.



First Urdu Novel:

Contesting Claims and Disclaimers

I  Qurratulain Hyder, the foremost living practitioner of the art of

the novel in Urdu, translated into English HaΩan Sh≥h ’s Nashtar (ca.
),1 a fictional work originally written in Persian in India. Flushed
with the excitement of a discovery, she called it the first novel in any
Indian language. This gave a new twist to the story of the first novel in
India, for which the claimants are numerous. Hyder’s pronouncement led
to some counterclaims and rebuttals in the months that followed the
publication of her translation, mainly in Urdu literary circles.2 What
emerges from these fierce debates and discussions is the essentially provi-
sional nature of such claims on behalf of fictional texts. The question of
the first novel seems to be an eternally open one, unresolved and perhaps
unresolvable. The flexible nature of the genre allows a number of works
to be classified as such by writers and critics. In this paper I propose to
examine the validity of such claims in relation to some Urdu works.

1
The Nautch Girl: A Novel, trans. Qurratulain Hyder (New Delhi: Sterling
Publishers, Ltd., ); the title of the American edition is Dancing Girl. The
Persian original by HaΩan Sh≥h is known as QiΩΩa-e Ragµn or Afs≥na-e Ragµn.
Nashtar is the title of its Urdu translation/adaptation by Sajj≥d ƒusain Kasman≈vµ
(ca. ).
2
For a fuller account of this debate see Qurratu ’l-‘Ain ƒaidar, “Kh≥nam J≥n
k≥ Safar: Afs≥na-e Ragµn s® ∆≥nsig Garl tak ” in J≥mi‘a (Delhi), :–
(Aug–Sept, ), pp. –; ‘A µmu ’sh-Sh≥n ¿iddµqµ, “Afs≥na-e Ragµn s® ∆≥nsig
Garl tak: Afs≥na y≥ ƒaqµqat” and Qurratu ’l-‘Ain ƒaidar, “ Kh≥nam J≥n kµ Tauba,”
in J≥mi‘a, :– (Jan–March, ), pp. – and –, respectively; and Y∑suf
Sarmast, “Nashtar : Pahl≥ Hindust≥nµ N≥vil ?” in Saugh≥t (Bangalore), No. 
(), pp. –.


 M. A • 

To do so, we must first arrive at a workable definition of the genre.

The novel has made immeasurable progress in the West, from Rabelais
and Cervantes to Flaubert, Dostoevsky and Joyce to Guntar Grass,
Marquez, Kundera and Eco, making it the most protean genre in litera-
ture,3 and providing inspiration to theorists and historians of the novel as
diverse as Ian Watt, Lukác, Bakhtin, David Lodge, Robbe-Grillet and
others. However, for the limited purpose of this paper I will use the sim-
plest and most conventional definition of the novel as a sustained prose
narrative of a certain length which contains a realistic4 portrayal of indi-
viduals and events in society and presents a particular worldview. Fur-
thermore, I will concentrate on a generic analysis of early works, keeping
in mind certain normative principles about which there has always existed
and, I hope, still exists some consensus, however limited that consensus
may be.
The growth and development of the Urdu novel should be seen as a
complex interface of Western impact on a literature which was already a
fertile ground for absorbing and assimilating this impact. The rise of the
novel in Europe was attributed, by Ian Watt and other historians and
critics of the genre, to the decline of feudalism, the rise of the bourgeoisie,
the growth and development of periodical literature which lead to the
formation of a sizable reading public, the growth of individualism, and so
on. In the case of Urdu, some of these factors obtain. The rise of the
Urdu novel parallels the introduction and spread of the printing press, the
emergence of periodical literature, and the spread of education which lead
to the growth of a reading public and the urge for social reform. The con-
cept of individualism, associated with the rise of the novel in English,
does not seem valid in the Indian situation, at least not in the context of
Urdu. Also, the “middle class” as the analogue of its Western counterpart,

3
It will be instructive to remember what Carlos Fuentes said about the scope
of the novel in modern times: “I think the novel is basically a genre without
genre. It cannot fit into any genre, because at that moment it fixes, solidifies and
ceases to be the protean genre of genres or dialogue of genres.” [The contributor
didn’t provide the source for this quote. —Editor]
4
Realism is now a contested concept. Though mimetic or documentary real-
ism as a mode of artistic representation is discredited in modern times, valorizing
magic realism of one kind or the other, the fact still remains that in nineteenth-
century India novels in many languages were used as handmaidens for social
reform, and to that extent at least, the novel tried to exploit the mode of repre-
sentational realism.
 • T A  U S

or in the sense of a Marxist bourgeoisie, did not exist as a unified class in

North India at the time.5
In Urdu, the emergence of the novel was preceded by a long-standing
tradition of qiΩΩa or d≥st≥n narration. If it is true that the novel is a pecu-
liarly Western import mediated by the English-educated Indian intelli-
gentsia, it is equally true that a readership nurtured on the earlier forms of
storytelling took to it quite naturally, without any great sense of shock or
novelty. Furthermore, as in the case of many other literatures of India, in
Urdu the early phase of prose-fiction writing was marked by
romances—historical or otherwise—and edifying or instructional tales.

Qissa and Dastan

In Persian “qiΩΩa” or “d≥st≥n” simply means a tale or a story. However, in
its specific literary usage, it denotes the lengthy cycles of medieval
romances which consist of heroic and adventurous tales of great courage
and valor that include the deployment of supernatural machinery, magic
and enchantment (πilism) and adhere to the medieval code of chivalry.
These tales were immensely popular and constituted a significant segment
of Urdu oral tradition. They were written down largely because of the
initiative taken by Munshi Naval Kishore, a famous Lucknow publisher.
The most widely known of the d≥st≥ns is D≥st≥n-e Amµr ƒamza, a -
volume work,6 each volume averaging  pages, which is regarded as the

