Qalam (a reed pen) no more seems to be mightier. The might of Urdu calligraphers is put to ultimate test not by the sword but by what the calligraphers at the offices of Urdu newspapers Rashtriya Sahara, Siyasat, Inquilab, Qaumi Awaz and Nai Duniya call "bijli ka qalam" (electric pen, referring to the computerised type-setting).



A computer might be a blessing for others but it has impoverished a whole range of beautiful designs - a whole artistic heritage. The onslaught of the Urdu fonts software has thrown these calligraphers out of gear putting their existence in jeopardy.

Not very long ago pages of newspapers and books were written in beautiful hand. Every time an artist put pen to paper, a letter was deftly carved and with each one having its own individual shape and curvatures, it seemed so alive! The major styles of calligraphy are basically three - Arabic, Persian and Kufic. The designs though are umpteen like Asloob, Tughra, Suls, Aseer, Riqa, Ghalib, Nataliq, Naskh, Manshoor, Mohaqqiq and Larza amongst others.

In this art, better known as 'khattati', words written with qalam become masterpieces adorned by measured strokes with the help of dark viscous liquid known as 'siyahi'. Since its advent, there has been no change in the technique of using the reed pen and the ink. In newspapers, Khattati-styled words are immaculately designed mainly for headings and also for the material in blurbs.

In this graceful art of calligraphy, the rhythmic intervals afford rest to the eye as it runs over the text providing a subtle pause between the forward movements of the line. There's kinetic design emphasised by several elements; altercations of the characters' vertical sections, juxtaposition of unequal spaces, groups of words in sequence or in insertion so as to create outside the bound of their assigned space, symmetry and rhythmic breaks in reading.

Calligraphy when used for routine purposes of writing newspaper reports or books is known as 'kitabat'. Urdu newspapers have tried to use some of their calligraphers but most are left in the wilderness unless they have learnt how to compose using Urdu software. One such example is Mushir from the Urdu daily Rashtriya Sahara, who has learnt the art of composing in Urdu. But all are not fortunate like him.

According to Anis Siddiqui, a national calligraphy award winner, the problem with these calligraphers is that most of them come from the madrassa background and can't cope with the latest page-making tools unless they have learnt desktop publishing under the aegis of the National Council for Promotion of Urdu Language (NCPUL) or Jaipur-based Madrasa Jamiatul Hidaya, where they are taught page-making on computers.

One can see some Urdu calligraphers fiddling with the computers - a sight full of inescapable irony where the poor katib is seen toiling away at the very instrument of his destruction.

The computer's takeover of page-making at Delhi's most Urdu dailies and weeklies means that the fluid, stylish and pleasing alphabet has transformed into a matter of monotonous uniformity. Though the move to modernisation is time saving and deadlines are met besides the economy of space, readers generally dislike this print and font.

Dr. Hamidullah Bhatt, director of NCPUL, says that the poetry that was in calligraphy is missing. "The lively hand-written word is left a cold embittered, computerised totem," he says.

Delhi's widely circulated Qaumi Awaz has attracted some of the best talents, including famous calligrapher Jalaluddin Aslam. He laments at the takeover of the written word by the computerised one.

However, eminent calligrapher and poet Qais Rampuri, from Rashtriya Sahara, does not ascribe to Aslam's view since he believes that computerisation is bound to take over most aspects of our life and the calligraphers must not be gingery about it.

According to Rampuri, a good calligrapher does not starve as there's a lot of work even in the capital itself. But at the same time, he says that the hand-written columns have their own inimitable appeal. The aesthetic charm of an original word is always more than the technical one.

Shahid Siddiqui, editor of the Urdu weekly Nai Duniya, differs on this account. He feels that computers are better for they provide the facilities that calligraphers cannot. "If the other language newspapers are going the computer way, why not Urdu," he says.

Dr. Aziz Burney, the editor of Rashtriya Sahara, leads us to a cabin where dupatta-clad girls are busy clicking away at their Urdu software with English keyboards. "Many Muslim girls are taking to Urdu software and are earning handsomely," Burney says.

Quite strangely what appears at the screen is beauty cast in Urdu mould. Here on the English keyboard, the Urdu alphabets are of the same sound as their English counterparts. For example, 'J' is for Jeem, 'R' is for Ray and 'M' is for Meem.

Urdu software might be effective for a selected few but for those like Atiq Siddiqui of Al-Yaum - a newspaper in Saudi Arabia - who are dedicated to mastering the artistic written word, feel that the long youthful years of toil and training have given way to this hoary order of the day in the name of computerisation.

What's still worse is that the calligraphers are being exploited. In fact, they must be accorded the status of a sub-editor. The calligraphers used to be accorded a very high status during the days of Mughal emperor Akbar. In Ain-e-Akbari, Akbar is quoted as declaring to his court calligraphers, "Go on doing with your pen what in other times was done with the sword!"