Fabled storytellers fade away

Shogran: Mohammad Naseem’s eyes shine while he shares the legend of a remote, alpine lake nestled among snow-capped Himalayan peaks as a rare crowd of onlookers hears one of Pakistan’s last “storytellers”.

The story of Saif-ul-Malook — the winding saga of a brave prince who falls in love with a fairy — is just one of the 50 tall tales passed down to Naseem by his father.

“Usually people tell me I’m crazy when I tell these stories,” says Naseem, whose long white beard and traditional cloak give him the timeless appearance of a storyteller of old.
The 65-year-old shopkeeper says it would take days to recite all the stories he learned by heart that are imbued with “the history, the culture” of the land.

Naseem says he hasn’t bothered sharing the stories with his six children, and friends are no longer interested in hearing them as social media, video games, and soap operas have all but eclipsed his ancient art.

“When I die, these stories will die with me,” sighs Naseem.

The city of Peshawar where Shogran is located — has long been the country’s stronghold of oral history, its Qissa Khawani or “storytellers bazaar” a Silk Road hub where travellers and locals alike congregated to hear a well-spun yarn.

It was once “the Times Square of the region” because of “the excellence of its storytellers,” explains Naeem Safi — a consultant at an Islamabad-based institute dedicated to Pakistani folk heritage, where cassettes of stories told at the bazaar have been archived.

“The transfer of knowledge was verbal. Storytelling was fundamental — people considered themselves educated if they had heard enough stories,” says Safi.

In the evenings, the merchants would hear the city’s famed storytellers — who shared tales about the perils of the road, news of wars and local lore.

Storytellers were “the communication tools of that time, they were the messengers,” said Ali Awais Qarni, a researcher in history and literature at the University of Peshawar.