Portrayals of Women in Pakistan: An Analysis of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Urdu Poetry 9783110741094, 9783110740707

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Réka Máté Portrayals of Women in Pakistan

Studies on Modern Orient

Band 45

Réka Máté

Portrayals of Women in Pakistan An Analysis of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Urdu Poetry

2019 an der Philosophischen Fakultät der Universität Erfurt angenommene Dissertation

ISBN 978-3-11-074070-7 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-074109-4 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-074120-9 Library of Congress Control Number: 2023934904 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2023 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: A woman in traditional clothing in the Hunza valley, iStock / Getty Images Plus, #1217081362, Skazzjy Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

| To nagymama… Oma… srce moje… my nānī and all those who fight injustice. A speech of allegation One word was on the lips, it pricks like a splinter one name was, (which) has formed a tongue blister. Look! After pruning my tongue, I have become silent. Look! At least (there) isn’t any tear in my eye(s) now. My only poison silent ….. my speech of allegation. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

Contents Preface and Acknowledgements | IX Abbreviations | XIII Translation and Transliteration | XV 1 1.1 1.2 1.3

Introduction | 1 Research approach | 10 Methodology | 10 Structural layout | 16

2 Progressivism in Urdu literature in the Indian subcontinent | 18 2.1 What is “progressivism” in South Asian literature? | 19 2.2 Predecessors to the Progressive Writers’ Movement | 24 2.2.1 The Angāre Group | 25 2.2.2 Angāre | 27 2.2.3 The turmoil about Angāre | 38 2.3 The Progressive Writers’ Movement | 42 2.3.1 The beginning in Europe | 43 2.3.2 The continuation on the subcontinent | 47 2.3.2.1 Progressive Writers in India after Independence | 49 2.3.2.2 Progressive Writers in Pakistan after 1947 | 51 3 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.3.1 3.3.2 3.3.3 3.3.4

Feminism(s) – The problem of defining “a” feminism | 56 The meaning of “feminism” in South Asia | 61 Forms of feminism in the Indian subcontinent | 64 Different influences on women | 66 Colonial rule as influence on women | 66 Islamic feminism vs. “Feminism in Islam” | 68 The fluctuating women’s legal rights in Pakistan’s society | 71 The role of women — Family structures and perception of women | 76

4 4.1 4.2

Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 80 Biographical sketch | 80 Personality and style | 97

VIII | Contents

5 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7

6

47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 103 Patthar kī zabān (1967) – First volume | 119 Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume | 130 Dhūp (1973–77) – Third volume | 140 Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) – Fourth volume | 151 Apnā jurm s̱ ābit hai/Hamrakāb (March 1981 – December 1987) – Fifth and Sixth volume | 152 Ādmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) – Seventh volume | 165 Intikhāb-e kalām (2015)/Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Eighth volume | 177 Conclusion | 202

Annexe A: Overview of topics, sub-themes, and main themes | 219 Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 221 Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems | 240 Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 245 Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall) | 252 Annexe F: Occurrence of sub-themes in numbers and percentage | 257 Bibliography | 259 Index | 273

Preface and Acknowledgements Expressing one’s gratitude for all the support received during a doctoral dissertation mostly ends in a long list with names of people who helped in one way or another. I am glad that this list contains contributors with various backgrounds which makes it all more colourful. First, I want to thank my Oma, Irene Eschenburg, who had to migrate from Zombor in 1955, for teaching us that we are all human beings, no matter which colour of skin, religion, language, ethnicity, or sex one person has. Without her, my sister and I wouldn’t be who we are today. Thank you for always taking care and looking out for us, may it have been cooking, moving house or mending various items. The three years of my doctoral thesis flew by and the successful completion of this work could not have been done without the confidence in my research and incessant support of my supervisors, Professor Dr Jamal Malik from the University of Erfurt, and Professor Dr Torsten Tschacher from the Freie Universität in Berlin, whose continuing support meant a lot. Not to forget the Martin-Christoph-Wieland Scholarship from the University of Erfurt, which allowed me to pursue my research and attend conferences without the permanent worry about financial support. I am also very thankful for Dr Saeed Zarrabi-Zadeh’s help and of course, Ines Scheidt, whose administrative helping hand at the University of Erfurt was of great value to me. It can be a long and difficult road from the undergraduate and graduate degree until a professor shows interest and encouragement in one’s academic research. Here, I want to mention Jens Knüppel from LMU. I thank him and appreciate that he has given me the opportunity of working as a Lecturer in Modern Indology during his Sabbatical from 2020—2022. Working at the Institute of Indology and Tibetan Studies at the LMU after submitting and defending my thesis meant working with some exceptional and highly supportive colleagues, who constantly proved that going into the field of Modern Indology was the right path for me. I personally want to thank Professor Dr Johannes Schneider, Professor Dr Roland Steiner and Professor Dr Robert Zydenbos as well as Dr Antonia Ruppel and Fatima Assil for their continuous faith in me. Additionally, I want to thank Evelyn Kindermann, the backbone of the Institute, who always helps in every way possible. I am highly indebted to Dr Henry Albery from LMU/Universiteit Gent for his ceaseless patience for proofreading and helping with my doctoral proposal, covering letters and abstracts as well as the access to the Library for Indology and

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X | Preface and Acknowledgements

Tibetan Studies at the LMU on weekends. Here, I also want to thank Ju-en Chien for letting me write at “Arbeitsplatz Nummer 9” at the library. Muhammad Mashhood brought me Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Tum kabīr … on very short notice from Pakistan and without it, an important part of my research would have been overlooked. I thank him for that. So many people assisted regarding the poems and their translations and I am eternally grateful to every single one of them. Without the incessant aid of skimming the poems, the task would have taken an eternity instead of months. Turning out to be difficult finding reliable and competent Urdū native speakers I cannot thank Sana Javaid enough for correcting some very difficult poems and establishing contacts for other proof-readers. Especially Saman Nayal, whose knowledge and helped turned out to be outstandingly fruitful, despite having two small children to look after. There are no words for my gratitude. Special thanks also to Akif Naeem, who patiently sat with me going through the only seven ghazals and an overlooked introductory poem which Fahmīdah wrote and are not easy to understand. Moreover, I would like to thank my Urdu-students Karen Hammer, Debora Sinner, Rajindar Singh Sethi and Magdalena Warner, who read and retranslated two poems in class and showed me another perspective to my own translations, improving this book profoundly. Travelling from Munich to Erfurt so many times would have been a very dreadful episode if it was not for Dr des Mahmood Hashimi’s dinners and Umair Farooqi’s generous offer to stay at his place. Also, Saadia Amin’s and Mamoona Malik’s help to host me in Sheffield for a conference made my trip a great experience. The sometimes-painful task of proofreading my thesis and abstracts repeatedly was done by Dr Arnab Chakraborty and Dr Tom Shillam while writing their own doctoral dissertations in York. Without their insightful suggestions, the thesis would still be composed in the present tense. My sincere debt is also to the employees of De Gruyter, who made this book possible by endlessly helping with inquiries regarding, layout, content, administrative processes for publishing as well as proofreading. My gratitude to Dr Sophie Wagenhofer, who accepted my book proposal at the publishing house I had wanted to publish starting this project and Dr Torsten Wollina, who, many months later, oversaw the completion of it. A very heartfelt thanks to Katharina Zühlke and Antonia Pohl from De Gruyter, and Elisabeth Stanciu from the production department for answering the infinite amount of my questions. Being the backbone of this book project, they ensured the finished book looks this smooth and enjoyable as it is being held in the readers’ hands.

Preface and Acknowledgements | XI

Finally, I thank Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, for the woman she was and what she stood for as without her this colourful dazzling poetry would not exist. I hope I do justice to her poems, which, I know, she wished for to be translated into English but sadly could not convey her myself how her poetry touches and inspires me since she had already been very ill and I did not want to disturb her during that time from another continent. Her departure from this planet came as a shock and saddens me immensely, after having worked closely with her highly metaphorical poems and trail of thought for more than a little over 10 years now. Thank you and ‫ﺷﮑﺮﻳہ‬ Réka Máté March 2023

Munich, Germany.

Abbreviations Simplified spellings and abbreviations include: AIPWA

All-India Progressive Writers’ Association

A/N

Author’s Note

APPWA

All-Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association

CPI

Communist Party of India

CPP

Communist Party of Pakistan

IPTA

Indian People’s Theatre Association

PML

Pakistan Muslim League

PML (N)

Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz

PPP

Pakistan People’s Party

PTI

Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf

PWA

Progressive Writers’ Association

PWM

Progressive Writers’ Movement

UPWA

Urdu Progressive Writers’ Association

WAF

Women’s Action Forum

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-204

Translation and Transliteration All translations from Urdu and Hindi are by the present author unless otherwise indicated, using the symbols given below. Passages that contain words from Sanskrit show the nasalized letter “‫ ”ﻥ‬as “ṁ”. The iẓāfat-construction is shown as “-e” not “-i”. Table of Roman Transliteration for Urdu

Letter

Modified ALA-LC1 Urdu

‫ﺍ‬

ā; initial sound: a, i, u; omitted (supporting ‫)ء‬

‫ﺹ‬

ṣ

‫ﺁ‬

ā; only initial sound

‫ﺽ‬

ẓ

‫ﺏ‬

b

‫ﻁ‬

t̤

‫پ‬

p

‫ﻅ‬

z̤

‫ﺕ‬

t

‫ﻉ‬

‘

‫ٹ‬

ṭ

‫ﻍ‬

gh

‫ﺙ‬

s

‫ﻑ‬

f

‫ﺝ‬

j

‫ﻕ‬

q

‫چ‬

c

‫ک‬

k

‫ﺡ‬

ḥ

‫گ‬

g

‫ﺥ‬

kh

‫ﻝ‬

l

Letter

Modified ALA-LC Urdu

‫ﺩ‬

d

‫ﻡ‬

m

‫ڈ‬

ḍ

‫ﻥ‬

n; ṅ (when nasalized)

‫ﺫ‬

ẕ

‫ں‬

ṉ

‫ﺭ‬

r

‫ﻩ‬, ‫ﺓ‬, ‫ﻫ‬

h

‫ڑ‬

ṛ

‫ی‬, ‫ﻱ‬

y; ī; e; ai

‫ﺯ‬

z

‫ے‬

e; ai

‫ژ‬

zh

‫ﻭ‬

v; ū; o; au

‫ﺱ‬

s

ً◌, ً ‫ﺍ‬

an (tanvīn)

‫ﺵ‬

sh

‫ء‬

ʼ

Well-known writers, familiar names of people and places in South Asia are mainly written according to convention. Other South Asian names, however, have been transliterated. Mainly stemming from Arabic, Muslim names || 1 American Library Association and the Library of Congress. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-205

XVI | Translation and Transliteration containing the letter “‫ ”ﻭ‬are transliterated as “w” instead of “v”. Words in Arabic, Hindi, Urdu, and other languages ordinarily used in English and found in dictionaries have not been transliterated, unless they appear in the title of poems or other literature. For instance, fatwa (fatwah), hirjra (hījṛā), and Qur’an (qur’ān). Words in direct quotations are written as originally spelled.

1 Introduction The social conceptions of and interaction with women within society is currently a controversial topic in Pakistan.1 The feminist movement arose in response to the taboos surrounding women and sought to find expression for their voices. One of the most important contributors to this process was the Progressive Writers’ Movement (PWM), from which several female writers emerged. Influenced by this movement, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ (1945-2018), who extensively wrote prose and poetry, addressed eroticism, motherhood,2 feminism and criticised governmental policies from a female point of view.3 Therefore, she significantly contributed to the extension of the Progressive Writers’ Movement as well as to the feminist movement in Pakistan, shifting the focus on women’s concise expressions on a vast range of topics. Despite her impact, there are only a few full and partial English translations of her poems available, hence, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s writing and her engagement for feminism are not widely known outside South Asia and sometimes not even within, due to her rebellious nature and bold expressions against patriarchy and the social and political system in Pakistan. Since her death in November 2018 sparked a flood of obituaries, including few translations of her works, until today 73 out of 286 (including 2 additional unpublished poems) poems have been rendered into English. Yet, some of those are not fully translated or have been re-translated and differ in content and headlines.4 Reading those mostly not scientifical translations without a background || 1 Well-known names, figures and cities will not be written according to the translation table but in the commonly used manner. 2 Cf. Zeenat Hisam, “Author: A Voice to Reckon With”, Dawn – The Internet Edition, Mar 3, 2002, accessed Mar 27, 2013. 3 Cf. Anita Anantharam, “Engendering the Nation: Women, Islam, and Poetry in Pakistan”, Journal of International Women’s Studies 11, no. 1 (01.11.2009): 217; cf. Aquila Ismail, “Translator’s Note”, preface to Godavari: A Novel, Fahmida Riaz (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2008), xii. 4 At the beginning, this project only 63 poems were fully or partially translated. After her death further 10 appeared. 286 is the number one gets if only the headlines of the poems are counted which have different content. Otherwise, it makes 291 as one poem in particular mentions three following naz̤ms under one headline (cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar: Kullīyāt (1967ʼ– 2000ʼ) [Urdu: All Rubies and Pearls: Complete Works (1976–2000)] (Lāhaur: Sang-e Mīl Pablīkeshanz [Sang-e Meel Publications], 2011), 433–436). There are also three repetitions. One is “tum kabīr …” in the volumes Intiḫāb-e kalām and Tum Kabīr … as well as the poem “naz̤m” from Intiḫāb-e kalām, which is found as “ḥarīfoṉ meṉ” in Tum Kabīr …. The third one is “taʻzītī qarārdādeṉ” from Intiḫāb-e kalām which is found as “taʻzītī qarar-dādeṉ (ḥarf ākhir)” in Apnā jurm https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-001

