Agha Shahid Ali: The Temperamental Exile

In several of his interviews, Agha Shahid Ali states that even though he is technically not an exile because he was not kicked out of Kashmir, he still considers himself a ‘temperamental’ exile.

Throughout the course we have studied several different characteristics of the exile which include amongst other things both passiveness and insecurity. The exilic state of being, Edward Said has stressed, involves never feeling secure, placid or satisfied. The exile often has a shaky hold on the present and little hope for the future. Considering the fact that Agha Shahid Ali is technically not an exile, does he deserve to be called one at all?

One of Agha Shahid Ali’s poems, ‘Dear Shahid’ is written in letter form, addressed to himself. I feel this poem, due to its form and content, can help us make up our minds about the authenticity of Agha Shahid Ali’s exilic condition.

There are moments in this poem where the distance between the poet and his homeland are established. The writer refers to a café where everyone still asks about Shahid, for example. The smacks of familiarity and nostalgia, a younger Shahid who frequented the cafe and knew all the regular customers- people who have remained while he has left. He goes on to ask Shahid whether he will come soon- ‘waiting for you is like waiting for spring. We are waiting for the almond blossoms.’ One imagines that the return of the exile to his homeland will coincide with the return of spring. The land is, for now, unyielding and, as the poem reveals, it no longer rains. The exile’s relationship with the land has been discussed before in several texts, particularly in ‘Men in the Sun’, however in this poem it is as if the absence of the exile has also led to the absence of spring in the homeland. (An interesting question: Can Kashmir still truly be Kashmir without those who have chosen to leave and never return? The ‘writer’ of the letter does not seem to think so) Nevertheless, the relationship between the exile and physical land has been established in the poem. These questions about the future seem almost rhetorical, the exile is never sure of the future-or indeed of the present- and so if Shahid was to reply to this letter we are sure he would never be able to say anything concerning his return. 

There is also the fact that this poem is in letter form, another way to emphasize the distance between Shahid and Kashmir. Shahid can only really hear about and experience his homeland through the experiences of other people who choose to write to him. There is a heartbreaking image towards the end of the poem ‘Today I went to the post office. Across the river. Bags and bags-hundreds of canvas bags-all undelivered’ Isolated from the rest of the poem, this may simply seem like an annoyance but the reader is aware that the letter, the only way the exile can have any link to Kashmir, has been severed for an extended period of time.

It is easy to be convinced of Agha Shahid Ali's status as an exile not just because of the way he feels about his homeland but also because of how distant he is from it. The case then perhaps could be made for a redefining of the term exile to also include 'temperamental' exiles such as Agha Shahid Ali- those who have not been forced to leave their homeland but have done so and in doing so, have experienced the state of being in exile.  Considering that the state of exile is such an emotional and complex one, it seems naive to simply count out those not legally exiled on the basis of a mere technicality.