The Karachi Literature Festival needs disruption to win back Pakistan's literary heart
Harris Khalique verbalised my thoughts at the eighth edition of the Karachi Literature Festival (KLF) exactly when, during the launch of his book Crimson Papers, he mused, “Why do I write? And what difference will it make?”
He revealed this as the question he struggles with endlessly, and it occurred to me how this is what literature festivals ought to examine today. Because as borders become impermeable, as walls go up between people and as bans become common, a conversation about the limits of literature and language to bridge divides — or the new ways in which writing must be appropriated to effect change — becomes essential.
This year’s KLF felt smaller and more subdued than its predecessor. The festival clearly suffered from tensions between India and Pakistan as only a handful of Indian authors made it across the border.
Last year’s KLF boasted prominent Indian journalist and author Barkha Dutt; this year no one of similar stature was present. Having the Indian high commissioner, Gautam Bambawale, speak at the opening ceremony was a nice touch. But his speech was grave and when he said, “India wishes to see a Pakistan which doesn’t distinguish between good and bad terrorists,” the main garden was stonily silent.
Ayesha Jalal’s keynote speech was similarly ominous as she bluntly proclaimed that most Pakistanis lack a capacity for critical thought. She rued how Pakistan hasn’t yet developed a coherent or robust political consciousness, and spoke of how, in the absence of a national culture of political engagement or dissent, it was left to individuals of means to carve out spaces for change wherever they could. I assume she was referencing the festival, so it seems apt to ask the question: was KLF 2017 a space for change? And if not, how can we ensure it becomes one?