2 | Introduction

knowledge of South Asian history and culture, it is clear, that many themes and topics are, if at all, only moderately understood. To fully comprehend her feminist themes and the importance they play in Pakistani society, it is expedient to have a historical and chronological overview of the Progressive Writers’ Movement, which noticeably influenced Fahmīdah's oevre. Moreover, it is elementary to outline the meaning of “feminism” in Pakistan, taking into account the literature of the Indian subcontinent and the global south with a focus on Urdu-speaking areas. Giving an insight into the questions of how progressive movements look like in Urdu literature, more specifically regarding feminist voices in the Indian subcontinent, it clarifies how progressive literature was able to affect topics and metres of Urdu poetry from the first part of the early twentieth century. Since progressive movements do not only have an effect on changes of social constructs within society, but also transform literature, and eminently poetry, Fahmīdah’s unusual choice of diction from Hindi, Urdu, Hindūstānī, even Braj Bhāshā, and her unembellished metaphors, which stem from such a movement, are in itself developing progressive literature. A historical summary of the Progressive Writers’ Movement and its influence on progressive literature, feminism as well as female voices are most likely to give a satisfying answer. Carlo Coppola’s dissertation Urdu poetry, 1935–1970: The Progressive Episode from 1975 discusses five progressive Urdu poets to work out the similarities and differences between progressivism and social realism. The resulting definition of “progressivism” alongside his English translations of various progressive manifestoes are helpful in determining Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s progressive Urdu poetry, since the literary movement of the All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA) and its sister group the Urdu Progressive Writers’ Association (UPWA), was “the most significant and most important [one] in Urdu since the Aligarh Movement”.5

|| sābit hai/Hamrakāb. The other two unpublished poems have been made public after Riyāẓ’s death in 2018 and can be found online (cf. Āṣif Farukhī, ed, Intikhāb-e kalām: Fahmīdah Riyāẓ [Urdu: Selection of Poetry: Fahmīdah Riyāẓ], Urdū wirsah [Urdu: Urdu Heritage] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2015), 45f, 47–64; cf. Shueyb Gandapur, “My Memories of Fahmida Riaz”, Naya Daur, Dec 16, 2018, accessed Mar 27, 2019, https://www.nayadaur.tv/2018/12/my-memories-offahmida-riaz/; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 392f; and cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr…. [Urdu: You Kabir….] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2017), 1–13 and 79). 5 Carlo Coppola, “Urdu Poetry, 1935–1970: The Progressive Episode,” (doctoral dissertation, The University of Chicago, Faculty of the Division of Humanities, Comparative Studies in

Introduction | 3

Rakhshanda Jalil’s Liking Progress, Loving Change: A Literary History of the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu, illustrates the emergence and development of the Progressive Writers’ Movement from 1850 to the 1950s.6 Thus, Jalil, like Coppola, in analysing several progressive Urdu texts, primarily from Northern India and Pakistan,7 she depicts analogies and the interplay between the PWM and the Indian national movement. As an important case sample, she portrays the first and most important work of the PWM: Angāre (Burning Coals/Embers)8. Containing 10 short stories and a play, Angāre, was soon after publication banned by the British administration out of fear for a rebellion due its provocative content hurting Muslims sentiments. Enumerating the stories and their contents exhibits progressive literature and “progressiveness”, which matches Fahmīdah’s approach. Jalil, further sheds light on the two consequential strands of the PWM: the literary and the political movement, which had different influences on progressive writers. The political movement being so strongly intertwined with progressive expressions, eventually even influenced Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s political activism and her topics. Like Shabana Mahmud’s article Angāre and the Founding of the Progressive Writers’ Association, Carlo Coppola’s article The Angārē Group: The Enfants Terribles of Urdu Literature gives an overview of the connection of publishing Angāre and the beginning of the PWM. This allows him to evince a clearer picture of the link between Angāre and the history of the progressives. The publication of the book and the stories within are both intertwined with the biographieserha of the writers, wherefore the negative press, they received, interfered with their private and public lives. In addition to that, the paper The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association: The European Phase by Carlo Coppola presents a more detailed and well researched historical perspective on the PWM and its beginning in Europe while comparing the European and the Indian manifesto of the PWM. The rare subtle hints towards progressive literature about women in the first European manifest and the later evident omissions of those in the Indian version, have an impact on the general understanding of “progressiveness” in the subcontinent, resulting in patriarchal structures within the PWM and the partial avoidance of women’s || Literature, Jan 30, 1975), 635, downloaded Nov 19, 2016, https://www.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/urdu-poetry-1935-1970-progressive-episode/docview/302788237/se-2. 6 Cf. Rakhshanda Jalil, Liking Progress, Loving Change: A Literary History of the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2014), 428. 7 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, xx. 8 Cf. Carlo Coppola, “The Angārē Group: The Enfants Terribles of Urdu Literature”, Annual of Urdu Studies 1 (1981): 61.

4 | Introduction

literature or even bold female writers. An issue, Fahmīdah was to some extent affected by. Except for Gopal,9 Jalil and Raza and Ali Husain Mir with their monograph A Celebration of Progressive Urdu Poetry: Anthems of Resistance,10 no one seems to elucidate feminism or female writers of the PWM in greater detail, especially regarding Pakistan. The focus of the above-named authors lays mostly on the PWM itself and its ideas as well as its influence on British India shortly before and after Partition. Nevertheless, male but also female Urdu middle-class based writers have spoken about feminism and feminist motives. In this regard, ʻIṣmat Cughtāʼī and Rashīd Jahāṉ seem to be the first of female feminist writers who appear in Urdu poetry. However, a distinct definition of feminism in Pakistan still cannot be extracted. So, what exactly is “feminism” and what does “feminism” mean in the nonindustrialised countries, particularly in Pakistan? How does it manifest itself and what are the influences upon feminism and feminist structures? To elucidate these queries, it is essential to define “feminism” in a broader sense for Women of Colour in developed and developing countries before specifying it, firstly for the Indian subcontinent and, secondly, Pakistan. Chandra Talpade Mohanty’s edition of Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism features various articles on women’s struggles in developing countries and women belonging to minorities in developed countries or Women of Colour. Her introduction Cartographies of Struggle: Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism and her article Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses deal with the question what “feminism” is, how it can be defined and whose history (European modernity or indigenous history) one uses to define feminism. She suggests a clear separation of Western and Third World feminism and concludes that every feminist movement has to be looked at within the context of the historical and political influences of that particular researched location. Still, there are debates on definitions of “feminism”, wherefore suggested factors of oppressing women, such as colonisation, the perception of women and patriarchy, that have to be acknowledged in definitions, can be reconsidered.11 || 9 Priyamvada Gopal, Literary Radicalism in India: Gender, Nation and the Transition to Independence, Routledge Research in Postcolonial Literatures 11 (London: Routledge, 2005), 10. 10 Raza Mir and Ali Husain Mir, A Celebration of Progressive Urdu Poetry: Anthems of Resistance (New Delhi: India Ink Roli Books, 2006), 200, accessed Mar 28, 2017, http://www.columbia.edu/itc/mealac/pritchett/00urduhindilinks/mirs/mirs.html. 11 Cf. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, “Introduction: Cartographies of Struggle, Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism”, introduction to Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, ed. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo and Lourdes Torres (Bloomington and

Introduction | 5

Therefore, this book’s suggested term of “feminisim”, which is mainly based on Mohanty’s, Johnson-Odim’s, Dasgupta’s, Farida Shaheed and Khawar Mumtaz’s,12 and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s secular comprehension of “feminism”, is subject to change and cannot depict an ultimate definition of “feminism” in Pakistan and India. Poems, that are thus, termed feminist in the subcontinental sense, may not be identified as such by another scholar or even persons from India or Pakistan, since their components of “feminism” may differ. Cheryl Johnson-Odim’s article Common Themes, Different Contexts: Third World Women and Feminism, also scrutinises the differences between “Third World and Euro-American First World women”.13 It proposes that First World feminism is “linked to gender and class relations”14 while Third World feminism is linked to “race relations and often imperialism”15 and thus, have to be examined differently. She stresses the need for looking at feminism from the inside and putting an end to “reproducing our own [women’s; A/N] oppression”.16 To do so, it is essential to work with “feminist” texts in their original languages and translate these close to the local themes and topics, keeping the identity, history and social structures of the root culture in mind. Wherefore, this book’s poetry has been translated accordingly. Sanjukta Dasgupta’s article Feminism and Contemporary Bengali Women’s Poetry aims at pinpointing “feminist awareness”,17 by focussing on contemporary Bengali women’s poetry. Like Mohanty and Johnson-Odim she distinguishes

|| Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1991), 1–47; cf. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses”, updated and Modified Version of an Essay Published in ‘Boundary 2’ 12, no. 3/13, no. 1 (Spring/Fall 1984 and Reprint in “Feminist Review”, no. 30 (Autumn 1988), in Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, ed. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo and Lourdes Torres (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1991), 51–80. 12 Shaheed, Farida, and Khawar Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, in The Politics of Women’s Education: Perspectives from Asia, Africa, and Latin America, ed. Jill Ker Conway, and Susan C. Bourque, Women and Culture Series (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1993), 73. 13 Cheryl Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts: Third World Women and Feminism”, in Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, ed. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo, and Lourdes Torres (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1991), 314. 14 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 314. 15 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 314. 16 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 326f. 17 Sanjukta Dasgupta, “Feminism and Contemporary Bengali Women’s Poetry”, in Signifying the Self: Women and Literature, ed. Mashri Lal, Shormishtha Panja, and Sumanyu Satpathy, Reprint of 2004, Macmillan Critical Readers (Delhi: Macmillan India Ltd, 2007), 136.

6 | Introduction

Third World and First World feminism and identifies India’s independence as a significant point in history, resulting in “culture-specific”18 texts by women. By the 1970s until the 1990s feminist writings evolve further into a more subtle feminism, that starts dealing with racism, class- and family issues, patriarchy, oppression, and socio-cultural problems. Most of these themes are also apparent in Fahmīdah’s feminist poetry, as the overview of her poems shows. Since all authors, except for Dasgupta highlight, that feminism in the Third World was mostly already influenced by the fight against imperialism before the 1960s, it is important to not base notions of feminism in the subcontinent on Western definitions of “feminism”. Furthermore, are patriarchal structures and socio-cultural problems significantly different to those, that one assumes in the American-European context. Although Islam is Pakistan’s state religion, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ denotes herself as not religious. Hence, she might not target the orthodox class of Pakistan’s Muslims as her poetry’s audience as her poetry is not based on the Qur’an. Still, the question arises as to what role Islamic feminism plays in Pakistani society and how to differentiate Islamic feminism and secular feminism, especially since the Pakistani women’s movement in the 1980s consisted of members of both groups. Feminism in Islam: Secular and Religious Convergence a collection of essays by Margot Badran on the topic of feminism in Muslim societies deals with feminism in Islam mainly in Egypt and the Middle East over a wider period. She elucidates, that different forms of feminism in Islam, secular or Islamic, which have developed on their own and without Western feminism playing a part are one of the basics. She also argues, that the Western secular framework, deriving from a Christian and Jewish framework, focuses on few social issues, while Islamic feminism “speaks […] to society at large.”19 Secular and Islamic feminism, furthermore, “have never been hermeneutic entities,”20 highlights Badran and both “approach[h] gender differently”21 while existing side by side.22 This fact is underlined in Afiya Shehrbano Zia’s article Faith-based Politics, Enlightened Moderation and the Pakistani Women’s Movement, where Zia proves that Islamic feminism is actually acting alongside patriarchal constructs and does not oppose them as secular feminism does. However, in times of crisis, such

|| 18 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 139. 19 Margot Badran, Feminism in Islam: Secular and Religious Convergences (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2009), 2. 20 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 2. 21 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 3. 22 Cf. Badran, Feminism in Islam, 3.

