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Archive for July, 2024

Book Review – A Life in Words : Memoirs (Kaghazi Hai Pairahan) by Ismat Chughtai (Translated by M.Asaduddin)

Posted in Book Review, Memoirs, Urdu Literature, tagged , , , , on July 26, 2024| Leave a Comment »

I’ve wanted to read Ismat Chughtai’s memoirs / autobiography for a while. I finally got around to reading it.

This book ‘A Life in Words : Memoirs’ (‘Kaghazi Hai Pairahan‘) can be more accurately called a memoir rather than an autobiography. In it, Ismat Chughtai gives an account of a few years of her life, and describes events and incidents which were important to her and made an impact on her life. The story is not chronological – it doesn’t start from one particular time and end at another particular time. The story moves back and forth. Sometimes two chapters are sequential and continue a particular series of events. At other times, the different chapters feel independent. On the whole, the book feels like a collection of essays, mostly independent, about Ismat Chughtai’s life. I later discovered that she wrote this for a literary magazine and one chapter used to appear in the magazine every month. Ismat Chughtai seems to have told the editor of the magazine that it is not going to be a continuous account, and she’ll just share things that she remembers. When we read the book, this is how we feel. We feel that we are having a conversation with someone and the story moves back and forth. Ismat Chughtai herself says this about her writing –

“I began to experience the same thrill in writing as I did in reading. I was counted among the chatterboxes in our talkative family. When I wrote, I imagined my readers sitting before me. I talked and they listened. Some agreed with me. Some didn’t; some smiled while others got angry, and some felt jealous. Even now, I experience the same feelings. I narrate stories to my audience like a traditional storyteller. And just as a storyteller inserts personal opinions in the telling of a story, I do too.”

In her memoir, Ismat Chughtai talks about her family, about her mom and dad and her brothers and sisters and shares many family stories. If we are familiar with her short stories, we can spot the inspiration behind some of them in her family stories. She also talks about the time a case was filed against her when she published her short story ‘Lihaaf‘ (‘The Quilt‘). It was very fascinating to read. Some of her fellow writers asked her to apologize for publishing the story, and she was told that she’ll be let off if she apologized. She refused. She also talks about how she had to fight with her family to get educated. Her family was totally against her going to high school and college. She managed to fight and win and get there and then went on to become the headmistress in a school. She also talks about the time she worked in a school owned by a Nawab and how he tried to get her married to his son. One of the stories I loved was about her friendship with a Hindu girl when they were kids and how they later drifted apart, but many years later they got in touch again and at that time her friend was getting married and when they met on the eve of the wedding, the years melted away and they became kids again. It was a beautiful story. Another of my favourite stories is about her time in Isabella Thoburn College in Lucknow. She talks about her inspiring English teacher Dr.Tucker, who is eighty years old. She knew English literature inside out and the way she taught her students was very inspiring. Hoping that one day I can visit Isabella Thoburn College. Both Ismat Chughtai and Rashid Jahan studied there. It is a hallowed institution. Ismat Chughtai also mentions Rashid Jahan in many places and talks about how Rashid Jahan is one of her biggest inspirations. Ismat Chughtai studied in the school that Rashid Jahan’s parents had founded and she shares many anecdotes from that time which are charming to read.

There are more stories in the book, many more. I’ll let you read the book and enjoy its pleasures yourself.

One of the things from the book that left a deep impression on me was this passage.

“We were ten siblings, two of whom did not have any children. Thirty-nine children were born to eight brothers and sisters. Out of them, thirteen migrated to Pakistan and sixteen chose to stay back here in India. Azim Bhai had already died. Among the brothers, four migrated to Pakistan after Partition, one stayed in India. All the four sisters, including me, stayed back in India. Among the four brothers who went over to Pakistan, three have died and one, who is younger than I, is alive. The brother who lives in India is older than me.”

