Qurratulain Hyder (Aini Apa), 1927-2007

Surood e rafta baaz ayad kay nayad
Nasim e az hijaz ayad kay nayad
Saramad rozgar e ein faqeeray
Dagar dana e raaz ayad kay nayad

It was a lovely winter evening in 1983 when I first met Aini Apa at the home of my beloved Misdaq Khala Jaan (Saleha Abid Hussain, the prolific Urdu writer) in Okhla (New Delhi). She looked even grander in person than I had imagined and by the end of that evening, I was completely ravished forever by her palpable charisma, her sharp intellect and her great good humor. She, on the other hand, thought I was a snob and said so to my dearest friend Sughra Mehdi (a famous writer in her own right and the adopted daughter of Misdaq Khala Jaan and Janab Abid Hussain Sahib). The reason she thought I was a snob is quintessential Aini Apa. My visit to Delhi, along with my mother, had been hastily arranged from Karachi, while I was home from the USA for two short weeks and our stay in India was going to be quite rushed. The dinner had been arranged by Misdaq Khala Jaan so Ammi and I could meet our friends and relatives in one evening. Aini Apa was living in Zakir Bagh at the time, being the first occupant of the Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan Chair at Jamia Millia, and was a frequent presence at my aunt’s home. She considered Sughra Mehdi as her friend and confidant (Aini Apa bestowed the title of “Musheer Fatima” on Sughra as Sughra is forever being solicited for practical advice by the young and old alike).

Like every other reader of Urdu literature, I worshipped Aini Apa and was dying to meet her, but had been duly forewarned by Sughra not to show my adoration as Aini Apa was known to be irritated by all manner of people claiming to be her fans. As a result, I spent the entire evening regaling her with juicy gossip about our common acquaintances (she loved to gossip), jokes (she had a fantastic sense of humor and she roared with complete abandon if she liked the joke), poetry (I lay claim to knowing hundreds of Urdu verses, including some wicked and funny ones) and conspicuously avoiding any acknowledgment of her as the greatest living writer of her time. The fact that Aini Apa minded my deliberate avoidance of the subject is why I say it was quintessential Aini Apa. She was full of surprises and contradictions. For example, she once asked a famous critic repeatedly to tell her what he thought of her latest book, while he tried helplessly to excuse himself modestly from doing so because he felt he was not good enough to critique her work. At her insistence, he finally caved in and feebly critiqued a few very minor points in the novel. Aini Apa’s subsequent unbridled wrath which immediately and ferociously descended upon the miserable chap and lasted late in to the night, lived up to its legendary reputation. Paradoxically, when the famed Urdu writer and tri-lingual poet, and my flamboyantly gay best friend (we were known as the Hag-Fag couple in Chicago, and he insisted that he was the hag) Ifti Nasim was invited by Jawarhlal Nehru University in Delhi to give a series of lectures, one of his major attractions was to be able to meet Aini Apa. He asked me for an introduction to her and I called Aini Apa to request some time for Ifti. She was completely smitten by him forever as on the first meeting, he promptly produced a lipstick from his pocket and said, “You will love this Aini Apa because I use the same shade.”

It took two more meetings before we really became friends, and then stayed in touch ever since. I invited her as a guest of my literary club Urdu Mehfil in the summer of 1992 to Cincinnati [photo on the right shows us at that time], and during the few weeks that she stayed with me, we traveled (Buffalo, Niagara Falls), laughed hysterically, had serious bitching sessions, ate out at fancy restaurants, and talked endlessly about subjects ranging from Masnawi e Zehr e Ishq, Dilli kay karkhandar, Mir Anis, and Bollywood to how sweet she thought EM Forester, Arnold Toynbee and John Dos Passos were in person, and how arrogant Steinbeck. During this stay, I taped many hours of serious conversations with her. She agreed to be interviewed only if I would write out my questions in advance and she would decide whether they were worth answering or not. I will transcribe these in Part Two of this article. She had very definite likes and dislikes and two things she hated with a passion were any mention of her writing and all desserts. The latter prompted my darling Zakia to compose the following parody of Ghalib’s ghazal on the spot while we were all together in Cincinnati:

Zindagi youn bhi guzar hi jaati
Kyoon jawani ka figure yaad aaya

Munh mein rasgulla na aya tha hanooz
Aini Apa ka qahar yaad ayaya

Some years ago in Chicago, I was complaining about the malice and political acrobatics of a peer to my dear friends Arjun Appadurai and Carol Breckenridge when Arjun cut me short and made the following profound statement: “Azra yaar, there are very few people who are truly the A-team (Beethoven, Einstein, Freud, Michelangelo…..you get the picture). The rest of us are all just B-team. What difference does it make to complain or feel competitive within the B-team?” I can safely say that of the five A-team people I have met in my life, Aini Apa heads the list.