Introduction | 7

as the time of Martial Law under Zia ul-Haq, the two groups of within Islamic feminism, the Islamic Revivalists Feminists, and the Islamic Feminists, are able to mobilise a wider group of women, fighting against patriarchal structures together with urban feminists.23 Which might be why Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems, that she wrote during that time, have gained wider readership in Pakistan and were not condemned for their bold expressions and open and underlying accusations against Islam and the Pakistani society. As mentioned, an insight about the family structures, women’s legal rights and their fluctuation during different regimes in Pakistan play a similarly important role regarding the question of feminism as well as the political atmosphere Urdu writers and particularly Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, live in. Afiya Shehrbano Zia’s article The Reinvention of Feminism in Pakistan researches Pakistani women’s legal rights from an Islamic angle, depicting the women’s movement and women’s struggles and experiences under Zia ul-Haq’s military rule. She argues, that the secular women’s movement, stemming from the PWM, shifts to a more religion-based feminist movement due to the Islamisation programme of Zia ul-Haq. She believes that “Muslim identities of secular feminists […] have allowed Islamic feminist to redefine the feminist agenda in Pakistan”24 and thus framing women’s rights around Islam. Zia fears this outcome might lead to a religion-based feminism, which influences politics and condemns a more liberal and secular feminist approach in the long run.25 This would be highly problematic as Islamic feminism is biased towards patriarchal structures within Pakistani society. Besides, feminist poets might not be able to condemn women’s social restrictions as openly and still be able to support their livelihood as Fahmīdah’s struggle after her return from Indian exile during the rule of conservative parties showed. Hayat Alvi and Shahnaz Rause’s article Pakistani Feminism and Feminist Movement, after giving a short historical overview over the feminist movements in the subcontinent, outlines the change of society and family structures, highlighting the importance of women’s education. Alvi and Rause also show the implications of the ḥudūd-Ordinances26 with a final view on the work of the secular

|| 23 Afiya Shehrbano Zia, “Faith-based Politics, Enlightened Moderation and the Pakistani Women’s Movement”, Journal of International Women’s Studies 11, no. 1 (2009): 233, accessed Aug 30, 2022, http://vc.bridgew.edu/jiws/vol11/iss1/15. 24 Afiya Shehrbano Zia, “The Reinvention of Feminism in Pakistan”, Feminist Review 91 (2009): 29, accessed Mar 31, 2017, http://www.jstor.org/stable/40663978. 25 Cf. Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 29–46. 26 Commonly known as “Hudood.“

8 | Introduction

Women’s Action Forum (WAF) regarding women’s rights.27 During this time the Pakistani women’s movement became a strong opponent towards the government, however, many activists were imprisoned or eventually had to flee the country, such as Fahmīdah herself. After a clearer vision of feminism in South Asia and Pakistani women’s positions and expectations about them during the last decades in an Islamic society, the first step in understanding the environment of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, it is indispensable sketching her biographical data to ensure a comprehension of her various stages of life and their reflections in her poetry. Additionally, a more detailed picture of her works and opinion might deduct how far her phases of life and her poetry are intertwined. However, there is only scarce information about Fahmīdah’s life in English, wherefore, one must piece the picture together from various newspaper articles and snippets in other books, mainly introductions and prefaces to her English works or those translated into English. A good source is, therefore, Aquila Ismail’s Introduction to Fahmīdah’s travelogue Zinda Bahar Lane, which gives a short overview of Fahmīdah’s published works until the year 2000. An overview about Fahmīdah’s struggles in life and their processing in her prose and poetry can be found in Asif Farrukhi’s Introduction: ‘Hundreds of Pathways in the Sky and the Wind’, An Introduction to the Poetry and Prose of Fahmida Riaz in Riaz’s Godavari: A novel from 2008. An additional source of information regarding Fahmīdah’s biography are Zeenat Hisam’s articles from 2002 and 1995, published as Author: A Voice to Reckon With in Dawn and Fahmida Riaz: Life and Work of a Poet, originally published in the Pakistan Journal of Women’s Studies – Alam-eNiswan.28 Apart from this, Eleanor Wachtel’s interview Making Waves: Voices from the Jaipur Festival – Part 2 in CBC’s Radio Programme Writers and Company with Fahmīdah Riyāẓ in 2013 gives a detailed and rare insight about Fahmīdah’s life

|| 27 Cf. H. [Hayat?] Alvi and Shahnaz Rause, “Pakistani Feminism and Feminist Movement”, in Muslim Feminism and Feminist Movement: South Asia, Vol. 2 Pakistan, ed. Abida Samiuddin, and Rashida Khanam (Delhi: Global Vision Publishing House, 2002), 1–51. 28 Cf. Asif Farrukhi, “Introduction: ‘Hundreds of Pathways in the Sky and the Wind‘, An Introduction To the Poetry and Prose of Fahmida Riaz”, introduction to Godavari: A Novel, Fahmida Riaz, (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2008), xiii–xxii; cf. Hisam, “Author”; cf. Zeenat Hisam, “Fahmida Riaz: Life and Work of a Poet. Published in ‘Pakistan Journal of Women’s Studies: Alam-e-Niswan’, 2, No. 1, 1995, Center of Excellence of Women’s Studies, Karachi University”, Zeenathisam.com, Jul 14, 2013, accessed Jun 18, 2019, https://zeenathisam.com/2013/07/ 14/fahmida-riaz-life-and-work-of-a-poet; cf. Aquila Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, Fahmida Riaz (Karachi: City Press, 2000), 5–7.

Introduction | 9

and her personality. In the nearly one-hour-long interview, they talk about Fahmīdah’s early childhood, the roots of her political activism and her influences regarding her prose and poetry.29 Further knowledge about Fahmīdah’s personality can be gained through Rakhshanda Jalil’s interview Fahmida Riaz – Interview: Not a Bit Tamed, and Amar Sindhu’s interview Herald Exclusive: In Conversation with Fahmida Riaz from September 2013. Both interviews display a vivid image about which subjects preoccupied Fahmīdah’s mind all her life and in recent years, particularly.30 Also, talking about her life in connection with her literary oeuvre from her own perspective in the article This Too is Pakistani Literature. Published in 2013, Fahmīdah manages to reflect on various instances in her life, which are dealt with in her poetry and prose.31 Anita Anantharam’s book Bodies that Remember: Women’s Indigenous Knowledge and Cosmopolitanism in South Asian Poetry, from 2003, on the other hand, deals with understanding one’s self and identity in modern South Asia. It, therefore, studies two female poets from India and two from Pakistan, including Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, and their works to carve out “the complexity of gendered identities in modern South Asia”32 through the medium of poetry.33 Since the book not only contributes in understanding Fahmīdah’s mindset through her interviews but also her poetical expressions, it is as helpful in completing the puzzle and showing a varied side of her personality and poetry as Amina Yaqin’s Gender, Sexuality and Feminism in Pakistani Urdu Writing. Nonetheless, most poems are replication of older translations from Fahmīdah’s first volumes from the 1960s— 1980s, pinned onto and selected accordingly to support the authors’ notions of identity. Due to this upcycling of Fahmīdah’s “old” poetry, her newer poems, || 29 Cf. Eleanor Wachtel, “Making Waves: Voices from the Jaipur Festival – Part 2”, Writers and Company, aired Feb 17, 2013 (Jaipur: CBC-Radio Canada), accessed May 5, 2019, https://www.cbc .ca/player/play/2335127637, podcast audio, accessed Mar 2, 2013. All quotations refer to the podcast version downloaded from voicebase.com. 30 Cf. Rakhshanda Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz – Interview: Not a Bit Tamed”, interviewed by Rakhshanda Jalil for ‘The Hindu’, 6 November 2005, Hindustani Awaaz: Literature, Culture and Society, Jun 2, 2011, accessed Apr 14, 2017, http://hindustaniawaaz-rakhshanda.blogspot.de/ 2011/06/fahmida-riaz-interview.html; cf. Amar Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive: In Conversation with Fahmida Riaz”, Dawn.com, Sep 14, 2013, accessed Apr 9, 2017, http://www.dawn.com/news /1042830. 31 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”, Dawn.com, Aug 9, 2013, accessed Apr 08, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1034958/this-too-is-pakistani-literature. 32 Anita Anantharam, Bodies that Remember: Women’s Indigenous Knowledge and Cosmopolitanism in South Asian Poetry, Gender and Globalization (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2012), xix. 33 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, xix.

10 | Introduction

with a more subtle form of feminism intertwined into Pakistan’s political and social construct, are hardly discussed. As a result, the figure Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, as well as her feminist and political poems, are relatively unknown outside the circle of Urdu readers. This leads to questioning, if the level of awareness for Fahmīdah’s poems is low due to her themes or if they simply do not represent the Pakistani’s majority notion of feminism. Furthermore, one wonders if Fahmīdah’s presentation from a female perspective still leads to resentment in the patriarchal society of Pakistan or not.

1.1 Research approach To depict a satisfying clarification to the apparent presence of feminism as well as the portrayal of women in Pakistan within Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Urdu poetry this book tries to answer former questions in a historical approach. It first outlines the history of progressivism and the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu literature in South Asia and their interrelation with female writers. Afterwards, the definition of “feminism” in South Asia and an overview of the forms of feminism in the Indian subcontinent and influences on South Asian women helps in understanding the social structures and environment in Pakistan. A short sketch of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s life and her personality then gives an insight about the poetess in order to ascertain her poetry from her point of view. Translating 47 selected poems of Fahmīdah and interpret them while relating them hermeneutically and philologically to historical, social, and political events wherever possible, achieves a satisfying overview of Fahmīdah’s topics and themes. Here, taking Fahmīdah’s biographical data into account ensures a more accurate analysis of the selected poems. Subsequently, the transliteration, translation and analysis of each poem portray a detailed picture of various forms of female thoughts and expressions within the Urdu-speaking middle-class of Pakistan. Finally, a broader analysis of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems in general regarding the topics of her poems and a closer look at the sub- and main themes of the selected 47 poems for this thesis depicts the change of her topics such as feminism within Fahmīdah’s poetry and the interrelation between Fahmīdah’s life and her corpus.

1.2 Methodology After defining “progressivism” in South Asian literature through various definitions of different progressive writers and a short critical historical narration of the

Methodology | 11

Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu literature, the meaning of “feminism” in South Asia was outlined according to the Progressive Writer’s movement as well as the understanding of researchers of “Third World” feminism. This examination delineates the forms of progressive movements in Urdu literature and their position towards feminism. Furthermore, it depicts the influences on Fahmīdah Riyāẓ and her oeuvre. In addition, the forms of feminism and influences on women in South Asia and Pakistan were critically summarised to have a clear idea of the Pakistani’s notion of feminism and the struggles of feminist writers against society’s notions. A sketch of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s life and her works, then, portrays her personality and helps in analysing her poetry closely to the poet’s opinion. This answers the question of Fahmīdah’s environment and its influence on her poetry to comprehend their relation to each other. Thereupon, the question arose how many poems to translate and analyse the original decision was to take an equal percentage to that of the translated poems. In the beginning of this research, it was assumed that only 283 poems had been published in total and not 286. Furthermore, the assumption was made that only 58 poems had already been translated and not 73. This means that the percentage of the 58 aforehand translated poems was around 20.49% based on all of Fahmīdah’s published poetry. Since the percentage of already translated poems and that of to be translated poems for this book was to be equal, 20.49% of a sum of then 225 untranslated poems meant a number of 46.11 poems. Therefore, the decision was made to translate one poem more, 47 poems, as the last volume, Tum Kabīr … (You Kabīr …), contained a high number of untranslated significant poems and one important piece, nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) (New verdict – For the women’s movement), which was significantly longer than the other poems of this volume. As it turned out, 63 poems had already been translated before Fahmīdah’s death which increased to a number of 71 after her death.34 Additionally, two more unpublished poems turned up and let the number of so far untranslated poems before her death decline from 223 to 213. This means that a selection of 47 out of 286 published poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Urdu poetry was translated and analysed. This is around 21,07%/22.07% (before and after her death) of her untranslated Urdu poetry,35 which consists of 223/213 (before and after) untranslated

|| 34 Cf. Annexe D. 35 21.07% is around 46.9861 poems (based on 223 untranslated poems). 22.07% is around 47.0091% (based on 213 untranslated poems). Cf. Annexe B and D.

12 | Introduction

poems.36 The 63/73 (before and after) already translated poems are circa 22.03%/25.52% (before and after) of the total sum of 286 poems. This means, that if we now take 25.52% out of 213 then we have 54.36 poems, which technically means, this book, is running short of a little bit more than seven poems. However, 47 poems were enough to give plenty of evidence to answer the research questions. Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ (I am a Statue of Clay),37 which contains the first five volumes of Fahmīdah’s poetry and Sab laʻl-o guhar: Kullīyāt (All Rubies and Pearls: Complete Works),38 which is a collection from her first seven volumes, is the cornerstone of this research. Subsequently, 47 of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems (so far untranslated, except for one full and four partial translations, as well as one translation that was overlooked at the beginning of the research) were selected from those collections, including the special edition Intikhāb-e kalām39 (Selection of Poetry) and her last and eighth volume Tum Kabīr …40, according to their date of origin and their representativeness of diverse feminist themes to obtain an accurate sample regarding Fahmīdah’s phases of life. Here, it should be noted, that most of Fahmīdah’s poems are written in free verse or āzād naẓm which is why her only seven ghazals were not considered in the selection. The rest of the poems were considered of picturing the phases of her life due to their frequency of occurrence of several themes. Using relational content analysis, Fahmīdah’s life and publications of poetry can be roughly divided into seven stages by following the published volumes of her poetical work. First, the poems were skimmed through to have an overview of the content of each poem. Then the minimum criterion for a text being feminist was applied to filter out the feminist poems through directed content analysis. This minimum criterion was worked out through the critical review of “progressivism” from Chapter 2 and its relation with feminism, based on the minimal definitions in Chapter 3, beforehand and simply means that a woman (herself) talking about her feelings and wishes in a text makes it feminist. Finally, with the help of the summative content analysis the other poems were also categorised in different (feminist) sub-themes, and based on that, further broken down into the sub-themes, as shown in Annexe A. || 36 The 47 selected poems equal to 16.43% of Fahmīdah’s total sum of published poetry. Cf. Annexe B. 37 Cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ [Urdu: I am a Statue of Clay], First Edition 1988 (Lāhaur: Sang-e Mīl Pablīkashanz, 2013). 38 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 39 Cf. Farukhī, Intikhāb-e kalam. 40 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr.

