Book: Ya Khuda

Author: Qudrat Ullah Shahab
Publisher:

“Ya Khuda” as the name would suggest is an acronym of how the reader might feel after reading this book. Since the days of yore we have been told of the glory of Partition. Some textbooks and stories will eventually hint at the genocide that took place on the fleeing refugees from both sides. But there is a comfortable numbness about Partition in our perceptions. As Pakistanis our history begins from the Mughals and Peaks at the formation of Pakistan. That in a nutshell is enough we are told, we do not need to know anymore. I remember quite vividly as a child asking my grandmother to tell me the stories of her childhood in Ujjain, India. I can remember the sheer ecstasy in her voice as she took me on that journey to her childhood and enacted the Haveli that still stands in all its ruinous glory. I can also remember how she would smile as she would talk about her brothers, sisters, cousins and hundreds of close knit families that lived together in that haveli. And then she would talk about Pakistan and the hardships of the early years in Karachi. Only once had I ever asked her about the Journey to Pakistan. I remember quite vividly her expressions to this day. I loved her and love her to death and thus even a hint of trepidation on her face on my account would move me to tears. I can remember how she remained quite and asked me to go to sleep. I can also remember her sobbing which I accounted to be my fault and thus slept in fear of the morning when I will be reprimanded for whatever I had done. I had forgotten everything by the morning.

Reading “Ya Khuda” for the first time, reminded me of my grandmother’s tears. I could understand for the first time, the actual horror of migration and the pandemonium that ensued. Qudrat Ullah Shahab challenges the limitations and numbness that we have impressed upon ourselves as a society, especially in the context of History. And there are many, may it be the horrors of partition, or the 1971 war. “Ya Khuda” is an eye opener mostly because the author abstains from any form of Pretensions. This is Shahab at his best, constructing a narrative based on reality. A reality that as a nation we have always hid from and have never really come to terms with. This story is a painful journey through the masses of decrepit humanity, sick by the nausea of nationalism, hate, lust and barbarity. This book is certainly not an incrimination of either side. But reminds us that there are beasts on both sides of the border, only the names change, sometimes its Balbir Singh and in some places its Abdul Rauf.

The most painful thing the reader is reminded of is the fact that all this was true. As recounted by the millions who had gone through the morass of Muhajir camps. This is essentially the zenith of QA Shahab’s literary career. Never before had a story teller described as vividly the horrors of our history. The Filthy paths travelled to achieve this glory we so proudly call Pakistan. I would recommend this story to all who can shake away from their natural slumber to wake and come to terms with our past. Maybe through these ghosts we will find the Pakistan that we never understood. Understand the pains of those women and children and men who fell and were never recounted. Of those women who sell their bodies to the inferno’s of lust and the paying beasts to feed their hungry children. In short this is an important book. Important because it will let us realise the pains of the creation of the country, if only to stand back from our crestfallen outlook on the state of this country.