Tag Archives: Authors of India

‘Pathan, Muslim, Bihari: these identities intrigued me’ | Interview with author Abdullah Khan

Motihari, BIHAR :

The author talks about how identity and politics play a huge role in his writing.

Abdullah Khan will be at The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Chennai on January 26-27. 

Abdullah Khan’s journey with literature began with a discovery — that he shared his place of birth, Motihari in Bihar, with one of the most prominent authors of the 20th century, George Orwell. Since then, the written word has remained Khan’s constant companion. From his debut novel Patna Blues (2018) to his latest, A Man From Motihari (2023), Khan employs a deft handling of sensitive subjects and hot-button issues to tell stories of everyday characters in Indian society. A speaker at The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Chennai on January 26-27, Khan discusses his thoughts on identity, desire and aspiration.

Edited excerpts:

How much of what you write is influenced by your own story?

During my school days in Bihar, my history teacher once asked, “Are you Muslim first or Indian first?” I confidently replied, borrowing the answer from my grand uncle: “I am both, born to Muslim parents, I’m Muslim; born in India, I’m Indian. Both identities came to me at birth.” As a boy, I didn’t fully grasp the complexities of identity.

During college, I pondered over how identity shapes thoughts, realising we’re not always aware of every facet of our identity. Sub-identities and super-identities emerge, revealed by others’ prejudices. In my village, I was Pathan; in school, a Muslim. Beyond Bihar, a Bihari. These identities intrigued me.

As I ventured into fiction writing, my reflections on identity seamlessly became woven into my stories. And, conflict between circumstances and desire is integral to human existence and is a vital element in crafting engaging narratives. I found inspiration in Bihari IAS/ civil services aspirants, news, historical incidents, real-life characters, beautiful places, and even SMS/ WhatsApp forwards for plot ideas.

What comes first — the plot or the point it makes? And in the case of ‘A Man from Motihari’, what was the genesis of the story?

Plots and characters naturally come to me without any preconceived plan. As I create the story, some significant points or messages often emerge organically.

Take, for instance, the inspiration behind A Man from Motihari. A few years ago, a Bangladeshi newspaper asked me to write about the house in Motihari where Orwell was born. While standing in front of that house, I had an idea: what if a boy from Motihari is born in the same room where Orwell was born many years ago? How would the boy react when he finds out, and how would it change his life? That’s how I came up with the character of the protagonist, Aslam Sher Khan, who is born in the same house as Orwell.

Tell us about your journey — from writing to publication.

Fresh out of completing my Master’s in chemistry, when I began writing Patna Blues, I had no knowledge of the technicalities of fiction writing and no background in literature. So, writing Patna Blues served as a kind of training for me, a sort of MFA, where I learned everything from scratch through trial and error. It took almost 10 years to write and nearly 9 years to get it published. I didn’t have a peer group then for beta reading or sharing comments. The journey to publication was challenging, enduring more than 200 rejections before it was published.

For my second novel, it took no more than a year to write, and finding a publisher was comparatively easier. Style-wise, I have improved significantly and gained more confidence in my writing.

There are strong political notes in your stories. What kind of responsibility do you feel towards your readers in terms of what you write about?

I believe no story exists in a vacuum. I allow the politics of the time to become a part of the narrative as I believe it is the only way to tell authentic stories.

While writing about politics, I do not shirk my responsibility as a writer and chronicler of the truth. I strive to be as impartial as possible. I generally don’t allow my personal beliefs or political ideology to creep into the story. Instead, I focus on the characters’ take on the politics of that time and keep myself a bit distant from those events.

What’s your take on literature festivals? What can they do for writers, and their readers?

Literature festivals offer writers a chance to share ideas. They gain inspiration and build a community, while readers enjoy insights into the creative process. As writers, we also get a chance to meet authors from all over the world, and learn from each other.

I think we should do more at these festivals for aspiring authors, like arranging pitching events or conducting writing masterclasses.