Methodology | 13

Thereafter, a sample of seven to eight poems of each phase (equal to the number of volumes, except for Volume 5 and 6, and 7 and 8) was taken, excluding the fourth volume Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (Why Don’t You See the Full Moon?) due to the length of six out of eight chapters in this long poem.41 Here, only one partially translated short chapter/poem was chosen and it was planned to take a selected part of another additional one. As the data showed that the untranslated parts of the other seven chapters of this volume are not relevant enough according to the definition of feminism and focus extensively more on general political topics than social or feminist ones, these seven chapters were finally not considered for translation. A small part of the fourth chapter within the book, which can be considered more feminist, is redundant due to the same sub-theme of other poems that come before or follow this fourth volume. Moreover, in the beginning, it was presumed that the first volumes will have more precise and significant value; hence the selection of the first two volumes contains eight poems each instead of seven, to have a total number of 47. As the last volume, Tum Kabīr …, contains two more significantly relevant poems, the selection of translations finally is nine instead of eight. Out of them, taʻzītī qarārdādeṉ (Condolence resolutions) had already been translated before in 2005 but due to Fahmīdah Riyaẓ’s passing in November 2018 and the relevance to this current situation regarding her last will and thoughts, it was decided to translate it anew. Furthermore, the most current and, except for one, nearly untranslated volume, Tum Kabīr …, encompasses several new feminist aspects, which cannot be left aside. Resulting in this, it has been decided to also take eight untranslated poems to cover the whole range of themes within this volume. The decision to select poems for this book was fourfold, firstly, the poem had to be untranslated and secondly, it had to have a feminist sub-theme, which sometimes only meant a female narrator expressing her views on a certain topic, as stated above. Thirdly, the feminist sub-themes had to vary within each volume but also overall, and fourthly, the chosen poem had to be short enough due to the time restriction of the project. Ideally, a poem was about a page long in its original occurrence and never exceeded three pages. Repetitive sub-themes were only chosen if all other relevant poems within a volume were too long. The only exception regarding length is the five-paged poem nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) in the eighth volume Tum Kabīr …. As a result of the current relevant context of the poem, which shows the thinking and behaviour of South Asian society towards rape, as well as the response of the raped girl, the whole poem was translated. Taking only an excerpt, as it was done with the long poem tum kabīr … || 41 Cf. Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”, para. 12.

14 | Introduction

(You, Kabīr …) of the same volume, which deals with the death of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s son and is 13 pages long, would not have represented the actual picture. Within this selection, two poems – ākās bel (Rootless creeper) and jānāṉ (Sweetheart), which have already been translated into German in a previous unpublished Bachelor’s thesis, were translated anew into English and the revised versions added to the collection of newly translated poems. Those selected final 47 poems give a representative overview of portrayals of women in Fahmīdah’s Urdu poetry and, therefore, of the Urdu speaking middle-class in Pakistan. The scientific transliteration enables those speakers of Hindi or Urdu, who do not know the original script, Nastaʼlīq, to read the poems in their original rhyming pattern and diction. Therefore, the transliteration is opposite to the English translation. Three poems - dil-o shāʻir (ek mukālimah) (Heart and Poet – A dialogue), samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ (Three poems about the ocean) and nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) – have a structure like a play, but due to reasons for layout, have been rendered into two columns. Punctuation was used according to the original text, which mostly does not contain periods, and capital letters appear only when it felt as if a new thought, sentence, verse, or line starts within the poem. Additional punctuation in the translation was added as less as possible in general to preserve the original flow of thoughts and language. In case of additional words or punctuation, which do not occur in the original parentheses have been used. After selecting and transliterating the poems, they were translated as close as possible to the Urdu original to minimize subjective conclusions. As a good translation shall portray the original text while “mak[ing] something with a distinctive life of its own”42 I have tried to balance the literal meaning and keep the subjective interpretative conclusions to a minimum. Sometimes Urdu words had several meanings, here I took the word I thought fitted most and later let native speakers have a look at it in case it sounded too absurd. Idioms and metaphors were translated as close to the original as possible to keep the mood of the poem, unless the English version sounded too strange. I also tried to retain the ambience of the original culture which I felt was lost to a great deal if the translation is done too freely and far away from the text. Some of the poems show a rhyming pattern in the original which I did not try to maintain as it would have meant sacrificing the notions of several words as well as the sentence structure, which I also tried to keep as close as possible to the original without sounding unnatural. Keeping || 42 Daniel Hahn and Fahmida Riaz, “What Makes a Good Literary Translator?”, Voices Magazine, Oct 15, 2014, accessed Apr 14, 2017, https://www.britishcouncil.org/voices-magazine/whatmakes-good-literary-translator.

Methodology | 15

the original Urdu text before me also contributed to a better understanding of what Fahmīdah wanted to convey in each piece. During translation, I also crosschecked the poem’s time of publication and assumed the period of its making and its correspondence to the circumstances Fahmdīdah Riyāẓ experienced. Translating and finally analysing each selected poem in a historical, political, and social context enabled in understanding Fahmīdah’s presentation of women and feminism in South Asia. It should be noted that this is mainly the view of the Urduspeaking middle-class in Pakistan. After the philological transliteration and translation, the translation of the selected poems was put into historical, social, and political context and analysed hermeneutically and philologically to accomplish a detailed picture of Fahmīdah’s progressive feminist sub- and main themes, which were based on the definition of “feminisms” in developing and developed countries. Subsequently, the categories of all poems were cross-checked again according to topics and suband main themes for further analysis. They were used as indicated in Annexe A. The occurrence of these topics was then analysed within each volume but also in total to compare their numbers and percentage on a general basis and per volume.43 Also the occurrence of her sub-themes, based on the total amount of poems, was analysed, and is shown in Annexe F. This helped in understanding the changing frequency of topics and sub-themes due to historical influences on Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s life. Furthermore, Annexe E depicts the main categories and shows the number of feminist poems, which might overlap with other categories. These, for instance, answer the questions regarding Fahmīdah’s change of feminism and her additional focus towards politics and religion. Additionally, the percentage of the main themes was analysed to comprehend which themes seem to be most important regarding feminism in Pakistani society.44 Thereupon, the scrutiny of the main identified themes of the selected poems was depicted within the context of “feminism” in South Asia, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s life and historical, political, and social events. This approach of transliteration, translation and analysis finally ensures a sufficient answer to how Fahmīdah’s feminist perception has changed and how closely individual poems or rather volumes of poetry are related to her phases of life. It also depicts a picture of subcontinental feminism within the Pakistani Urdu speaking middle-class. The subsequent translations and interpretations of the poems elucidate questions regarding the display of subcontinental feminism within the Pakistani Urdu || 43 Cf. Annexe A, B and E. 44 Cf. Annexe C.

16 | Introduction

speaking middle-class and its delineation in Fahmīdah’s poetry. It further depicts the feminist motives found in Fahmīdah’s Urdu poetry and demonstrates the significant role of feminism in it during her lifetime. Moreover, the changing of her sub-themes from the beginning of her career to her last volume are illustrated as well as Fahmīdah’s changed feminist perception and the close connection of individual poems and volumes to her phases of life.

1.3 Structural layout Initially, a critical historical overview of the Progressive Writers’ Movement, focusing on Urdu, which led to a firmer feminist movement in the Indian subcontinent and whose writers influenced Fahmīdah and her style of writing noticeably, is given in chapter two. After establishing the definition of “progressivism” by various definitions of members of the Progressive Writers’ Movement, a closer look at the events in Europe and the subcontinent gives an essential basis for comprehending the milieu Fahmīdah was influenced by. Thus, the predecessors of the Progressive Writers’, with focus on the Angāre Group and its uproar in British India, are examined, which leads to outlining the journey of the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Europe as well as the subcontinent to gain awareness of where most feminist movements in India and Pakistan stem from. Chapter three, which deals with “feminism” in South Asia, outlines and elucidates various notions of the term “feminism” and its manifold shapes in the Indian subcontinent. The chapter also highlights differences and commonalities of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s mode of understanding of her expression of “feminism” and that of “Third World” Women. Additionally, the disparate influences on women, such as colonial rule, Islam, politics, family structures, and perceptions of women point out the daily struggle of women in the Indian subcontinent and Pakistan in particular. To have an image of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s notion of “feminism”, the following chapter gives an insight into her journey through life from her early childhood, her exile in India and the various works she published and translated while actively fighting for women’s and human’s rights. Moreover, it portrays her thought process and personality which are mirrored in her oeuvre, and which is delineated through Fahmīdah’s 47 selected, transliterated, and translated poems from different volumes of poetry in chapter five. Each translation is opposite to its transliteration and a short analysis is given at the end of each poem, which accentuates important and outstanding features and information about the poem. Finally, the influences on Fahmīdah Riyāẓ and the interplay with “progressivism” and “feminism” in South Asia as well as the portrayal of women in her

Structural layout | 17

work are epitomised. In doing so, it depicts the overall analysis of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetical topics and sub-themes. Besides, it draws an image of the women’s lives in Pakistan in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s oeuvre and highlights main themes of her poetry in consideration of the selected poems.

2 Progressivism in Urdu literature in the Indian subcontinent As female writers in Urdu prose and poetry tend to be overlooked, they still struggle for their place and appreciation of their work. A reason for this is their small number as well as the prevailing themes in Urdu poetry, which are “the beauty of the beloved, the plight of the lover and the pains of unrequited love”.1 Mir and Mir show that, despite their commitment to social change and equal rights for everyone, even most of the poets of the Progressive Writers’ Movement write, poems that depict women as the weaker sex. In such cases, the veil of seclusion is criticised or women are shown as rebels, who play a public role in transforming society. A more radical position in which women appear as companions is rarely present.2 Gopal makes a similar argument about the presentation of women in prose and poetry. She particularly highlights that “[g]ender relations and sexual politics, far from being absent, are approached in a variety of compelling and, at times, self-reflexive ways, going beyond the ‘woman question’ to include questions of masculinity and male identity.”3 However, Mir and Mir claim, that no poet of the PWA “unambiguously assumed women’s independent power, subjecthood and agency”,4 until the works of Kishwar Nāhīd and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ.5 This is astonishing as “[b]y the 1930s, women (largely from the middle and upper classes) too had entered the political and public sphere in unprecedented numbers; their presence was noticeable not just within nationalist organisations but also in trade unions and educational institutions.”6 There are of course other female poets, among them Adā Jʻafrī, a modernist, who is considered the first female poet and who published her maiden collection of poetry in 1950. Most women before Nāhīd and Fahmīdah however, are not found within the progressive spectrum of poetry as they did not write boldly or obscenely on women’s issues.7 While Adā

|| 1 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 200. 2 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 200–204. 3 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 148. 4 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 204. 5 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 204f. 6 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 21. 7 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 153; cf. Rohail A. Khan, “Ada Jafri: The First Lady of Urdu Poetry,” Saudi Gazette, Dec 3, 2009, accessed Jan 12, 2018, https://web.archive.org/web/20131203022418 /http://www.saudigazette.com.sa/index.cfm?method=home.regcon&contentid=20130822177704; cf. Sangh Mittra, and Bachchan Kumar Bachchan, ed., Encyclopaedia of Women in South Asia: https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-002

What is “progressivism” in South Asian literature? | 19

Jʻafrī also tried to raise awareness about the reduction of women to sexual objects, Zahra Nigāh after her expressed the right of equality for women in the society and is generally considered a progressive poet. After Nāhīd’s and Fahmīdah’s rebelling voices in the 1960s, which became increasingly political in the following years, other female poets started to emerge. These included Parvīn Shākir, who focused on “exploitative relationships”,8 Sārā Shaguftah, who examined “women’s psychological states”,9 ʻAzrā ʻAbbās, who “explored the relationship of women’s bodies to their emotions”,10 ʻIshrat Āfrīn, who related patriarchal society to women’s lives or Tanvīr Anjum as well as many others.11 To understand their influence on society and resulting impact on feminist Urdu literature it is necessary to sketch the meaning of “progressivism” within the context of South Asian literature and outline the development of the Progressive Writer’s Movement.

2.1 What is “progressivism” in South Asian literature? According to Coppola the meaning of the term “progressivism” changes during the different stages of the Progressive Writers’ Movement. At the beginning of the Movement, which can be equated with the publication of Angāre, ”progressivism” is considered as modernity, which is “confined to debunking existing social and religious mores in Muslim society”.12 The publication of Angāre and its “stories were intended to shock”.13 After its release and banishment, a small number of Indian writers decided to establish the Progressive Writers’ Association following which sundry manifestoes were presented and various definitions of “progressivism” and progressive literature were constituted.14 Coppola annotates that the first manifesto, which was drafted in London, “set[s] forth a number of liberal, perhaps even leftist, views on religion, society,

|| (In 8 Volumes), Pakistan (Volume 2), International Studies, Women (Delhi: Kalpaz Publications, 2004), 69. 8 Omar Qureshi, “Twentieth Century Urdu Literature”, in Handbook of Twentieth-Century Literatures of India, ed. Nalini Natarajan (Westport (CT): Greenwood Press, 1996), 353. 9 Qureshi, “Twentieth Century Urdu Literature”, 353f. 10 Qureshi, “Twentieth Century Urdu Literature”, 354. 11 Cf. Qureshi, “Twentieth Century Urdu Literature”, 353f. 12 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 101. 13 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 101. 14 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 101.

20 | Progressivism in Urdu literature in the Indian subcontinent

politics and, of course, literature”.15 Two of the PWA’s founding members, Z̤ ahīr and Ānand, were influenced by speeches of international writers which dealt with “the role of Marxism in literature, censorship, the writer’s individual freedom and imperialism”16 in their literature. This first manifesto, published in February 1935, did not define “progressivism”, but the translated version into Hindi from December of that year contained an additional passage that did: All those things which take us toward confusion, dissension, and blind imitation is [sic] conservative; also, all that which engenders in us a critical capacity, which induces us to test our dear traditions on the touchstone of our reason and perception, which makes us healthy and produces among us the strength of unity and integration, that is what we call Progressive.17

Nehru’s answer about the key elements in progressive literature during the second PWA meeting in Allahabad in March 1938 appends more criteria towards what can and cannot be considered “progressivism”.18 Thus, progressive literature is keeping [the] eyes on ‘larger issues’ and avoiding entanglement in ‘very minor things’. […] ‘An artist remains aloof from such minor things. His life and environment is different from that of men of politics. For this reason, he can show larger things to society after separating them from the minor things of everyday life. […] The [writer] has the language of the common people; […] Individuality acquires the strength of the nation and moves the world. […] Its [i. e., the revolution’s] responsibility rests on the writer. Solve people’s problems; show them the way; but whatever you say should be through the medium of art and not logic.’19

Until this time no clear definition of “progressivism” had been declared, either by the writers of Angāre or by any other progressive writer. This was the case until Aḥmad ʻʻĀlī and Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar, two writers of Angāre, spoke at Allahabad University and in Amritsar, respectively. These speeches likely took place somewhere between the beginning of 1936 and convening of the first All-India Progressive Writers’ Conference in Lucknow on 10th of April 1936.20 In his lecture ʻĀlī

|| 15 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 101. 16 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 102. 17 Carlo Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association: The European Phase”, in Marxist Influences and South Asian Literature, ed. Carlo Coppola, Vol. 1 (East Lansing: Asian Studies Center, Michigan State University, 1974), 5 and 8. Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 101f. 18 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 192 and 194ff. 19 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 194ff. 20 Cf. Sudhi Pradhan, ed., Marxist Cultural Movement in India: Chronicles and Documents (1936– 1947) (Calcutta: Mrs. Santi Pradhan, 1979), 67–83, 84–89, 96ff.

