Fatima Bhutto, writer-niece of Benazir Bhutto who became embittered with her aunt following suspicions of her regime's role in her father’s assassination, is in Thiruvanant-hapuram for the Deccan Chronicle Kovalam Literary Festival. She talks to Ayyappan Ramachandran
What does it feel like to be a Bhutto? Does it bring a sense of responsibility towards your country? For how long can you keep politics at bay? Is some of your writing aimed to secure that end?
This is a point I’ve always tried to make. It doesn’t matter what one’s last name is; it should be the content of your work, your character, your ethics and principles that count. Thankfully, my brothers and I were raised to be sure that those were the things that defined us, not the six letters of our last name.
I genuinely believe that we serve our nations in many ways. Some may choose to do it through politics, others through art, through literature, through teaching. There's no proof in Pakistan that politics is the most progressive way to serve the country, or that it's the most positive way. I always wanted to be a writer. So the question of politics is urgent or looming in other people's minds, not mine.
Why do you think you memoir Songs of Blood and Sword has not yet been translated into Urdu?
It’s strange, though not surprising at all. Thousands of people read English in Pakistan, but millions read Urdu. It’s sad that the book has been translated into various other languages but has yet to find an Urdu version. But I hope that will change in time.
Being a vehement critic of the establishment, do you live in Pakistan for the most part, or abroad?
I don’t live abroad. I live in Karachi. I do travel a lot with Songs of Blood and Sword, speaking at festivals, and promoting it in the countries it’s been published. But Karachi is home. It’s always been risky to speak out against the establishment in Pakistan, but I do believe that silence is far riskier.
After the hugely successful memoir, what are you working on now?
A book on Karachi, but it’s still in very early stages.
A lot of good new writing in Pakistan is in English. Is there anything interesting happening in other languages — Urdu, Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, Baluch?
There's always been fascinating work published in Urdu - whether poetry or plays or satire. And the same goes for the other regional languages. Sindhis, one can tell immediately, are very attached to their language, for example. They make sure it is taught in provincial schools and that it is a living, breathing, language and not relegated to the back of bookshelves. But really, the problem in Pakistan is illiteracy. It’s a tremendous barrier and there are no efforts to change what is a dismally low literacy rate… the qualification for literacy is the ability to sign one’s name, so official numbers are grossly inflated.
Do you read your Pakistani contemporaries’ writing in English? What about Indian writers? Have you met any?
Yes, of course. There’s such wonderful work coming out of Pakistan, and, as you say, out of South Asia in general. A really good book that flew sort of under the radar a few years ago was Children of Dust by Ali Eteraz. I’d recommend it as it’s a rare offering of non-fiction. Indian writers — I’ve admired the work of Basharat Peer, Suketu Mehta and Tishani Doshi in terms of current authors.
Why does so much of the Pakistani writing have to do with politics, indirectly or directly? Are there historical or social novels, or novels about love, chiclit, in Pakistan? Are good short stories and plays being written?
It’s impossible to escape politics — the best art thrives under difficult political situations. People don’t have a lot of forums open to them — they don’t have political spaces where they can express themselves. Those spaces are shut off except to the very few. So you find that people’s writing becomes an outlet for political thought. There’s also people’s art, some really fascinating and really brave art is being created in Pakistan at the moment, especially by women.
I think artists like Faiza Butt and Sana Arjumand in the art world are tremendous because they don’t shy away from difficult issues. Your question seems critical of the presence of politics, but I think it’s urgent and necessary and very inspiring to witness. Imran Aslam is a great playwright in Pakistan. He’s very witty and very political again, he’s a big favourite of mine.
How do you feel when you visit India? Does it seem like Pakistan, or different? Have you been initiated into the charms of Bollywood?
I am always very happy to come to India, it feels like home. The people are very warm, very friendly, and really I can’t say I feel as welcome as a Pakistani anywhere else. There are so many things that are similar to Pakistan - we’re the same people, we have the same attitudes, the same language, the same culture, the same history. There are differences of course, but what defines India for me is its warmth. That is true for Pakistani people too. I wish it was easier for people to have access to each other, to travel freely to each other’s countries. It would break so many barriers and be so powerful to see the two countries work in harmony together.
What stops Pakistan from being friendly with India? What do you think should be Pakistan’s priorities?
That’s a two-way street. I think when it comes to Pakistan-India relations, priorities of both our nations must urgently centre on peace. We are sibling countries, we are far stronger together than we are against each other. Our destinies are linked, the three of us — India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, and my generation has had no part in the hostilities that has defined South Asia. We want peace, we want to connect with each other, we want openness. We must stand strong when it comes to those values, to the values of non-violence, and of solidarity with each other. I hear it all the time in Pakistan, and I hear it whenever I am in India too.
Source :
http://www.deccanchronicle.com/editorial/op-ed/%E2%80%98-pak-it%E2%80%99s-impossible-escape-politics%E2%80%99-807
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