5
For a comprehensive and definitive account of this view see C.A. Bayly,
Rulers, Townsmen and Bazaars: North Indian Society in the Age of British Expan-
sion, – (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
6
D≥st≥n-e Amµr ƒamza is available in many Persian, Devanagari and Urdu
versions. The reference here is to the most celebrated Urdu version narrated by
three famous d≥st≥n-gås of Lucknow—Mu√ammad ƒusain J≥h, A√mad ƒusain
Qamar and TaΩadduq ƒusain—who were hired by Munshi Naval Kishore. The
volumes were published between –. For a study of the d≥st≥n tradition as
it developed in South Asia see the following: Gy≥n ≤and Jain , Urd∑ kµ Na¡rµ
D≥st≥n®, nd ed. (Karachi: Anjuman-e Taraqµ-e Urd∑, ); Shamsu ’r-Ra√m≥n
F≥r∑qµ, Amµr ƒamza: Zub≥nµ Bay≥niya, Bay≥n-Kuninda aur S≥mi‘µn (New Delhi:
Maktaba Jamia, ); Romance Tradition in Urdu: Adventures from the D≥st≥n of
Amµr ƒamzah, translated, edited, and with an introduction by Frances W.
Pritchett (New York: Columbia University Press, ); and Musharraf Farooqi,
“The Simurgh-Feather Guide to the Poetics of D≥st≥n-e Amµr ƒamza ¿≥√ibqir≥n,”
in The Annual of Urdu Studies, No.  (), pp. –.
 M. A • 

largest single romance cycle in world literature. The most popular book
(daftar) in the cycle being ∫ilism-e Håshrub≥ by Mu√ammad ƒusain J≥h.
This d≥st≥n celebrates the valor and heroism of Amµr ƒamza, who bears
the name and some of the traits of the Prophet Mu√ammad’s uncle. He is
in love with Mehrnig≥r , the daughter of Naush®rv≥n, the Persian king who
brought him up as his protégé. Accompanied by two of his childhood
friends, ‘Amr ‘Ayy≥r, a dazzling trickster, and Muqbil Vaf≥d≥r, a great
archer, Amµr ƒamza vanquishes his enemies in many far-off countries.
The d≥st≥n-narrators, as expected in the oral tradition, constantly impro-
vised and embellished their tales. A high-pitched tone and ornate, rhyth-
mic, rhyming prose characterized their style. Despite its great popularity,
at times d≥st≥n literature can be tendentious and full of prejudice against
non-Islamic communities, particularly the Christian community,
undoubtedly a legacy of the age of the Crusades. There is little realism of
any kind in it, the laws of probability are ignored. As a matter of fact,
while novels aspire to represent “reality,” d≥st≥ns attempt to shut it out as
hermetically as possible. D≥st≥n characters are flat, two-dimensional
figures, lacking in development and complexity. However, at the time
d≥st≥ns seemed to satisfy people’s psychological needs and natural desire
for stories. As Ralph Russell points out:
It is noteworthy that the d≥st≥ns flowered in the second half of the
eighteenth century, when the Mughal empire was in headlong decline and
where every principle of conduct in the medieval code was everywhere and
every day being violated. Men who knew no other code, including those
who were daily offending against it, could escape from the sordid reality
around them into the world of the d≥st≥ns where everything was splen-
didly simple and where the true Muslim warrior not only behaved unfail-
ingly as a true Muslim should, but by doing so achieved the most
eminently satisfactory results.7

Whatever the psychological or political circumstances were which

influenced the emergence and popularity of this genre in India, it played
an important role in the development of Urdu prose. The d≥st≥n narra-
tors/writers were men of great linguistic skill and verbal accomplishment
and d≥st≥ns provided ample scope for exhibiting these abilities. Not only
that, many of the narrative strategies employed by the practitioners of

7
Ralph Russell, The Pursuit of Urdu Literature: A Select History (New Delhi:
Oxford University Press, ), p. .
 • T A  U S

d≥st≥n-gå’µ can be seen to contain precursors of strategies used later in the

novel. It is a pity that “uninformed criticism based on petty rationale has
kept Urdu fiction from exploring the powerful content of the d≥st≥n for
its narrative strategies.”8

Fort William College, Delhi College and

the Development of Urdu Prose
It may be appropriate at this point to recall that when Fort William Col-
lege was established in Calcutta in , it commissioned the writing and
translation of a number of Indian texts. The objective was to provide
materials to teach Indian languages to newly-arrived English agents of the
East India Company. This objective required that the prose in which
these texts were written and translated be simple, lucid and fluent.
Though the Fort William Urdu was derided by Urdu writers in Delhi
and Lucknow, who still considered Rajab ‘Alµ B®g Sur∑r’s9 highly-stylized
prose the ideal, it had considerable impact on subsequent prose literature.
One of the College’s publications in Hindustani, 10 B≥gh-o-Bah≥r (,

8
Farooqi, p. .
9
He is famous for his Fas≥na-e ‘Aj≥’ib (printed between  and ,
though written much earlier), which imitates the highly ornate Persian prose
style. According to his own admission, Sur∑r first tried to make his name by
writing in Arabic and Persian, but realizing that he could not excel in them he
subsequently turned to Urdu, rather like Gh≥lib.
10
Although Hindustani was intended to encompass both Hindi and Urdu, a
cleavage soon occurred between them. Hindustani, written in the Perso-Arabic
script, was regarded by some as the language of Muslims and John Gilchrist,
though appointed as a professor of Hindustani, soon felt the need to make provi-
sions to teach the language in the Devanagari script. “Gilchrist thus foiled his
own attempt to propagate Hindustani as the comprehensive language for both
Hindus and Muslims.” [The contributor didn’t provide the source for this quote.
—Editor] The available studies of the origins of both Urdu and Hindi are highly
contentious and riddled with misconceptions and historically invalid and unveri-
fiable conjectures. To me, the most lucid and convincing account so far is
Vasudha Dalmia’s The Nationalization of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu
Harischandra and Nineteenth-Century Banaras (Delhi: Oxford University Press,
). For a full idea of the debate see also: Amrit Rai, A House Divided: The
Origin and Development of Hindi/Hindavi (Delhi: Oxford University Press, );
Christopher King, One Language, Two Scripts: The Hindi Movement in
 M. A • 

also known as QiΩΩa-e ≤ah≥r Darv®sh) by Mµr Amman, achieved phenome-

nal popularity. Prose writing in Urdu was stimulated further by the
establishment of the Vernacular Translation Society at Delhi College,
established in the late s. This Society published numerous transla-
tions of material pertaining to what were then referred to as the realms of
‘ilm (sciences) and adab (literature). Thus, along with the revival of lit-
erature through translations of The Thousand and One Nights, Laila and
Majnun, Dharma Shastras and so on, students of Delhi College discov-
ered new areas of learning opening before them because of the literature
of the sciences brought to them in a language which was easily accessible.
Highlighting this aspect of the College’s contribution, Gail Minault says:
In the development of textbooks and other forms of scholarly prose,
Delhi College was at the center of a major effort of translation.... This lin-
guistic mediation involved translating texts into Urdu out of Arabic, Per-
sian and Sanskrit for the oriental section, and out of English and other
western languages for the anglo-vernacular section.11

