear as a supporting character in each of the stories. In fact, if it were done right, it could turn out very ingeniously interesting and end up revealing a lot about the main character without seeming to. Unfortunately, the execution of this device in The Wandering Falcon fails. The writing is a third person summary narative, which reduces the emotional investment of the reader. Despite this initial problem, the first few stories are done well, and are quite interesting. I was tantalized by the prospects of the book. But the second half of the book, especially the last two stories are flawed.
The penultimate story has a completely different style than any other. It is told from first person, rather than third like the other stories. That shift of narative style is jarring. And the last story jumps around so much, that it looses most of the emotional connection that I felt. Finally, the stories trace the life of the wandering falcon only up to young adulthood. It wasn't enough to really show the character of the protagonist. The book ends with a question about what he will do with the woman he just bought, but by then I had no emotional involvement in the story. It seemed more like an academic exercise than a true story. But then again, I'm not from Pakistan, so I might not really get it.
I have no problem with the general device of having the main character of the story appear as a supporting character in each of the stories. In fact, if it were done right, it could turn out very ingeniously interesting and end up revealing a lot about the main character without seeming to. Unfortunately, the execution of this device in The Wandering Falcon fails. The writing is a third person summary narative, which reduces the emotional investment of the reader. Despite this initial problem, the first few stories are done well, and are quite interesting. I was tantalized by the prospects of the book. But the second half of the book, especially the last two stories are flawed.
The penultimate story has a completely different style than any other. It is told from first person, rather than third like the other stories. That shift of narative style is jarring. And the last story jumps around so much, that it looses most of the emotional connection that I felt. Finally, the stories trace the life of the wandering falcon only up to young adulthood. It wasn't enough to really show the character of the protagonist. The book ends with a question about what he will do with the woman he just bought, but by then I had no emotional involvement in the story. It seemed more like an academic exercise than a true story. But then again, I'm not from Pakistan, so I might not really get it.
August 13, 2019
This book was in my to-read list for much time as my modest poetic senses were high after seeing it's title. Beautiful cover and equally poetic name.
It's a story of Tor Baz Khan, whose name literally means "Black Falcon". Born to a renegade lovebird couple and later left behind after his parents are killed. In later part of the novel, existence of Tor Baz doesn't really effect movement of plot. Whole novel is a more like a folk fable to introduce us to that remote world of tribal customs, history and hrash lives. That part has become no-go-area due to its extremism and militancy but still a part of me will never rest unless I could see it with my own eyes.
I can understand that it receives criticism for it's unusual style and plot but I enjoyed it more than others as I had more curiosity about that part of Pakistan. I had seen some of these nomadic tribes on our land since my childhood.
I can remember few months ago when I was walking through a ravine with my father. He pointed out to camps of these nomads cattle herders on our land and out of nowhere he blurted that how sad he feels on destiny of these poor souls. He said, "They keep coming back every year, just to feed them and their cattles. Their own Pushtuns don't own them. Our Hindkowan landlords abuse them but they hear us and keep coming back just for their survival."
It's a story of Tor Baz Khan, whose name literally means "Black Falcon". Born to a renegade lovebird couple and later left behind after his parents are killed. In later part of the novel, existence of Tor Baz doesn't really effect movement of plot. Whole novel is a more like a folk fable to introduce us to that remote world of tribal customs, history and hrash lives. That part has become no-go-area due to its extremism and militancy but still a part of me will never rest unless I could see it with my own eyes.
I can understand that it receives criticism for it's unusual style and plot but I enjoyed it more than others as I had more curiosity about that part of Pakistan. I had seen some of these nomadic tribes on our land since my childhood.
I can remember few months ago when I was walking through a ravine with my father. He pointed out to camps of these nomads cattle herders on our land and out of nowhere he blurted that how sad he feels on destiny of these poor souls. He said, "They keep coming back every year, just to feed them and their cattles. Their own Pushtuns don't own them. Our Hindkowan landlords abuse them but they hear us and keep coming back just for their survival."
