अदब और तख़्ईल

(1)

Among all the available definitions of literature, the greatest emphasis has been placed on imagination. In the nineteenth century, literature was considered entirely a marvel of the imagination. Psychologically speaking, imagination is a human faculty that allows a person to sketch the outlines of future images in their mind.

Much emphasis is placed on its connection to the future, and it is distinguished from memory in the sense that memory is entirely related to the past. However, the things that enter our memory are also inevitably colored by imagination to some extent, because we do not remember old things exactly as they were. Our emotional attachment to them inevitably alters them—making or marring them—and furthermore, when we remember something, we do not recall all its details. We fill in these gaps with our imagination to create a complete image, and in this state, this image certainly becomes quite imaginative. In any case, imagination is a faculty whose only connection to materiality is that it colors it; otherwise, it has mostly been described as a spiritual entity. William Blake went so far as to call imagination the Holy Spirit.

The presence of imagination is essential in literature; otherwise, it would not be literature. However, to understand its existence, it is necessary to distinguish it from ordinary fantasy. To understand this difference, one must first realize that everyone possesses fantasy, but very few possess true creative imagination. Everyone dreams while sleeping, and while awake, they replay strange thoughts in their minds according to their desires, creating a purely imaginary world that brings them joy. Every college boy gets lost in the fantasy of passing his exams, getting a job afterward, and living a comfortable life according to modern standards.

In many literary works, we also see that people with immature experience merely create a world of fantasy, which is in no way plausible. Abdul Halim Sharar’s novel Dilchasp is an example of this. The story narrated in it is purely fantastical. The need for imagination is not just for literature; even a scientist cannot succeed in his experiments if he is not filled with the power of imagination. The conclusion is that creative imagination emerges from the combination of fantasy and reality.

Coleridge has called imagination a synthetic power that gathers all kinds of experiences and gives them a new composition. The details of reality, the fantasies and emotions associated with them, and all such things combine to create a wondrous synthesis that is called the result of imagination. In Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria, there is a lengthy discussion on imagination that goes on relentlessly and often strays from its main purpose. However, from the perspective of mysticism, its essence is exactly what Ghalib called Nawa-e-Sarosh (the voice of the angel), and from a metaphysical standpoint, it is the power that harmonizes various forces to bring art into existence.

Coleridge describes two types or levels of imagination: Primary imagination and Secondary imagination. Maulana Shibli has termed these two as Muhakat (mimesis) and Takhayyul (imagination), and has clarified the difference between them. Shibli is merely being clever in this matter as well, and like every other issue, he has understood this only superficially. Nevertheless, his explanation sheds some light on this power of imagination, which is the soul of literature and becomes established in nations like traditions. In reality, the function of imagination is not merely to clothe concepts in an artistic garb; rather, it recreates the subject in a new way. This recreation certainly contains elements of the original reality, but it is so far removed from the original that it becomes difficult to recognize.

The earliest examples of the imaginative process are idols. Ancient humans observed various objects in the universe for a long time; in them, they saw something beyond apparent reality, and then they also saw some reflection of their own reality. Everything in the universe appeared greater than themselves. Anthropologists generally consider the emotion of fear to be the foundation of ancient religion. It is true that man began worshiping only after being overcome by fear, but in the creation of idols, emotions other than fear certainly played a role as well. In any case, emotion is necessary to set the imagination in motion. This is the relationship between emotion and imagination; yet, the imaginative process is a distinct thing. It is a kind of artistry.

It was by gathering all the impressions of vegetation that the Goddess Parvati was created, who was entirely different from any single element of vegetation, yet every attribute of hers was connected to the qualities of flora. For example, her long hair symbolized fertility and harvest, while her smile translated the feeling that overcomes the heart upon seeing a swaying green meadow. In short, imagination created a figure before us that, despite representing reality, is extremely far removed from it. Moving forward in a similar manner, humans created demons, fairies, and dragons. These, too, were far from logical probability, yet the realities of life could still be seen in them. Later, moral attributes were given human forms and shown acting like humans. In the modern era, human characters were adopted who certainly possessed the traits of specific individuals, but these too were not exact replicas of reality. Anna Karenina appears to us as a completely living, breathing woman, but her experiences, the way her mind is shown torn between three duties—towards her children, her husband, and her lover—and the strange events that unfold from this conflict, are not entirely real. Rumi says:

Hama aaftaab beenam, hama aaftaab goyam

Na shabam na shab parastam, ke hadees-e-khwaab goyam

[I see only the sun, I speak only of the sun;

I am neither the night nor a worshiper of the night, that I should tell tales of dreams.]