It was sad to read that Partition divided her family and half of them ended up in each of the two countries. This happens all the time today, when family members move apart as they go to work and live in new places and the physical and emotional distance between them increases. But when this parting is forced by historical circumstances, it is hard to take. I had a boss once. He invited me home for dinner to celebrate the Chinese New Year with his family. I went with him. His wife was there and his brother and his family were there. His dad was also there. My boss was in his fifties at that time, and so his dad must have been in his eighties. After we all talked for a while and we were all enjoying dinner and there was a festive and relaxed atmosphere at home , everyone told me the story of my boss’ dad. My boss was Taiwanese but his dad lived his younger years when Taiwan and China were one country. Somehow after 1949, he ended up in Taiwan and his sister ended up in China and they couldn’t meet again. Many decades later a chartered flight was organized between the two countries so that family members who ended up on the two sides could meet again. My boss’ dad was on that flight and when he landed in China and met his sister for the first time in decades, the two hugged each other and were crying for the whole day and couldn’t speak a single word. After hearing the story, I started crying. This is what happens when families are divided because of political and historical events. It is heartbreaking.

I loved Ismat Chughtai’s memoirs. It was beautiful, moving, charming, inspiring. I’d love to read a proper biography of her which describes the events of her life chronologically. I discovered that there is one such biography. Hoping to read it soon.

Have you read Ismat Chughtai’s memoirs? What do you think about it?

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Book Review – A Rebel and Her Cause : The Life and Work of Rashid Jahan by Rakhshanda Jalil

Posted in Biography, Book Review, Short Stories, Urdu Literature, tagged , , , , on July 21, 2024| Leave a Comment »

After reading a translation by Rakhshanda Jalil,  I was looking at her backlist to find out what other books she has translated and written, and that is how I discovered her biography of Rashid Jahan. I’ve never heard of Rashid Jahan before, and I thought that if there is a book on her, there must be something about her, and so I got it.

The book is divided into two parts. The first half which stretches to around a 100 pages is Rashid Jahan’s biography. The second part which is of similar length is a collection of her stories and plays, translated by Rakhshanda Jalil. I loved this format of the book, where we get to read about an author in depth and also get to read her work. I wish though that the biography part was longer.

The book starts with the story of Rashid Jahan’s dad, on how he started the first school for Muslim girls in India, how he had to face a lot of opposition and criticism for it, how he got it off the ground with the help of his family and friends and well-wishers and others who believed in girls’ education including the Begum of Bhopal, who was a big supporter of girls’ education, and how he put his own daughters into that school and how they all went on to achieve great things. Then the book talks about Rashid Jahan’s childhood, and how after school she went to college and went on to become a doctor (she must have been a pioneer to have studied medicine and become a doctor in the 1920s). The book also talks about her time as an activist, when she and her husband and their friends fought for the oppressed, and went to jail many times, during the British era, and later even after India became independent. The moral of the story is that if you are an activist, no government likes you, irrespective of whether your country is under colonial oppression, or your country is a democracy ruled by your own people. If you are an activist and you fight for the poor and the oppressed, the government will always try to put you in jail. If you are a peaceful, nonviolent protestor, the government hates you more, because it can’t brand you as a bad person or as a terrorist, and so you’re definitely going to prison. The last part of the book talks about Rashid Jahan’s career as a writer and as a dramatist. There is a separate section on how the book ‘Angaaray‘ came to be published, and about the reception of Rashid Jahan’s stories featured in it, and the public outcry against the book and against her.

The biographical part of the book was very good, it was excellent. I loved what Rashid Jahan’s dad did, the way he fought in persistent and gentle ways to start a girls’ school, to bring education to girls. I’m wondering why there is no biography of him available today, because what he did was pioneering, it was legendary. In the history of Indian education, especially girls education, his name should be on the top. He wrote a memoir himself, but it is hard to find.

Rashid Jahan’s mom and dad
Rashid Jahan with her husband

Rashid Jahan’s life was very fascinating to read about. Before her generation, Muslim girls couldn’t go to school, and they were mostly educated at home. Atleast, that is what the book says. She studied at school, and then went to college, became a doctor, became a writer, became an activist and fought for the oppressed, and lived a fascinating life, and accomplished amazing things. It is so hard to believe when we read about it now. She died when she was 47. It was sad and heartbreaking, she had so many years ahead of her.