July 4, 2012
This novel did start on the right track. After I read the first chapter, all I wanted to do was to follow the path of this young child, who was born on an unfamiliar land between strangers he would never see again, and in one cruel moment, he witnessed the death of his parents and was left all alone. I thought episodes of anger, resilience and revenge would follow.
However, through the following chapters, I was lost between so many tribes and boarders, poverty and misery, as if starting a new story in each chapter with untied ends.
Brutal nature taught these nomadic tribes the art of survival, however, their landscape had to change. The setting of boarders meant also the setting of new values of citizenship and undivided loyalty opposing to their nomadic ways, so their way of life had to die.
I think this novel did portray the tribal cultures and nature so well, yet I could not really feel any attachment or anticipation in any of the stories told. Each chapter was just like an individual unfinished story that yet needs to be completed.
April 8, 2018
Sreca pa se nasao neko dovoljno uporan da natjera pisca da pod stare dane objavi ove price jer mu to isprva nije bila namjera. Tako divno pricanje o tako surovim uslovima zivota na tromedji Irana, Avganistana i Pakistana, predjela odakle su svi sluzbenici bjezali, a Dzamil Ahmad proveo decenije sluzbovanja, upoznao oblast, plemena, jezike, obicaje, i samim tim stekao sve preduslove da citaoca uvede u ovaj daleki, nepristupacni svijet i prikaze neke potpuno nove horizonte.
September 18, 2011
I have taken a number of classes on Afghanistan and Pakistan…it’s history, the people, the culture, the conflict. It continues to come down to a bottom line that these countries are tribal in nature and that unless you understand the tribal culture, you can never understand the country. Because we look at life “through our eyes” it is impossible for someone who is not “inside” the culture to see it in its entirety and to convey it authentically.
I was very happy to receive the ARC of the “The Wandering Falcon” written by Jamil Ahmad, someone who was very “inside” the tribal culture. Ahmad was a Pakistani civil servant who worked for decades in the Northwest Tribal region. His first posting was in Baluchistan. In 1970, at the urging of his wife, he began to write stories based on his experiences. The result is the fictional account of “The Wandering Falcon,” which is a collection of stories that take place in the mountainous region along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. The stories’ characters are members of the nomadic tribes that are in constant flow between the high mountainous areas and the plains, as they take their sheep and goats to grazing areas. They are loosely tied together by the character of Tor Baz, a young boy who was orphaned when his parents, an adulterous couple, were killed according to tribal law when he was 5 years old. He was adopted by Baluch rebels who were fighting the Pakistani government and over time becomes the wandering falcon.
The book is small and is an easy read…and I could not put it down. It is stark and it is brutal as it describes the struggles and life of the people, the interactions between characters and the resolving of life’s issues and conflicts according to tribal law. And yet, embedded in the brutality is a beauty and an empathy for the people that creates a sense of humanity in the telling. Tribal law is something that I cannot understand. I was struck with how black and white it is. There are no gray areas. There is a clear dividing line between right and wrong and there is no hesitation in acting according to the dictates of it.
Ahmed completed the book in 1973 but no one was willing to publish it until 2008 when two young Pakistani women, a Lahore-based bookseller, Aysha Raja, and a Karachi-based columnist and editor, Faiza Sultan Khan, called on Pakistani authors to submit stories for a competition. Ahmad's younger brother insisted that he must show them his work. After reworking the 35-year-old manuscript, Ahmad sent it to Khan, who championed it, and showed it to an editor at Penguin. (source: Basharat Peer, The Guardian).
I am glad that I read the book and while I will never understand how the characters can live as they do and choose as they do, I have a greater appreciation for their life and their struggle. It has also clarified my thoughts and opinions about the Western involvement in this area. I highly recommend the book to anyone who appreciates the beautiful use of words to describe an unknown entity, which Jamil Ahmad did…beautifully!