Imagination is a tale of dreams. To create an imaginary picture is the imaginative process. Shakespeare says:

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven;

and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name; such tricks hath strong imagination

That when it doth conceive a deed

It thinks a maker of the deed.

In the Shakespearean play from which these words are taken, wondrous miracles of imagination unfold before us. Here, there is an entire fairyland with a king and a queen, and their highly charming servant, Puck. In addition to his fairy-like qualities, he is also interested in playing pranks and making fools of humans, and his antics introduce a tremendous element of comedy into the play. Then, a rustic villager is also shown, upon whose shoulders Puck places the head of a donkey, causing his companions to flee at the sight of him. The queen of the fairies is shown falling in love with this donkey-headed man, creating a bizarrely comic effect. By bringing one of the most unparalleled examples of imagination before us, Shakespeare also defines imagination itself, providing an example of clothing an intuitive concept in words better than which is simply not possible.

An important aspect of Shakespeare's description is that he views imagination not only as a power that gives physical form to things, but also as a force that grants a place and a name to baseless, ethereal concepts. This means that imagination takes things that cannot be perceived by the senses and presents them in such a way that they transform into tangible forms capable of stimulating our sensory perception. For instance, a poet conveys the generosity of his patron in the following manner:

Dar qa'ar-e-darya shud sadaf bar khijlat-e-khud mo'taraf

Ta shah la'ali az abr-e-kaf sharq-o-gharba rekhta

[The oyster in the depths of the sea admits its shame,

As the king's cloud-like hand showers pearls from east to west.]

We might say this is an exaggeration, but if we set that aside for a moment and examine the verse, we realize that showering pearls is a classic metaphor for generosity. Pearls emerge from the sea. Clouds rise from the sea, and their raindrops fall into the mouths of oysters to become pearls. The king's hand is also like a cloud, raining down pearls of generosity, yet his bounty far exceeds the capacity of the ocean. We could only conceive of generosity as an abstract idea, but the poet has transformed this concept into a vivid picture.

Similarly, it can be argued that Kant and Goethe stood at the same level of intellectual thought. However, when dealing with the concept of evil, Kant debates and analyzes it, clarifying all its various aspects. Goethe, on the other hand, takes all these aspects and creates the character of Mephistopheles. Both were concerned with something that transcends sensory perception. However, the philosopher's task is to keep it beyond the senses while analytically breaking it down. The poet's task is to bring it into the realm of the senses and give it creative form. This is why analysis is considered the exact opposite of creation. The human mind operates in two distinct ways: first, by breaking down an imperceptible concept into fragments; and second, by assembling disparate fragments to construct something entirely new—something so novel that it had never before been conceived.

Imagination inherently creates something new. We are instantly thrilled when we encounter a product of the imagination. The reason for this is its absolute novelty—it is something entirely unprecedented, never before seen or heard. Its very nature captures our attention and becomes a source of fascination. This is why Coleridge asserted that an imaginative creation is far removed from reality, and the further removed it is, the better. In this context, this distance holds a very specific meaning. Take the concept of a dragon, for example. As a complete physical entity, it is far removed from reality, and the greater this distance, the more bizarre and extraordinary it appears. However, if you examine its individual body parts, each one will inevitably resemble the anatomy of some real animal. Similarly, consider Shakespeare's Caliban. His physical structure is part ape and part fish. He believes in a deity whose head touches the sky, whose feet rest on the earth, and whose body encompasses the entire world. His movements and his songs are equally bizarre. His fears, his yearning for freedom, his cunning, and his plotting are all profoundly strange. A creature like him had never existed, nor had it even been conceived of before; yet, we still feel that he is fundamentally human, serving as the ultimate archetype of a wild and savage man.

Take the character of Umro Ayyar from our epic Tilism-e-Hoshruba. His magical pouch (zanbeel), in which he can conceal something as large as a flying bedstead, is an entity entirely beyond the bounds of logic. We refer to such things as supernatural, and their very supernatural quality is the miracle and the direct result of the imagination. Even the creations of the more modern era possess a supernatural quality. In modern novels, the scales are deliberately tipped in favor of realism. However, no character is truly worthy of being called a creative masterpiece unless it possesses some extraordinary trait—that is, until it deviates from the standard norms of common humanity.

The element of imagination is essential in literature, though its proportion has varied over time. Up until the seventeenth century, the absolute extreme of imagination was considered a prerequisite for literature. This is why, in panegyrics (qasidas), praise was pushed to the very limits of exaggeration; the more grandiose the hyperbole, the closer the poetry was deemed to perfection. Similarly, in storytelling, the more unfathomable the events and the more supernatural the characters, the more highly the work was regarded. However, in the eighteenth century, the rise of science and commerce gave birth to a new social class that was deeply illuminated by reason and intellect. This class outright rejected supernatural elements. They preferred poetry driven more by wit and intellect than by imagination, and they wanted to read fiction that reflected the circumstances of everyday life. Consequently, in the literature of that era, the element of realism overpowered imagination. Poetry became bogged down in prosaicness, and fiction turned into social history.