I have also observed a disturbing trend at many literature fests, where organisers invite celebrities such as film stars or cricketers to boost attendance. This often shifts the entire limelight to them, sidelining writers.

Gsquare Group presents The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Association with NITTE Education Trust & Christ University. Bookstore partner: Higginbothams

swati.daftuar@thehindu.co.in

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Litfest> The Hindu Litfest 2024 / by Swati Daftuar / January 05th, 2024

Sabahat Afreen curated a women’s world sans fear and restrictions in her stories

Siddharthnagar District / Lucknow, UTTAR PRADESH:

Author Sabahat Afreen
Author Sabahat Afreen

Sabahat Afreen’s life will make you believe in the adage: where there is a will there is a way. Being born into an educated and prosperous family, Sabahat realized early in her life that her family was not open to women coming out of the four walls of the house, bracing against all odds to create their identity. She was raised seeing all women in her family in purdah.

However, somewhere in her heart, Sabahat Afreen was like a Secret Superstar of the Hindi movie by that name. Afreen was raised in a small village in Siddharthnagar district of Uttar Pradesh by her advocate father and a homemaker mother.

Sabahat Afreen started living in purdah in 10th class and after passing her 12th standard, She was not supposed to move out of the house alone. This resulted in her not attending college and opting for home study and writing examinations as a private student for her graduation years.

She was completing her master’s degree when she got married. Her husband’s family was politically connected and prosperous. She could have easily lived in comfort; Sabahat did not like to dress up like a doll wearing jewelery and expensive sarees and lounging around all day.

She said, “My mother was fond of reading and writing. She had an impact on me too. I used to write poems and stories in my childhood. Mom and Dad always encouraged me. It is a different matter that my works were never sent for publication as they didn’t believe in getting a picture of their daughter printed in the newspaper.”

Sabahat Afreen with her book

She also realized the environment in her in-laws’ house was less conservative. “My father-in-law knew that I write, so he used to gift me a diary and pen; my husband also supported me.” She told Awaz-the Voice.

After marriage, she opened a secret account on Facebook and did not use her pictures for the DP. “I started writing stories on Facebook, my posts went viral. Someone suggested that I should send my stories to Neelesh Misra, (Editor, Gaon Connection, lyricist, and storyteller). His storytelling was popular. I emailed my story to him and he liked it. From that point, I was in his circle.”

Like Insia Malik (Played by Zaira Wasim) of Aamir Khan’s 2017 film Secret Superstar, she revealed her talent to the world by hiding her identity. Soon Sabahat Afrin was writing audio series, stories, and books for magazines and many apps across the country. She moved her two little daughters out of the closed environs of the village to Lucknow.

As it happens in such cases, most of the people who had opposed her once now praise and respect her. Her family is proud of her.

Recently her first story collection Mujhe Jugnuon Ke Desh Jaana Hai (I Want to Go to the Land of Fireflies)(Rujhan Publications, Rajasthan) was released. In it, Sabahat imagines in this country of fireflies women are also enjoying the same freedom as men, the doors of their hearts cannot be guarded, they too have the freedom to remarry after divorce, and they have the right to decide if they want to return to their husband’s house after feeling unwanted there.

Sabahat Afreen with friends

Her stories are set in the backdrop of Muslim culture, but she manages to show that when it comes to the status and rights of women, it’s the same every year. Sabahat wants to free the fireflies from the clenched fists of Afreen women.Her first remuneration of Rs 30,000 as a writer was encouraging for Sabahat. She felt that being financially strong should be the priority of a woman. Now she shares her pictures on social media and with her stories.

Sabahat has written amazing stories that she must have picked up from around her and kept in the secret chamber of her heart to let them metamorphose into another form. Her stories look familiar to readers; after reading each one of her stories, the reader feels that he has seen these incidents.

Sabahat has adapted one such incident into a captivating story. The story Khoobsurat auratein (Beautiful Women) starts with this sentence – “even good looks are like a punishment, wherever she went people’s eyes were fixed on her.’ The heroine of the story, Alia, is very beautiful.”