Periodical Literature and Urdu Prose and Fiction

However, it was only in the latter half of the nineteenth century that
periodical literature in Urdu began to have a significant impact, as Urdu
prose began to develop its texture through writings published in maga-
zines and newspapers. Those periodicals which were most influential
included: Avad^ Akhb≥r (an Urdu weekly published by Munshi Naval
Kishore, Lucknow, ); ‘Alµga∞^ Insªµª∑ª Gazaª and Tehÿµbu ’l-Akhl≥q) (the
Urdu journals founded by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan,  and  respec-
tively); Avad^ Pan± (the nationalist Urdu newspaper edited by Munshµ
Sajj≥d ƒusain, ); and Akhb≥r-e ‘¥lam (Meerut).12 Samples of writings

Nineteenth Century North India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, ); and
Shamsu ’r-Ra√m≥n F≥r∑qµ, Urd∑ k≥ Ibtid≥’µ Zam≥na (Karachi: ¥j kµ Kit≥b®,
).
11
“Delhi College and Urdu” in The Annual of Urdu Studies, No.  (), p.
.
12
These journals played a seminal role in social reform, enlightenment and
the articulation of the new aspirations of the Muslim community. In his
Khuπab≥t-e G≥rsiy≥ Dµ T≥sµ (A∑rag≥b≥d: Anjuman Taraqqµ-e Urd∑ Hind, ),
Garcin de Tassy (–), the noted French Indologist, has this is to say about
the quality of materials published in Avad^ Akhb≥r, “They are of such high stan-
 • T A  U S

from them reflect the terrible mental and psychological trauma the
North-Indian Muslims had to undergo after the failed Mutiny of .
The defeat—political and cultural—was complete. In the writings of
thinkers and writers of the time, such as Sir Syed Ahmad Khan (–),
Mu√ammad ƒusain ¥z≥d (–), and Alπ≥f ƒusain ƒ≥lµ (–),
one notices the great awe of a vanquished people and the often uncritical
acceptance of the values and norms of the West, even in the realm of
literature. Their literary/discursive writings, as well as the writings of their
contemporaries, shaped the literary and intellectual climate of the time,
imbibing Western influence freely, though occasionally offering a critique
of it, however feeble and muted. Many of the writers appearing in these
periodicals, while being firmly grounded in their own language(s) and
intellectual tradition, could also access the fruits of Western scholarship
through their painstakingly acquired knowledge of English. The intellec-
tual-cultural-literary encounter between the East and the West, which
first took place in the pages of these periodicals, made way for broader
colonial transactions later on. Both in their advocacy of English education
and their adoption of Western values, and sometimes their opposition to
them, these periodicals became a vibrant and contested site for negotiat-
ing the terms of colonial modernity.13 Many future Urdu authors honed
their art by writing for these journals and newspapers, which occupied the
greater part of the discursive space at that time. According to Mu√ammad
ƒasan ‘Askarµ, one of the most perceptive Urdu critics: “The great tradi-
tion of Urdu prose developed through the pioneering efforts of Mµr
Amman, Gh≥lib , Sarsh≥r, Naÿµr A√mad, Sajj≥d ƒusain and Sharar.” 14
Moreover, translations of European, mainly English literature, published
in the pages of these journals also provided Urdu authors with new
models, paving the way for imitation, adaptation and reconstruction.
Noting the contributions of periodical literature and its implications,

dard that they can be put side by side with those published in our journals” (p.
). Likewise, Maul≥n≥ Alπ≥f ƒusain ƒ≥lµ felt that ‘Alµga∞^ Gazaª had inaugurated
the change in popular thoughts and new awareness in northern India. Cf. His
ƒay≥t-e J≥v®d (Lahore: Punjab Academy, ), p. .
13
For a complementary view on this in the context of western India see
Veena Naregal, “Colonial Bilingualism and Hierarchies of Language and Power:
Making of a Vernacular Sphere in Western India,” in Economic and Political
Weekly, Delhi, : (Dec. –, ).
14
¥Ωif Farrukhµ, “ƒairatµ Hai Ye ¥’ina …: Urd∑ N≥vil kµ D≥st≥n,” in Saugh≥t
(Bangalore), No.  (), p. .
 M. A • 

Vasudha Dalmia points out:

The mutual actions and reactions of the colonial and the indigenous
worlds found their most creative expression in the adoption of newer
literary genres from the West, such as the short story and novel but also in
editorials and essays which thematised the issues raised by the encounter.
This adaptation and assimilation of Western genres to the Indian tradition
and situation were part of a larger shift in social and historical
consciousness. To view the phenomenon as a mere imitation of formal
conventions would reduce its meaning, for the new forms signalled new
areas of literary occupation. If there was a greater awareness of social
differences, of social milieu in the details observed and newly organized in
a range of narrative forms, there was at the same time an expansion and
growth of more autonomous private space occupied by the individual.15

It has always been taken as an axiomatic truth that the novel as a

genre is a peculiarly Western import. The claim has never been seriously
contested. Two book-length studies of the growth and development of
the Urdu novel—Urd∑ N≥vil kµ T≥rµkh aur Tanqµd by ‘Alµ ‘Abb≥s ƒusainµ
() and Urd∑ N≥vil kµ Tanqµdµ T≥rµkh by A√san F≥r∑qµ () endorse
this view.16 What needs to be stressed, however, is that before the
Western novel made its impact in the nineteenth century, either in the
original or through translation, India already had a rich tradition of
storytelling. What was missing were some features of formal equivalence,
a certain conception of character and a worldview. Whenever a new genre
is introduced to supplant or supplement an old one, a consensus has to be
negotiated between the writers and the reading public. The periodical
literature in Urdu which published both fictional and non-fictional prose
and translations of Western fictional texts, mediated the emergence of the
novel in the Urdu language. However, this did not happen overnight, nor