In the nineteenth century, this kind of literature was dismissed as bland, dry, and lifeless, and the emphasis shifted back to imagination. German writers spearheaded this movement. In England, two poets, Wordsworth and Coleridge, set out to infuse literature with imagination once again. Coleridge’s account of his friend’s practical contribution to this movement helps us better understand the concept of imagination. He explains that poetic effect is achieved by blending elements of the ordinary and the extraordinary. Therefore, his friend Wordsworth took it upon himself to make ordinary things the subject of his poetry, casting the light of imagination upon them in such a way that they would appear extraordinary.

For instance, he would write a poem about a common village man or woman, an ordinary flower, or a simple bird, but he would highlight such elements within these mundane subjects that they began to feel profoundly extraordinary. On the other hand, Coleridge’s task was to make the extraordinary—that is, the supernatural—the subject of his poems, but to describe these elements in such a way that the reader would perceive them as real. Accordingly, his most famous poem tells the tale of a mariner, featuring strange creatures, storms, ghosts, spirits, hermits, and magic. Yet, it impacts our senses with such force that we willingly suspend our disbelief and begin to accept it as truth. Coleridge’s contemporaries placed their entire emphasis on imagination, with each individual shaping the concept according to their own unique perspective. The crucial point, however, is that to this day, imagination is considered the driving spirit of literature. Over time, its meaning has expanded so vastly that it is no longer something easily grasped by ordinary human comprehension.

The credit for elevating imagination beyond the realm of mere intuition, transforming it into a philosophical concept and a profound mystery, goes entirely to Coleridge. In his monumental work, Biographia Literaria, he engages in a lengthy discourse on imagination. As was his usual tendency, he often rambles endlessly, straying from his main subject to lose himself in metaphysics and the obscure depths of German philosophy. Amidst the dense intellectual jungle he has cultivated, there are undoubtedly certain rare herbs that can serve as a life-giving force for writers. His definition of imagination and its division into three categories, if not entirely ambiguous, certainly require extensive clarification. His coined phrase, Esemplastic power, is something meant only for scholars to decipher; it remains completely beyond the grasp of the average educated reader. This very phrase serves as his definition of imagination, and the categories of imagination that Coleridge established essentially serve to explain this phrase from three different angles.

The essence of this entire discussion can be summarized in a few words: imagination is a shaping force. It is a fire that ignites and melts the elements of experiences and thoughts, blending them into a completely novel arrangement to forge a unified whole. This process is unconscious and revelatory. However, this does not mean it is arbitrary. In truth, it is a mysterious bond between nature and the human soul. The rays of nature's light, scattered across the universe, converge and focus upon the human soul. At its highest level, the power of imagination does not merely gather these rays; it also reveals the hidden elements within them that point toward philosophical ideas and moral values. Imagination is not just a captivating dream; it is an act of love for that force which, in German, is called Naturgeist (the spirit of nature). Because this love is an unconscious imitation of the beloved, the art it brings into existence is profoundly natural and human.

During Coleridge’s era, metaphysics and idealism were the dominant schools of thought, and the terminology he used to explain imagination was rooted in these philosophies. Yet, the remarkable aspect of his explanation is that, by linking imagination to revelation, he maps out the very concept of the unconscious that forms the foundation of modern psychology. Furthermore, by associating imagination with moral values and philosophical meaning, he arrives at the same vantage point occupied by modern symbolists. In doing so, he encompasses the most contemporary understandings of imagination, presenting a vision of it that will remain eternally significant.

In the modern era, the proliferation of philosophies has given rise to a multitude of literary theories. All these theories regard imagination as the most crucial element of literature, attempting to explain it in their own distinct ways. While these approaches are numerous and certainly fascinating to review, they all ultimately point to a single conclusion. On one hand, imagination is described as a revelatory force that encompasses new ideas and concepts, functioning as the creator of thought. On the other hand, it is defined as the faculty that acquires spiritual experiences, making it a power of spiritual perception. It is both religious and aesthetic in nature. This is why ancient philosophers made no distinction between the poet and the prophet, finding a single word sufficient to describe both. Although the rise of individualism in the modern age has separated religious and aesthetic faculties, their fundamental unity remains an eternal truth.