She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and grew up among the exclusive elite circle of her famous parents Sajjad Hyder Yildirim and Nazr Sajjad Hyder. At 19, she astounded the world of Urdu with her first novel, Meray Bhi Sanam Khanay which dealt with the theme that occurs repeatedly in her subsequent works; the tragedies and social betrayals resulting from the partition of the subcontinent. Where history is concerned, the devil definitely lies in detail. With profound insight, exquisite sensitivity and heartbreaking prose, she chronicled the stories of families and individual lives as they were rent asunder in parallel with the fissuring of the country. This is what C.M. Naim, Professor of Urdu Literature and Languages at the University of Chicago says in his introduction to “A season of Betrayal” which contains the English translations of her short story Patjhar ki Avaz and the two novellas, Sita Haran and Housing Society:

The days and months that preceded and followed August 1947 – when the Indian subcontinent became free of colonial bonds – were filled with most horrific acts of physical violence. It was also a time of other, equally rampant violations that were not any the less scarring for not being patently physical. These were violations of trust; they wounded and maimed the psyches of their victims, leaving the bodies intact. And their time – that season of betrayals – lasted longer than just several months. At the time, most major Urdu writers – they were almost all men – wrote about the horrors and brutalities that some human beings could deliberately inflict upon others in the name of religion. Only later did some of them –Rajinder Singh Bedi, for one – turn their attention to the other, less overtly bloody tragedies: what had happened and continued to happen to individual and families at that human site where there had been no “riot” and yet there were any number of victims. Prominent among the latter was Qurratulain Hyder, who may also have been unique among all writers, women and men, for having experienced and written about such tectonic upheavals in all the emergent borders – in India and in both West and East Pakistan. Interestingly, she first responded in the form of novels, as if the magnitude of the events demanded a larger canvas, and only later turned to shorter genres. In some sense however, she never stopped examining the consequences of those events, as is evident even in her most recent works.

The second last paragraph sums it up beautifully:

In almost all her writings Hyder has been concerned with Time, that faceless presence which transforms all appearances and which we ignore only at our own peril. Though this inevitability of change is our only permanent reality, Hyder persistently urges us to recognize both its faces, one of gain and the other of loss. A linearly progressing time brings about changes. Should we then take sides? Should we say that change is progress? Or should we sat it is decline? Either according to Hyder would be simplistic and perilous, for such issues are not settled by a reference to the material world alone. What counts for her is the human spirit and relationships it generates and nurtures. That is where the linearity of time seems to curve into a spiral, urging us to recognize a past that never quite disappears.

I may be stretching the point but it seems to me that what Hyder tacitly offers us is nothing but that wise Candidean response: even in the best of all possible worlds, it is best not to neglect to tend our garden. Certainly, through the several thousand pages of her writings, she has shown herself to be an eloquent witness to that truth.

A Season of Betrayals (Oxford University Press).

At 28, she published her magnum opus, the landmark Aag ka Darya, which is arguably the best book in fiction, occupying that coveted place in Urdu which Garcia Marquez’s One hundred years of Solitude occupies in Hispanic literature. The world of Urdu changed forever after this book was published since every subsequent writer has been influenced by Aini Apa (yes, including Salman Rushdie):

It was the season of beerbahutis and rainclouds, some time in the 4th century B.C. In a cool grotto Gautam Nilamber, a final year student at the Forest University of Shravasti chances upon Hari Shankar, a princeling yearning to be a Buddhist monk. He falls in love with the beautiful, sharp-witted Champak. And thus begins a magnificent tale that flows through Time, through Maghadhan Pataliputra, the Kingdom of Oudh, the British Raj, and into a Time of Independence. This fiery river of Time flows along the banks of their lives as they are reborn and recreated, weaving through twists and turns, the flows and eddies, keeping them together, keeping them apart. The story comes full circle in post-Partition India where Hari Shankar and his friend Gautam Nilamber Dutt meet in a grotto in the forest of Shravasti, and mourn the passing of their lives into meaninglessness, their friends who have left for Pakistan, and what remains of their country of which they were once so passionately proud. What happens between then and now is history, full of the clangor of conflict, the deviousness of colonizers, the apathy of maharajahs, and the irrelevance of religion in defining Indianness.

(Publishers note on River of Fire).

I read this mesmerizing book once every 2-3 years, and to me, in addition to its captivating prose and the stories themselves, it also represents one of Aini Apa’s central and profound tenets: current events, history, and most importantly, the past, have a nasty habit of intruding into our lives no matter how private a citizen we wish to be. Should we then abandon society and lead the life of an ascetic Jain? Well, as she deftly shows in the interconnected stories, even that does not protect us. In fact, one of the major messages of the book is exactly the message which Ghalib sends in the following brilliant couplet.

Dair naheen, haram naheen, dar naheen aastan naheen
Baithay hayn rahguzar pay hum, koi hamayn uthai kyoon

Aini Apa’s memory was extraordinary and flawless, her intelligence was dazzling, her knowledge of Urdu, Hindi, and English literature, archeology, dance, classical music, (her last book is a biography of Ustad Baray Ghulam Ali Khan), painting, etymology and history was astonishing. I never heard her utter a platitude in all the times I have spent with her, and she was equally brilliant in both Urdu and English. Aini Apa was a fantastic mimic and could adopt a series of perfectly authentic regional accents. She thoroughly enjoyed a good joke, especially if it involved her. She loved the hajv written by her cousin which begins with the following lines:

Qurratulain hayn adab may dakheel
Jaisay Mulk e Arab mayn Israel

She was a stunningly good looking young woman and cut a striking, imposing and graceful figure when older, and when she was not writing, her pet hobby was painting. I have never met anyone who valued her family more than she did. There was unconditional love in her heart for each and every member of the extended Hyder clan and for that of her mother’s side as well. Her glorious personality sparkled and lit up every room she was in. When I was in Delhi in 1992, Shabana Azmi had come to see me at my lovely friends Zakia and Akku Zaheer’s home in Ashadeep. Aini Apa was also there for dinner that night. It was a magical evening with Sughra, Saiyeda (Hamid), Zakia, Aini Apa, Shabana, my friend Mehro and her husband Samar. Sparks of wit, hypnotizing Urdu couplets, and funny lines ranging from Ajit epigrams to Blonde jokes were flying all over. I saw Shabana, who is no less magnificent a person, an icon of Bollywood cinema with hundreds of millions of devoted followers, being completely blown away by Aini Apa. Such was her charisma, such her charm.