15
Dalmia, p. .
16
For a critique of these two books, see Farrukhµ, pp. –. Farrukhµ draws
attention to fictional works such as Nav≥b Saiyad Mu√ammad ¥z≥d’s Nav≥bµ
Darb≥r, Mirz≥ ‘Abb≥s ƒusain Håsh’s Afs≥na N≥dir Jah≥, and so on, which are
usually dismissed as “minor” by historians and critics of the Urdu novel. The
essay goes beyond the traditional categories of plot and character as determiners
of novelistic excellence and makes a fervent plea for examining the merit of the
Urdu novel by also applying the Bakhtinian categories of dialogism, discourse
and polyglossia.
 • T A  U S

in a strictly linear fashion. The writers were faced with the challenge of
reconciling the Western form with Indian sensibility. A convention had
to develop for which a gestation period was needed. All the features of the
Western novel did not appear in a single work or at one time. In the
beginning only some features of the Western style of fictional writing
were discernible, and those too in a crude form. Gradually they aquired
sophistication, realism became a virtue, and a notion of individualism
developed along with a complex view of good and evil, leading to the
consolidation of the genre. There is also a colonial angle to the develop-
ment of this genre. The British encouraged and facilitated writings of
“approved design and style” in the Indian languages and the most privi-
leged genre in this regard was fiction. In an illuminating essay, “The
Arrangement of an Alliance,” Susie Tharu alludes to several texts to dem-
onstrate that a number of novels in Indian languages were written in
response to “an ideological ambience in which a totally new sense of the
responsibilities of the writer as well as the social function of literature and
literary study featured prominently.”17
Ratan N≥th Sarsh≥r (–) certainly marks one step forward in
the development of the Urdu novel. His Fas≥na-e ¥z≥d is a four-volume
work inspired by such books as The Pickwick Papers and Don Quixote.
Though it has many of the characteristics of d≥st≥ns , it marks an
improvement upon some of them, particularly in its engagement with
contemporary life and in its use of a language different from the highly
ornate and embellished language of the d≥st≥n. Sarsh≥r had an intimate
knowledge of the social and street life in Lucknow and instead of fixing
his gaze on some distant or fictional past, he delighted in portraying the
teeming life of the city in vivid details. Muhammad Sadiq is generally
correct when he says:
Just as the isolated sketch led in time to the Sir Roger de
Coverly papers, and then to the realistic English novel; in a similar
way, the realistic accounts of fairs, festivals, and pastimes in
Lucknow, e.g., Muharram, chihlam, basant, divali, a municipal
election, cock-fighting, law courts, paved the way for the Fasana.
Sarsh≥r’s contemporary essayists had given isolated pictures of life as
they knew it. Sarsh≥r, in the Fasana, knits his observation and criti-

17
Quoted in K. Satchidanandan, Indian Literature: Positions and Propositions
(Delhi: Pencraft International, ), p. .
 M. A • 

cism into a larger unit by presenting the life of Lucknow, through a

central figure.18
However, this scheme operates only in the first section of the work,
for the first three hundred pages or so out of a total of about three thou-
sand pages. After that the scheme changes and this is usually surmised to
be because of the influence of Don Quixote, which Sarsh≥r had translated
(or rather “transcreated”) into Urdu. The central character, ¥z≥d, and his
sidekick, Kh∑jµ , offer a direct parallel to the Don and Sancho Panza.
Sarsh≥r, with a keen eye on his readership/audience, also exploited the
excitement generated by contemporary events such as the Turko-Russian
War (–) and the Pan-Islamic impulse it gave rise to. ¥z≥d has been
portrayed as a contemporary man of the Victorian period embodying the
values of Victorian England uncritically. However, in his physical attrib-
utes he resembles the hero of a d≥st≥n. He is a champion of Islam who
fights alongside his fellow Muslims, the Turks, in their battle against the
Russians. He also participates in the Crimean War with the British, and
even helps them in their conflict against the Muslims in Afghanistan. He
does so because he is unambiguously on the side of modernity and for
him the British symbolized progress and modernity. As in a d≥st≥n,
Sarsh≥r’s narrative flows along as a succession of episodes, without much
inner logic or coherence. There is also not much effort to introduce cau-
sality in the plot. However, the narrative is comparatively free of the
medieval trappings of the d≥st≥n—of which the most prominent is the use
of supernatural elements and magic. The events described and the details
of characterization have a greater resemblance to reality than one finds in
d≥st≥ns.
In ¥z≥d’s unquestioning acceptance of British values one can see the
psycho-pathology of a vanquished people. For many, the British conquest
of India implied the inherent superiority of their culture, their sciences
and their values, and therefore these ought to be emulated. ¥z≥d , to a
great extent, exemplifies the aspirations of young, educated Muslims of
the late Victorian period in northern India. These aspirations were
formed partly, if not wholly, by the “New Light” (Na’µ Råshnµ) movement
spearheaded by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan. Sections of Fas≥na-e ¥z≥d
(–) deal with the debates of that period regarding the merits, as

18
Muhammad Sadiq, A History of Urdu Literature, 2nd ed. (Delhi: Oxford
University Press, ), p. .
 • T A  U S

well as the deleterious effects, of Western education, values and ways of

life. In those sections, and in the sections portraying different facets of life
in Lucknow at that historical moment, we find good specimens of
realistic writing. Critics and writers call Fas≥na-e ¥z≥d a novel but with
some reservations.19 However, despite their exploitation of some of the
features of novel writing, Fas≥na-e ¥z≥d and other fictional works by
Sarsh≥r—which, to a large extent, are variations on the themes and modes
of the Fas≥na—cannot be called novels proper for the following reasons:
First, the hold of a d≥st≥n-like atmosphere is still very strong on the story.
¥z≥d appears to be more a hero of romance than a flesh and blood
character from real life. Second, there is no clear perception of a plot. The
narrative has been constructed using a seemingly endless succession of
episodes, it is often chaotic, and it lacks the coherence and causality of a
plot. Third, good and evil are depicted in black and white terms. Good is
unalloyed good and evil is unalloyed evil. Their conflict, as in the d≥st≥n
tradition, is devoid of any ambiguity. Fourth, except for the principal
characters who have been individualized, the rest are flat, stylized figures.
They do not seem to be real people living in a real society.
After this phase of romances—oral, written, historical—in the jour-
ney of Urdu fiction, we see the emergence of what may be called “Novels
of Purpose.” In her book, Realism and Reality, Meenakshi Mukherjee
draws attention to the similarity in the historiography of the novel—from
traditional moral fables to novels of purpose to social novels—as it
obtains in several languages of India. 20 This similarity is adequately
corroborated by the accounts of the rise of the novel in various Indian
languages found in Sisir Kumar Das’s A History of Indian Literature. At a
certain phase in India’s national life the novel was certainly used as a