There is no doubt that literature took on a secular character during the Renaissance, leading to religious imagination and artistic imagination being viewed as two contradictory forces. Yet, even in that era, there were poets like Donne who continued to treat them as one, and by the nineteenth century, Wordsworth and Coleridge had reunited them. Today, we recognize that both deal with spiritual experiences. Both originate in a state of inward withdrawal, yet both seek action, acquiring the means to manifest their existence. The difference lies in their expression: religious imagination makes itself evident through righteous action, whereas artistic imagination utilizes the traditional mediums of the arts, such as language in the case of literature. Both are subject to states of perfection, decline, and absence, but it is evident that every great artistic achievement carries a religious resonance, and the artistic experience inevitably draws close to the religious experience.

Artistic imagination is a kind of inner light and power; under its influence, we forget the material world and are transported to a spiritual realm, much like a devout person entering a state of ecstasy. This realm has been described as the negation of reality and intellect, which is why reason and imagination are often viewed as opposing forces. Reason analyzes experiences to acquire knowledge of them. Imagination, on the other hand, is concerned with revelation and focuses on finding harmony among disparate elements. When completely divorced from reason, artistic imagination can become purely emotional, a state we see manifested in purely sensory impressions. However, we do not accord a high literary status to a poet who relies solely on sensory experience.

When artistic imagination aligns with reason, its concepts become symbolic, giving rise to what is known as symbolic imagination. This form of imagination does not stop at mere concepts; it extracts profound philosophical meaning from them, thereby forging a connection with knowledge and intellect. A symbol is not merely aesthetically pleasing; it is deeply meaningful. In modern literature, the overwhelming focus on symbolism leads to the conclusion that we consider symbolic imagination to be of paramount importance. Fundamentally, this is the same imagination possessed by ancient humans who, after observing the natural world, created myths and idols. However, the difference between modern symbols and ancient myths is that the latter were the collective property of an entire people—understood and embraced by the whole community—whereas the former are highly individualized, often to the point of becoming obscure and ambiguous.

This is precisely the cause of the ambiguity and difficulty found in modern literature: the creative works it produces cannot be understood without explanation. It is entirely possible that when an ancient individual first created a myth or idol, its meaning was initially confined to their immediate circle, only gradually gaining wider acceptance until it became the collective heritage of the entire nation. Similarly, it is possible that the symbols we are forging today will eventually become universally recognized, understood by everyone. In any case, symbolic imagination is currently a major subject of debate, with much being written about its strengths and weaknesses. The contemporary writer cannot escape it; rather, the task of a great writer is to navigate this landscape and forge a path that can resonate with the widest possible audience.

(2)

Thus far, imagination has been examined as a force that acts as the catalyst for literary creation. However, the creation itself is also a marvel of this very force, and we must examine what the nature of this force reveals through this marvel. To put it another way, imagination is one thing before a piece of literature comes into existence, and quite another once it has been created. In its initial state, it is purely an internal experience; in its subsequent state, it assumes an external form that can touch and affect anyone. In this newly realized state, it is referred to as expressive imagination.

This specific form of imagination is the core component of literature and the true wealth of the literary mind. There are countless individuals who lose themselves in emotional experiences and are transported to the realm of imagination, yet very few possess the ability to clothe those experiences in words. While artistic imagination gathers the impressions of spiritual truths, expressive imagination transforms these impressions, often giving them a shape that the writer themselves had never even anticipated. The finest articulations of this phenomenon are found in the works of critics who were themselves creative writers, for only such individuals can comprehend it in its entirety.

Those endowed with this imagination and experienced in wielding it successfully know how words flow from the pen during the act of writing, often altering what the writer originally intended to say. Often, words prove inadequate; in such moments, a true writer may discard their work entirely, much like Stevens, who burned the entire manuscript of his novel with a cigarette. Writers often have to agonize over their work, finding the right words only after a great deal of searching. However, writers possessing a powerful creative force find that not only do the most fitting words emerge spontaneously, but they also express the original concept with a clarity and vigor that the writer had not even anticipated. In this context, psychologists use the term the unconscious, and writers know that, to a certain extent, this force is at work in bringing their creations into existence.

Imagination remains fundamentally the same—a formative or shaping power. However, in the final stages of its operation, the medium it employs for expression obstructs this formative process, creating a state of conflict before ultimately melting away to become entirely subordinate to the imagination. Prior to this, imagination is a purely psychological or spiritual phenomenon; now, it transforms into a matter of expression, rhetoric, and style. The creative impulse recedes into the background, and imagination becomes a matter of the meanings and concepts emanating from the writer's words. Words establish an atmosphere and create a world of their own. When we use the word imagination in the context of a literary work, we are referring precisely to this atmosphere and this world.