Aisa kahan say laain kay tujh sa kahain jissay?

I never met anyone whose set of values was as decent, who combined her celebrated wisdom with mind-boggling innocence and vulnerability, who was easily the kindest, gentlest, most sensitive person around and yet who did not suffer fools lightly. Javed Akhtar once said to me that the names of people Aini Apa really likes can be written on a grain of rice (secretly, both he and I were unabashedly confident that we were among those) and yet her circle of friends and acquaintances was exceedingly wide. She was compassionate to a fault and could feel the pain of the haves and have-nots with equal sensitivity.

As a friend, she was breathtakingly generous and thoughtful. During one of my visits to Delhi, she arranged an amazing evening for me. My favorite Urdu poet (who I think is as great as Ghalib) is Mir Anis, the acknowledged King of elegiac poetry (marsias), and whose unique style of reciting marsias was legendry in Lukhnow. Aini Apa invited the grandson of Sir Sultan Ahmed for a majlis at her place because Tanveer has learned to copy Mir Anis precisely, from gestures and voice intonations to the angarkha and dupalli topi he wore. I was more deeply touched by her thoughtful gesture of holding a majlis for me because she was not a practicing Shia (although her mother was), but did it because she knew of my absolute devotion to Anis. She was also a great admirer of Anis and her story, “Qayd khaney main talatum hay kay Hind aatii hay” is a lovely reminder of that.

Aini Apa could do no wrong as far as her diehard admirers like me were concerned for one simple reason:

Wu tu iss funn ka Khuda hay yaaro
Uss ko har baat rava hay yaaro

(She is the Goddess of her field
Everything is permissible for her)

Last year, we were chatting on the phone when something I said reminded her of a wonderful anecdote about the great Ismat Chughtai. Ismat Apa was trying to give some extra money to her washerman, an extremely poor, illiterate man from some hinterland in UP. He asked her what he was supposed to do with the money, and Ismat Apa said what do you mean what are you supposed to do with the money? Buy toys for your children. His response was a drawled out “Phaiiiiinh???” (the Purbi version of phir which means and then?). And Ismat Apa said, well, buy some new clothes for your wife, and he said “Phaiiiiinh???” And on and on. So Azra Begum, this is what life is all about…..a never ending series of “Phaiiiiinhs???” I got the Sahitya Academy Fellowship …. “Phaiiiiinh???” I got the Bharatiya Gnanpith (India’s highest literary award)……..“Phaiiiiinh???” I get the Nobel Prize tomorrow …... “Phaiiiiinh???”

During my last trip to India in 2004, I drove from Janpath to Noida every single day to see her. Her breathing problems caused by severe and progressive pulmonary fibrosis were getting visibly worse. One afternoon following lunch, I cornered Aini Apa and suggested immediate re-evaluation of her condition by a fresh team of specialists. She was adamant in the beginning, insisting that she had the best physicians taking care of her already, but over the next few days, was finally convinced to follow my advice, and subsequently, did better for a long while.

The first evening I went to see Aini Apa in 2004, I had taken my 9 year old daughter Sheherzad with me. Aini Apa was exceedingly attentive to her, had her recite lots of poetry by Ghalib and Iqbal which I have made the innocent one memorize since she was three years old, encouraged her on during and after each poem by applauding loudly. When she found out that Sheherzad had been taking Kathak dance lessons, Aini Apa was visibly delighted and insisted that she does a few steps for the guests which included the Vice Chancellor of Jamia. Such was Aini Apa’s aura that without a peep, my daughter got up and performed an entire song for her.

On my last day in Delhi, Aini Apa insisted upon coming to see me herself for lunch at Abid Villa in Okhla. Walking into the house from the car which had been pulled up in the driveway almost to the front door, Aini Apa was completely out of breath and had turned blue. It took many puffs from her various inhalers, and the connection to her portable oxygen tank before she could catch her breath sufficiently to be able to talk. Then she was unstoppable. During this memorable afternoon, as we sat in Sughra’s verandah, enjoying what Josh Sahib has named the gulabi dhoop of a January afternoon, the front door bell rang. Sughra’s young niece Zehra answered the door, and then to our great delight, yelled out in all earnestness, “Sughra Apa, the beggar is here. What do you want to give him today, lunch or lecture?” At last, the time came for us to part. We walked Aini Apa to the car, a few short yards bringing on another severe attack of breathlessness. When she was safely seated in the car and had caught her breath somewhat, she asked the driver to open the trunk. “I have been thinking about what to give you” she said, “and decided upon a very special gift.” Out of the trunk came a huge, beautiful, bright yellow satin quilt with silver stripes on top and brown lining at the bottom. “I got this made in Radoli because I always felt cold in America, so I know this is one present you will definitely use.” Needless to say, I had to borrow an extra large suitcase from Sughra to fit this lihaf in for the trip back home to Chicago, but it remains one of my prized possessions. She gave me a big kiss and we stood on the road waving to her until her car turned the corner and went out of sight. This was the last time I would see Aini Apa.