What is “progressivism” in South Asian literature? | 21

spoke about “art […] derive[ing] its material from life”,21 and acting as “the product and direct reflection of the social reality, through symbols”22 which meant it “must be socially conscious”.23 He added that art is “an expression of the highest consciousness of life, and appeals by producing powerful feelings which lead to progressive mental and emotional activity reaction.”24 This kind of art alone “reflects the social reality”25 and as a consequence “is progressive”.26 ʻĀlī also highlighted that “[t]he word progressive, then, implies the consciousness of what we are, what we were, what we should or can be. It is dynamic in essence, and stands for action.”27 In reflecting on previous literature in the subcontinent, he further contrasted past and future literature. While earlier literature was of “an individual type, sentimental, unrealistic, irrational, [and; A/N] mystical”,28 new literature had to be uncompromisingly realistic, “brutal even in its ruggedness, without embellishments and unnecessary insistence on form and technique […], it should lay greate emphasis on the truth of content, be more comprehensive and universal, and insist on the naked facts and realities of life.”29 Stating that “[p]rogressive literature today can only be a literature of opposition”,30 ʻĀlī concluded that the term ‘progressive’ should not be taken to be synonymous with revolutionary. It does, however, mean trying for the betterment of our social life. It implies the banishment of mysticism […] and all that which stands in our way of attaining freedom. It also means the acceptance of realism as a primary factor in the arts and literature.31

Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar expressed of a similar opinion of “progressivism.” However, he did not constitute it as art, but pointed out that “progressivism” in literature undergoes a few changes. Hence, it “meant different things at different times - depending on the ever-changing historical conditions” while “Literature, as well as

|| 21 Ahmad Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, in Marxist Cultural Movement in India: Chronicles and Documents (1936–1947), ed. Sudhi Pradhan (Calcutta: Mrs. Santi Pradhan, 1979), 67. 22 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 69. 23 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 69. 24 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 68. 25 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 68. 26 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 68. 27 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 79. 28 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 82. 29 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 82. 30 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 82. 31 Ali, “Progressive View of Art”, 78 and cf. 67–83.

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the Arts [must be; A/N] […] vital […] [to not; A/N] becom[e] sterile, lifeless, false.”32 Progressive literature, thus, must be separated from non-progressive literature, which can be summarised as: All tendencies towards sympathy with reaction, with Imperialism, with feudal superstitions, with Fascism, Imperialist aggression and war – we shall condemn as non-progressive and therefore to be mercilessly attacked and rooted out. All tendencies towards irrationalism, mysticism, introversion, sex-perversion or obsession, over-concern with the fate of the individual as against society as a whole, dreams of the irrevocable golden age or the neverto-be-realised future – we shall regard as dangerous because they are the indirect alleys of reaction, that they detract from positive resistance, activity and struggle. All tendencies towards shocking merely for the sake of shocking, of blindly hurting people’s cherished sentiments, tendencies towards literary terrorism or anarchy we shall regard as especially objectionable, in that they will tend to isolate the progressive intellectuals from the people and thus play into the hands of reaction.33

Having differentiated progressive from non-progressive literature, uz̤ -Z̤ afar suggested following four steps to ultimately create progressive literature. After studying life and its essence, progressive writers firstly, must observe the three forces in society. Namely, that of antagonism, conservation and of change. After coming into close contact with any of these forces they thirdly, have to represent them “through the aesthetic medium”34 to identify those forces, change and adjust them to media.35 He concluded his paper by specifying that “progressive intellectuals […] stand today […] for national freedom”.36 In April 1939, the progressive writers Sibt̤e Ḥasan, ʻĀlī Sardār Jʻafrī and Isrār ul-Ḥaq Majāz outlined their notion of progressive literature in the first issue of the progressive journal Naya Adab. They stated that progressive literature does not dismiss “all old things”37 but instead sees everything in a historical context. Moreover, it integrates “the best traditions of the old”38 literature and forms new traditions. In doing so, it reflects life as it is, investigates it and leads to a better life while depicting the depth of life without being superficial.39 This

|| 32 Cf. Mahmuduzzafar, “Intellectuals and Cultural Reaction”, in Marxist Cultural Movement in India: Chronicles and Documents (1936–1947), ed. Sudhi Pradhan (Calcutta: Mrs. Santi Pradhan, 1979), 87. 33 Mahmuduzzafar, “Intellectuals and Cultural Reaction”, 87f. 34 Mahmuduzzafar, “Intellectuals and Cultural Reaction”, 88. 35 Cf. Mahmuduzzafar, “Intellectuals and Cultural Reaction”, 88. 36 Mahmuduzzafar, “Intellectuals and Cultural Reaction”, 89 and cf. 87–89. 37 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 35f. 38 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 35f. 39 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 202; cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 35f.

What is “progressivism” in South Asian literature? | 23

comprehension clearly “is a step […] in [the] direction [of] socialist realism”,40 expounds Coppola. He further explains that the original meaning of “progressive” was “carefully worked out by the AIPWA organizers in the middle thirties”41 to attract a broader mass of writers. Later, though, it took on “more specific, more doctrinaire aspects, which were intended to make the term synonymous with socialist realism.”42 Coppola also states that with time “the term took on positive aspects (for example, concern for the life of the common man) as opposed to negative ones (for example, anti-traditional, anti-British, etc.).”43 The Aligarh critic Rashīd Aḥmad Siddiqī on the other hand declares that “progressive literature has three main ingredients: revolution, sloganism and obscenity. As such, it cannot be a productive force in Urdu; in fact, it is counterproductive.”44 According to him it cannot be called art and sex, being “only one aspect of life”45 and ergo “a legitimate subject for literature”46 should not be carried over. This may result in “obscenity and to a distorted, narrow view of the human condition.”47 Interestingly the meaning of “progressivism” was openly linked to politics after Pakistan attained independence. This can be seen in the manifesto from the first meeting of the All-Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association (APPWA) on 12th of November 1949 in Lahore, which stated that “literature is not merely a reflection of life, but is ‘a tool to change society for the better.’ Art is ‘for life … for the struggle of life … for the success of the socialist revolution.’”48 The ensuing manifesto from the second meeting in Karachi in July 1952 however, reflected on PWM achievements like “enhance[ing] through literature the scientific, democratic values and humanism”49 and highlighted two negative aspects of the literature in Pakistan, which “ha[ve] resulted from the decadence of an outdated economic system, and [which also; A/N] […] brought about and fostered by Western Imperialism”.50 According to the proclamation “[t]hey express themselves in formalism, mysticism, beastly philosophies, pornography, sex anarchy, obscurantism

|| 40 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 202. 41 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 209. 42 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 209. 43 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 269 and cf. 209. 44 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 245f. 45 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 246. 46 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 246. 47 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 246. 48 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 364. 49 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 367. 50 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 367.

24 | Progressivism in Urdu literature in the Indian subcontinent

and asceticism”.51 Hence, progressive literature had to “[reflect], [interpret] and [build] up life and they [the progressive writers; A/N] want to solve all the controversial literary problems through mutual discussion and exchange of views”.52 Jalil finally, demonstrates that ʻIṣmat Cughtāʼī called Kabīr a progressive which, for Jalil, indicates how a lot of progressive writers understand the term “progressivism”; as literature or something, which “is concerned with humanity, social awareness, and humanism”.53 Cughtāʼī exemplifies her opinion that ‘they [progressive writers] didn’t start in ‘35 or ‘36 only. They existed in the past, only this name was not applied to them’.54

2.2 Predecessors to the Progressive Writers’ Movement According to Coppola the 1857 rebellion in India against the British, as well as the efforts of modernizers of Urdu literature, such as Muḥammad Ḥusain Āzād, Alt̤āf Ḥusain Ḥālī and Sir Sayyid Aḥmad Khān, the leader of the Aligarh Movement, lay the foundation for the Progressive Writers’ Movement. For Coppola, Muḥammad Iqbāl and Josh Malīḥābādī, who wrote about revolution, should therefore be considered precursors of the progressives.55 It shall be noted that prior to the establishment of the Progressive Writers’ Movement that other Socialist Movements, such as the Red Shirt Movement, existed in British India. This movement started in 1930 in the North West Frontier Province as a “Muslim movement, influenced by socialist ideas […] and joined forces with the Indian National Congress.” 56 It was announced in 1931 and carried the slogan “‘Workers and peasants of the world unite’”.57 Mahmud remarks that the Red Shirt Movement wanted “’to win freedom for the country’ and ‘to feed the hungry and clothe the naked’”.58 Aside from this, in 1908 Premchand had already written against colonialism. He published five short stories under the title of Soz-e Wat̤an (Ardour for the Country),

|| 51 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 367. 52 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 367 and cf. 362, 364, 366f. 53 Jalil, Liking Progress, 380. 54 Jalil, Liking Progress, 380. 55 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 1–28. 56 Shabana Mahmud, “Angāre and the Founding of the Progressive Writers’ Association”, Modern Asian Studies 30, no. 2 (1996): 455, accessed Mar 28, 2017, doi:10.1017/S0026749X0001653X. 57 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 455. 58 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 455.

Predecessors to the Progressive Writers’ Movement | 25

which were “replete with patriotic fervour”.59 The result was the confiscation and destruction of the book by the British Government in India.60 Coppola proposes that a “major figure in the [All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA); A/N] […] [is] Syed Sajjad Zaheer”61 as he was fundamentally responsible for its development as well as its chronicling of its earliest phases. Ali, on the other hand, claims that due to political reasons, Sajjād Z̤ ahīr tried to outline the beginning of the PWM according to his own advantage. His book Rūshnāī or Roshnāī (Ink/Light) suppressed important progressive works from various Indian authors. Moreover, Z̤ ahīr’s book asserted that the movement was conceived in 1936 instead of 1932.62 Besides Z̤ ahīr’s contribution to the Progressive Writers’ Movement, he published Angāre (Burning Coals/Embers), “an anthology of Urdu short stories”63 in 1932 and thus became famous as a member of the Angāre Group.64

2.2.1 The Angāre Group Angāre was inspired by the works of Marxist writers, James Joyce, D. H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf and shocked Indian society in rebelling against all traditional values and standards.65 It constituted “’the first ferocious attack on society in modern literature’, for ʻAzīz Aḥmed, [and; A/N] ‘it was a declaration of war by the youth of the middle class against the prevailing social, political and religious institutions.’”66 The Angāre Group consisted of four people: Sajjād Z̤ ahīr, born in 1905 into an upper-class family and whose father was a judge of the High Court of Judicature in Allahabad; Aḥmad ʻAlī, born in 1910 to a middle-level civil servant and raised by his orthodox paternal uncle; Dr. Rashīd Jahāṉ, born in 1905 to a Kashmiri Brahmin, who converted to Islam and adored the Aligarh Movement, and Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar, born in 1908 to a medical doctor, who was the head of the

|| 59 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 452f. 60 Cf. Mahmud, “Angāre”, 452f and 455. 61 Carlo Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 62 Cf. Ahmed Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement and Creative Writers in Urdu”, in Marxist Influences and South Asian Literature, ed. Carlo Coppola, Volume I (East Lansing: Asian Studies Center, Michigan State University, 1974), 35f. 63 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 64 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 65 Cf. Mahmud, “Angāre”, 447. 66 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 447.

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Medical College of the Lucknow University and member of the ruling family of Rāmpūr. At the time of compiling Angāre Z̤ ahīr held a B.A. with honours from Oxford and ʻAlī was a lecturer in English at Lucknow University, where he graduated with first-class honours in English (B.A. and M.A.). Rashīd Jahāṉ worked as a gynaecologist in Lucknow and was introduced by ʻAlī to Z̤ ahīr. Finally, Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar completes the group, who was primarily taught in English at various schools. When he returned to India holding a B.A. with honours from Oxford, he abandoned the European style of clothes and relearned Urdu, that he was nearly illiterate in.67 ʻAlī and Z̤ ahīr met in the summer of 1932 and discussed publishing several progressive stories they had written. They had two stories each, so they decided to include two pieces from Jahāṉ and one story from Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar, which was translated by Z̤ ahīr into Urdu. Apart from Jahāṉ’s story Dillī kī sair (A Trip to Delhi), her play Parde ke pīche (Behind the Veil) and Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar’s Javānmardī (Virility), another three stories were written in several days to accumulate enough material for publishing.68 Remarkably there was only one woman in the beginnings of the Progressive Movement that followed the publishing of Angāre: Rashīd Jahāṉ. She was also known as Rashīdā and was trained as a doctor at the Lady Hardinge Medical College in Delhi, where she specialised in gynaecology.69 Her father was a “secretary of the Female Education section of the All-India Mohammedan Conference; [and] a year before Rashida was born, he had started the widely circulated Urdu journal for women, Khatun [Woman], to which her mother, Wahid Jahan Begum, was a frequent contributor.”70 Khatun supported “’western educational ideals, modernity achieved with hard work, and the call for far-reaching improvements in all quarters of society, especially for women’”.71 The stories of Jahāṉ and Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar have one thing in common. Both “exposed the enclosed and oppressive world of Muslim women enslaved to their husbands' demands and outworn religious and social dogmas.”72 One example is Jahāṉ’s play Women, where an Imam manipulates Islamic rules in such a way that he gets his wishes and fulfils his desires. During the play, the reader realizes that in truth he is greedy for money, runs after women, beats his wife when she

|| 67 Cf. Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 57f. 68 Cf. Mahmud, “Angāre”, 452. 69 Cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 41. 70 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 42. 71 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 42. 72 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 447.