Sabahat Afreen with her daughters

Women are at the center of all Sabahat’s stories. The joys and sorrows of a woman, her dreams, her desire to fulfill them and social restrictions are the key elements in her stories. Sabahat is seen breaking these restrictions and traditions. Women in her stories are silent protesters except for Alia from her story Beautiful Women. However, they encounter opposition and in some cases, it’s also effective.

Sabahat becomes emotional while narrating her stories. She wishes to create a world for women where they have the freedom to fulfill their wishes and make their dreams come true. Her stories reflect her progressive thoughts.

Sabahat says that she never went to the market alone and yet when people knew about her through her stories, she felt confident to move to a big city with her daughters. “I reached Lucknow and rented out an apartment and enrolled my daughters in a good school. Today my daughters are studying, and life has become a bit easier for all three of us.”

source: http://www.awazthevoice.in / Awaz, The Voice / Home> Story / by Onika Maheshwari, New Delhi / January 03rd, 2024

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory

Pune / Mumbai, MAHARASHTRA:

Mehrunissa Dalwai is not a common name heard amongst the slew of activists & yet she played an integral role in the Muslim reformist movement.

India, as a nation, treasures the ‘image‘ of women. There is a great sense of respect and reverence for female goddesses, traditional housewives and of course, the concept of our ‘motherland‘. Yet, when this image of a woman intersects with religion, caste and class, this view gets blurry and distorted. Similarly, being a Muslim woman in India is a battle unlike any other and brings with it a series of struggles, discrimination and prejudice. The nation is graced with a history of several prominent social activists who have been instrumental in bringing about change across the country, with several of them being unhonoured and forgotten, such as Mehrunnisa Dalwai. 

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory |  Feminism in India
Source: The Hindu

Mehrunissa Dalwai is not a common name heard amongst the slew of social reformers and activists that are popular in Indian society. Yet here we have a woman who played an integral role in the Muslim reformist movement. Born on May 25, 1930, and brought up in Pune, Dalwai came from a conservative, Urdu-speaking Muslim family.

While Mehrunnisa Dalwai underwent a traditional Urdu education, she still managed to master the language of Marathi. She later went on to write her autobiography ‘Mi Bharoon Paavle Aahe‘ in the Marathi language (where she also writes in detail regarding food and recipes). After completing her matriculation, she worked at the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC) in the city of Mumbai.

The beginning of her journey

After moving to Mumbai, it was here that Mehrunnisa Dalwai met the progressive Muslim reformer, Hamid Dalwai, and thus her fate as a future representative of the Muslim community was sealed. Hamid came from a poor Konkani Muslim family, a stark difference from Mehrunissa, and worked for the upliftment of the poor status of women in the Muslim community.

His name was established in the community for his daring stances like the condemnation of practices of triple talaq, alimony and polygamy. He was also an author, publishing the classic, ‘Indhan’ in 1965 and was courageous to take a stand against Brahmanical Hinduism as well as radical Islam and the two of them contributed greatly towards the liberalisation of the Muslim community. 

Being a Muslim woman in India is a battle unlike any other and brings with it a series of struggles, discrimination and prejudice.

However, being such a controversial figure, he remained unemployed. His most controversial take yet was when Mehrunnisa Dalwai declared that she would marry him. The large class disparity and general stigma of an upper-class woman marrying beneath her caused quite the stir which Hamid of course was used to. The two were married through traditional Muslim rituals and after a month also married through the ‘Special Marriage Act‘ (1954), which possibly made them one of the first marriages of a Muslim couple to be registered that way.