In March of this year, as my other A-team member friend Sara Suleri Goodyear and I were working on our book Ghalib: Epistemologies of Elegance, we agreed that the best person to write a foreword for our book would be Aini Apa. Given the highest esteem in which we both hold Aini Apa, we felt it called for a trip to India in order to make the request in person. Sara by the way, who has never met Aini Apa, but is nonetheless an admirer of hers, reminds me uncannily of Aini Apa: the same regal personalities, equally intelligent, classy, wise, witty, sensitive, generous, and above all, both have a wonderful sense of humor. Had they so chosen, each could have become a great actress. It was one of my wishes to see them together in the same room. We called Aini Apa and asked her if she could spare a week for us, to which she readily agreed and insisted that we stay with her. As our bags were packed and all preparations were complete, including a menu for our various meals at Aini Apa’s by her devoted housekeeper Rehana, at the last minute Sara was denied a visa by the Indian consulate in New York. We later learned that this was a tit-for-tat game being played between Pakistan and India. Pakistan had denied a visa right around the same time to Javed Akhter, so India was going to do the same for a prominent Pakistani. We were heartbroken. When I called to tell Aini Apa about the visa situation, she was incensed and threatened to call the Prime Minister and protest. Unfortunately, it was too late as Sara’s Spring break at Yale was going to be over soon and she had to start teaching again. We decided to go during her Winter break. Alas, Aini Apa did not wait for us.

My last phone conversation with Aini Apa was some six weeks before the end came. She was her usual sparkling self and we gossiped and chatted for a long time. In early August, I had some kind of a premonition, and called her only to be told that she had been admitted to the ICU that very day with a severe pneumonia. I called regularly, and received increasingly ominous reports from Sughra, Bacchan (Aini Apa’s grand-niece Huma Hyder who was adored by Aini Apa like a daughter and who did more for Aini Apa than any other soul) and Rehana. I talked to Dr. Shukla, her personal physician, and learned that even as she was improving in some ways and had been transferred from the ICU to the step-down unit, her lungs were not cooperating since almost no functioning pulmonary tissue was left. At 11:00 p.m. on August 21, Sughra called with the news that Aini Apa was no more.

Kaheen andheray say manoos hu na jaayey adab
Chiragh taiz hava nay bujhaaey hain kya kya

--Kaifi Azmi

Aini Apa no more? That can never be. Even if it sounds clichéd, as long as Urdu is alive, she truly will always reign supreme as one of its most dominant writers, and she will live through the several generations of writers she has already and indelibly influenced, with many more to come. So instead of saying Inna Lillah, I am going to say:

Aini Apa Zindabad!

-------------------------------------
Note: This article is dedicated to my brother Abbas who first requested nicely that I write something about Aini Apa and when I did not respond (so heartbroken I felt by this terrible loss), he browbeat me into it.

Comments

[aisha masood]

Although I did not know her, but it is apparent that her work was prolific. Perhaps she is one of those fortunate people who manage to create the transcendent vitality in there lives and work as often it is hard to seperate one from the other and it is one's identity. She will be inspiration for a lot of people and this inspiration will continue to spread the good work she started as we need more people especially more women to be like her.

[Tasnim]

Dear Azra:
I just finished reading this beautiful tribute to Qurratulain Hyser. It is masterfully written and very enjoyable, even though sad that she has passed. It made me feel more sad because you brought Aini Apa to our house in Buffalo where you stayed for several days and not knowing what a great personality she was I did not fully benefit from her company. She certainly was a person for the ages who has left behind work through which she will live for times to come. Her work will be appreciated and debated for generations of academics in Universities throughout India and Urdu Deaprtments every where. Hopefully her message of transcending through religions to the more important humanity (as I understand it from your writing) will be picked up by peoples of not only Paksitan and India but every where else also.
The article also shows your own breadth of knowledge of Urdu literature and your deep appreciation of the fine nuances of Urdu poetry. In addition, your encyclopedic memory of the poetry and remembering just the right couplets for each and every occaision, is truly remarkable. In my books you have joined the A-team and I look forward to moving to NY soon to benefit from being close to you. Maybe I can learn something.
When societies recognize and acknowledge the writers and philosphers like Aini Apa, it speaks well for those societies and they benefit for being better places to live and raise children. India should be proud to have produced the likes of Tagore and Amratiya Sen and Slaeha Abid Hussain and Aini Apa and so many more. That brings hope for a bright future for India, rather than the software engineers of Bangalore or the 1-800 operators.
Thanks for writing this piece. Tasnim.

[C M Naim]

I can't thank you enough for writing this note on someone who was not only a great writer but also a unique person, and who, sadly enough, was also often maligned by envious, gossip-mongering writers and academics. She was indeed what you wrote:

"I never met anyone whose set of values was as decent, who combined her celebrated wisdom with mind-boggling innocence and vulnerability, who was truly the kindest, gentlest, most sensitive person around and yet who did not suffer fools lightly."

It will be most easy to produce a long list of people who took advantage of her kindness over the years, but I cannot imagine anyone who could claim the reverse experience.