It was through the study of expressive imagination that Aristotle laid the foundations of rhetoric. If we were to define expressive imagination in the simplest terms, we would say it is the psychological term for the use of literary devices and figures of speech. In a very general, perhaps even rudimentary sense, expressive imagination can be described as the use of similes and metaphors. There are countless forms of expression, but a historical study of all literary styles reveals that certain forms recur frequently, which is why they have been categorized and named. Lists and examples of these terms can be found in books on rhetoric and poetics, though the exact number varies from book to book. It is even possible to group all these terms under two broad headings: comparison and contrast. Our classical scholars of rhetoric established two distinct categories: sanai-e-lafzi (verbal devices) and sanai-e-maanvi (semantic devices). However, these categories are relics of an era when word and meaning were considered two separate entities, or when there was an emphasis on keeping them distinct. Today, such a premise is considered meaningless.

In ancient times, every human experience was weighed on the scales of logic. Consequently, merely categorizing and naming different types of literary devices served as the explanation for expressive imagination. Today, however, psychology emphasizes synthesis over analysis, seeking a single unifying concept that encompasses all forms, aspects, and categories. Therefore, in the most modern writings on rhetoric, the term image or concept is utilized. In this regard, the most significant book of the modern era is The Poetic Image by the poet Cecil Day-Lewis, in which the metaphor is treated as the representative of all literary devices. In the past, a couplet was praised based on how beautifully a simile was employed or how fitting a metaphor was, and that was where the discussion of expressive imagination ended. Today, metaphors are viewed as indicators or examples of imagery. Through them, the poet's psychological state—a culmination of their momentary emotional responses, their traditions, and their individuality—is examined. Thus, the study of imagination has essentially become the study of imagery.

Imagery holds the same relationship to literature as colors do to painting; just as a painting cannot exist without colors, literature cannot truly be literature without imagery. It is the masterful use of imagery that provides a true measure of a writer's imaginative power. Literature shares affinities with both painting and music; it is intimately connected to both color and melody. Words evoke both visual and auditory impressions, which is why visual images and auditory images coexist simultaneously in literature. There are various levels to their application. The lowest level is a purely formal, traditional, or mechanical usage, where literary devices are employed merely for ornamentation. This typically occurs during periods of decline, when life loses its true meaning and purpose, reducing itself to mere superficial formalities.

In our literary tradition, the poetry of the Lucknow School—whose most representative poet is Nasikh—serves as an example of this level. Furthermore, every era produces certain poets whose inclination toward poetry is neither innate nor natural. Yet, for one reason or another, they become writers, remain writers throughout their lives, and even leave their mark on literary history. Naturally, the principles of rhetoric, poetics, and prosody have long been established, and whatever is produced in strict adherence to them is technically classified as literature. However, just as it is essential to distinguish between the genuine and the counterfeit in all human endeavors, literature of this caliber is clearly revealed to be counterfeit. Images are certainly present, but they do not appear to be in harmony with genuine emotion. For instance, in Nasikh’s poetry, the principles of rhetoric and prosody are executed with great mastery, yet the question of true imagination does not even arise. He writes:

Azal se dushmani taoos-o-maar aapas mein rakhte hain

Dil-e-pur-daagh ko sauda hai kyun is zulf-e-pechaan ka

[Since eternity, the peacock and the snake have harbored enmity toward one another;

Why, then, is this scarred heart so obsessed with those coiled locks?]

Both visual and auditory images are present in this couplet. The enmity between the peacock and the snake, the resemblance of the scarred heart to a peacock's spotted feathers, and the likeness of the coiled locks to a snake are all well-established. Furthermore, the couplet possesses a magnificent rhythm that appeals to the ear. However, the lover's question does not stem from the depths of his heart. The emotional state he wishes to portray fails to form a true imaginative picture. It is evident that the poet did not compose this couplet while immersed in the realm of the imaginative world. Relying purely on knowledge and practice, he has mechanically constructed an artificial artifact—one that certainly gives the illusion of literature, but is not truly worthy of the name.

It is only when a poet is seized by inspiration that their imagery becomes harmonious, transporting the reader into the world of imagination. There are many poets who never manage to enter this imaginative realm at all, but even the greatest of poets cannot reside in this world permanently. Often, their inspiration also fades, and their poetry is reduced to a mere adherence to mechanical principles. The occurrence of shutur-gurba (inconsistency of pronouns) in the Diwan of Mir Taqi Mir serves as an example of this. Nevertheless, this too represents a specific level of imagination in literature, and literature of this tier is nothing more than mere rhetoric.

