Title: The Wandering Falcon
Author: Jamil Ahmad
Publisher: Penguin
Pages: 181
Price: Rupees 399
If you want to have a view of North West Frontier Province and Balochistan that is remotely different from what you get to see in CNN and BBC, then this could be a resonably good bet. The author Jamil Ahmad served as chairman of the Tribal Development Corporation, and he had an insider’s view of the struggles of tribals living in this area. He has written in a convincingly manner about people who are trying to hold on to their fierce tribal identities in face of regular onslaughts from modernity. At times, you do get the feeling that the narrative is getting cliched, perhaps that can't be avoided in this kind of a book, where the tribal way of life looms like a gigantic cliche by itself.
It is natural that Ahmed should show a degree of empathy in his treatment and description of the tribal chiefs, who often are ageing men trying to keep their clans together and dealing with issues like promiscuity and debt and revenge. The story, set before the Taliban regime came into power, revolves around Tor Baz, a boy who is a wanderer type. In many ways, Tor Baz is the eponymous falcon who grows up during the course of the novel; he moves between tribes and meets different men and women. He interacts with men whose one and only obsession is bloody wars. He also introduces us to women who in the name of honour lead a secluded life. His origins remain amorphous all the time. There are only subtle hints to his parents who are said to have defied the tribal code of honour and eloped.
Ahmad’s haunting prose does a good job of capturing the sudden cultural changes coming into the life of the nomadic tribes. “Lonely, as all such posts are, this one is particularly frightening. No habitation for miles around and no vegetation except for a few wasted and barren date trees leaning crazily against each other, and no water other than a trickle amount some salt-encrusted boulders which also dries out occasionally, manifesting a degree of hostility. Nature has not remained content merely at this. In this land, she has also created the dreaded bad-e-sad-o-bist-roz, the wind of a hundred and twenty days. This wind rages almost continuously during the four winter months, blowing clouds of alkali-laden dust and sand so thick that men can barely breathe or open their eyes when they happen to get caught in it.”
We also learn about the nomadic Kharot tribe whose way of life is being threatened by the limitations imposed by political boundaries and also by the emergence of powerful clans of the Wazirs, Mahsuds or Afridis. There is no continuous narrative or central plot. Instead, there is a form of storytelling that attempts to fictionalise facts and spotlight a region, a people and a way of life that has been misunderstood so badly. It comes as a surprise when the story ends at a happy note. Tor Baz decides to end his wanderings and settle down. Perhaps the moral of the story is that even the energetic falcon of the rugged land has to settle down at some point of time.
Author: Jamil Ahmad
Publisher: Penguin
Pages: 181
Price: Rupees 399
If you want to have a view of North West Frontier Province and Balochistan that is remotely different from what you get to see in CNN and BBC, then this could be a resonably good bet. The author Jamil Ahmad served as chairman of the Tribal Development Corporation, and he had an insider’s view of the struggles of tribals living in this area. He has written in a convincingly manner about people who are trying to hold on to their fierce tribal identities in face of regular onslaughts from modernity. At times, you do get the feeling that the narrative is getting cliched, perhaps that can't be avoided in this kind of a book, where the tribal way of life looms like a gigantic cliche by itself.
It is natural that Ahmed should show a degree of empathy in his treatment and description of the tribal chiefs, who often are ageing men trying to keep their clans together and dealing with issues like promiscuity and debt and revenge. The story, set before the Taliban regime came into power, revolves around Tor Baz, a boy who is a wanderer type. In many ways, Tor Baz is the eponymous falcon who grows up during the course of the novel; he moves between tribes and meets different men and women. He interacts with men whose one and only obsession is bloody wars. He also introduces us to women who in the name of honour lead a secluded life. His origins remain amorphous all the time. There are only subtle hints to his parents who are said to have defied the tribal code of honour and eloped.
Ahmad’s haunting prose does a good job of capturing the sudden cultural changes coming into the life of the nomadic tribes. “Lonely, as all such posts are, this one is particularly frightening. No habitation for miles around and no vegetation except for a few wasted and barren date trees leaning crazily against each other, and no water other than a trickle amount some salt-encrusted boulders which also dries out occasionally, manifesting a degree of hostility. Nature has not remained content merely at this. In this land, she has also created the dreaded bad-e-sad-o-bist-roz, the wind of a hundred and twenty days. This wind rages almost continuously during the four winter months, blowing clouds of alkali-laden dust and sand so thick that men can barely breathe or open their eyes when they happen to get caught in it.”
We also learn about the nomadic Kharot tribe whose way of life is being threatened by the limitations imposed by political boundaries and also by the emergence of powerful clans of the Wazirs, Mahsuds or Afridis. There is no continuous narrative or central plot. Instead, there is a form of storytelling that attempts to fictionalise facts and spotlight a region, a people and a way of life that has been misunderstood so badly. It comes as a surprise when the story ends at a happy note. Tor Baz decides to end his wanderings and settle down. Perhaps the moral of the story is that even the energetic falcon of the rugged land has to settle down at some point of time.