19
I mention here two instances as illustrations of this view. In vol.  of his
monumental A History of Indian Literature, Sisir Kumar Das, writes: “It [Fas≥na-e
¥z≥d ] was not only the largest novel published in any language at that time ….”
(New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, , p. ); and C.M. Naim begins an article on
the book as follows: “Fasaana-e ¥z≥d (The Tale of ¥z≥d) is a four volume pica-
resque novel….” (“Fasaana-e ¥z≥d,” in K.M. George, ed., Masterpieces of Indian
Literature [New Delhi: National Book Trust, ], vol. , p. ). After char-
acterizing the work as a novel both writers, however, go on to demonstrate how
the legacy of the d≥st≥n still hangs heavily on it and thus works against classifying
it as a novel proper.
20
Meenakshi Mukherjee, Realism and Reality: The Novel and Society in India
(Delhi: Oxford University Press, ).
 M. A • 

means for social awareness and uplift. This is also the case with Urdu.
Naÿµr A√mad, a senior contemporary of Sarsh≥r brought Urdu fiction
writing close to the social realm. He was a man of considerable learning
and vigorous intellect. He was in deep sympathy with Sir Syed Ahmad
Khan’s movement for social reform through the educational upliftment of
Muslims. What is more, he was also committed to the idea of female edu-
cation. As an officer in the Education Department, he was well aware of
the lack of entertaining reading material for women which would, at the
same time, help them formulate a set of values for their ideal conduct.
When his own daughters grew up he wrote instructional tales for their
edification. According to Naÿµr A√mad this was how Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s came
to be written for private circulation. The second part was written about
eighteen months after the first part when the author’s daughter, having
finished the first part, was pestering him for more. When his eldest
daughter was married a copy of the manuscript was included in her dowry
and it was read with eagerness in her in-law’s house and was praised by
the listeners. The manuscript was accidentally discovered by Naÿµr
A√mad’s British superior, Matthew Kempson, who had it published in
. This account is given by Naÿµr A√mad in his preface to Mir’≥tu ’l-
‘Ur∑s and in his lectures21 and it is the most prevalent view among the
Urdu reading public and literati.
However, another account has been put forward by Iftikhar Ahmad
¿iddµqµ in his well-documented book, Maulvµ Naÿµr A√mad, ‘Ahd-o-¥¡≥r.
He feels that the autobiographical twist given to the genesis of Mir’≥tu ’l-
‘Ur∑s is just another indication of Naÿµr A√mad’s “penchant for the telling
of tales.”22 According to ¿iddµqµ it was written in response to a Govern-
ment Notification (A of  August  by R. Simson who was Secre-
tary to the Government of North Western Province) instituting cash
prizes of up to one thousand rupees for books judged suitable for use in
classrooms. The Notification laid special emphasis on “books suitable for
the women of India” saying they “will be specially acceptable.” 23 ¿iddµqµ

21
Naÿµr A√mad, Lek±arå k≥ Majm∑‘a, (Delhi, ), vol. , p. .
22
Lahore: Majlis-e Taraqqµ-e Adab, .
23
¿iddµqµ writes “… Naÿµr A√mad’s early tales are related to the movement
for educational and social reform. When the notification was issued for the first
time in  announcing prizes, this movement was strengthened and literary
writings gained momentum. After this announcement Naÿµr A√mad wrote
Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s and submitted it for the award. However, by referring to the
 • T A  U S

contends that Naÿµr A√mad had his eye on this prize, which he won in
. Whichever account is the true one, the impact Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s had
on the society, particularly in the field of female education, was consider-
able. Among other things it is credited with spawning similar works in
other Indian literatures, particularly Hindi.24
Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s is a cautionary tale based on the life history of two
sisters—the never-do-well Akbarµ and the ever-competent and high-
minded AΩgharµ . The objective of the book is to instruct young girls
regarding the conduct of a virtuous family life. It preaches the merits of
what may be seen as a kind of Protestant ethic—socially useful, produc-
tive work, frugality, a strong moral sense and an overall attitude which
celebrates work and responsibility in life and frowns upon indulgence in
pleasure or flippancy of any kind. Naÿµr A√mad wrote a sequel, Ban≥tu ’n-
Na‘sh (), apparently inspired by Thomas Day’s History of Sandford
and Merton, and won the prize a second time. A third book, Taubatu ’n-
NaΩ∑√ (),25 which was based on Defoe’s Family Instructor, also won
the award. Of Naÿµr A√mad’s seven fictional works, Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s and

familial anecdote he wants to demonstrate his originality and independence of

thought and to show that he was not influenced by contemporary trends. He
takes the circumstances of writing Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s several years back. This
attempt to predate the writing of Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s to the issue of the notification
for prizes is intended to show his lack of reliance on the external circumstances of
the time” (pp. –).
24
It is generally believed that fiction related to female education, which is a
distinctive sub-genre in India, owes much to the legacy of Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s. See
Annemarie Schimmel, Classical Urdu Literature from the Beginning to Iqbal, ed.
Jan Gonda, VIII: (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, ), pp. –. There is also
the evidence of Matthew Kempson, Director of Public Instruction, Government
of North Western Provinces: “Maulvi Naÿµr A√mad’s … Mir’≥tu ’l-‘Ur∑s , o r
Bride’s Mirror, created a sensation, and has reached a third large edition. Many
imitations were attempted, and it has become fashionable commencement of an
Urdu tale to say in as many words that a certain man had two daughters, one
wise and the other foolish. The Hindi versions I have seen are failures…” (North
Western Provinces Educational Proceedings, Oct. , Index no.) .
25
A detailed study of the circumstances in which Naÿµr A√mad wrote his fic-
tional works, particularly the prize-winning ones, is available in C.M. Naim,
“Prize-winning Adab: A Study of Five Urdu Books Written in Response to the
Allahabad Government Gazette Notification,” Barbara Metcalfe, ed. Moral Con-
duct and Authority: The Place of Adab in South Asian Islam (Berkeley: University
of California Press, ), pp. -.
 M. A • 