[Abbas Raza]

Thanks so much for this lovely remembrance, Aps. (And for your kind dedication!)

I myself have been the object of QAH's legendary wrath once when I asked her a silly question about whether she feels the need to censor herself since the Rushdie Satanic Verses affair. She was outraged at even the thought of self-censorship!

I have always been intimidated by Aag Ka Darya in the same way that one is intimidated by Ullyses or Finnegans Wake, but I'll try to get over it. Thanks again!

[Elatia Harris]

Azra, thank you for this. I see that it must have been terribly difficult to write, even though you knew the last days of this splendid and prodigious human being were approaching and -- except that death is always a surprise -- you were not surprised. One of the reasons, way back when, that I was originally attracted to 3QD was that it provided such an organic way to learn about points of view from all over the world, in the unscripted and unpresentational form of a real back and forth. So I have read here about many writers and thinkers of whom I had been ignorant, and this is yet one more. I feel the strength of your passionate sorrow -- thank you for breaking through it to write. I've read enough right here to think your subject would have been very pleased with your words.

[Kshmendra Kaul]

Azra

You evoked a deep desire "wish I had read her"

Even though I do not know the Urdu script I am in love with Urdy Poetry. I manage to get resources in Roman Urdu or Hindi.

Urdu Prose is a different matter.

The wish to read QH becomes a sadness.

(must thank SARAI contributor Yasir for the link to this page)

[Manas Shaikh]

Although I never read her (I somewhat understand but can't read Urdu), after reading this post I feel I could connect to that person.

A wonderful obituary, or would you like it be called a biography?

[Umang Kumar]

Thanks, Azra, this is so beautifully written...

Umang

[Ruchira Paul]

Thanks for an intimate and very enjoyable portrait of a writer. I guess Abbas deserves our thanks too for "browbeating" you into pouring your heart out. One minor quibble though. Perhaps the Urdu verses should have been accompanied by their English translations for those who have a fractured understanding of the language such as myself (70% on a good day) or none at all.

I cannot read Urdu but do understand a fair amount if I read it in Devnagari script. I have never read much of Urdu literature - Ismat Chughtai and Manto are two notable exceptions. I have not read Qurratulain Hyder at all. But I have heard a lot about her. She belonged to that era where the world of literature, music and dance boasted immensely talented drama queens.

I would like to bring to your notice an interesting book called Ismat - Her Life, Her Times. Ismat Chughtai's take on QH's literary impact was a surprise for me. I would have expected a sisterly solidarity between the two giants and pioneers of Urdu literature in as much as they both broke several glass ceilings in their time. Instead, Ismat is withering in her criticism. I wonder if it was envy or a genuine critique of QH's style.

[Shiban Ganju]

Dear Azra,
With your obituary, QH comes alive; I can hear her next to you in the Urdu Mehfil discussing Ghalib and Anis; I can see her laughing at the nonstop play of your humor; I can see her amazement at your grasp of Urdu literature and I can feel your adoration for her.
I also mourn the loss, which we all share with you. To have been alive at the same time when the greatest prose writer in Urdu lived is a claim only few can make, and you are one of them.
Thanks for the beautifully written personal story and I will urge Abbas to "browbeat" you often.
Shiban Ganju

[Azra Raza]

Hi Ruchira,
Thank you for such thoughtful remarks. Your note about needing the English translation of the verses has been noted, and I will provide these shortly.

I must explain one thing here. Ismat Apa and Aini Apa were very good friends and both greatly admired each other. It is only when Aini Apa first started to write as a young girl and used lots of English words in her Urdu novels was Ismat Apa incited by some to critique (correct) her. Thus her now famous essay on the youthful Aini Apa called Pom Pom Darling. Aini Apa actually enjoyed it thoroughly and had named her first car in Pakistan Pom Pom darling. As a response to the essay, Aini Apa wrote a wonderful and also now very famous one called Lady Changez Khan for Ismat Apa. Believe me, there was no vitriol between the two.

Again, thanks so much for taking the time to post your comments. It means a lot to us at 3quarksdaily because this is what shows the interest of the readers.
Azra.

[Razia Fasih Ahmad]

Dear Azra Raza,
You wrote a wonderful article on QH.I know how close you two were and I admire your love and dedication to her.
I liked her too and you gave me a chance to meet her the second time in Cincinnati. I talked about that meeting in my condolence message in Schaumburg library on this Sunday.
She was always generous to me and when I met her in Delhi in 1990 we( Fasih and I) stayed with her for a few hours and had dinner with her.
I don't know whether you got the sad news--Fasih died last year in August.
The English translation of
Sadyon Ki Zanjeer has been published by OUP Pakistan and has been included in the syllabus of Loyoly University and one American girl has plans to make a documentary.
With best wishes.
Razia Fasih Ahmad

[Farzana Khan]

Dear Azra,what a delightful experience...rather a complete journey into the life and times and Literature of AINI APA.I did not realise the time,while reading this beautiful chronological narrative of yours;may ALLAH bless you and your "zor-e-qalam" should go much beyond "ziyada".May be my being a student of Urdu/English Literature made my reading more enjoyable!Azra you have really translated the saying...Dariya ko kooze mein band kar diya...in taking us down memory lane from 1983-2004; the period of your "shanasaayi" with the great stalwart of Literature of our sub-continent...none other than our very own Aini Apa.Thanks for enhancing my existing knowledge about Aini Apa (which was somewhat limited) through the courtesy of her brother in Karachi; Mustafa Hyder and her neice Shahnaz Hyder; who was my classmate at college,way back! Azra, I do not know whether you would like it or not;but I would really love to meet you sometime (highly impressed by this literary piece)since you are based in Chicago and I reside in Toronto!
Best regards and love to you and family. By the way I am also a student of Kathak (late Maharaj Ghulam Hussain) like your daughter,give her my best wishes.
Sincerely, Farzana Khan

[temporal]

dear azra:

am awed! ther best tribute to QaH i have read sofar.

hazaarON saal nargis apni bay-noori pe......