Predecessors to the Progressive Writers’ Movement | 27

brings up the topic of his behaviour and has double standards when it comes to pardah (forms of seclusion) between his friends and wife and his wife's close cousins. Therefore, he symbolizes all that is un-Islamic in the guise of Islam.73 Rashīd’s most famous stories and plays are collected in “Aurat aur dīgar afsāne (Women and Other Stories)”.74 Her piece Dillī kī sair that is included in Angāre is a “direct protest against the male sex, particularly the Indian husband”,75 which incited male society’s wrath in the subcontinent.76 Gopal elucidates, that “[t]he kind of questions she [Rashīd Jahāṉ; A/N] investigated remain relevant to contemporary feminist engagements with science, technology and culture.”77 She also questions the “relationship of the body to the ideologies and institutions”78 which shape and influence feminist engagements while constantly being influenced by politics.79

2.2.2 Angāre In total Angāre contains ten stories: five written by Z̤ ahīr: Nīnd nahīṉ ātī (Sleep Doesn’t Come), Jannat kī bashārat (Vision of Heaven), Garmiyoṉ kī ek rāt (A Night in Summer), Dulārī (Loved One) and Phir yah hangāmah (This Uproar, too…), two written by ʻAlī: Bādal nahīṉ āte (The Clouds Do Not Come) and Mahāvaṭoṉ kī ek rāt (A Night of Winter Rains),80 two by Jahāṉ: Dillī kī sair and Parde ke pīche (Behind the Curtains) and finally Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar’s Javānmardī.81 Jalil points out

|| 73 Cf. Rashid Jahan, “Woman: A Play in One Act”, trans. Steven M. Poulos, Annual of Urdu Studies 1 (1981): 70–88, accessed Dec 10, 2018, https://dsal.uchicago.edu/books/annualofurdustudies/pager.html?volume=1&objectid=PK2151.A6152_1_076.gif. 74 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 75 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 2. 76 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1f. 77 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 41. 78 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 41. 79 Cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 41. 80 Mahāvaṭoṉ kī ek rāt had already been published in January 1932 in the journal Humayun (Lahore) (cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 159). 81 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry; cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 44–48. It should be noted that around four reprints of Angāre exist. One reprint is in Devānagārī from 1990 by Shakil Siddiqui published by Praimal Prakashan in Delhi. It seems as if there is another reprint in Hindī that appeared in Samkaleen Dastavez, which is given as a reference in Ismat: Her Life, Her Times edited by Sukrita Paul Kumar and Sadique. Then there is an Urdu version from 1995 by Khalid Alvi published by Educational Publishing House in Delhi, which has several alterations or censored passages when compared to the original from 1932. The other one in Nastaʻlīq is from 1988

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that Z̤ ahīr’s stories in particular contain new techniques of storytelling such as interior monologues and streams of consciousness that had been introduced by authors “such as James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, Dorothy Richardson, and Virginia Woolf”.82 They also reflect the influence of the cultural movement Dadaism, which was “anti-war, […] anti-bourgeois and anarchistic in nature”.83 Jahāṉ’s and uz̤ -Z̤ afar’s stories, on the other hand, are quite straightforward and didactic and lack storytelling techniques, for Jalil.84 Nīnd nahīṉ ātī The first story Nīnd nahīṉ ātī is filled with onomatopoeia, to illustrate the sounds of the night. In it, a lower-middle-class man engages in an inner monologue, while drifting between various states of sleep and wakefulness. He comments on a range of customs and traditions, with a focus on religion. In doing so, he uses “a particularly denigrating and satirical manner”.85 Jalil elucidates that this story is filled with “archetypal ‘Muslim’ images insofar as they feature, one way or another, in the culture, imagination, and literature of the Indian Muslims”.86 The story revolves around the poor poet Akbar, who is lying awake on a hot summer night. At first, he complains about his fellow poets’ and his employer’s behaviour, who belittle him constantly. Afterwards, he moves onto a speech of

|| by Shabana Mahmud with the title Angarey: Ek jāʼizah (Burning Coals: A Review). It is published in Sweden by Bokforlag Kitabiat (cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 108f and 148). Next to partial English translations of Angāre in Jalil’s Liking Progress, Loving Change, there are, next to Russell’s translation of Parde ke pīche in Hidden in the Lute: An Anthology of Two Centuries of Urdu Literature and parts of Garmiyoṉ kī ek rāt in The Pursuit of Urdu Literature, two other translations available. Both are troublesome in their own ways. The edition Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play from Chauhan and Alvi is close in ways of word-to-word translation and establishing the feeling of the subcontinental environment regarding the original text. Nevertheless, it does not stick to the original order of the stories and leaves out several blasphemous passages and notions. The focus is on Indian readers. Shingavi’s Angaaray on the other hand is more explanatory in respect of Indian customs and maintains the original order of the stories, but translates more freely for the sake of English readers. Both books are published in 2014, whereas Shingavi already published various stories beforehand in the AUS Vol. 22 in 2007 and most of the translation was done for her graduate work at the University of California, Berkeley (cf. Snehal Shingavi, acknowledgements to Angaaray, Sajjad Zaheer, Ahmed Ali, Rashid Jahan, and Mahmud Uz-Zafar, trans. Snehal Shingavi (Haryana: Penguin Books, 2014), 153). 82 Jalil, Liking Progress, 114. 83 Jalil, Liking Progress, 114. 84 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 113f. 85 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 45. 86 Jalil, Liking Progress, 115.

Predecessors to the Progressive Writers’ Movement | 29

Gandhi that he attended in the rain against the satanic government, whose inaction makes him question the need to write patriotic poetry for it. After reflecting on a brutally honest discussion with Gandhi, the poet remarked on British colonialism and its looting of Indian treasure without protest from Indian citizens. He further complains about the means of honour and grace of God as both will not fill the stomach while listening to barking dogs and biting mosquitoes that the average Indian must endure, due to the lack of money and mosquito nets. This leads Akbar to his past where his mother was severely ill wherefore, he must write and ask relatives for help in cases of money. The episode highlights the hypocrisy of those relatives, who spend lavishly on superstitious charms and only visit the sick mother out of religious duty but tend to be misers and constantly remind Akbar of the favour that they are doing for him. Akbar, on the other hand, was bound to swallow his anger about their behaviour, as he needed the financial support for him, his wife, and his children. This thought leads Akbar finally to marriage, which his mother wanted for him despite the lack of financial resources. He compares his situation with Muḥarram ʻĀlī, who is 40 and still unmarried and wants a companion in life. Akbar does not understand his desire as he visits the brothels of Lucknow quite regularly and has a nagging wife at home, who blames him for sitting idle and reciting poems while she has to do all the work. The piece of advice given to him of going to Ḥajj looks suddenly more favourable to Akbar as it also saved the Prophet Muḥammad from his wives. He eventually concludes that women are a burden and that even God on Judgement Day will stroke his beard in arousal due to their flirtations and winks at him. In his rage, Akbar might have even killed someone, possibly a prostitute, who insulted his wife. From this account, he finally moves onto the description of hell, which is run like a government office. There Akbar meets Munnī Jān, a prostitute, who first shall have five scorpions as servants but when she pleads with the subinspector is allowed to speak to Satan, who is mentioned as Sarkar in the story. While Satan is holding a meeting of the Prophets, including the Prophet Muḥammad, Munnī Jān must wait though she tries to peep into the room. When she finally meets Satan, he is described as having “[a] big white beard, a fair glowing complexion”,87 and leading her into another room, where he has sexual intercourse with her as if he were a young virile man. In the end, Munnī Jān gets her justice or punishment in such a way that two snakes instead of five scorpions lick at her nipples and give her pleasure. Finally, Akbar makes his point that he does not care for freedom, heaven, or hell, but only for food for his stomach is empty and || 87 Jalil, Liking Progress, 115.

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he is starving. In her conclusion, Jalil emphasises that the moral of the story is that only the present matters.88 Jannat kī bashārat The story “portrays a sanctimonious cleric fondling a copy of the Koran in his sleep as he dreams of nubile houris in heaven.”89 Maulvi Dāʼūd is a teacher in a madrassa in Lucknow, whose first wife dies while giving birth to their eighth child. After two years, when he is 49, he marries a second time. His wife is 20 years younger and therefore he tries to convince her that he is not as old as he looks and his grey hair and beard is the outcome of an excess of phlegm. Trying to prove his religiosity, the Maulvi prays for the whole night throughout Ramadan, and does not get enough sleep. Therefore, he would fall asleep during his morning classes, which the students would interpret as spiritual experience due to his piousness. The most auspicious night of Qadr90 approaches, where all sins are forgiven, rewards can be obtained and requests for wishes can be made. As the Maulvi does not want to lose such an opportunity he plans to stay awake another year in prayer. Although others warn him that he is overdoing in worship and prayer, he is so fearful of Judgement Day and that his sins might outweigh his good deeds, that he continues his excessive worship and advises others to do so, too. Finally, after eating a heavy evening meal on Lailat ul-Qadr, the Maulvi becomes tired, and to fight off sleep, returns home from the mosque, hoping to finish his prayers there. He comes home and wakes his wife in searching for matches. His wife, who is under the spell of sleep, tries to pull him down towards her to spend the night together. Maulvi Dāʼūd is tempted and then remembers how women throughout history have been the downfall of men. He remembers that Adam was pushed out of Eden because of Ḥawwā"91 and Yūsuf,92 who is tempted by Zulaikhā.93 He pushes her away and rudely asks her for matches. His

|| 88 Cf. Sajjād Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, trans. Vibha S. Chauhan, and Khalid Alvi (New Delhi: Rupa, 2014), 25–37; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 114ff; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, trans. Snehal Shingavi (Haryana: Penguin Books, 2014), 1–18; cf. Sayyid Sajād Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre: Das mukhtaṣar kahāniyoṉ kā majmū‘ah [Urdu: Live Coals: A Collection of Ten Short Stories] (Lakhnauʼ: Niz̤ āmī pres, 1932), 1–19. 89 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 32. 90 It is believed that in the night of Qadr the Qurʼan or rather the first verses of it were first sent down to earth. 91 Eve. 92 Joseph. 93 Potiphar’s wife.

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wife then gets up, spits venom, and calls him an old man and fraud of a namāzi.94 After the Imam finds the matches, lights the lantern, and begins praying, he falls asleep. In his dream, he is transported to heaven where a voice says that he is proud of him for spending his entire life in worship without using his brain and intellect for these are certainly satanic powers and the source of all disbelief. By understanding that human thought is the enemy of faith and worship he never allowed his faith to be dimmed by his intellect, continues the voice, and declares that all his desires shall be fulfilled. When the Maulvi finally gazes around, he sees uncountable ḥūrīs.95 As he cannot decide and is not satisfied with any of them, he wanders around gazing at each one of them from top to bottom. When he eventually decides upon one girl and steps forward to embrace and kiss her, he wakes up hearing laughter behind him. This is the moment he realises that it was only a dream and that he is hugging the Qur’an to his chest while his wife stands next to him laughing.96 Garmiyoṉ kī ek rāt The third short story revolves around a middle-class law clerk Munshī Barkat ʻĀlī, who visits the park after a stressful day. There he encounters his supervisor Lālahjī, who ridicules him in front of his two friends. The Munshī, who finds it difficult to support him and his family on a monthly salary of 60 rupees moves on while thinking that it becomes harder every day to get the bribe of customers, which leads to a better income. Angry about a system in which only higher clerks are transferred whilst the middle- and lower-class employees are fired when finding out about their bribes, the Munshī meets Jumman, a peon at his office. Jumman follows him and tells him about his poverty. The Munshī, who was able to get a rupee as a bribe today fears that Jumman will ask him to lend him some money and tries to get rid of him while using Islamic recollections of the Children of Israel as well as the signs of the Day of Judgement. Jalil highlights that the way the Munshī articulates himself clearly “mock[s] the rampant use of the rhetoric that has invaded a true understanding of religion and is used as a crutch by the ill-informed”.97 Jumman, who lost a rupee today due to the whims of his employer’s wife, tries to bring up the topic to the Munshī and asks him to lend him a rupee. The Munshī, on the other hand, shows no empathy other than his own || 94 Someone who always prays the obligatory daily five prayers of Islam. 95 Eternal virgins in heaven. 96 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 17–24; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 116–119; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 19–31; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 20–30. 97 Jalil, Liking Progress, 121.