Taubatu ’n-NaΩ∑√ became the most popular. In Taubatu ’n-NaΩ∑√, which

some consider his masterpiece, and in Ibnu ’l-Vaqt (), where the nar-
rative shows greater complexity and questions the manners and morals of
the time, particularly the great upheaval of , one finds Naÿµr A√mad’s
interest in human beings being given precedence over the moral implica-
tions of their deeds.26
It is significant that Naÿµr A√mad did not set out to become a novel-
ist, nor did he ever claim to be one. There was never any doubt in his
mind that he wrote to instruct and he chose the fictional form of the nar-
rative because he thought that that would make the instruction enjoyable.
The fact that posterity came to regard him as Urdu’s first novelist is
largely because he, almost intuitively, made use of some of the features of
novel writing. Among them was his vigorous style of narration and his use
of simple, lucid language as encouraged by Fort William College about
seven decades earlier, but which had few takers at the time. He also made
extensive use of dialogue and had each character speak a language appro-
priate to his socio-economic milieu and educational status, which added
to the verisimilitude. “The authorial voice gets submerged in the dialogue
and it subverts the didactic intention of the writer and firmly restores the
novelistic discourse.” 27 He makes a complete break with the language
used in the d≥st≥n and in historical romances, and with the worldview
they projected. In contrast to the monologic and authoritarian mode of
the former, Naÿµr A√mad’s mode acquired a certain dialogism in the
Bakhtinian sense of the word.28 This seems to be the reason why his
works became so popular despite being overtly didactic. His sense of real-
ism raised his works from the status of mere allegory to that of interesting
human documents. This point has been made most eloquently by Ralph
Russell:
…the content of Naÿµr A√mad’s writing owes nothing to the d≥st≥n and its
world of fantasy, and his prose style reflects that fact. For the most part he
writes in the vigorous near-colloquial which the Fort William writers had

26
Naÿµr A√mad ’s reputation is truly pan-Indian. An interesting study of Ibnu
’l-Vaqt and its critical treatment of  is available in Bangla in Gautam Bhadra’s
“’er Abhyutthan Ebong Deputy Naÿµr A√mad,” Baromash, Puja Special
Number, , pp. –.
27
Farrukhµ , p. .
28
M.M. Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination, translated by Caryl Emerson and
Michael Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, ).
 • T A  U S

pioneered seventy years earlier; but it acquires in his hands an ease and
flexibility which they in their day had not yet been able to impart to it….
His great contemporaries Hali and Sir Syed Ahmad Khan are simply not
in the same class. Sarsh≥r has an impressive command of racy Lucknow
colloquial, but this language is too lightweight to sustain serious themes.
And Sharar … is fluent but pedestrian.29

In Naÿµr A√mad we see the promise of a novelist in the proper sense

of the term. But because of his peculiar bent of mind, he preferred to be a
moralist rather than an author concerned with the literary and aesthetic
demands of art. It is almost by default that he has come to be recognized
as Urdu’s first novelist. It was not the existential reality of his characters
that interested him but rather their representational value as mouthpieces
for his ideology. He drew the outer dimensions of his characters and did
not focus on their psychological reality. The message took precedence
over his medium, thus depriving his narrative of the desired complexity.
‘Abdu ’l-ƒalµm Sharar (–), Naÿµr A√mad’s immediate succes-
sor in the field of fiction, was a great admirer of this Western genre. By
the time he began writing in the pages of Avad^ Pan± in the eighties, Eng-
lish novels had become fairly popular in India, both in the original
language and in translation. Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Johnson’s
Rasselas, Maria Edgeworth’s Simple Susan, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe had
already been translated into Urdu.30 Sharar himself translated Bankim
Chandra Chatterjee’s Bengali novel Durgeshnandini in . His favorite
novelist was Walter Scott whose Talisman offended him by the way it
portrayed Muslims during the time of the Crusades. This prompted him
to begin writing books that would rectify this image. However, instead of
making an advance in the art of novel writing, Sharar, in his historical
romances, reverted to the mode of the d≥st≥n . An admirer of Sir Syed
Ahmad Khan and in deep sympathy with the Aligarh Movement, Sharar
took upon himself the task of reminding Muslims of their illustrious past
and he was often carried away by his enthusiasm. In  he started his
own journal, Dilgud≥z, which he continued to publish, except for brief
intervals, until his death. He made his mark in Urdu literature mainly as
a writer of historical fiction. Almost all of his fictional works have an

29
Russell, p. .
30
For a chronological, though incomplete, study of English prose literature
translated into Urdu, see Mirz≥ ƒ≥mid B®g, Maghrib s® Na¡rµ Tar≥jim (Islamabad:
Muqtadira Qaumµ Zub≥n , ).
 M. A • 

underlying objective, namely recreating the past glories of Islam and

demonstrating the superiority of Islamic civilization over other non-
Muslim, especially Christian, civilizations. His most celebrated work,
Flår≥ Flårin≈≥ (), which, interestingly, he self-consciously calls a
“n≥vil,” illustrates this.31 It portrays the abominable excesses of the Chris-
tians in Moorish Spain, emphasizing the deep corruption which existed in
the monastic system prevalent there. The rule of the Moors is depicted as
equitable and just, in contrast to Christian rule which was oppressive and
corrupt. The contrast between “Muslim” justice and “Christian” deprav-
ity has been described in such simple terms that it appears laughable to a
modern reader. It seems evident that Sharar became popular because he
reminded Muslims of their magnificent history, a balm they sorely
needed in their ruined state. However, it goes to the credit of Sharar that
he widened the horizons of Urdu fiction by making a large part of the
globe—Italy, France, Russia, Spain, Africa—accessible to Urdu readers by
weaving together fiction and history. But his works also cannot be desig-
nated as novels proper for the same reasons alluded to earlier.
After this considerable gestation period for Urdu prose fiction, Mirz≥
Mu√ammad H≥dµ Rusv≥ (–) appeared on the scene. His Umr≥’å
J≥n Ad≥ (), allegedly modeled on Rosa Lambert by G.W.M. Reynolds
(–), changed the complexion of Urdu fiction. To this work
certainly goes the distinction of being the first novel in Urdu in the most
comprehensive sense of the term. Rusv≥ successfully translated quite a few
novels from English into Urdu, including at least three by Marie Corelli
(–). He was a self-conscious artist and he set out deliberately to
write narrative prose works which scrupulously shunned both the world
of fantasy and enchantment popularized by the d≥st≥n and the overt
didacticism of some of his contemporaries. He was also the first theorist
of the Urdu novel in that his comments about the art of the novel, as he
practiced it, made his readers aware of the novel as a distinct genre,
despite the fact that his statements did not constitute a coherent and
comprehensive theory of the art of the novel in general. In the preface to
his novel Ÿ≥t-e Sharµf he sets down his own standards, in opposition to the
standards that preceded him. He wrote:
I do not possess the inventive power to delineate events that happened