[temporal]

She agreed to be interviewed only if I would write out my questions in advance and she would decide whether they were worth answering or not. I will transcribe these in Part Two of this article.

will eagerly look forward to this:)

PS: apologize for typo "ther" should be 'the'

[Zila Khan]

Azra aapa,
having known you for such a long time I can 'feel' every sentence you have written,thankyou for the insight into these beautiful details of one of our greats.I'm born to one so I know what you mean.I also highly appreciate the way you have given us the information of Aini aapa's 'work' in her lifetime.Rahe naam Allah ka.Zila Khan

[zeinab masud]

mesmerising writing, azra apa, one of the first pieces i've read in a long while. your words, your love and your sincerity are so beautiful, i put all chaotic chores aside to wallow in the windswept magic of your tribute. i now have every reason to read the works of this great lady. thanks to you, azra apa.

[Fawad Zakariya]

Dear Azra Raza,

Thanks so much for such a rich and personal tribute to Aini Apa. After her passing away, I was sadly disappointed how cursory the appreciations were in major South Asian newspapers. Professor CM Naim's piece that you quote was reprinted by Outlook India and was the only other excellent evaluation of this wonderful writer's life and work. (Naim Sahib's piece also includes the interesting fact that she was named by her uncle in honor of Qurratulain Tahira, the Iranian Bahai martyr, whom Iqbal also greatly admired.)

Your long association with Aini Apa blended with your evident love for Urdu literature really made this piece an absolute treat for me. I really wished I could have a conversation with you about Aini Apa, Delhi, Jamia Millia, Ghalib, Mir Anis and the endless topics of fascination for those who love Urdu. I can't wait for you to give us the promised Part II (with or without Abbas's browbeating).

Personally, I have always believed that Quarratulain Hyder (novel), Manto (short story) and Mushtaq Ahmed Yusufi (humor)are the three finest Urdu prose writers of the 20th century. Their canvasses are large and no single country, language or culture circumscribes their work. Their writing despite being deeply rooted in the sub-continent is universal, syncretistic, non-ideological and deeply humanistic.

I am fortunate to have been born in a household where I was surrounded by literature (both my parents are retired professors of Urdu literture who live in Lahore). They are visiting me in California these days so I have been fortunate to have long conversations with my father about all things Urdu. He too enjoyed your piece immensely, but the professor that he is, he mentioned that "Surood e rafta baaz ayad kay nayad" is really "Suroor e rafta baz ayad kay nayad". He tells me that in Iqbal's original manuscript the word was "Suroor" but was incorrectly printed and has now been corrected in recent editions.

Lastly, I want to pay rich tributes to the entire Raza family who have helped create such a wonderful intellectual community here at 3QD. I am deeply envious of so much talent in one family and I certainly wish that one day I will get to meet a few of you. Abbas's piece on Sahibzada Yaqub Khan, Asad's essays on Lahore and Edward Said and now your appreciation of Aini will remain indelibly in my mind. As Farzana Khan in her post so appropriately says:
Allah kare zor-e-kalam aur ziada

[Aisha Arshad Fasih]

Even though I never met Ainee Apa I was sobbing by the end of the article .A freindship so deep doesn't have to end ,It will continue even in hereafter.
Hope she rest in peace.Ameen

[Anwar Molani]

Excellent! I went in to my teeange when I read most of Quratulain's work. Beautifully written, You really love her..
and her contribution to urdu literature.
Anwar Molani

[Anisa Hassan]

Dear Azra
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your tribute to Qurratul_Ain Haider. Aag ka Darya is my favorite too.
Brilliant job.
"Hue namwar be-nishaan kaise kaise"
Zameen Kha gai aasman kaise kaise"
Thanks for sending this article to me
Anisa Hassan

[naila malik]

Dear Azra,
I don'nt have words to express I am speachless,you have really increase my knowledge in urdu literature you have express your feeling in such a beautiful way.Thanks a lot for remembring me,hope she rest in peace WELL DONE keep it up.naila malik

[ifti nasim]

Dear Azra,
You wrote a mini "Aag ka Darya". Aini aapa made me a poet , short story writer and keen reader of any kind of literature and i am proud of the fact that i not only lived in her era but also shared a lip stick. I wanted to write what you wrote about her. She was a mixture of Virginia Wolf and Betty Davis. I loved three men in my life, Noor Jahan ( the legendary singer of the sub-continent ) , Aini Aapa and of course Azra. Bless your heart . Make sure you write my obituary with the same love and zest the way you wrote about Aini Aap. But "aisa kahan say lain keh us sa kahain jisay". I honestly believe that she also believe in this that make love not war. Do both. Get married. Her storie and novels gave me a diction and appreciation of nostalgia. I am not going to miss her . I am going to read her more and more and again and again.
Love you.