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory |  Feminism in India
Source: Jargon Josh

The Special Marriage Act was one of Independent India’s methods of maintaining a secular fabric in society, mainly to protect and legalise interreligious and inter-caste marriages that were atypical to the usually arranged marriages of dominant Indian culture. The newly married couple found a space for themselves in the Majaswadi area of Jogeshwari. They resided in a small room which got even smaller as they were joined by Hamid’s younger siblings, one of whom was Hussain Dalwai, the Rajya Sabha MP of the Congress party, who had completed his education in Mumbai. 

The social work of the Mehrunnisa Dalwai

In his wife, he found a partner in crime, a fellow crusader and together they took many bold stands for justice and equal rights of Muslim women. Mehrunnisa Dalwai continued working as well as remaining dedicated to her ascribed role of a housewife, maintaining their life at home. Although juggling the two seems like a modern concept of a 21st-century working woman, Mehrunissa was ahead of her time and supported her husband’s endeavours.

Mehrunnisa’s salary was their only stable and regular source of income, but along with this she still found the time to put a part of herself into Hamid’s work of the organisation of movements, social protests and campaigns along with bringing about a rational and scientific school of thought to the forefront to eradicate the rigid and blind dogmas within Muslim community which caused an unequal balance of power and rights of men and women. 

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory |  Feminism in India
Source: Amazon

In Mehrunissa Dalwai’s autobiography, she mentions her husband’s gratitude for her role and the satisfaction that she was able to economically support her family during these times. The life of a social activist and reformer is not one of ease. Dalwai also mentions the tensions within the protest movements and the threats that were posed against her husband by the orthodox Muslim community. Although she herself was not actively involved in the movement until after his death, through her writing, it is visible that being tied to Hamid meant being under the fire.

Source: The Indian Express Marathi

Sadly, Hamid passed away from kidney failure in 1977 at the age of 44. After the tragic death of her husband, she threw herself into his work. She dedicated her time to the Muslim Satyashodak Mandal which was the reformist organisation founded by Hamid in Pune, focussing on providing solutions to the Muslim community and creating a space for its history and socio-cultural transformation.

Mehrunissa Dalwai dedicated a good part of her life to this organisation and was the first executive President and later served as President for several decades.

Mehrunnisa’s journey of leadership

In April 1996, Mehrunissa Dalwai boldly led a march to ‘Mantralaya’ in Mumbai along with six other women carrying on the work of her late husband in the abolition of triple talaq. There, they met Vasantrao Naik, the Chief Minister of Maharashtra at the time and gave him their memorandum of demands. This caused a big stir leading to strong opposition, meetings being constantly interrupted and even reached the extent of death threats.

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory |  Feminism in India
Source: News 18

Mehrunissa Dalwai continued to lead the movement of protecting the rights of Muslim women and the modern reformation of the Muslim community. She later founded the Hamid Dalwai Islamic Research Institute as well as the Maharashtra Talaw Mukti Morcha.

The Shah Bano case

During Dalwai’s leadership of the Muslim Satsyashodak Mandal, the organisation played an important role in the Shah Bano case. This case was seen as a milestone in the fight for equal rights of Muslim women in India as well as the ongoing battle against the orthodoxy of Muslim personal law. The case was unprecedented and paved the way for other women to make similar legitimate claims. 

In 1978, a 62-year-old Muslim woman, Shah Bano filed a petition in court against her divorced husband Mohammed Ahmad Khan, demanding maintenance (alimony) after she was given talaq by Khan. After a series of detailed sessions in court, in 1985, it was taken to the Supreme Court where Chief Justice Y. V. Chandrachud upheld the decision made in the High Court, ensuring that maintenance would be given to Shah Bano (under CrPC, the Code of Criminal Procedure). However, the Congress led by Rajiv Gandhi overturned the decision of the Supreme Court under serious pressure faced by Ulemas and Maulavis but the Muslim Satyashodak Mandal boldly opposed this action and through a series of protests, insisted that it be implemented.