The second part of the book has a selection of Rashid Jahan’s short stories and plays. There were 10 stories and 3 plays. I’d read two of them in ‘Angaaray’ and it was nice to read more stories and plays here. I loved most of them. ‘That One‘ is about a sex worker, who shows kindness towards a teacher, and how her heart is filled with pure innocent love. ‘One of My Journeys‘ is about the narrator getting into the train and she meets two groups of women there, who end up fighting with each other, and what happens after that. ‘Man and Woman‘ is a conversation between two people who love each other, but the man wants to curtail the woman’s freedom and independence, and she refuses to budge. ‘Iftari‘ started slowly and meandered on, but it had one of the most beautiful conversations at the end, and I cried after reading it. ‘Thief‘ is about a thief who brings his kid to the doctor to get treatment and what happens after that. It had some cool dialogue (at one point the doctor asks, “Why do you steal?” To which the thief replies, “Memsaheb, we each have our own professions.” 😄) and a beautiful ending. ‘Woman‘ is a play about a wife who is going through emotional pain because her husband is thinking of marrying again.

I loved both Rashid Jahan’s biography and her stories. I’m glad I discovered this book. Many later generations of great writers like Ismat Chughtai, Qurratulain Hyder, Attia Hosain have said that Rashid Jahan is their inspiration and now I know why.

Reading the story of Rashid Jahan, and her family and friends made me think this. That many great people walked on these lands, who are forgotten heroes now. They accomplished great things. We are in their debt.

Sharing some of my favourite parts from her stories.

From ‘Iftari‘

“So, Amma, why don’t you fast?”

“Because you don’t,” Nasima teased her son.

“That’s because I am little. My grandmother says those who are old enough and still don’t fast will go to hell. What is hell, Amma?”

“Hell? Why, there it is!… Right there in front of you!”

“Where?” asked Aslam, turning his head to look in all four directions.

“There… where that blind beggar is standing. There… where the weavers live. There… where the ironsmiths and the dyers live.”

“But my grandmother says there is fire in hell.”

“Yes, there is fire. But it isn’t the sort of fire that will light our hearth. The fire of hell, my son, is the fire of hunger. Often, you don’t get anything to eat in hell and when you do, it is very little and of very bad quality. One has to work very hard in hell. And the clothes that the people in hell wear are old and battered. And their homes are small and cramped and dark, filled with lice and bugs. What is more, my dear Aslam miyan, the children in hell do not have toys to play.”

“Kallu doesn’t have any toys, Amma; it is because he also lives in hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And heaven?”

“Heaven is here where you and I live with your aunts and uncles. It is here in this large, clean house where we get to eat lots of delicious things such as butter, toast, fruits, eggs, meat, milk. Children have good clothes to wear and a motor car to play with.”

“Then, Amma, why does everyone not live in heaven?”

“Because, my dear, those who live in heaven do not let others come in. They get these other people to do all their work but then they push them back into hell.”

(Comment : After a while this happens.)

Frightened by what he had seen, little Aslam clung to his mother and said, “Amma.” His young mind had seen the true picture of hell for the first time.

Nasima looked at the Khans angrily and said, “These miserable wretches!” Again, Aslam said in a low voice, “Amma.”

Nasima stooped to pick him up and looking at him straight in the eyes, spoke in a forceful voice, “My darling, it will be your job to remove this hell when you grow up.”

“And what about you?”

“I? Where can I go from my prison?”

“Why not? You are not as old as grandmother that you cannot walk,” young Aslam answered echoing the serious tone of his mother. “You must come with me, too.”

“All right, my darling, I will also come with you.”

From ‘Thief‘

“I wonder what will happen to those other thieves who neither have a warrant, nor ever will. There are several types of theft. Petty thievery, picking pockets, robbery, larceny, black- marketing, exploitation, filling your home with the money earned from the labour of others, swallowing up someone else’s land or country. After all, why aren’t these included in theft?

I am not bothered about what people say but when everyone around me began to make fun of me, I felt a twinge of conscience. Had I truly committed a crime by not having the thief arrested? I am a law-abiding citizen. I have certain societal obligations. By not getting that thief arrested, had I shown a lack of civic sense?

I looked around me. I saw that some of the biggest thieves walk around dressed up as saints, and live in large mansions. They travel in aeroplanes and have either gobbled up large tracts of land or are preparing to do so. And to safeguard their own interests, have gone a step further than poor Kamman who only bribed the police. They have the entire police and armed forces on their payroll. Kamman was speaking arrogantly to me, pretending to be an equal, on the basis of a mere five or six hundred rupees, whereas these others… they are not merely arrogant, they sit high above us on a pedestal and rule over us.”