A higher level of the imaginative process occurs when a writer introduces concepts in accordance with the tradition of a specific era or school of thought. Our ghazal poetry is replete with this. Certain phrases regarding the lover and the beloved have become clichéd, and poetry is often reduced to merely stringing them together. Similarly, in eighteenth-century English poetry, language and phrasing became highly conventionalized, and poetry was largely a matter of assembling these set expressions. However, among those who employed these traditional concepts, many poets emerged who breathed new life into them, thereby demonstrating true imagination in their work. Among our ghazal poets, Mir, Dard, Aatish, Ghalib, and Daagh serve as prime examples. These poets also possess a distinct individuality, which will be discussed later. The point here is simply to show that a person endowed with true imaginative power can breathe life even into the dry bones of tradition.

What typically happens is that, during a particular era, certain poets associate specific concepts with a specific literary genre. While the work of these pioneering poets is entirely driven by imagination, subsequent poets accept their concepts as absolute rules and popularize them, thereby establishing a tradition. The formation of a tradition is inevitable, but becoming trapped within it is proof that a poet lacks imaginative power.

In the context of employing traditions, another process emerges, which should be considered an even higher level of the imaginative process. Certain genres require the use of specific devices to create ornamentation or a particular extraordinary effect. For example, in our literary tradition, the praise of a horse or a sword in a qasida (panegyric ode) has also become a mandatory element in marsiyas (elegies). Similarly, in European epic poetry, there is the use of specific similes associated with Homer, known as Homeric similes. Obviously, introducing such elements into a narrative is entirely artificial, and in the hands of most poets, it remains mere artifice. However, the greatest poets have embraced this artificiality in such a way that their true creative genius shines through its application. For instance, in Milton's Paradise Lost, Homeric similes are employed in a manner that deepens the impact of a scene—either through comparison or contrast—or they introduce a variety that the specific moment demands. This demonstrates that imagination is indeed engaged with tradition, but when imagination is powerful, it does not remain trapped within that tradition; rather, it elevates it, soaring into higher realms.

Countless such levels can be established, but the highest level is reached when metaphors and meter bring forth exceptionally clear and vivid concepts. When these concepts harmonize to create a realm of imagination that completely absorbs the reader in its ecstasy—an ecstasy that deepens the more one engages with it—then the highest form of literature is manifested, and imagination is seen performing its ultimate function. The impact of this caliber of literature is romantic, and the creative imagination is, fundamentally, a romantic phenomenon. It carries us away from the constraints of everyday life, yet it does not leave us lost in a world of obscure mysteries. It reveals a paradise characterized by boundlessness, yet its contours remain clearly visible. Forgotten, half-understood, and distant things come alive with all their charm. The poet or writer is born with an innate vision of the universe.

Hazlitt recounts an occasion when he was walking with Wordsworth as evening fell. Wordsworth remarked on the beauty of the evening, and Hazlitt, observing him, thought to himself, Through what eyes do these poets view nature? It appears that the eyes of poets see something entirely different; they perceive the world through the eyes of imagination. However, to articulate this vision, they must bend words to their will. The brief life of Keats, and specifically a mere four-year span within it (from the age of twenty-two to twenty-six), provides an exemplary illustration of the evolution of imaginative power. He was born with pure imagination and remained entirely aloof from intellectualizing. Initially, his concepts were undoubtedly beautiful, but they did not coalesce to demonstrate a profound imagination; rather, they merely evoked a fleeting sensation. All poets must pass through this stage. Gradually, the mere sensationalism of his sensory concepts began to diminish, and perfectly beautiful imagery began to emerge. His later poems do not merely elevate these concepts to their maximum impact; they construct a world of imagination so profound that it brings to mind this verse by Iqbal:

Ba-nawa-e afridi che jahan-e dil-farebay

Ke adam ba-chashm aamad cho tilism-e seemiyayi

[With your melody, what a captivating world you have created,

That non-existence appeared to the eye like a magical illusion.]

A poet's imaginative command over language continues to evolve over time. Upon reaching a certain peak, it plateaus and may even begin to decline. However, practice and mastery often compensate for this waning power, as Mir Anees has expressed:

Ghata josh mashq-e sukhan barh gayi hai

Burhapay mein hum ko jawan kar diya

[The youthful passion has waned, but the mastery of verse has grown,

It has made me young again in my old age.]

Imagination in its purest form is found in poets like Mir Anees or Keats, who construct a world of absolute beauty and concern themselves with no values other than aesthetic ones. In contrast, for poets like Wordsworth or Iqbal, imagination inevitably becomes intertwined with philosophical thought. Rumi and Goethe present the finest examples of this harmony between thought and imagination. When Goethe's angels sing in the presence of God:

Ihr Anblick gibt den Engeln Stärke,

Da keiner dich ergründen mag,

Und alle deine hohen Werke

Sind herrlich wie am ersten Tag.

