No-one is quite certain about the genesis of the Daastaan-e-Amir Hamza (or the Hamzanama, as it’s also known): various sources put its provenance in Arabia, or in Persia. It arrived in India probably during the 10th or 11th century, and became a hugely popular epic in the Indian subcontinent: so popular, in fact, that it became a favoured story for professional storytellers, or daastaangos, to perform. Over the centuries, embellished by daastaangos in the Indian subcontinent, the Daastaan-e-Amir Hamza acquired an interesting flavour all its own, distinct from the original epic it had been.
The collation of various versions, their compilation and publication, was done by Ghalib Lakhnavi in the mid-19th century. In 1871, another writer, Abdullah Bilgrami, added to Lakhnavi’s work and brought out yet another version of the Daastaan-e-Amir Hamza. This book is what Musharraf Ali Farooqi has translated into English in The Adventures of Amir Hamza, bringing to English readers the first complete translation of the life and times of Amir Hamza.
The Adventures of Amir Hamza consists of four books, beginning with a background to Amir Hamza: his ancestors, his mentors, his family. Amir Hamza appears 50 pages into the book, and from then on—even as a child, with his best friend Amar Ayyar by his side—it’s a mad romp, starting with childhood pranks and heroic adventures (punctuated by boons granted by saints as a reward for good and brave deeds). What follows is 500-odd pages of high adventure, as Amir, Amar Ayyar, and their many friends and allies (in some cases foes-turned-friends) battle everything from giants and devs to jinns, magicians, lions, dragons and ambitious rulers; romance women and peris; enter tilisms (places of enchantment); are imprisoned and escape, and generally lead lives packed with adventure.
As far as the original story goes, I liked it till about midway. After that, the initial fascination began to wear off and it started to get repetitive, what with every other chapter being about Amir Hamza lifting yet another enemy above his head, spinning him around, and then throwing him down to vanquish him (after which he would convert the enemy to the True Faith). Or about the many days of feasting and revels that would follow victories. Or the many women who, after one glimpse of Amir Hamza, would fall head over heels in love with him and whom he would end up marrying and ‘seeking pleasure’ with. By this time, the characters—piling up like so many dominos—had also got me confused, and by about three-fourths into the book, I couldn’t have cared less who won which battle or which woman Amir Hamza planted his seed in.
The good bit about this book, though, is Musharraf Ali Farooqi’s translation of it. I’ve not read the original Daastaan-e-Amir Hamza, but I’ve heard excerpts of it by modern daastaangos, and Farooqi manages to convey the poetry, the humour, the sense of adventure, very well: the language he chooses, while it cannot (obviously) replicate the lyricism of the Urdu original, is very true to the essence of it. Furthermore, Farooqi provides important annexures: notes on the Daastaan-e-Amir Hamza and its provenance; a list of major characters; and notes explaining certain concepts or words used in the book.
There are some errors of proofing (Bahram, for instance, is frequently misspelled as Bahrain), and there are a few omissions. For example, only someone who knows Urdu would smile at the fact that a gentleman going out on a mission which was likely to fail was named Khvaja Buzurg Umeed—Khvaja ‘High Hopes’—but this isn’t listed in the notes. Phrases like the ‘pole of uqabain’ or ‘deserving of smile beheading’ (which might be a typo, but I can’t guess of what) are also left unexplained.
But, despite all that, a worthy translation, which reflects the hard work which must have gone into its production.