31
Flår≥ Flårin≈≥ opens with the statement: “Our interesting novel begins
about the year AH.  (about  CE),” emphasis added.
 • T A  U S

thousands of years ago. Besides, I consider it improper to portray a picture

which agrees neither with present day conditions nor with those of the
past….32

And about the didacticism found in the works of some of his contempo-
raries, he said:
The art of some contemporary writers is—construct a plot to convey a
message and then fill in the details accordingly. I have no quarrel with
them; however, my method is the opposite of theirs. My objective is to
portray reality as faithfully as I can and I do not concern myself with the
conclusions that are to be drawn from them. 33

And finally, Rusv≥ ends Ÿ≥t-e Sharµf with the statement: “My novels
should be regarded as a history of our times, and, I hope, it will be found
a useful one.”
In the writing of Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥ Rusv≥ follows the tenets articulated
by him in these statements to a considerable degree. This novel is a realis-
tic account of contemporary life conveyed through a well-constructed
plot and through characters that are life-like and credible. Set in the mid-
nineteenth century, it is written as a first person narrative of an accom-
plished courtesan of Lucknow. By that time Delhi had lost its former
glory as the Mughal capital. Poets and men of art and culture had begun
congregating in the opulent and prosperous Lucknow, making it the
center of sophistication and refinement. Umr≥’å J≥n ’s comment that
many people made their living by flaunting their association, genuine or
false, with Lucknow makes the reader aware of the extent of the city’s
reputation in this regard. Through the life of its protagonist, the novel
portrays the decay of this culture and the demise of an entire epoch. By
the end of the book, Lucknow has been ravaged and the center of power
and excellence has gradually shifted to Hyderabad. In a long critical essay
on this novel, which has remained unsurpassed in its eloquence and
sociological exploration even after almost fifty years, Khurshµdu ’l-Isl≥m
suggests that the real hero in Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥ is Lucknow with its culture
of poetry, music, mushairas, evening soirées, im≥mb≥∞as , mar¡iyas,
Mu√arram, Holi, the fair at ‘Aish B≥gh and so on, and that the novel is an

32
(Lucknow: Ashrafi Book Depot, n.d.), pp. –.
33
Ibid.
 M. A • 

elegy on the demise of that hero.34 We may or may not agree with Isl≥m
on the question of the novel’s real protagonist. However, Rusv≥ himself
has resolved the issue by naming the novel after its central character. In
any case, the theme of the novel is certainly the fall of Lucknow and its
ethos at a certain period in Indian history.
Though it is Umr≥’å’s life which is the pivot around which most of
the incidents in the novel revolve, Rusv≥ has woven into its texture the
entire socio-cultural life of Lucknow and, to a lesser extent, vignettes of
life in smaller towns such as Kanpur and Faizabad. Rusv≥ is not interested
in the courtesans in the chowk for their own sake but because of the way
they bring to light the different facets of the socio-cultural life of
Lucknow and the countryside around it. They do this through their asso-
ciation with individuals from different segments of society. Rusv≥ chose
Kh≥nam’s establishment because, as Isl≥m points out,
This shop contained all kinds of commodities and its customers came
from far and near, and from all classes of society. The level of their cul-
tural refinement was different from one another. Among them were the
connoisseurs of fine arts as well as barbarians. It was the vantage point
from where Rusv≥ could witness the vast decay.35

The urbane Nav≥b Sulπ≥n ¿≥√ib, the dashing Nav≥b ≤^abban, the loy-
alist R≥ja, the small-town parvenu R≥shid ‘Alµ alias Rakk^an Mi≥, the
wily Nav≥b Mu√ammad ‘Alµ Kh≥n, the highway robber Fai¤ ‘Alµ , the sanc-
timonious lawyer’s attorney Akbar ‘Alµ Kh≥n, the Maulvµ ¿≥√ib who
teaches Umr≥’å and has been in love with ƒusainµ for years, the old Nav≥b
who is the butt of Bismillah J≥n ’s ridicule—all converge on Kh≥nam’s
house of ill repute. Through their reactions and responses and through
their use of an idiom peculiarly their own they all offer different perspec-
tives which help the reader look at the society from different angles. They
have been individualized and each of them has been given distinctive
traits that make them memorable. Furthermore, Rusv≥ ’s genial, some-
times wry, humor makes even the most ordinary characters endearing.
For instance, the feckless, dimwitted imam of the mosque in Kanpur
whom Umr≥’å J≥n teases constantly even though she needs his help.
Using fine brushstrokes Rusv≥ has immortalized this otherwise banal

34
“Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥,” in Khurshµdu ’l-Isl≥m , Tanqµd® (Aligarh: Educational
Publishing House, ; ), pp. –.
35
Ibid., p. .
 • T A  U S

character.
Even the πav≥ifs, all taught by the same teachers and practicing the
same skills, have been individualized so that they each have their own
identity. B®g≥ J≥n excels in music, Khurshµd in dancing. Umr≥’å J≥n excels
in both, besides being an accomplished poet. Bismillah J≥n ’s sole asset is
her body. Kh≥nam J≥n suits her role perfectly; she is every inch the
powerful mistress of a reputable brothel, unmatched in her seduction and
cunning. B∑≥ ƒusainµ serves as a perfect foil to her. Rusv≥ ’s novel presents
a truly realistic account of the courtesans’ life. His intimate acquaintance
with this life helps him create characters and situations that are lively,
interesting and entirely credible. Recent studies of the life and times of
courtesans in Lucknow confirm that the mores, manners and professional
ethics of courtesans, and the role they played in the society of that time as
depicted in the novel, are generally correct and authentic.36
The Mutiny of  which occurs in the second half of the novel
gives it a special poignancy. However, the enormous changes brought
about by this cataclysmic event have not been described directly, only
suggested through its effects on the fate of the characters and on social
life. The presence of some historical personalities, such as Bah∑ B®gam,
B®gam Malika Kishvar, Nav≥b V≥jid ‘Alµ Sh≥h , Prince Mirz≥ Sikandar
Hashmat , and Prince Mirz≥ Birjµs Qadr, enhances the verisimilitude,
though it must be said to the credit of Rusv≥ that he does not strain for
effect in this regard.
Apart from the historical accuracy and the debate about whether
Umr≥’å J≥n herself was a historical personality or not (the presence of a
mosque between Bondi and Nanpara in Uttar Pradesh called “Umr≥’å J≥n
kµ Masjid ” is cited by some as giving credence to the view that Umr≥’å J≥n
had indeed existed in real life),37 what is significant is Rusv≥ ’s portrayal of
individuals and events as credible and convincing. Historical accuracy and