Ifti Nasim

[Jitu Gandhi]

Dear Azra,
Thank you for introducing this amazing and facinating literary great as manifested by the numeous accolades by readers who knew her personally and through her writngs. I will read her books and would then be able to share what others have relished in her works. Azra, you have lived a very charmed life despite your personal challenges, you have been enriched by your love of literature. I wish I could have mastery of the Urdu language so rich in the nuances of human emotions and thoughts.Thanks for introducing me to this unique and educational site of 3QD.May be I be able to read Ullysses again without being too intimidated.
Jitu Gandhi

[Raza Rumi]

Dear Azra Raza

Thanks for this befitting tribute to Q Hyder (Ainee Apa). Your piece was much more than an obituary as it brought the various facets of a life so well (and fully) lived. You were lucky to have spent time with her and enjoyed all those days and hours with no platitudes!

To say that her writings inspired me would be a banal understatement. In fact, as C M Naim has rightly mentioned somewhere, she has "expanded the potential of experiencing life". And, there are countless other Urdu readers who have gone through this profound experience.

I met her twice in 2005 and this happened after years of waiting. Those meetings in her Noida home are surely a highpoint of my life. I have met several writers and poets in Pakistan but Ainee's persona had something unique. She was completely free of the pretensions of being a writer of an extraordinary talent. She made fun of people who let such airs become a part of their persona. This I found to be most remarkable.

I have written about these meetings in a piece that was published by a Pakistani weekly and can be found here:
http://www.razarumi.com/on-qurratulain-hyder

What more can I say when you have given such a comprehensive and moving account. I will conclude with this verse that Ainee Apa quoted while discussing the Oudh Kingdom in one of her essays:

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night
But ah my friends, and oh my foes
It gives a lovely light

[Ayesha Anwar Butt]

Dear Dr. Raza,
Aadab,

I just finished reading your prolific eulogy on one of Urdu literature's most significant writers, Qurratulain Hyder. After reading your article I felt fortunate to have been introduced to the literary works of art which I vow to read and appreciate from today. I had read about Qurratulain Hyder’s famous Aag ka darya as part of my intermediate Urdu course along with other famous writers and poets but the main emphasis was primarily on my science subjects and I sadly did not have teachers who could communicate the love of literature with the same enthusiasm and eloquence as you. I am very grateful to you for sharing your passion for literature with me and thus rekindling my erstwhile dormant interest.

The article was a very pleasurable read and I found great delight in being able to understand certain sections better, for example references to Voltaire's Candide, Shabana Azmi, Javed Akhtar and the joke which you shared with us in one of the last MDS meetings about the beggar getting lunch or a lecture! I found the couplet by Kaifi Azmi which you have quoted in the end to be especially poignant. Thank you for sharing some of your wonderful experiences with us, I will be reading 3 quarks daily regularly now.

[Shueyb Gandapur]

What a beautifully written piece on Annie! I always searched for essays and articles about her, it took nothing short of her death that one started getting glimpses from her own life. Eagerly waiting for the promised part-II.

[Ilyas Baig]

Dear Azra,

Very well communicated.

I envy you... as I have to live with the regrets of never be able to meet her in person.

I adored her so much that I wanted to name my daughter QH but my sister Seemeen Agha was quicker to deliver her baby girl three months before Maahum was born and stole the name!!!!

I made several desperate attempts to meet her whenever I knew that she was in LA and thrice when I visited Delhi but this will remain the regret that I will live with forever but as Ifti Naseem wrote, will read her again and again.

Abbas, Start browbeating Azra....

Ilyas

[Hamid Alvi]

It was an unforgettable evening at Azra’s home in Cincinnati in the summer of 1992. I had arrived from New York at noon all by myself and here I was in the midst of the finest company one could expect. Azra had arranged an Urdu Mehfil sitting with Qurratulain Hyder and the guests included young boys and girls from the University, proud of their youth and knowledge about literature. But two ladies stole the show, Aini Apa and Azra Raza. Azra conducted the Mehfil so well that even the arrogant Qurratulain could not help but applaud the presentation.
Those were the days, Aini Apa’s novel Gardashe-Rang-e-Chaman had hit a literary scene and had been recognized by critics as yet another ‘great’ flowing out of the pen of a record setting Urdu writer. Aini Apa read out sections from the novel and showed her willingness which was rare, to talk about the novel and even answer difficult questions put to her by Azra and the young people of the Mehfil. I remember asking her if Bhia’s injection into the story was appropriate. She insisted it was and got excited while talking about the character at one point saying that he picked up from the real life. Tassawaaf she said has always come to the refuge of Muslims in trouble and right now in India they are drawing heavily from Sufism. She was in the mood to talk and continued the discussion even after the Mehfil was over and we were all enjoying Azra’s starlit backyard overlooking the German river. Aini Apa also mentioned the extent of research which has gone into production of a novel of the standard of Gardashe Rang-e-Chaman.
Dr. Azra Raza’s account of her association with Aini Apa is a very useful piece for those who might be evaluating the author.
Azra surprised me by producing a good, objective piece of writing so soon after her friend’s departure. But then again, Azra has the ability to surprise us time and time again.