I was very happy to receive the ARC of the “The Wandering Falcon” written by Jamil Ahmad, someone who was very “inside” the tribal culture. Ahmad was a Pakistani civil servant who worked for decades in the Northwest Tribal region. His first posting was in Baluchistan. In 1970, at the urging of his wife, he began to write stories based on his experiences. The result is the fictional account of “The Wandering Falcon,” which is a collection of stories that take place in the mountainous region along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. The stories’ characters are members of the nomadic tribes that are in constant flow between the high mountainous areas and the plains, as they take their sheep and goats to grazing areas. They are loosely tied together by the character of Tor Baz, a young boy who was orphaned when his parents, an adulterous couple, were killed according to tribal law when he was 5 years old. He was adopted by Baluch rebels who were fighting the Pakistani government and over time becomes the wandering falcon.
The book is small and is an easy read…and I could not put it down. It is stark and it is brutal as it describes the struggles and life of the people, the interactions between characters and the resolving of life’s issues and conflicts according to tribal law. And yet, embedded in the brutality is a beauty and an empathy for the people that creates a sense of humanity in the telling. Tribal law is something that I cannot understand. I was struck with how black and white it is. There are no gray areas. There is a clear dividing line between right and wrong and there is no hesitation in acting according to the dictates of it.
Ahmed completed the book in 1973 but no one was willing to publish it until 2008 when two young Pakistani women, a Lahore-based bookseller, Aysha Raja, and a Karachi-based columnist and editor, Faiza Sultan Khan, called on Pakistani authors to submit stories for a competition. Ahmad's younger brother insisted that he must show them his work. After reworking the 35-year-old manuscript, Ahmad sent it to Khan, who championed it, and showed it to an editor at Penguin. (source: Basharat Peer, The Guardian).
I am glad that I read the book and while I will never understand how the characters can live as they do and choose as they do, I have a greater appreciation for their life and their struggle. It has also clarified my thoughts and opinions about the Western involvement in this area. I highly recommend the book to anyone who appreciates the beautiful use of words to describe an unknown entity, which Jamil Ahmad did…beautifully!
June 20, 2015
Raw, hyper-real stuff. The Wandering Falcon by Jamil Ahmad mesmerizes you with its spare, elegant prose. In this collection of interconnected stories, we get an unflinching glimpse at the lives of the people who live along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan: the Kuchi, the Pashtun, the Waziri, and others. It's a world rarely seen in books.
There is a hard-edged beauty in the desolation of the landscapes described and the lives we see, but nothing is exoticized. Our Western sensibilities are also never spared. While there is violence, the carnage isn't depicted voyeuristically. When we see a daughter get sold for a pound of opium, or when a man kills his lover to protect her from her vengeful family who chases them across the high desert, or when a woman chooses to be sold to a brothel rather than face humiliation at home—it's never depicted in a sensational way. Ahmad avoids romanticizing tribal life or condemning it. This lack of judgment mirrors the tribes themselves, in the unblinking way they face life and reality—and it's a harsh reality, one of migrations, raids, encroaching modernity.
The quality of the writing alone in The Wandering Falcon is worth the read, a throwback to classic storytelling done right. There is a rhythm to the writing that mimics the way the caravans in the stories meander across the hills and mountain passes.
Some people might be frustrated by the fact that there isn't a distinct central character to root for in the book. We first see the protagonist as a child born in the first story, but in succeeding ones we see him move from one group to another without him being the focus. He eventually gets a name, Tor Baz or Black Falcon. Tor drifts in and out of other people's stories obliquely, which is a remarkably postmodern move in an otherwise straightforward, classic story. Ahmad doesn't spend any time developing Tor's character. As Tor drifts around, the role he plays changes—from orphan to informer to trader. He's a protagonist who doesn't want us to follow him. Nor does Ahmad want to reveal anything about him as an individual really. Probably because in the withholding, Ahmad reveals so much more.
There is a hard-edged beauty in the desolation of the landscapes described and the lives we see, but nothing is exoticized. Our Western sensibilities are also never spared. While there is violence, the carnage isn't depicted voyeuristically. When we see a daughter get sold for a pound of opium, or when a man kills his lover to protect her from her vengeful family who chases them across the high desert, or when a woman chooses to be sold to a brothel rather than face humiliation at home—it's never depicted in a sensational way. Ahmad avoids romanticizing tribal life or condemning it. This lack of judgment mirrors the tribes themselves, in the unblinking way they face life and reality—and it's a harsh reality, one of migrations, raids, encroaching modernity.
