Mehr F Husain founded ZUKA Books in 2020 – right in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic. The publisher of this independent woman-led publishing house in Pakistan sees her publishing practice as a cultural, political, and social “disruption”. A pioneer of sustainable publishing, Husain believes in creating environmentally-friendly books and being cognisant of the resources available in a country as economically vulnerable as Pakistan.
In 2021, ZUKA Books was shortlisted for a UN Women Asia-Pacific WEP Award in the Gender-responsive Marketplace category. The award recognises gender-inclusive initiatives in business organisations, and hers was the only organisation to be shortlisted from Pakistan. ZUKA Books is also a member of the 2022 UN Publisher Compact as an advocate for sustainable publishing in Pakistan.
Also the author of Pakistan: A Fashionable History and a journalist who once regularly wrote for Indian publications, Husain talked to Scroll about the predicaments of being a female publisher in Pakistan, the acrimonious political relationship between India and Pakistan, and how the publishing industry is bearing the brunt because of it. Excerpts from the conversation:
Let’s start from the beginning. How did ZUKA Books come to be? What led you to set up a publishing house?
I never wanted to be a publisher. I never even thought of it as a career or as a socio-political act. It was just something that never crossed my mind. I still don’t want to be a publisher. ZUKA Books came about as a political, social, and cultural disruption and it remains that way. It was post-Pulwama that Indo-Pak relations broke completely, the last wretched thread of cultural diplomacy was severed, and we, India and Pakistan, completely broke apart.
One of the devastating impacts was the literary breakdown – Indian publishers and Pakistani authors had always worked together. Whether it was Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s poetry or Manto’s translated works or Khushwant Singh’s publications or Arundhati Roy’s books, or columns in newspapers, the written word had flowed seamlessly between the two. But Pulwama ended that completely. And to my mind, I could not understand why Pakistani authors were being held to account for what were political decisions. It’s hard enough to be a writer and to be held accountable because of politics? It hurt. Tell me my work is bad and I can take that rejection. But to be told your work is good but cannot be published because of politics? That’s a different sort of pain.
But when I looked inwards at the Pakistani publishing industry all I saw was a wasteland. The arts always suffer when there is socio-political instability and after years and years of turbulence socially, politically, economically locally, nationally, regionally, and internationally the Pakistani arts had all but died out completely. They were gasping for breath. Publishing was the same. I stood in a wasteland, devoid of cultural exploration, old publishers of a different time slowly chugging along because they had nothing else to do. I was horrified. Hence, ZUKA Books came into being.
The name ZUKA is nothing gimmicky – it was just a natural progression of a social enterprise. I run ZUKA Accessories. The term ZUKA is made up of both my sons’ names Zulfiqar and Kassim.
The publishing house advocates for “sustainable publishing practices”. Can you throw some light on what sustainability means in publishing?
Absolutely. So Pakistan as a country is a mosaic – just when you think you have understood one element of it, another one comes in. It’s a multi-faceted, multi-dimensional country. I had long felt that international economic models cannot work here and my suspicions were somewhat cemented when I set up the social enterprise. That was set up because I realised our locally produced fabric, particularly muslin, was dying. How could something so natural die? I understood the arts dying but this came from the realisation something was wrong with how we lived and consumed nature.
That’s when I delved into sustainability before it became a “trend” in Pakistan. And then when I dived head-first into publishing and started my research what I discovered chilled me to the bone. How can you have offset printing of thousands of books when you don’t even understand the market? The deeper I went, the murkier the waters became and the more I understood what was happening. The industry was not sustaining itself – publishers were churning out books that did not push for creativity, authors were held to account for lack of sales and were punished by not getting royalties, and distribution was literally a matter of survival.
I said no, I’m not doing this, I am not playing by these rules. I will set up a new model. So by sustainable publishing, I am asking for a new model in which a poor country like ours can have a functional publisher who can cater to clients without being a drain on authors, and without creating waste – I do not have a single extra copy of any book I have published. I work with what limited resources are available, such as paper which is so precious, ensuring zero waste. I do not do mass production and commercial work is not something I consider. Books have to have value not just in content but in terms of production as well. Does this make them more precious? Absolutely. But that’s also necessary to ensure the longevity of the written word.
What kind of books are most likely to catch your attention as a publisher? What is ZUKA’s publishing philosophy?
As a Pakistani, every day is connected to the country’s social and political fabric. For me personally, life goes beyond home and work. I come from an immensely privileged background and I am extremely aware of it. I understand I have a responsibility towards the country and towards my fellow Pakistanis to fight the good fight where we collectively work towards progress. I desperately yearn for creative freedom. As a publisher, all these aspects are non-negotiable for me. I love that I have found authors – or rather, these authors found me and honoured me by allowing me to publish their work – who share my values.
The books I have published have immense social value. The books delve into topics that are considered taboo and address them in the most creative of ways. The Burning Champa by Zahra Hameed is Pakistan’s first non-fiction book of poetry about mental illness and body dysmorphia. It is her story. Grey Matter is Pakistan’s first graphic novel about marital breakdown and how women and men are affected by it. Pakistan: A Fashionable History written by Saad Sarfraz and me is Pakistan’s first cultural history through the lens of fashion. These books address sensitive issues of our state, society, and everyday life.