Mehrunnisa Dalwai: An Unsung Muslim Activist | #IndianWomenInHistory |  Feminism in India
Source: One India One People

Mehrunissa Dalwai passed away at the age of 87 at her home in Pune, survived by her two daughters and as per her last wishes, her body was donated. Maharashtra has had a history of significantly active social reformers and social activists, especially in Pune. They have been important in altering the culture and norms of the city with their hard work and effort and have brought about positive change in society.

In this process, there are many names that get lost, therefore it is essential to remember those like Mehrunissa Dalwai so as to not forget that they are an important and enriching part of our history. 

source: http://www.feminisminindia.com / Feminism In India / Home> History / by Gia Alvares / April 10th, 2023

Book Excerpt: Barsa By Kadeeja Mumtas

Kattoor (Thrissur District),KERALA:

Khadija Mumtaz - Wikipedia

Barsa, written by Kadeeja Mumtas, is the first Malayalam novel to be set in Saudi Arabia and as its introduction states, is a record of “a woman’s scrutiny of Islamic scriptures and Muslim life”.

Barsa, as its introduction states, is the first Malayalam novel to be set in Saudi Arabia. Written by Kadeeja Mumtas and translated into English by K M Sherrif, the book acts as a record of “a woman’s scrutiny of Islamic scriptures and Muslim life”. 

Sabitha, the protagonist of the novel, after moving to Saudi Arabia, starts questioning every aspect of her every day life – including religion.


The novel traces her personal journey as she is caught amidst culture, religion, and personal agency, and struggles to assert her own identity.

One hot afternoon, Rasheed and Sabitha first stepped out like refugees on the large expanse of land surrounding the grand mosque which housed the holy Ka’aba. Other travellers who knew their way hurriedly moved on while the two of them stood hesitantly at the crossroads, unsure of their next step. The coppery glare of the sun sat on their heads like the legs of a giant spider.

Rasheed glanced at Sabitha. He could sense her discomfort in the headscarf and the abaya, looking like a lawyer’s coat, which the Malayali workers at the airport had helped her buy. But he thought that even in those uncomfortable clothes, Doctor Prabhakaran’s niece, with her wheatish complexion, had a particular charm. He wanted to tell her this with a little smile, but with his tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. He just couldn’t do it, which was a pity. If he had, maybe the wrinkles on her forehead would have lost at least one crease.

A yellow taxi backed up and stopped near them. Th e face of a man with a shabby headdress clamped down by a black ring came into view, and an arm jerked out of the window at the driver’s seat. “Fain aabga ruh?” Rasheed guessed he was asking where they wanted to go and replied, “Mudeeriya Musthashfa”—the Health Directorate. He had gleaned the Arabic expression from the conversation he had had in halting English with the Palestinian doctor they had met at the airport emergency service. He had seen Sabitha too write it down in her diary.

“Ta’al ”—come. Th e driver opened the car doors and invited them in. As he could not understand the driver’s sarcastic remark, directed obviously at his fairly large suitcase, Rasheed, with some embarrassment, chose to put it on his lap as he sat down and leaned back comfortably.

As the car sped at breakneck speed, Sabitha felt a tremor run through her, but she suppressed it immediately. She felt helpless at having to depend on a complete stranger, an Arab driver whose language she did not know. But she was also reassured by Rasheed’s presence. They had reached this far, trusting strangers, many of whose languages they did not know.

As they boarded the Saudi Airlines flight to Riyadh from Mumbai, Thambi, the man from their ticketing agents Ajanta Travels, had said reassuringly, “The flight will take about four and a half hours. Someone from the Ministry will be waiting to receive you. There is nothing to worry about, Riyadh is a nice city. Okay then, happy journey!”

From the moment Thambi, with that characteristic city dweller’s way of waving goodbye had raised his hands and walked away, Rasheed and Sabitha had taken comfort in each other’s presence. They could make this journey together only because of their decision to stick to each other, come what may. At the interview in Mumbai, it was Sabitha who was selected first, as a lady gynaecologist. The interview for ophthalmologists had not yet been conducted and, as there were a large number of applicants, Rasheed was not too hopeful of getting in. When she was asked to sign the contract, Sabitha hesitated, “I will sign only if my husband too is selected.” She had by then realised that lady gynaecologists were much in demand. “You sign; even if he is not selected, he can come with you on a family visa and then try for a job there.”