The quality of the writing alone in The Wandering Falcon is worth the read, a throwback to classic storytelling done right. There is a rhythm to the writing that mimics the way the caravans in the stories meander across the hills and mountain passes.
Some people might be frustrated by the fact that there isn't a distinct central character to root for in the book. We first see the protagonist as a child born in the first story, but in succeeding ones we see him move from one group to another without him being the focus. He eventually gets a name, Tor Baz or Black Falcon. Tor drifts in and out of other people's stories obliquely, which is a remarkably postmodern move in an otherwise straightforward, classic story. Ahmad doesn't spend any time developing Tor's character. As Tor drifts around, the role he plays changes—from orphan to informer to trader. He's a protagonist who doesn't want us to follow him. Nor does Ahmad want to reveal anything about him as an individual really. Probably because in the withholding, Ahmad reveals so much more.
July 15, 2018
Beschreibung
Auf den Spuren des Jungen Tor Baz - des schwarzen Falken - führt Jamil Ahmad den Leser durch eine archaische Welt. Er erzählt aus der Grenzregion zwischen Pakistan, Afghanistan und Iran, von berückenden Landschaften, von Stammesriten und dem Kampf ums Überleben, aber auch von Weisheit, Mitgefühl und Liebe. Das Schicksal von Tor Baz steht unter einem schlechten Stern. Seine Eltern haben die Stammesregeln verletzt, waren jahrelang auf der Flucht und werden schließlich doch von ihren Angehörigen aufgespürt und erbarmungslos gerichtet. Den Sohn lässt man allein in der Wüste zurück. Zwar überlebt Tor Baz, doch sein Leben entpuppt sich als einzige Odyssee. Mal steht er unter der Obhut eines Soldaten, dann ist er Begleiter und Lehrling eines wandernden Mullahs, schließlich Ersatzsohn eines Paares, dessen eigener Sohn auf zweifelhafte Weise zu Tode kam. Tor Baz erlebt Stammeszwiste und Mädchenhandel, er begegnet Rebellen und Militärs, aber auch ganz normalen Männern und Frauen, die alles geben würden, um ihre traditionelle Lebensweise zu bewahren. Die jedoch beginnt sich vor ihren eigenen Augen aufzulösen.
Kurzmeinung
Ein wenig wirr erscheint die Lektüre durch die vielen Perspektivwechsel. Auch die fremden Namen sind ungewohnt, allerdings fand ich es extrem interessant, ja sogar bereichernd, mal etwas aus einem völlig anderen Kulturkreis zu lesen. Nicht alles is gut und angenehm, vieles sogar brutal und unverständlich. Nomadenstämme, die nicht begreifen, warum sie plötzlich einer Nationalität angehören sollen sind aber ein Beispiel für die eher negativen Auswirkungen unserer sogenannten Zivilisation.
Die Lektüre lohnt sich eher wegen dem aus westeuropäischer Sicht regional-/kulturell Ungewöhnlichen als wegen der Story.
Auf den Spuren des Jungen Tor Baz - des schwarzen Falken - führt Jamil Ahmad den Leser durch eine archaische Welt. Er erzählt aus der Grenzregion zwischen Pakistan, Afghanistan und Iran, von berückenden Landschaften, von Stammesriten und dem Kampf ums Überleben, aber auch von Weisheit, Mitgefühl und Liebe. Das Schicksal von Tor Baz steht unter einem schlechten Stern. Seine Eltern haben die Stammesregeln verletzt, waren jahrelang auf der Flucht und werden schließlich doch von ihren Angehörigen aufgespürt und erbarmungslos gerichtet. Den Sohn lässt man allein in der Wüste zurück. Zwar überlebt Tor Baz, doch sein Leben entpuppt sich als einzige Odyssee. Mal steht er unter der Obhut eines Soldaten, dann ist er Begleiter und Lehrling eines wandernden Mullahs, schließlich Ersatzsohn eines Paares, dessen eigener Sohn auf zweifelhafte Weise zu Tode kam. Tor Baz erlebt Stammeszwiste und Mädchenhandel, er begegnet Rebellen und Militärs, aber auch ganz normalen Männern und Frauen, die alles geben würden, um ihre traditionelle Lebensweise zu bewahren. Die jedoch beginnt sich vor ihren eigenen Augen aufzulösen.