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greed and lies to the Munshī that he would help if he could but that he does not have the money himself. While claiming this he is holding onto a rupee in his pocket. Finally, the Munshī walks over to a cinema, pretending busily to study the posters and to get rid of Jumman. Jumman nevertheless follows him and repeats his plea again. When an old college friend of the Munshī comes out of the cinema and invites the Munshī to an expensive night with dancers, he accepts without the blink of an eye and leaves Jumman standing at the side of the road. 98 Jalil points out that there are various hidden motifs inside the story. There is the meeting of the Muslim middle-class Munshī with his senior Lālahjī, who being a Hindu attained a higher rank socially and financially. Afterwards, he meets Jumman, who shares the same religion but due to his job stands socially below him. As he cannot gain anything for his advantage from this meeting, he tries to shake him off but must stay friendly as they work together. Jalil further explains that Z̤ ahīr relates the behaviour of these characters to capitalism, a social order which only enriches the few. Therefore, materialistic progress is not God’s creation and wealth does not come to everyone as so often claimed by Islamic clerks. The poor remain poor while the upper class accumulates material richness and social wealth.99 Dulārī Dulārī, as well as Jannat kī bashārat, alludes to the double standard of “moral” men, who are in the guise of role models and their feigning faithful assertions. In Dulārī the servant-slave girl Dulārī, who is normally in tattered clothes and unbathed, is one day seduced by the master’s son of the house when he is on vacations. The 20/21-year-old-son, Kāz̤ im, who is normally away in college, considers his family to be too conservative and unsophisticated. Though he has a dispute with them several times and considers himself a social reformer regarding the outworn traditional customs and rituals his words are never put into action. After the yearlong affair, the son marries someone else. When Dulārī hears about it, she runs away into prostitution and is eventually brought back to be scolded for her actions by the extended family. Upon Kāz̤ im’s entrance into the courtyard, he turns to his family arrogantly demanding to leave the unfortunate girl alone as she has been punished enough already by the condition, she is in. After hearing

|| 98 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 1–9; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 119–122; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 33–45; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 31–43. 99 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 121f.

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this insult from the person being responsible for her state, Dulārī glares at everyone until they all leave and she finally disappears at night again.100 Phir yah hangāmah Z̤ ahīr’s last story contains ten minor stories that are not really connected to each other. In the beginning, there is a dialogue of two friends where one says that religion is rooted in fear and faith and an internal state of being while the other talks about his internal state of having a bad stomach. It then moves on to Jibrāʼīl101 who is mistaken for Iblīs, Satan, and his not wanting to discuss religion as every debate that is naturally founded on intellect and logic is an evil thing. Afterwards there is a story about people who die of various diseases and rot away, giving off a bad odour. This is followed by the dog Shīrā, who has a rich foreign owner and therefore marks his territory outside the house, shooing the other male stray dogs away. A bigger male stray dog appears after some time and the clan of stray dogs intimidate and attack Shīrā in his own courtyard. This goes on until one night the strays make so much noise that the rich owner of the house cannot sleep. The rich owner, gets his gun and shoots the leader of the strays. After that Shīrā is again free to do what he wants. The next story is about the river Gomtī and a temple that will vanish soon. It mentions its dirty water which is consumed with waste. The scene then moves on to the son of the sweeper Kallū, who is bitten by a snake. The master’s son is the only one who will come and give the poor boy the medicine himself but due to the dirtiness and stench stays only a few minutes until he hurriedly takes a long bath, wears new clothes, and puts a perfumed handkerchief to his nose. In the end, Kallū must borrow nearly all his next month’s salary, 11 from 15 rupees, to pay for cremating his son. Following is a story of Ḥāmid, who is in love with Sult̤ānah but Sult̤ānah’s mother detests his family that much that she does not want to give her daughter’s hand in marriage although Ḥāmid is a very good match. Since she does not find a suitable match after some time, she finally agrees to the marriage of Sult̤ānah and Ḥāmid, who then live happily ever after. Then comes a short passage about a woman delivering a baby and another slightly longer one about another woman, who is now frightened about her former lover. The next small section shows the vicious circle of life and is about a property owner who must pay land tax and his son that is demanding more

|| 100 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 10–16; cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 46–51; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 122–127; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 47–57; cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angāre, 44–52. 101 Gabriel.

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money for his law course fees. The father then extracts the needing money from his peasants. Finally, there is a short paragraph about Monsoon weather.102 Jalil criticises this story for having no clear message and not working out either of the stories about the dog Shīrā or the sweeper Kallū, and instead throwing in various ideas without designing them properly. She also criticises him for giving the characters superficial and shallow dialogues and launching broadsides at religion with “conventional and half-baked notions of right and wrong”.103 After Z̤ ahīr’s first five stories, the book contains ʻĀlī’s two stories Bādal nahīṉ āte and Mahāvaṭoṉ kī ek rāt, which both “employ a stream-of-consciousness technique”.104 Bādal nahīṉ āte Aḥmad ʻĀlī’s first short story revolves around the thoughts of a female narrator, who has obviously been married against her wishes until the eighth standard when her father suddenly died. She was rushed into a marriage with a cruel man, who does not even tolerate women giving answers. Set on a summer night shortly before monsoon, she describes several instances from daily life like the Imams reading and rocketing in front of the Qur’an and repeating the Truth of God like parrots as if they have thrown reason and common sense away. The female narrator also questions if they have brains and that their long beards hide their devious hearts. She also mocks the Maulvis rituals of prescribing talismans and amulets, prayers, and offerings at Sufi shrines to women to cure them from not having children or granting them other wishes. The narrator then moves on to cursing the British for teaching English and therefore turning everyone into atheists and impotent men. After that, she illustrates the unfortunate situation of women. They have to live in seclusion for reasons of honour and reputation, have all the household work and have to bear children. On top of that, they must be available to the men at any time, which mostly ends in sexual abuse and marital rape. Nevertheless, as women are not allowed to leave seclusion and work or earn their own money, they do not have any means of escaping the humiliating lives they are having. The female narrator then compares the women’s imprisonment with the freedom of the men, who gossip, play chess or cards, smoke waterpipes all day long and go to brothels in the evenings. She mocks religion being the gratification of men and Muslim women having far less freedom than Hindu or || 102 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 38–48; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 127ff; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 59–73; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 53–67. 103 Jalil, Liking Progress, 127 and cf. 127ff. 104 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 47.

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Christian women, who have peace. However, just because men grow a long beard while leering at women, they should not think that they are Muslims. Shingavi mentions beforehand that this story only makes sense when the reader is aware of a common children’s fable of a male and female sparrow as this fable seems to be incorporated in the story of Bādal nahīṉ āte.105 Mahāvaṭoṉ kī ek rāt ʻĀlī’s second story also focuses on the inner monologue, but this time of a formerly rich woman, who is now living in poverty.106 The story is set on a cold and wet night, where Maryam, the mother of two little sons and one young daughter is lying in her small shack whilst the rain pours in through the leaking roof. She is complaining about why God has made her poor when she had been rich during her upbringing. He worries for her children, who are starving, as she did not get enough food by begging. They are also lying under a wet blanket that gets wetter every minute. Maryam condemns religion and the afterlife for it does not help her in her present situation and is nothing but empty promises. She also longs for company and remembers her late husband and their sexual encounters in that dark and terrifying night. According to Jalil this story resembles Nietzsche with his theories on the “Death of God” as well as nihilism.107 Dillī kī sair and Parde ke pīche Following ʻĀlī’s narratives is one story and one play by Jahāṉ. Both, Dillī kī sair and Parde ke pīche illustrate women and their “scathing criticism about Indian husbands”.108 Dillī kī sair outlines the story Malikah Begum and her trip to Delhi with husband, who abandons her with their luggage at the station after meeting a friend. There she sits in her burqā in the sun, being the ridicule of men and women. After her husband’s return and his query as to whether she would like to eat a snack, as he has already eaten, she simply wants to go home. When her husband complains about her ruining the trip, Malikah Begum tells her friends at home, “she would not even want to take a trip to paradise with him”.109 Here, Jalil suggests that Dillī kī sair emphasises the lack of concern shown by most || 105 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 62–72; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 129ff; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 75–87; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 68–79. 106 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 46–51. 107 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 73–82; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 131–134; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 89–103; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 80–93. 108 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 48. 109 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 49.

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husbands while exemplifying life in pardah and the “blindness of male privilege towards the experience of women behind the [veil]”.110 The play Parde ke pīche, too, depicts the intelligence of a Western-educated Muslim, who forces his wife to bear one child after another until he finally gets a son. The son then treats his sisters with disrespect.111 The act is set in the “women’s quarters of a typical Muslim household in Delhi”,112 as is indicated by the description of the room. The two main characters, Āftāb Begum and Muḥammadī Begum, both respectfully addressed after the names of their eldest sons: Āftāb and Muḥammad, also have an authentic speech according to their social environment. Āftāb Begum is around 40 years old and Muḥammadī Begum is 32 but looks older, due to excessive childbearing. While they are sitting together, they chew pān113 and tell each other about their miseries in life. Muḥammadī Begum got married at 18 and gave birth to a child each year except once when her husband was abroad and once when they had an argument. The children look malnourished and ill, which is also due to their mother being constantly ill and weak. Even so, she is not allowed to breastfeed her children herself as her husband wants her to be always available for sex. Because of that, one of her three sons also dies a disturbing death, after he is breastfed by a wet nurse that has syphilis. Further, Muḥammadī Begum’s husband does not even care for his wife’s condition as he forces her to have intercourse despite her running a fever for several months. On top of that, he visits brothels on a regular basis and even tries to pursue a second marriage to the first-grade cousin of his wife. When she finds out, he threatens to divorce her and tries to use religion in his advantage saying that she is even obliged to fix his second marriage. Considering that Muḥammadī Begum even had her uterus and vagina corrected twice to be as new for her husband but him still not being satisfied, she wishes she could die or that it she had been born a Christian. Āftāb Begum envies Muḥammadī Begum at the beginning as her husband spends little time with her and their only son marries a Christian, meaning the couple does not visit her and she feels lonely. In the end, she concludes that men have their way all along and similar problems can be found everywhere. Jalil also argues that Jahāṉ in her play exemplifies the sloppy character of Muḥammadī Begum for she is not a good mother, cannot keep the house in order and does not even have her own neglected and ill-bred children under control

|| 110 Jalil, Liking Progress, 139. 111 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 46–51. 112 Jalil, Liking Progress, 139. 113 Betelnut.

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despite having several servants. At the same time, Jahāṉ illustrates the issues of multiple pregnancies and wives seen as sex toys to bear children. Jahāṉ, therefore, evinces the hidden problems that women would not discuss openly: “second marriages, sexual abuse, child marriages, the vagaries of the reproductive system, the pains and pleasures of breast feeding, the lack of care for contraception, and hence the over-large families”,114 concludes Jalil.115 Javānmardī The last story in Angāre is uz̤ -Z̤ afar’s Javānmardī, which also narrates the story of a man educated in the West, who feels depressed while returning home to India. After his wife writes him a lengthy letter describing her illness and assuring him that he is her closest companion and confidant, he is so overwhelmed that he moves back home. In doing so, he does not fully consider that he and his wife have been estranged for quite some time already, and that she thinks and lives in a more outdated era whilst he spent most of his life in the modern West. After coming back, they naturally have nothing to say to each other and he falls back into the old routine of gambling, drinking, meaningless banter and even having a mistress and patronising several dancers. Due to repeated letters and pieces of advice from relatives and friends regarding his wife’s health, he finds himself in the position to do something about it. To prove his potency to himself and his environment, he takes his dangerously sick wife to the mountains and ensures her death by getting her pregnant. While his wife’s tummy grows and she becomes quieter each day, he feels more and more victorious about his achievement. She finally dies in childbirth with the stillborn child stuck in her pelvis and the husband after being blindsided at first, now realises his foolish error. Jalil’s opinion about the story is rather meagre. She comments that his story “at best, [can be seen] as a self-deprecatory admission of the ‘evil that men do’”.116 Coppola then again points out, that ʻAlī’s stories highly resemble Z̤ ahīr’s Nīnd nahīṉ ātī and clarifies that based on the quality in Angāre Z̤ ahīr is likely to have the most success in writing later. Surprisingly though, ʻAlī’s later stories made the greatest impact in literature of all writers of the Angāre Group. Furthermore,

|| 114 Jalil, Liking Progress, 143. 115 Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 83–101; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 139–143; cf. Ralph Russell, Hidden in the Lute: An Anthology of Two Centuries of Urdu Literature (Manchester: Carcanet, 1995), 34–46; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 111–134; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 98–120. 116 Jalil, Liking Progress, 136. Cf. Z̤ ahīr, Angarey: 9 Stories and a Play, 53–61; cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 50f; cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 35–38; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 134ff; cf. Zaheer et al., Angaaray, 135–148; cf. Z̤ ahīr et al., Angāre, 121–133.

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the diction and vocabulary of all stories in Angāre is extremely colloquial and neutral, as it does not include many Persianized or Sanskritized words, elucidates Coppola.117

2.2.3 The turmoil about Angāre The tremendous scandal that Angāre creates with its “stories by the male writers who defied religion and poked fun at their elders”118 can be clearly understood by the action taken against the book after its release.119 Shortly after its publication in December 1932 in Lucknow, Angāre was banned on 15th of March 1933 under Section 295A of the Indian Penal Code by the “United Provinces State Government […] due to pressure […] by older religious and political leaders”.120 These ‘political leaders’ included several Maulvis and the All India Shia Conference, who passed a resolution in 1933 to ban the ‘obscene’ and ‘blasphemous’ writings and punish the authors with ‘stoning to death’ as well as ‘hanging by the neck’.121 Jalil expounds that ridiculing the Prophet as well as Muslim rituals, customs and practices are considered a rebellious act by a small number of orthodox Muslims. They constituted the driving force behind convincing the British government to prohibit Angāre. Most of those who berated Angāre had not actually read the book. But as the popular perception grew that respectable people condemned it, the public thought it better to follow the lead instead of reading it themselves. The British, convinced that the small number of orthodox Muslims represents the larger community, finally banned Angāre without taking note of the larger number of liberal secular Muslims that stayed silent.122 Jalil also emphasises how the British prohibition of Angāre comprised a strategy of imperial governance: It was a self-conscious attempt to shock people out of their inertia, to show them how hypocrisy and sexual oppression had so crept into everyday life that it was accepted with blithe disregard for all norms of civilized society. This sort of writing, if allowed to grow unchecked, could become subversive and that would not suit either the religious or the

|| 117 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 48ff. 118 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 119 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1f. 120 Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 2. Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1f; cf. Mahmud, “Angāre”, 447 and 449. 121 Cf. Mahmud, “Angāre”, 449; cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 3. 122 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 147.