The man at Ajanta Travels, a go-getter, tried to hustle her. “No, I am not that keen to go to the Gulf to work. I will go only if he also gets a job there.” Her stubbornness paid off . An interview was fixed for Rasheed as a special case.


Excerpted with permission from Barsa, by Kadeeja Mumtas, Yoda Press. You can buy this book at 20% off at the FII-Yoda Press Winter Book Sale on 21st and 22nd December 2018 in New Delhi. For more details, check out the sale page.

source: http://www.feminisminindia.com / Feminism In India – FII / Home> Culture> Books / by FII Team / December 21st, 2018

Tears of the Begums: Stories of Survivors of the Uprising of 1857 (Originally in Urdu as Begumat ke Aansoo)

INDIA :

New Book , First ever English translation of Nizami’s invaluable Urdu book Begumat ke Aansoo 

pix: amazon.in

Apart from the fifteen years that Sher Shah Suri snatched upon defeating Humayun, the flag of the grand Mughal Empire flew over Delhi undefeated for over 300 years.

But then, 1857 arrived and the mighty sword fell helpless in the face of a mightier British force.

After the fall of Delhi and Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar’s tragic departure from the Red Fort in 1857, members of the royal Mughal court had to flee to safer places. Driven out from their palaces and palanquins onto the streets in search of food and shelter, the dethroned royals scrambled to survive. Some bore their fate with a bitter pride, others succumbed to the adversity.

Through twenty-nine accounts of the survivors of the Uprising of 1857, Khwaja Hasan Nizami documents the devastating tale of the erstwhile glorious royalty’s struggle with the hardships thrust upon them by a ruthless new enemy.

In vivid and tragic stories drawn from the recollection of true events, Nizami paints a picture of a crumbling historical era and another charging forward to take its place.

With the reminiscence of past glory contrasted against the drudgery of everyday survival, Tears of the Begums – the first ever English translation of Nizami’s invaluable Urdu book Begumat ke Aansoo – chronicles the turning of the wheel of fortune in the aftermath of India’s first war of independence.

source: http://www.amazon.in / Amazon / Home> Books> History> World / as on August 06th, 2022

‘The Begum and the Dastan’: A novel that shows how to write history without condoning it

Rampur, UTTAR PRADESH :

Tarana Husain Khan doesn’t write women only as damsels in distress, she writes them as women who challenge.

Tarana Husain Khan.

I don’t remember when my mother first told me, “Boys will be boys.” as an explanation. But I trusted it. The 20-year-old I am now knows it’s an eraser. A cleaning towel that wipes away the grim men produce. Over our words. Over our careers. Over our bodies. It’s an explanation that deletes a lived history with a swift and casual swipe. Tarana Husain Khan’s The Begum and the Dastan resists this erasure.

Khan’s character, Ameera’s grandmother, whom she calls Dadi, tells her the dastan about Feroza Begum, Ameera’s great-grandmother. Feroza Begum attended sawani celebrations at Nawab Shams Ali Khan’s Benazir Palace, defying her family, only to be kidnapped by the Nawab. Although the premise sounds simple, Khan crafts the dastan carefully, preserving the dynamics in Sherpur, a princely state, like one would sour pickle in a jar. Her writing serves as a citation for the overused “Show, don’t tell” technique, arranging the elements of time, location and character through a nuanced understanding of history.

She weaves together the stories of three women, Lalarukh, Feroza and Ameera, with the help of three dastangos, about Kallan Mirza, Ameera’s Dadi, and herself. Each story, within another story, surrenders as a cautionary tale. Sometimes, as a spoiler, that hands you the reins to ride through the rest of the story.