Have you read this book on Rashid Jahan? What do you think about it?

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Book Review – Angaarey (Translated by Snehal Shingavi)

Posted in Book Review, Indian Literature, Urdu Literature, tagged , , , , , , on July 12, 2024| 1 Comment »

I discovered ‘Angaarey‘ by accident. It is a collection of 10 short stories originally written in Urdu. The writers featured in it are Sajjad Zaheer, Ahmed Ali, Rashid Jahan, and Mahmud-uz-Zafar. It was first published in Urdu in 1932, nearly a hundred years back.

The history of the book is very fascinating. When it was first published, it created a storm. People condemned it in articles and reviews, the government of that time banned it (India was under British rule at that time. So the government was British), and nearly all existing copies of the book were taken off the market by the police and burnt down. Five copies of the book were preserved and two of them were archived at the British government offices in London. This is censorship and book banning at its worst, of course. There were attempts to file a case against the featured writers and get them arrested. There were physical threats against Rashid Jahan, the only woman among the four writers. More than fifty years later, someone tracked one of those existent copies of the book and published the book again. There doesn’t seem to have been a furore this second time. Now nearly a hundred years later, we have an English translation.

How can we resist a book which has this kind of backstory? 😊 I couldn’t! So I got it and finished reading it in one breath. It is a slim book at around 150 pages, and the pages just fly when you are reading the stories.

Out of the ten stories in the book, five are by Sajjad Zaheer (he seems to have been the person instrumental in getting this book published), two are by Ahmed Ali (he is famous for his novel, ‘Twilight in Delhi’), two are by Rashid Jahan, and one is by Mahmud-uz-Zafar. I enjoyed reading the book, though reading it nearly a hundred years later, it is hard to understand why it was so controversial, especially the depth of the opposition towards it. I could spot some controversial stuff in three of the stories, and I can imagine why people were against the book in those days. The introduction to the book by the translator Snehal Shingavi throws light behind the controversies and I could appreciate things better after reading it. What is the exact controversial stuff in the book and why it riled the people of that time so much, I’m not going to tell you about it. If I tell you, it will be like revealing the surprise in an Agatha Christie mystery  You have to read the book and discover it yourself.

My favourite stories in the book were these –

‘Dulari‘ by Sajjad Zaheer – it is about a maid who is almost like a slave in a rich person’s household, and what happens to her when she no longer wants to be a slave

‘A Night of Winter Rains‘ by Ahmed Ali – it is about a poor woman who is struggling with her children, and what she reminisces about during a rainy night. It is a heartbreaking story.

‘In the Women’s Quarters‘ by Rashid Jahan – it is a play about two women who are having a conversation about their lives in the women’s quarters of a traditional Muslim household

‘Virility‘ by Mahmud-uz-Zafar – it is about a man who returns back from abroad to take care of his wife who is ailing, but things don’t go as planned.

I enjoyed reading ‘Angaaray’. I’m glad I read it. One of the writers featured in the collection, Mahmud-uz-Zafar, wrote a letter to the newspaper after the book was banned. In that letter, he says –

“The authors of this book do not wish to make any apology for it. They leave it to float or sink of itself. They are not afraid of the consequences of having launched it. They only wish to defend ‘the right of launching it and all other vessels like it’ – they stand for the right of free criticism and free expression in all matters of the highest importance to the human race in general and the Indian people in particular…Whatever happens to the book or to the authors, we hope that others will not be discouraged.”

Reading that passage, it felt like four small guys were going to war against the empire. But inspite of the might ranged against them, they stood their ground, and they refused to step back, and they looked at the empire in the eye, and they refused to blink. It was stirring stuff and it gave me goosebumps.

Have you read ‘Angaaray’? What do you think about it?

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Book Review – Mitro Marjani by Krishna Sobti (Translated as ‘To Hell with You, Mitro’ by Gita Rajan and Raji Narasimhan)

Posted in Book Review, Hindi Literature, Indian Literature, tagged , , , , , on July 9, 2024| Leave a Comment »

After reading my first Krishna Sobti book, I thought I’ll read another one. I picked this one, ‘Mitro Marjani‘, her most famous book.