[Their sight gives the angels strength,

Though none can fathom Thee,

And all Thy lofty works

Are glorious as on the first day.]

...the tapestry of visual imagery and the melody of auditory concepts transport us to a realm where only God exists, where the beginning and the end of time are one. Here, not only is the vision of the entire universe laid bare before us, but its meaning is also as clear as a mirror.

Since the nineteenth century, imagination has been regarded as the very foundation of literature, and even today, the majority of critics subscribe to this view. However, figures like T.S. Eliot argue that the blending of intellect with imagination is essential to fully capture the complexities of modern life. In the eighteenth century, the emphasis was entirely on intellect, which is why nineteenth-century critics labeled it an era of prose. Prose is also a branch of literature, and if it relies on intellect rather than imagination, then imagination can no longer be considered the foundation of all literature. In reality, prose used for elucidating sciences and imparting factual knowledge is entirely devoid of imagination. However, literary prose, if stripped of imagination, loses its very foundation. In prose, the intellect exercises control over the imagination, but if the intellect operates without imagination, the prose becomes utterly lifeless. The highest caliber of prose—exemplified in English by the writings of Carlyle and Ruskin—is just as imaginative as poetry. It contains not only poetic imagery but also a distinct rhythm that harmonizes perfectly with its underlying thoughts.

The novel or short story is often considered a strictly factual medium, where reality is emphasized over imagination. However, successful novels are those that elevate factual matters into the realm of imagination. The most successful novels are not merely blueprints of reality. Instead, their events and characters function as concepts that, through a harmonious interplay of comparison and contrast, bring forth an imaginative world that is fundamentally poetic in nature. Literature is a creative act driven by imagination, and its ultimate outcome is also imagination. Literature is entirely a marvel of the imagination, and the study of literature is, in essence, the study of the imagination's various facets and associations.

Today, encompassing both meanings of imagination explained above, the term sensibility (idraak) is also used. In the context of any poet, their poetic sensibility is frequently discussed, and their literary stature is determined by the strength of this very sensibility. Literature is distinguished from non-literature solely on the basis of this sensibility; indeed, sensibility is the defining attribute of literature.

(1)

Among all the available definitions of literature, the greatest emphasis has been placed on imagination. In the nineteenth century, literature was considered entirely a marvel of the imagination. Psychologically speaking, imagination is a human faculty that allows a person to sketch the outlines of future images in their mind.

Much emphasis is placed on its connection to the future, and it is distinguished from memory in the sense that memory is entirely related to the past. However, the things that enter our memory are also inevitably colored by imagination to some extent, because we do not remember old things exactly as they were. Our emotional attachment to them inevitably alters them—making or marring them—and furthermore, when we remember something, we do not recall all its details. We fill in these gaps with our imagination to create a complete image, and in this state, this image certainly becomes quite imaginative. In any case, imagination is a faculty whose only connection to materiality is that it colors it; otherwise, it has mostly been described as a spiritual entity. William Blake went so far as to call imagination the Holy Spirit.

The presence of imagination is essential in literature; otherwise, it would not be literature. However, to understand its existence, it is necessary to distinguish it from ordinary fantasy. To understand this difference, one must first realize that everyone possesses fantasy, but very few possess true creative imagination. Everyone dreams while sleeping, and while awake, they replay strange thoughts in their minds according to their desires, creating a purely imaginary world that brings them joy. Every college boy gets lost in the fantasy of passing his exams, getting a job afterward, and living a comfortable life according to modern standards.

In many literary works, we also see that people with immature experience merely create a world of fantasy, which is in no way plausible. Abdul Halim Sharar’s novel Dilchasp is an example of this. The story narrated in it is purely fantastical. The need for imagination is not just for literature; even a scientist cannot succeed in his experiments if he is not filled with the power of imagination. The conclusion is that creative imagination emerges from the combination of fantasy and reality.

Coleridge has called imagination a synthetic power that gathers all kinds of experiences and gives them a new composition. The details of reality, the fantasies and emotions associated with them, and all such things combine to create a wondrous synthesis that is called the result of imagination. In Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria, there is a lengthy discussion on imagination that goes on relentlessly and often strays from its main purpose. However, from the perspective of mysticism, its essence is exactly what Ghalib called Nawa-e-Sarosh (the voice of the angel), and from a metaphysical standpoint, it is the power that harmonizes various forces to bring art into existence.

