ike many who were born in a setting surrounded by lush green fields, dancing trees, chirping birds, blue skies, starry nights, flowing streams and, above all, the love of grandparents and friends – it was only natural for Muhammad Izhar-ul-Haq to internalise these salong with the social capital he carried with him as he transitioned to urban life for higher education. He excelled at Government College, Rawalpindi, earning a place on the Roll of Honour. Notably, he received a federal government inter-wing fellowship, which enabled him to pursue a master’s degree in economics from Dhaka University. He later earned an MA in Arabic from Punjab University. In 1972, Izhar-ul-Haq joined the Civil Service of Pakistan after passing the competitive examination. He has served in several high-ranking positions, including Military Accountant General. In 2008 he retired as the additional auditor general of Pakistan.

Despite his service in the ‘steel frame’ of the state, where bureaucratic machinations often stifle the literary talent of sensitive souls, Izhar-ul-Haq maintained the courage, perhaps due to his intellectual upbringing, to express his thoughts through the impressionistic language of poetry as well as writing prose. It is no surprise that he is widely regarded as a trendsetter in modern Urdu ghazal. His debut book, Diwaar-i-Aab (1982), won the Adamjee Award – the highest literary accolade in the country at that time. His subsequent poetry collections, Ghadr (1986) and Paree-Zaad (1995), were well received by the literary community of the subcontinent, and his fourth book, Paani peh Bichaa Takht, earned the Allama Iqbal Award in 2003.

In addition, Izhar-ul-Haq has been a prolific columnist, writing on socioeconomic, political, and literary issues for major newspapers in Pakistan. In recognition of his decades-long service to literature and society, he was honoured with the Pride of Performance award in 2009. His recent works include Meri Wafat (2020), Ay Aasman Neechay Utar (2023; poetry), Tiklu Kay Kaarnamay (2024; a children’s book) and Samandar, Jazeeray aur Judaiyan, which was published recently.

His book under review, titled Aashiq Mast Jalali, is both an anthology of memories from his childhood in his ancestral village in northern Punjab and a reflection of his enduring love, not only for the places where he grew up but also for the people he socialised with, the local sports and the food he enjoyed during those days of rural life – increasingly missed due to rapid, unplanned urbanisation. The book is thematically divided into eight parts, arranged in a way that each preceding section adds discursive value to the one that follows. As a poet, Izhar-ul-Haq is a master of employing brevity in prose, interspersed with occasional wit and a deductive application of moral values that have remained a hallmark of Muslim civilisations in Africa and Asia.

The first part of the book is steeped in nostalgia. The author transports readers to a time when people, places and their problems were culturally – or rather structurally – centred around the holistic life of the village. Despite misunderstandings and occasional clan feuds, people found time to gather under a tree to enjoy the antics of mischievous children or engage in local sports like gilli danda. At home, they consumed simple but nutritious food. Local drinks such as lassi offered a refreshing way to quench their thirst in the scorching summers. Village elders interacted with children and youth with love, respect, care and, most importantly, a sense of social responsibility. They passed on civilisational values, such as respect for elders, to the younger generation.

In recalling the precious time spent with his grandmother, the author vividly captures the essence of a nostalgic past while simultaneously navigating life in an urban environment like Islamabad – a modern, relatively young city shaped by contemporary cultural trends such as fast food and new technologies, with young children using tablets instead of playing with their parents. Indeed, modern-day parenting often lacks the civilisational sophistication of spending quality time with children.

The author considers himself fortunate to have been blessed with grandchildren, to whom he has tried to introduce indigenous culture. It requires considerable courage in this fast-changing world to speak local languages with grandchildren, as Urdu and English are increasingly seen as symbols of modernity by urbanising Pakistanis. Consequently, children are often ridiculed for using Punjabi words at home or on the street. How unfortunate that Punjabis in Pakistan are forsaking their own mother tongue.

The second and third parts of the book pay tribute to notable figures who have shaped civilisation, such as Allama Iqbal, Edhi and Jamsheed Marker – the latter being a distinguished diplomat who served as Pakistan’s ambassador to the United States in the late 1980s. Similarly, through his travels to various countries, including Australia, where his sons live and work, and his exploration of foreign cultures, Izhar-ul-Haq nostalgically transports readers to forgotten cities like Baghdad, which once housed one of the greatest libraries in the world, but later suffered the devastation of modern warfare, facing bombs, death, and destruction in the early 21st Century.

The fourth and seventh parts of the book are connected, exposing the role of external forces – such as neo-imperial powers and their financial and political institutions – that ‘dictate’ domestic policies in the Global South, including Pakistan. The author laments the political inefficiency and policy ineffectiveness that plague his country, whose wellbeing is dear to him despite the many challenges it faces in the current turbulent context. Izhar-ul-Haq candidly analyses the duplicitous character and immoral conduct of many individuals in the so-called post-truth world.

The final part of the book is dedicated to books and libraries. The author fondly recalls his childhood days spent with the books that his grandfather, and later his father, kept in their village library, highlighting the remarkable love for learning among rural communities. Izhar-ul-Haq has carried forward this tradition of knowledge through his creative writing.

However, having experienced life with Generation Z, who are deeply connected to foreign cultures both virtually and personally, the author illustrates how our children and youth are adopting unhealthy trends, such as viewing fast-food chains like KFC and McDonald’s as symbols of ‘elite’ culture. This, in turn, establishes a psycho-cultural hegemony over marginalised communities. He expresses uncertainty about whether or how these cultural anomalies and uncertainties will be resolved over the coming years.

Aashiq Mast Jalali makes an original contribution to Urdu prose, both thematically and discursively, by addressing multiple issues faced by ordinary people in contemporary Pakistan. I would argue that this work sets a new trend in Urdu literature by examining and analysing domestic phenomena, such as migration from rural to urban areas, which creates cultural disconnections. In contrast to the Partition-oriented work of authors like Qurratulain Hyder, Manto and Mumtaz Mufti, Izhar-ul-Haq subtly highlights the importance of current dynamics in Pakistan’s politics, economy and society.

Ali Akbar Natiq’s Naulakhi Kothi stands out similarly as an impressive work of literary prose that, among other things, exposes bureaucratic machinations in contemporary Pakistan. However, Natiq’s novel also focuses on the Partition where as Izhar-ul-Haq is more concerned with modern-day issues.

This is a commendable work, highly recommended for readers interested in rural Punjab, urban Pakistan, cross-cultural dynamics and modern Urdu prose.

Aashiq Mast Jalali

Author: Muhammad Izhar-ul-Haq

Publisher: Book Corner, 2022

Pages: 367

The reviewer teaches at the Lahore School of Economics. He can be reached at ejaz.bhatty@gmail.com