Mitro is a free spirit. She is married and lives with her in-laws. They are a joint family with parents and three sons, all married, and a daughter who is also married and who occasionally visits. In such a situation, there are always undercurrents and banter, and people plotting against each other. Mitro is very different from the rest though. She speaks in a carefree, uninhibited way, and she speaks in the same way with her mother-in-law and brother-in-law, which shocks them. She also flaunts her beauty and sexuality and speaks about her desires, which makes her in-laws squirm with discomfort. What happens to her and her family forms the rest of the story.

This book was published in 1966, and it must have created a storm at that time. Krishna Sobti must have really taunted the Indian censors, who were very much alive and kicking, at that time  It is sixty years later now and so we are used to stories like this now, but at the time it was published, this book must have been far ahead of its times.

After I read the story summary on the back cover, I thought that Mitro was a free spirit and her in-laws were conservative, and because of that she frequently got into trouble, and her in-laws tried oppressing her. Some part of it came true, but the surprising thing was that her in-laws, though they were conservative, mostly turned out to be nice people. Mitro’s mother-in-law is very kind, and one daughter-in-law is like an angel, while the daughter of the house is a nice person. Typically, in Indian households, there is a war which goes on between the daughter and the daughter-in-law as the daughter tries to lay down the law when the new woman comes into the house. But nothing like that happens in this story, and it was a refreshing change from regular plots, and it was really possible to like most of the characters. The whole story was charming with a lot of banter and humour and fun, with some plotting in-between, of course.

I enjoyed reading ‘Mitro Marjani’. Hoping to read more by Krishna Sobti.

Sharing a beautiful passage by the writer. This wasn’t featured in the story, but it was printed on the inside flap and I found it very beautiful.

“Good language is not just knowing that a word exists. You cannot even establish a word or install it unless you are aware of its shape, colour, as also the country of its origin and use. A good writer assimilates words in their entirety – their sounds, rhythm, their capacity to hold meaning, their subtlety and their linguistic tangibility … If you don’t live a language and have no feelings for the words, you cannot, at the level of style alone, weave them into the fabric of your creativity… An exhibition of words, without an avowed intent or aesthetic sense, is meaningless.”

Have you read ‘Mitro Marjani’? What do you think about it?

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Book Review – The Music of Solitude by Krishna Sobti (Translated from the original Hindi ‘Samay Sargam’ by Vasudha Dalmia)

Posted in Book Review, Hindi Literature, Indian Literature, tagged , , , , on July 8, 2024| Leave a Comment »

I discovered Krishna Sobti’s ‘The Music of Solitude‘ by accident. I fell in love with the cover (so beautiful, isn’t it?) and the title was very beautiful and I couldn’t resist it.

The story told in the book is simple. Aranya and Ishan live in nearby apartments. They are both retired, they are single and don’t seem to have families. They are very different to each other. Aranya seems to be a free spirit, she is spontaneous, she likes enjoying life. Ishan leads a structured life, he seems to be spiritual. But their strange friendship is beautiful and we see it evolve through their eyes, mostly through conversations.

As you can see, there is not much of a plot in the story. But the book was very beautiful. I feel that an author’s prose is beautiful in two ways. The first way is when it describes deep, profound thoughts and it makes you think. This is the kind of prose which you have to engage with deeply, and you can’t appreciate it when you are mentally tired. The second kind of prose makes you feel like you are sitting in the garden and a gentle breeze is blowing and caressing you and brings you joy and you are able to smell the beautiful spring flowers. ‘The Music of Solitude’ is this second kind of book. It was a pleasure to read.

One of the things that the book depicts through multiple stories is how people in their old age live their lives, trying to stay independent and relevant, while their freedom gets restricted everyday, sometimes by their own family and grown-up kids. These stories were moving and poignant and made me think a lot. Reading them made me wonder whether my own dad felt like this – that his freedom was restricted and I was the reason for it and I was cramping his style. From my perspective, I never got in the way of my dad. I ensured that there was food on the table, there were always magazines and books and newspapers at hand that my dad wanted to read, the TV was always available when he wanted to watch the news or some other programme, and there were always treats for special festive occasions. I also encouraged my dad to enjoy his freedom and independence by never getting in his way – he went out for a walk or to the temple or to meet one of his friends whenever he wanted. Also whenever my dad was not well, I always ensured that he got the best medical treatment and I nursed him back to health. In a sense I was like a caregiver and nurse to my dad. But after reading this book and seeing things from the opposite perspective, I can’t help wondering whether my dad felt cramped and restricted. Wish I could ask him now.