Kurzmeinung
Ein wenig wirr erscheint die Lektüre durch die vielen Perspektivwechsel. Auch die fremden Namen sind ungewohnt, allerdings fand ich es extrem interessant, ja sogar bereichernd, mal etwas aus einem völlig anderen Kulturkreis zu lesen. Nicht alles is gut und angenehm, vieles sogar brutal und unverständlich. Nomadenstämme, die nicht begreifen, warum sie plötzlich einer Nationalität angehören sollen sind aber ein Beispiel für die eher negativen Auswirkungen unserer sogenannten Zivilisation.
Die Lektüre lohnt sich eher wegen dem aus westeuropäischer Sicht regional-/kulturell Ungewöhnlichen als wegen der Story.
December 18, 2019
An elegy capturing the ugliness and beauty of people in the borderlands between South and Central Asia.
The text is really good at not exoticizing these peoples. The actions and mindsets are fully characterized, and consistent within the milieu these folks operate in; this is not a text about the alien nature of these folks. The text is also good not to fall into a Romantic trap of the noble savage. Tor Baz has a Romantic backstory, but the text problematizes this in its final three stories, subverting the Romantic stereotype. Tor Baz is one of these people, and behaves as though he is one, and not a noble savage for us to comfortably use as a vantage point to look into their world.
The narrative arc of the book can also be read as the slow degradation of these peoples against a backdrop wherein their way of life is anathema to the modern state/modernity. As the modern state constricts them and erodes the freedom of movement and wildlands necessary for their dignity, their status diminishes, they fall prey to others, and ugliness rules their lives.
The text is really good at not exoticizing these peoples. The actions and mindsets are fully characterized, and consistent within the milieu these folks operate in; this is not a text about the alien nature of these folks. The text is also good not to fall into a Romantic trap of the noble savage. Tor Baz has a Romantic backstory, but the text problematizes this in its final three stories, subverting the Romantic stereotype. Tor Baz is one of these people, and behaves as though he is one, and not a noble savage for us to comfortably use as a vantage point to look into their world.
The narrative arc of the book can also be read as the slow degradation of these peoples against a backdrop wherein their way of life is anathema to the modern state/modernity. As the modern state constricts them and erodes the freedom of movement and wildlands necessary for their dignity, their status diminishes, they fall prey to others, and ugliness rules their lives.
November 5, 2016
was impressed by writers insight about life and cultures of people dwelling on either side of Durand line , expressed through multiple short stories staring from balochistan to waziristan , tank , bannu tirah , mohmand and finally to chitral, the only link between these stories being TOR BAZ or black falcon. which is the least described character
no character building or plot in whole novel (if we can say it a novel).
the part i loved was description of my village Tirah . its almost been 9 years since my last visit and i felt nostalgic wandering in pine laden hills through this book ..
no character building or plot in whole novel (if we can say it a novel).
the part i loved was description of my village Tirah . its almost been 9 years since my last visit and i felt nostalgic wandering in pine laden hills through this book ..
April 21, 2016
As I read about the book on the back cover, it did not ever cross my mind that that the book isn't a story about the wandering falcon. In fact he is a string with which stories are woven together. Stories of different tribes, strange, honorable, enchanting. As you read the nine stories, you are introduced to the wide variety of people stretching from Balochistan to Upper Chitral and then a little below. Jamil Ahmad sketches, with sharp wisdom and insights, the wanderings of Tor Baz. Sometimes we see him with a Mullah, sometimes with Bhittanis, sometimes with Mahsuds and Wazirs and then sometimes in the north. It is in these stories that we sometimes see him, a glimpse. We know not much about him except his childhood. But still his little appearances say a lot. He fuses with the land where he stays for a while. He is strange and mysterious. No one dares to question him about his background because the tribal people don't care much. And thus the book ends with little worry for what will happen tomorrow, because what has to happen will happen.
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