ZUKA’s publishing philosophy is simple – creative freedom. Freedom of expression. Two books of fiction I recently published experiment with creativity in different ways. Sonya Rehman’s WOLFIE talks about a dog – conservative societies tend to look at dogs as “impure”. There’s a dog on the cover. It’s aimed at children but the message is for adults – Look at the dog. Listen to it through this story. Naveen Kishore’s Uljha Gham addresses Kashmiriyat and is the Urdu translation of the English version Knotted Grief. The book spans four territories – Kashmir (topic), Wales (where the translator Hammad Rind is based), India (where Kishore lives), and Pakistan (where I am based). How can you limit creativity? You cannot. And should not.
What is running an independent press in Pakistan like? Especially as a woman?
Very lonely. I remember when I registered as a publisher I thought to myself, Now what? I had no one to exchange ideas with, no one to advise me on how to do it, where to find a printer, or understand paper weight, grammage, thickness. All I had were my editing skills from my years of working in the media as a journalist and editor. And my goodness, mistakes were made! Added to the pressure was that I had two small children so in between home, work, and school run I’d have two small children clinging onto me as I navigated the printers, graphic designers, and bookshop owners.
They were all men too and as expected in any patriarchal society I got a lot of the Bibi-Aap-Ko-Kya-Pata treatment. All I could do was grit my teeth and hold my ground. Of course, there were moments of comic which in any normal situation would seem grim but at a point, when you’re at your wits end and you have children in front of whom and you can’t really break down, you just look at the world and wonder about your life’s choices as a joke. Plus I do stand-up comedy...so sometimes you have to look at life as a joke – or the laugh is on you.
I also realised very early on in life that if you want to get anything done, one has to quickly lose a feminine sense of being. I couldn’t pull a cutsie-pie act or stand doe-eyed hoping someone would save me. I had to roll up my sleeves, use the same kind of language, speak in the same manner and yet, maintain an appearance which made them all understand that I meant business and I was setting the rules, not them.
What is the most exciting thing about leading the movement of independent publishing in Pakistan?
Goodness, I don’t think I’m leading! God, I hope I’m not! I’ll tell you what is fascinating – how women have spearheaded this new renaissance of publishing. It started with Shandana Minhas when she set up Mongrel Books. Then there were others but they set up their publishing houses for the love of the written word. Mine was more of a disruption in the status quo, a sort of Well I’ll Do It MY Way!
Safinah Danish Elahi and Taiba Abbas, my fellow female book publishers who also set up post-Pulwama, had a gentler approach in setting up their publishing houses but their presence is equally powerful and strong and so very welcome. And of course, the strongest impact is created by Sabin Muzaffar of Ananke, a media platform that set up the world’s first Women in Literature Festival which is an incredible feat as she brings in female authors, editors, publishers, academics from all over the world to simply talk books. It is beautiful.
What is your role as a member of the UN Publishers Compact? Can you tell us a little bit about the goals of the Compact?
The UN Publishers Compact is an agreement to adhere to and advocate for sustainable publishing. This came about after I had been invited to write about the topic and speak at the UK’s National Centre Writing symposium. It gives you the freedom to create a model that has sustainable practices. I run a model in which there is zero waste of books as I actively plan out each book project with my printer to ensure there is minimal paper waste and that no single book is catching dust. Every single copy is sold and every author is paid royalties. I am the only Pakistani female publisher to be a member of the compact and again, I understand how important it is and how necessary it is for me to carry the work into tangible results.
In what ways does ZUKA Books want to influence Pakistani readers? What are the literary trends that you are keen to introduce to this readership?
I just want people to write. And write freely. I don’t want to influence in any way but I do harbour hope that someone will see my work and think “I can do this. And I can do better.” I want writers to feel free to tell their stories without fear. I want new forms of literature – comic books, graphic novels, non-fiction, and fiction that correctly shows the brilliance of our writers. And I want the world to understand that you may not want to hear from Pakistan and Pakistani authors but we will to continue to write. Because we can.
ZUKA Books is publishing the Urdu translation of Naveen Kishore’s Knotted Grief. How did this project come to be?
All thanks to Sabin and the Women In Literature Festival. Seagull Books has been a staunch supporter and even now with the Urdu version of Knotted Grief, I know Naveen is extending his support and I am so grateful to him. Naveen’s book had just come out and Sabin reached out to me saying how wonderful an Urdu version would be given the topic and how grief marks our lived experiences as Indians and Pakistanis. I just love how Naveen writes and the symbolism of the project was a dream. It was also published in 2022, which marks 75 years of Independence and Partition. The whole project was the stuff of dreams.
We rarely see Indian writers being published by a Pakistani presses. What do you think can be done to rectify this?
Pakistani and Indian writers have always found a place in each other’s newspapers. Male and female journalists and editors had always wanted to hold on to a civil relationship even in the face of acrimonious politics. But all this changed after Pulwama. As I said before, the last strand of any kind of relationship based on mutual affection whether it was rooted in pre-Partition sentiment or a shared history or a genuine love for the neighbour has been severed. On both sides, we saw the rise of conservative politics which went beyond politics and engulfed the people.
I once held a column with India Today – I don’t know if I will ever hold a column with another Indian publication again. Sabin’s digital festival changed that as I witnessed the big smiles and genuine joy as faces across the border and beyond popped up on the screens via Zoom. Maybe one day it will change? Maybe if we meet in person or if we find means of connecting digitally more frequently it could change. That hope is forever kindled.