Sharing here some of my favourite parts from the book.

“Isn’t there still that responsiveness which flutters into being when clothes brush against your body? It sparkles every now and then, and when it does so, dark valleys bask in the sun. The winds swing in its primeval song. And the body fills with unspoken, incomprehensible words. Is all of this an illusion?”

“Dusk declines and becomes night by the force of its own being. Night becomes old and renews itself as morning. Each moment is on the wings of change. At times the sharp edges of your inside cut into something, at other times they leave behind scars, and sometimes there come tears, filtered through drops of blood. We are always being transformed, chance and coincidence fastened to memory, season after season. The mind doesn’t let go of what ceases to be; it fastens itself to old links in the chain. Then it returns, reviews them, and then, turns them around again.”

I loved ‘The Music of Solitude’. Hoping to read more books by Krishna Sobti now. Have you read this book? What do you think about it?

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Book Review – Fifty-five Pillars, Red Walls by Usha Priyamvada (Translated by Daisy Rockwell)

Posted in Book Review, Hindi Literature, Indian Literature, tagged , , , , on July 3, 2024| 4 Comments »

I discovered ‘Fifty-five Pillars, Red Walls‘ by Usha Priyamvada through a friend’s recommendation. I got it recently and read most of it in one breath today.

Sushma works in a college in Delhi. She is also the warden of the hostel and so she lives inside the campus. She is 33-years old and she is single. It is the 1950s (I think). In those days, most marriages in India were arranged marriages. It was easy to get a son married and it was hard to get a daughter married. Most families did everything they could to get their daughter married because if there is a single daughter at home, relatives and neighbours and everyone around will gossip.

So if there is a single daughter in the family who is in her thirties, it can only mean one of these things.

Either she couldn’t get married because of health issues or horoscope issues (if the girl had a particular star or she had some dark stuff in her horoscope, no one will want to get married to her. This is the kind of stuff Indians believed then.)

The second reason was because she was too dark skinned. Most Indians are racist – or as scholars say more politely these days, they practised colourism – and even the ugliest man wants a wife who is pretty and fair skinned. For some reason, Indians think that if someone has fair skin, they are pretty. I don’t know whether this is the kind of racism that was injected by the British when they were ruling India, or whether it has been there since time immemorial. I feel that it has been there since the dawn of time.

The third was that she was employed and making money and the family needed her money. In this  case, the family did everything to ensure that she didn’t get married, so that they can enjoy the fruits of her work. In the case of our heroine Sushma, the reality is this third one.

So Sushma is single and has a good solid career, and she takes care of her parents and siblings and they are living off her. In this situation a young man enters Sushma’s life and her heart beats faster and they both fall in love with each other. What happens after this, is Sushma able to throw off her current yoke and get together with her beloved and live happily ever after, or do her family and the people around her bring her crashing to the ground – this is told in the rest of the story.

I want to say that I loved the book, but I’d be lying if I said that. It was hard for me to read – not because it was not good, because it was very good, it was excellent – but because I’ve met a few women who were like Sushma, and some of them were my friends, and so it was very triggering for me. The way families hang on to their employed daughters like leeches, refusing to let them go – I’ve seen it in real life and it has given me a lot of pain, and so reading this book brought back some of those memories. The famous Indian film director, K.Balachander made a movie called ‘Aval Oru Thodarkadhai‘ (‘She is a never-ending story’) which has a similar theme. I don’t know whether Balachander was inspired by Usha Priyamvada’s story.

Things are changing now, and hopefully they are different. But I wouldn’t be surprised if in some corners of India, there are still some Sushmas there.

This is the third Daisy Rockwell translation I’ve read and I enjoyed reading all of them. I have a few more, including her most famous one, ‘Tomb of Sand’. Hoping to read them soon.

Have you read ‘Fifty-five Pillars, Red Walls’? What do you think about it?

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