36
See Veena Talwar Oldenburg, “Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the
Courtesans of Lucknow,” in Lucknow: Memoirs of a City, ed. Violette Graff (New
Delhi: Oxford University Press, ), pp. –; about Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥
Oldenburg says: “The influence this novel has exerted on the popular imagina-
tion is enormous; it is the single most important source of information on the
courtesans of Lucknow, and by extension, the entire profession as it was practised
in the nineteenth century, in northern India” (p. ). See also Oldenburg’s The
Making of Colonial Lucknow, – (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
).
37
Qurratu ’l-‘Ain ƒaidar, “ Kh≥nam J≥n kµ Tauba ,” J≥mi‘a, :–, p. .
 M. A • 

mimetic realism are not virtues sufficient in themselves for determining

the literary merit of a work. It is what the writer makes of them in terms
of his overall vision that determines their value. Rusv≥ integrates history
and fiction and weaves the destiny of his characters in a way that creates
an enduring work of literature.
Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥ also presents a more complex and sophisticated por-
trayal of human character and of good and evil. Whereas in the earlier
works of Urdu prose fiction characters were depicted in black and white
terms without any shades of grey, this novel offers much more. Through
the vicissitudes of her life Umr≥’å acquires a deep knowledge of human
nature and this brings her wisdom and peace:
Personally, I think that no one is wholly bad, and there is some
good to be found in everyone. You have probably heard it said
about the thieves of the past that if you make a friend of them,
then you will always get along very well. Without some element of
goodness, life would be impossible. ()38
Similarly, Umr≥’å J≥n ’s perception of virtue and sin is also more sub-
tle. Though she makes ritual obeisance to the tenets of religion and
regrets that she is living in sin, these seem to be mere rhetorical flourishes.
Her more complex understanding of moral issues comes out in several
places through her defense of her own way of life. When the narrator asks
her what punishment she anticipates for her sinful existence which has
required hurting many hearts, she says: “There should not be any. In the
way that I harmed hearts there was also much pleasure, and the pleasure
makes up for the pain” ().
Rusv≥ is a storyteller par excellence. His first person narration strikes a
note of intimacy with the reader and contributes to the story’s realism.
The narrative moves forward mainly by means of a dialogue between
Umr≥’å and Rusv≥. However, the discerning reader must distinguish
between Rusv≥ the man and Rusv≥ the narrator because he appears in
different masks at different times. The plot is tightly constructed and
coherent, except for the rather contrived opening of the novel and the
narrator’s long, gratuitous peroration concerning the virtue of wedlock,

38
There are many Urdu editions of the novel. I have used the Maktaba
Jamia, New Delhi, edition. The quotations in English are from Umrao Jan Ada,
trans. David Matthews (Calcutta: Rupa & Co., ), with page numbers in
parentheses.
 • T A  U S

which seems to be no more than a kind of pandering to conventional

morality. The passage of time is deftly indicated through Umr≥’å’s remi-
niscences and remembrances of past events in her own life or of some
contemporary historical event.
In the above, I have endeavored to outline the circumstances that led
to the growth and development of the Urdu novel and to describe the
different stages of this development. The answer to the question of which
work should be regarded as the first Urdu novel will depend on the
features considered essential for a novel. As pointed out earlier, it was not
simply a matter of formal features being borrowed from the West. Rather
it was a certain concept of human character and a particular kind of
worldview which facilitated the gradual sophistication of the genre in the
late nineteenth and in the twentieth century in India. It would be a mis-
take to view the development of the Urdu novel as an isolated event,
divorced from its socio-historical context. It must be looked at in terms of
its relationship to other significant developments in society, brought on
primarily because of the colonial encounter—viz., the urge for social
reform, the translation of Western fiction, colonial bilingualism, the
development of periodical literature, etc. I have tried to demonstrate that
although we apply the term “novel” loosely to a number of works, it is
only Rusv≥ ’s Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥ that can be called a novel in every sense. It is
a pity that Rusv≥ ’s Umr≥’å J≥n Ad≥ remained a singular achievement with
no worthy successor until the emergence of Premchand, who moved on a
different terrain. The promise of future perfection held out by this first
novel has remained largely unfulfilled. There are ruptures and disconti-
nuities in the tradition that need to be investigated. Nirmal Verma, one
of the most self-conscious contemporary practitioners of the genre in
Hindi, highlights the challenges that Indian novelists face in modern
times in his essay, “Culture, Time and the Indian Novel,” which may also
throw some light on the failure of Urdu novels to make a decisive impact
on contemporary literature. He writes:
The modern Indian writer faces a greater risk. For while pursuing a
genre like the novel, he will have to be self-conscious and logical like a
western writer but he will also have to highlight the limits of this
genre—an impersonal, ahistorical, “myth-laden abyss” of memories—and
 M. A • 

39
immerse himself in this “abyss” in order to light it up.

It seems that Urdu novelists, with one or two exceptions, have not
been able to immerse themselves in the “abyss,” and that is why the Urdu
novels published in the twentieth century have been rather lackluster. In
comparison with some other Indian literatures, viz., Bangla, Malayalam
or Marathi, Urdu has not produced enough writers of promise who could
have contributed to the development of a novel tradition. This fact seems
puzzling when we consider the remarkable achievement of the Urdu short
story during the same period. ❐

39
Nirmal Verma, India and Europe: Selected Essays, ed. Alok Bhalla (Shimla:
Centre for the Study of Indian Civilization and Indian Institute of Advanced
Study, ), p. .