Who was the storyteller? It could be a woman, possibly a mother who in order to cheer up or to put her child to sleep narrated something that looked like a story. We men, who outnumber women as storytellers at present, learnt the art of storytelling from them. But in the social evolution when patriarchy entrenched itself as an outcome of bio-physical difference, men encountered many a thing that women were not exposed to.

What one encountered in search of a bigger little known world, provided the stuff that became ever renewing source of stories, real and imagined.

How much storytelling is intrinsic to human mind and imagination can be guessed from the fact that almost all the great writers in recorded history have been at some level storytellers irrespective of the genres they wrote in.

In our own literary tradition the greats like Baba Guru Nanak, Damodar, Nijabat, Muqbal, Waris Shah, Pilu, Hafiz Barkhurdar, Hashim Shah, Charag Awan, Qadir Yar, Sachal Sarmast, Shah Mohammad, Mian Mohammad and Maulvi Ghulam Rasul had tales to tell or retell.

Apart from the classical narrative we have an immensely rich tradition of folk storytelling which charts the march of our people; full of sorrows and dreams, signifying a world of reality unrecorded by ‘stuffed men’ called academics.

Mian Kamal Din (1917-2000), a storyteller and a bard, tape-recorded, transcribed and published by Prof Saeed Bhutta in 1990s proved to be a rare find or a serendipity that compelled literary critics with discerning eye to revise their concept of art of folk storytelling.

Mian Kamal, a poor man of ‘Mirasi’ family, at the lower rung of social hierarchy, proved to be what his name says ‘the perfect elder’. When the first book of his selected stories entitled ‘Kamal Kahani’ came out, it destroyed with a bang the myth of folk storytelling which portrayed it something less than consciously created literary product lacking in high artistic merit.

His art of storytelling in terms of creative skill and socio-historical consciousness puts him in the league of culture conscious Damodar (who was the first to compose the tale of Heer Ranjha) and history conscious Nijabat (who wrote ‘Nijabat Di Vaar’, an epic on Nadir Shah’s invasion of India.

His unobtrusive use of artistic devices and literary techniques coupled with his extraordinary dramatic sense of proportion creates a stunning ambiance laced with joyful noise and ethereal quietude.

He transports you to an entirely different Punjab, the Punjab of lords and peasants, of kings and saints, of wise men and fools, of doughty fighters and cringing cowards.

Nobody before or after him explored the hidden and not-so-hidden dimension of Punjabi life that can do you proud and at the same time make you cry. In his unique expression he can be profuse like Tolstoy and economical like Becket.

Who was this seemingly ordinary mortal gifted with a magician’s tongue that conjured an incredible image of hitherto little-known medieval and modern Punjab? Mian Kamal was born in a traditional family of bards in the village of Kot Sultan, in the vicinity of ancient town of Chiniot, close to where Alexander crossed the river Chenab (he has a thrilling story on how incredibly brave Raja Porus faced Alexander).

According to his own account he was a toddler when his father died.

His mother sent him to school instead of getting him employed with the family of his patrons as was the normal practice in such a case. Had that happened, he said, he would not have been what he was.

He did his primary education and then one day when his teacher thrashed him, he decided not to go back to his school.

Poetry and storytelling was what he consciously and subconsciously inherited from his family ethos. He turned to a cleric, Maulvi Munnawar, who imparted him religious education. It was here in the seminary that he started composing poetry.

He was fascinated by the ‘Pauri Nawab Muzzafar Khan’ (Epic of Muzzafar Khan of Multan) which he learnt to recite from Karam Din Mirasi of Shahpur.

Later, he developed a passion for the ‘Nadir di Pauri’, the celebrated epic poem of great Nijabat on the king Nadir Shah’s invasion of India which devastated Punjab and Delhi. He requested Haji Usman’s family, his neighbours, to give him a copy of the poem but they did not oblige him.

Undeterred in his search he went to his cousins in village Dhugre where Wali Mohammad, the weaver, used to recite this poem.

He met Wali Mohammad who, in Mian Kamal’s own words, said to him: “Have you looked at your face in the mirror? Men like you bring disrepute to their teachers.

“It rendered me speechless. I dragged myself into my cousins’ house. My hosts asked me to recite the epic of Muzzafar Khan in the evening. I got on with my recitation.

Wali Mohammad after saying his night prayer in the mosque was on his way back home. While crossing the street he heard my voice. He came in and sat down. The moment I finished, he stood up and embraced me.

‘I was mistaken. You appeared to be a simpleton. I thought how such a person could be capable of learning?’ Wali Mohammad explained. He taught me how to recite Nijabat’s epic.”

Poetry is one aspect of his art. The other is storytelling. Both go together in his breathtaking composite narrative, painting a surreal canvas inspired by an unusual but real world where kings blunder, heroes stumble and peasants humble their lords to retain their human dignity.