Coleridge describes two types or levels of imagination: Primary imagination and Secondary imagination. Maulana Shibli has termed these two as Muhakat (mimesis) and Takhayyul (imagination), and has clarified the difference between them. Shibli is merely being clever in this matter as well, and like every other issue, he has understood this only superficially. Nevertheless, his explanation sheds some light on this power of imagination, which is the soul of literature and becomes established in nations like traditions. In reality, the function of imagination is not merely to clothe concepts in an artistic garb; rather, it recreates the subject in a new way. This recreation certainly contains elements of the original reality, but it is so far removed from the original that it becomes difficult to recognize.

The earliest examples of the imaginative process are idols. Ancient humans observed various objects in the universe for a long time; in them, they saw something beyond apparent reality, and then they also saw some reflection of their own reality. Everything in the universe appeared greater than themselves. Anthropologists generally consider the emotion of fear to be the foundation of ancient religion. It is true that man began worshiping only after being overcome by fear, but in the creation of idols, emotions other than fear certainly played a role as well. In any case, emotion is necessary to set the imagination in motion. This is the relationship between emotion and imagination; yet, the imaginative process is a distinct thing. It is a kind of artistry.

It was by gathering all the impressions of vegetation that the Goddess Parvati was created, who was entirely different from any single element of vegetation, yet every attribute of hers was connected to the qualities of flora. For example, her long hair symbolized fertility and harvest, while her smile translated the feeling that overcomes the heart upon seeing a swaying green meadow. In short, imagination created a figure before us that, despite representing reality, is extremely far removed from it. Moving forward in a similar manner, humans created demons, fairies, and dragons. These, too, were far from logical probability, yet the realities of life could still be seen in them. Later, moral attributes were given human forms and shown acting like humans. In the modern era, human characters were adopted who certainly possessed the traits of specific individuals, but these too were not exact replicas of reality. Anna Karenina appears to us as a completely living, breathing woman, but her experiences, the way her mind is shown torn between three duties—towards her children, her husband, and her lover—and the strange events that unfold from this conflict, are not entirely real. Rumi says:

Hama aaftaab beenam, hama aaftaab goyam

Na shabam na shab parastam, ke hadees-e-khwaab goyam

[I see only the sun, I speak only of the sun;

I am neither the night nor a worshiper of the night, that I should tell tales of dreams.]

Imagination is a tale of dreams. To create an imaginary picture is the imaginative process. Shakespeare says:

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven;

and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name; such tricks hath strong imagination

That when it doth conceive a deed

It thinks a maker of the deed.

In the Shakespearean play from which these words are taken, wondrous miracles of imagination unfold before us. Here, there is an entire fairyland with a king and a queen, and their highly charming servant, Puck. In addition to his fairy-like qualities, he is also interested in playing pranks and making fools of humans, and his antics introduce a tremendous element of comedy into the play. Then, a rustic villager is also shown, upon whose shoulders Puck places the head of a donkey, causing his companions to flee at the sight of him. The queen of the fairies is shown falling in love with this donkey-headed man, creating a bizarrely comic effect. By bringing one of the most unparalleled examples of imagination before us, Shakespeare also defines imagination itself, providing an example of clothing an intuitive concept in words better than which is simply not possible.

An important aspect of Shakespeare's description is that he views imagination not only as a power that gives physical form to things, but also as a force that grants a place and a name to baseless, ethereal concepts. This means that imagination takes things that cannot be perceived by the senses and presents them in such a way that they transform into tangible forms capable of stimulating our sensory perception. For instance, a poet conveys the generosity of his patron in the following manner:

Dar qa'ar-e-darya shud sadaf bar khijlat-e-khud mo'taraf

Ta shah la'ali az abr-e-kaf sharq-o-gharba rekhta

[The oyster in the depths of the sea admits its shame,

As the king's cloud-like hand showers pearls from east to west.]

We might say this is an exaggeration, but if we set that aside for a moment and examine the verse, we realize that showering pearls is a classic metaphor for generosity. Pearls emerge from the sea. Clouds rise from the sea, and their raindrops fall into the mouths of oysters to become pearls. The king's hand is also like a cloud, raining down pearls of generosity, yet his bounty far exceeds the capacity of the ocean. We could only conceive of generosity as an abstract idea, but the poet has transformed this concept into a vivid picture.

Similarly, it can be argued that Kant and Goethe stood at the same level of intellectual thought. However, when dealing with the concept of evil, Kant debates and analyzes it, clarifying all its various aspects. Goethe, on the other hand, takes all these aspects and creates the character of Mephistopheles. Both were concerned with something that transcends sensory perception. However, the philosopher's task is to keep it beyond the senses while analytically breaking it down. The poet's task is to bring it into the realm of the senses and give it creative form. This is why analysis is considered the exact opposite of creation. The human mind operates in two distinct ways: first, by breaking down an imperceptible concept into fragments; and second, by assembling disparate fragments to construct something entirely new—something so novel that it had never before been conceived.