[Athar Murtuza]

I have often wondered in the last fifteen years about the failure of Nobel Prize wallahs to award her the Prize. I wonder if she had written in a different language and had came from another region of the world, would she have been denied the award.

my personal response to the loss of "Aini Apa" is to re-read Faiz's poem about Iqbal--ayaa hamaara dass main ek khusnawa faqir.... while remebering that She was hardly a "faqir" never mind the ignoble myopia of the Noble Wallahs!

[Azra]

Your article on Aini Apa was gentle and tender. This will be useful writing to teach students of Urdu literature.
Thanks

Your name sake

Azra Raza

[Surriya Husain]

Article on Qurrat-ul-ain Hyder by Azra Raza is a fascinating depiction of friendship and her empowering personality. No doubt she was a cultured person-enlightened,learned and humane.

Sab kahan kutch Lala-o-Gul men numayan ho gayen,
khak men kya surten hongi ke pinhaan ho gayen

I am a witness of her enthusiasm to arrange a Mujlis for Azra, when I was visiting Delhi.We went to a long time friend named Mutahira,whose husband was good in reciting marsias. She has suggested to him to choose a marsia from Mir Anees and in order to resemble the poet to wear an Angarkha,and Lucknawi topi for the occasion.
Annie came in 1983 to A.M.U Aligarh in the Urdu department from Jamia Millia N.Delhi and stayed me for more than two years.She enjoyed her tenure by teaching and guiding students and paticipating in meetings. During this period she did a lot of creative work,written her novel Gardish-rang-chaman,after it envisioned the next novel and started collecting material for Chandni Begum.Her fiction writing was like a research project,spending long hours in the university library to consult books on history, philosophy and fine arts etc.,then absorbed for days in creative procss. She was loosing sense of time while developing characters and story in minute details.She was tempramentally inclined to mysticism,this trend is obvious in her later books.She went to Delhi in 1985 on a literary and cultural assignment of B.C.C.I for a year.
We were not only cousins but in close contact since long.Recently whenever I came to Delhi from Aligarh, I would stop to see her as she was mostly confined to her home.On 14 May 2007,enroute to Boston,I stayed for few hours, she welcomed me warmly, saying 'Your visit is more than Khezer-o-Masiha to me. She was good humoured person and was in a relaxed mood,enquring about University and common friends.We had a long session of gossip,while talking she was breathless,took nebulizer twice and ate practically no food.On my asking about her health ,she replied that it is due to heat ,nothing to worry.She came out to see me off,wished safe journey and good bye. This was our last meeting.
I still visualize her sitting in study or living room involved in her passion of writing, dictating spontaneously some articles to a scribe, who was engaged by her for this purpose. She had a photographic memory.
In urdu fiction writing she was using words from other languages, describing historical facts, situations and different phases of Indian culture. She had a unique style of writing of her own.

"hum parvarishe loh-o-qalam karte rahenge
jo dil pe guzarti hai raqam karte rahen ge"

Surriya Husain, Boston

[Hina Hyder]

Ya she was my grandfathers daughter from his second marriage, we never talked.

[almas hashmi]

Oh my God I think I can get in touch with Shahnaz Haider ,Aini Apas niece ,Hina Hyder do u know where she is ? Shahnaz Haider was my class fellow in Junior Model School ,we were such good friends ,my God that time was just BEAUTIFUL ,please it will be kind of you to give me her fone no. or e-mail adress .Almas Hashmi

[S. Hyder]

Ms. Azra Raza, Thanks for writing so many good things for our favourite writer.
I have a request. There is a lady name Ms. Almas Hashmi, who wrote her comments at the end of this page.
She is asking for Ms. Shahnaz Hyder's email address. Do you have her emial address? If you don't have her address, would you kindly forword my email to her.
I will appreciate that, thanks.

[mansoora hassan]

Brilliantly written - most enlightening. Now i feel compelled to read Qurratulain Haider. Thank you my star!

[Azra Naqvi]

Dear Azra Aapa. just now a very young friend of mine tagged me this writing of yours. I made my day. I am a great fan of Aini aapa too. what a beautiful writing. I have all her books and adore them, keep reading Aag ka Dariya every second year, again and again. I met her in Aligarh when I was hardly 8 years old, at bacchan aapas ( huma hiader's) house. I was maha impressed. then I met her few times at Abid villa few times. I remember a day I spent with her while she was hunting for a decent place to stay in Delhi . Sugra Khala, asked me to accompany Aini aapa in this house hunt. like you I was dying to talk to her about her books, but as you wrote , I was warned by sugra Khala not to do that. I remember all the details of conversation she had during those few hours ( it is almost 35 years ago).
It was a bit bored and depressed today but after reading your memoirs of Aini aapa , I am cured.
I don't know if you remember me . I came to your sister Atiya aapa's house in Maryland , with Sugra khala. I stayed there for few day. I use to live in Montral at that time.
love
Azra Naqvi (shama)

[waqnis]

A journey to the past.

I was researching the word patjhar to write about autumn when I came across Azra Raza's original post. Ordered Qurratulain Hyder's books and became a follower of 3QD.

Thank you, Azra and Abbas.

[Zeba Hyder]

Dearest Azra, although I had read it before but your passionate re-read last night celebrating Annie Khala's life, made me read it again today and brought tears to my eyes. Love, Zeba