Blame slithers across each story, hissing at every woman who defies and exercises her need for independence. During the forced marriage to the Nawab, women around the bride were “tut-tutting over Feroza’s heartlessness”, believing she aborted her pregnancy from her previous marriage. The blame congeals on Feroza, a victim of forced abortion by the Nawab. In the rumours, the Nawab is a man she loves, not her abuser. The cruelty of these women steps outside the realm of gossip, nipping at Feroza’s right to refuse consent to her nikah.

“‘Feroza Begum, daughter of Altaf Khan urf Miya Jan Khan, your wedding has been arranged to Nawab Shams Ali Khan Bahadur, son of Nawab Murad Ali Khan Bahadur for a sum of two lakh rupees as meher. Do you agree?’

What if she just didn’t say anything?

‘She says “yes”!’ A middle-aged woman dressed in her bridal dress, suddenly shouted towards the curtains. Feroza turned towards the woman. The old lady in charge of her elbowed her ribs.

‘Uh?’ she turned sharply towards the offending lady.

‘I heard it too. She said “yes”!’ said the old lady, then another woman joined in bearing witness to her acquiesce and then another.”

“Why wouldn’t a divorced woman who aborted her child marry the Nawab?” is the rhetoric that these women echo. It’s a form of enabling, but Khan exerts dialogue, channelling prose to amplify Feroza’s reaction, forgotten amidst placeholder approval. She choreographs the myth “she asked for it” by excluding the chorus of the maulvi asking for consent thrice, as is tradition, to exacerbate the rumours that enable, and more terrifyingly, erase. Another dialogue chimes in to note this eager “consent” by Feroza. In these instances, Khan’s narrator, Dadi, is not just a storyteller; but an advocate for forgotten history.

But Khan doesn’t write women only as damsels in distress; she writes them as women who challenge. Feroza wears what she wants, despite the word that the patriarchy will impose on her: nautch. Khan examines how the question of her attire serves as a justification for the harassment. When Bibi, Feroza’s maid, asks her to “let it be”, as she was “wearing that dress”, Feroza doesn’t surrender to the blame. Instead, Feroza asks these questions: what if she was one of the common women? What if she was a nautch?

Khan tackles clothing not only as a form of rebellion but as an identifier of communion and the dismissal of “the other”. When Feroza sights a British woman wearing a “strange gown”, she argues that she should’ve worn “our dress” because she’s in “our country”. Other times, this divide is a form of empowerment.

“Strangely, guys don’t pester scarf-wearing girls with ‘I want to be your friend’ proposals. So us scarfed girls choose to talk to guys we like and make boyfriends on our own. It’s pretty cool that way, though I long to throw away the scarf and open up my hair like I used to at St Mary’s.”

Ameera’s perception of the scarf rewrites the reputation of the vilified veil, untying the folds that make it an oppressive tool while recognising how being “the other” means a kind of protection. A woman’s scarf, her dress, and her jewellery make an argument in this novel. But the expectations that pin a scarf around Ameera’s head, and a nath on Feroza’s nose, encourage a misplaced trust in the men in their lives.

Across the three stories in the novel, protagonists expect men to protect, not because they victimise themselves, but because that’s what’s taught to women: dependence is a desired trait. Khan acknowledges how patriarchy dribbles on the men, drawing out how Lalarukh, Feroza and Ameera feel betrayed by the men in their lives for not protecting them. The cadence of this betrayal morphs across the stories as Khan manipulates language like a glassblower does glass.

“I do believe that in this day and age nobody should bully you into selling your property – these are not the Nawab’s times; but if it was Jugnu’s fees and his exams, Abba would sell off the shops and chuck the case in a heartbeat. We females always depend on our fathers or males to rescue us – our default response to a crisis. Imagine, poor Feroza Begum’s father dumped her in the harem and ran away!”

Khan wields the tone of each story, carefully grafting the premise of a woman wronged in different periods and spaces. She uses the first-person perspective to narrate Ameera’s life, crumbling with her family’s negligence towards her, using a voice akin to a teenager simmering with anger. But for Lalarukh and Feroza, Khan, or rather Dadi and Kallan Mirza, uses the third-person perspective, a voice that is omniscient and viscous, dripping of superiority.

They narrate the violence of Nawab and Tareef Khan, Lalarukh’s kidnapper, without embellishments. The abusers are not kings or sorcerers in the chapters that harrow. They are written as, to no surprise, violators. Khan’s treatment of the dynamic between the Nawab and Feroza contradicts this claim sporadically. But when Feroza reciprocates the Nawab’s ‘love’ for her, he continues to dredge her in the limitations of his harem, remaining free himself, further testifying the degree of his abuse. Feroza is a flawed character, but she is not a flawed victim, and Khan asserts that.

Like Khan, both Dadi and Kallan Mirza are biased narrators, intervening to train their listener(s) to root for the protagonist. They collectively fuel a question: How does tradition, along with law, permit the violation of women? Unfortunately, the stories, or rather the lived experiences that ask this question, are muzzled. But the dastangos, both the real and the fictitious, bite through the labour that accompanies such storytelling. The story prompts the question: How can one write history without condoning it? In The Begum and the Dastan, history is an inspiration, a tool, and an anchor, but it is not a justification.

pix: amazon.in

source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> Book Review / by Isa Ayidh / (book cover image edited in, amazon.in) /June 27th, 2021

Blast from a pen’s past

Hyderabad, TELANGANA :

As Urdu Day approaches, Hyderabad-based author Jeelani Bano speaks about her bond with the language.

Jeelani Bano(Photo | R Satish Babu)

Jeelani Bano, 80, looks frail in her sea green sari with that mop of pepper-and-salt hair. Her demeanour is genteel, but only a talk about her stories on bonded labour, her aapa Ismat Chughtai and Progressive Writers’ Movement lights up her eyes. The decades pass on her soft wrinkled face as she turns pages of her autobiographical book Main Kaun Hoon and takes you back to an era gone by that’s still alive in her Banjara Hills house in Hyderabad, serenely tucked in another time-frame. 

As Urdu Day approaches on November 9, she speaks about her association with the language. Many of her stories appear to be of our time. Jagirdari may have gone but capitalistic clutches don’t let go of the bonded slavery. Her story Paththaron ki Barish is heart-wrenching. Bano, who has authored 22 books, says, “A lot of writers of our time revolted against this inhuman system. Something also sparked in me and I wrote such stories. But today also, the situation of daily labourers is the same.” 

Her book Aiwan-e-Ghazal, which tells the tales of feudal landlords in Hyderabad, has been translated into 14 languages. She then talks about her dear aapa—Ismat Chughtai—the firebrand writer. 

“She was also from Badayun in Hyderabad, where I was born. She was friends with my mother and supported me a lot in writing,” says the 2016 NTR National Literary Award winner showing the letters Chughtai sent to her. Ismat wrote to her, “After marriage, respect your writing as much as you would respect your husband and in-laws.” In ’70s, when Jeelani Bano and her husband Anwar Moazzam, poet and writer, went to Pakistan, famous poets and scholars came to meet them at the border. She shares, “Nobody wants to understand what people of both the nations want. Sarhadein dilon ko nahin baant saktin (Borders can’t divide hearts).” 

When once she went to the US, a scholar asked her, “You’re a Muslim woman. How did you get permission to write?” To this, she replied, “Nobody has stopped me from writing. Perhaps you haven’t been to India or else you wouldn’t have asked me this.” 

Renowned poets and scholars such as Shakeel Badayuni, Makhdoom Mohiuddin, Jigar Muradabadi and Kaifi Azmi were hosted at her Mallepally home. But, she along with other children weren’t allowed to go to the baithaks. The young Bano would watch these poets, while playing in the courtyard. 

source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Magazine / by Saima Afreen / November 05t, 2016