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political powers-that-be. […] Angarey is a dark, driven documentary of disquiet; we see no attempt whatsoever at social reform.123

However, Mahmud highlights that “the writers of Angāre were not the first to feel the repression imposed by the British authorities, and both their action against Premchand in 1908 and the titles listed in the list of 1933 […] show that they reacted as harshly to political dissent as to works likely to incite religious conflict.”124 The first reaction of outrage towards Angāre resulted in several “angry editorials and articles denouncing the book”.125 The Hindustan Times of 21st of February 1933 included an article, which stated that Angāre “has wounded the feelings of the entire Muslim community by ridiculing God and his Prophets and which is extremely objectionable from the standpoints both of religion and morality.”126 In addition, Medinah from Bijnor condemned the book in an article from 13th of February 1933. Payām (News/Herald) from Aligarh and Sarguzasht (Chronicle), on the other hand, even seemed to defend the publication of Angāre to some extent. Hence, Payām’s edition from 5th of March 1933 contained the following statement: [C]ondemnation, proscription and legal action are no answer to blasphemy and atheism. How ironic that the very people who claim the right of free speech from the Government are not willing to concede the same right to their countrymen. [...] If truth is with religious leaders, why do they get flustered by one attack of heresy and blasphemy? If the religious belief of the common man is such that he gets misled by a handful of people, then the responsibility for this load of sin cannot be placed on anyone's shoulders except those of the religious leaders. [...] When a man has no plausible answer to a question he gets annoyed and enraged. Such anger and rage can silence criticism for some time but the question still remains. The progress of the human mind cannot depart from the path of research. This is a futile effort. It is hoped that the leaders of the community will try to provide satisfactory answers to the problem underlying Angāre.127

The issue of Sarguzasht of 24th of February 1933 displayed a similar declaration: The only difference is that if you claim to be champion of Islam, you should set a correct example of Islam; because Islam is a light which is an enemy of darkness. If we had followed this [true] Islam, we would not be in this situation today. In this they [the writers of Angāre]

|| 123 Jalil, Liking Progress, 151. 124 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 453. 125 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 448. 126 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 448. 127 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 449.

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are much less to blame than us. It is a primary duty of those who are offended by this dirty literature to become real examples of true Islam.128

Additionally, the Angāre members were the victims of black humour. Coppola, for instance, depicts a short play called Āg khāeṉ (Let Us Eat Fire), which Mullah Shahadmi published on 10th of February 1933 in Khashmāf Nāma [sic] [Indignation? Newsletter]. He recounts that [t]he four members of the Angārē Group, as they would eventually become known, are presented with names anagramically changed and a character description of each which uses English words: misṭar sēgaḍ [sic], ēk faišanabul sāḥab (‘...a fashionable sahib’), misṭar mēmaḍ [sic], ēk ʻāšiq-mizāj janṭilmain (‘...a romantic gentleman’), misṭar ēmaḍ [sic], ēk apṭū-ḍēṭ prōfēsar (‘...an up-to-date professor’), and mis razīḍa, ēk lēḍī ḍākṭar (‘...a lady doctor’). An extra touch of sarcasm is given with the fact that the ‘Muslim’ names are written with retroflex t’s and d’s, a feature usually reserved for English names. In the play the foursome are portrayed as highly westernized but utterly foolish heathens who, having chosen to malign Islam, must pay for their folly by suffering in hell for their sins. An accompanying cartoon shows the four of them in hell, fashionably attired in western clothes, but fear on their faces as they prepare to ‘eat fire’.129

Particularly upset about Rashīd Jahāṉ are religious authorities. The fact that she is a woman and a Muslim is for them difficult to digest. Even more so as she is “writing about the woman's body and the oppression she had to endure. [...] Even her name became ‘Angareywali [The Angarey Woman] Rashid Jahan’”.130 Gopal delineates that Rashīd Jahāṉ’s courage made a huge impact on society and women in general. So much so that ʻIṣmat Cughtāʼī recounted the effect Angāre had at the girls’ college she was studying at. Gopal further elucidates that Rashīd Jahāṉ pioneered in assuming “the authority to speak, not only about women's bodies and sex, but about modernity, science, progress, ethics and epistemology.”131 She also highlights the lesser-known fact that Angāre not only encompassed female sexuality, but also male subjectivity and masculinity.132 After the ban of Angāre and the witch-hunt against its authors, Maḥmud uz̤ Z̤ afar drafted an article that is published in The Leader (Allahabad) on 5th of April 1933, entitled: In Defence of Angāre. Shall We Submit to Gagging?:

|| 128 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 449 and cf. 448f. 129 Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 62. 130 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 32. 131 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 32. 132 Cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 32.

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’[The] stories of my friend S. Sajjad Zaheer are concerned chiefly with the criticism and a satire of the current Moslem conceptions, life and practices. His attack is directed primarily against the intolerable theological burden that is imposed from childhood upon the average Moslem in this country - a burden that leads to a contortion and a cramping of the inquisitive or speculative mind and the vital vigours of body both man and woman. Ahmed Ali essays into the realms of poverty, material, spiritual and physical, especially the poverty of the Moslem woman, and imagination and admirable boldness breaks through the veils of convention to expose the stark reality. Rashid Jehan, who is also a Doctor of medicine drawing on her practical experience, also portrays vividly the ghastly plight of the woman behind the purdah. My own single contribution is an attack on the vanity of man which seeks to find an outlet at the expense of the weak and defenceless womanhood. [...] 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. They have chosen the particular field of Islam, not because they bear any ‘special’ malice, but because, being born into that particular society, they felt themselves better qualified to speak for that alone. [...] Our practical proposal is the formation immediately of a League of Progressive Authors, which should bring forth similar collections from time to time, both in English and the various vernaculars of our country’.133

It should be noted, that this was the first time that a Progressive Writer’s Association was mentioned. The following enthusiastic discussions after Angāre’s publication hence lead and grow into the Progressive Writers’ Movement.134 According to Coppola ʻAzīz Aḥmad a “distinguished historian of Islam in India, Urdu novelist and critic”135 propounded that Angāre was the first outcry of the middle-class against prevailing political, religious, and social traditions in modern Urdu literature. Nevertheless, he also scrutinises the problems of Angāre and concludes that its ‘unprincipled extremism’136 and ‘unprincipled attack on religion’137 explain the Progressive Movement’s failure at that time.138 Mir and Mir on the other hand state that the works of Angāre simply deal with “prevailing familial and sexual mores, [and; A/N] the decadence and hypocrisy of social and religious life in contemporary India”.139 Jalil adds that “[t]he Angarey writers […] for the first time, addressed female sexuality head-on”.140

|| 133 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 450f. 134 Cf. Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 35. 135 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 2. 136 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 2. 137 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 2. 138 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 2f. 139 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 3. 140 Jalil, Liking Progress, 154.

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Leading to heated debates about female sexuality, the double standards of Islamic scholars and social injustices in the subcontinent, Angāre’s publication also gave birth to the Progressive Writers’ Movement and thus to two separate movements in Urdu literature: modernism or jadīdiyat and progressivism or taraqqī-pasandī.141

2.3 The Progressive Writers’ Movement Taking input from other Leftist theorists and writers such as Georgi Plekhanov, Maxim Gorky, Vladimir Mayakosvki, Victor Khlebnikov, Mao Tse-Tung, Bertolt Brecht, Walter Benjamin and Lu Xun the PWM departed from norms in Urdu poetry and therefore distances itself from classical poetry. Classical themes are not only abandoned but new themes occur. Instead of romance, wine and death, writers depict the new reality of life. The works show a refreshing new style of bluntness, incitement, and anger. Contemporary issues and the transformation of the world are essential topics. Words have subtle meanings that make the reader wonder about the intent of the writer, as it was the case in classical Urdu poetry, but expression and language are far simpler and therefore easier to understand.142 The focus of social themes is a primary aim for progressive writers. Especially during the two decades after the publication of Angāre the emphasis was on gender-related issues, such as the oppression of women and men’s role in it as well as the relationships between men and women. Therefore, prostitution and widowhood are reoccurring topics. Gopal however, criticises the missing analytical perspectives due to a repetition of figures and plots.143 After publishing Angāre Z̤ ahīr went back to London to finish his law studies, having asked Rashīd Jahāṉ for her hand in marriage. Being left in the care of Maḥmud uz̤ -Z̤ afar, both finally fall in love with each other and get married in 1934.144

|| 141 “Love of progress” (cf. Saadia Toor, The State of Islam: Culture and Cold War Politics in Pakistan (London: Pluto Press, 2011), 55). Cf. Snehal Shingavi, introduction to Angaaray, Sajjad Zaheer, Ahmed Ali, Rashid Jahan, and Mahmud Uz-Zafar, trans. Snehal Shingavi (Haryana: Penguin Books, 2014), xi. 142 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 27f; 36–43. 143 Cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 28–31. 144 Cf. Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 62f. A more detailed study of Angāre and its relation towards the PWM can be found in Jalil’s Liking Progress, Loving Change: A Literary History of the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu as well as in Gopal’s Literary Radicalism in India: Gender, Nation and the Transition to Independence.

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The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA) eventually resulted in Z̤ ahīr’s reading of his works as well as Angāre to a study group of Indian students in London that he helped organise.145

2.3.1 The beginning in Europe Environmental circumstances in the 1930s such as “[t]he exposure to Marxism [in England and; A/N], the political situation in Germany”146 lead to the establishment of the Progressive Writers’ Movement.147 Instances such as Georgi Dimitrov, a communist, who was accused of burning the Reichstag in Berlin as well as the growing protest against charging European intellectuals, show the growing influence of Fascism in Europe, which progressive writers opposed.148 In addition, late colonial rule in India, its accompanying exploitation, and the formation of various resisting groups like the United Front in France or the workers’ rebellion in Austria were significant factors in the foundation of a progressive group.149 The idea of forming an association was born in medical and law students’ minds from British India who wanted “to become writers”150 to express their feelings.151 Coming to know various members of the Communist Party of Great Britain, like Ralph Fox, Mulk Rāj Ānand or Rajani Palme Dutt, Z̤ ahīr were influenced by their ideas during his law studies in London. Fox eventually encouraged Z̤ ahīr and Ānand to assemble a meeting and found the Indian Progressive Writers’ Association (IPWA).152 A group of students finally met on 24th of November 1934 or 1935 - there is uncertainty about the year153 - in London’s Nanking Hotel. Among them were Sajjād Z̤ ahīr, Jyotirmaya Gosh (later a key figure in Bengali literature), Mulk Rāj Ānand (an English novelist), Mohammad Din Tasir (the founder of the magazine

|| 145 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 1. 146 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 4. 147 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 4f. 148 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 13. 149 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 4f; cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 1f. 150 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 4. 151 Cf. ibid., 4f; cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 1f. 152 Cf. Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 63. 153 Cf. Ralph Russell, “Leadership in the All-India Progressive Writers’ Movement: 1935–1947”, in Leadership in South Asia, ed. Bishwa Nath Pandey (New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1977), 105.

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Nairang-e Khayāl in Lahore), Ralph Fox (a British writer) and Pramod Sen Gupta.154 Also present was a “group of about thirty or forty members, mostly students from London, Oxford and Cambridge, but also expatriate Indians living in and around London”.155 The leftist writer Fox additionally helped in establishing the association consisting of six to seven members.156 Responsibility for the draft of the leftist-liberal programme was given to Mulk Rāj Ānand, who was a writer and editor of the Indian arts journal Mārg, and Dr Jyotirmaya Ghosh. Soon after that, Ānand was elected president of the AIPWA by the thirty to thirty-five attendees of the first meeting in London. After revising the programme of the party, it was published in February 1935 in the Left Review. An altered version was translated into Hindi and published in India eight months later by Premchand in his journal Haṅs (Swan). The altered version does not always match the original which lead to complications when the PWM appeared in India the following year.157 Particularly striking are the differences about the definition of Indian literature at that time. Therefore, the original version states that it “tried to find refuge from reality in spiritualism and idealism”158 whereas the Indian version recounts that it “run away from the realities of life, [and; A/N] had hidden in the protection of asceticism and devotionalism”.159 The first version goes on describing the literature as having an “furtive and sentimental attitude towards sex”160 while the second one does not even mention this. On the contrary, it proceeds to focus on asceticism and devotionalism that “has come to an excess”.161 Highly notable is also the definition of the association’s aims. Whilst the London version wanted to rescue “literature and other arts from the priestly, academic, and decadent classes […] and to make them [the people] the vital organ which will register the actualities of life”162 the Hindi version defined the goals of the association as follows:163

|| 154 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 1f; cf. Hafeez Malik, “The Marxist Literary Movement in India and Pakistan”, Journal of Asian Studies 26, no. 4 (August 1967): 651, accessed Apr 12, 2017, http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/2051241.pdf. 155 Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 64. 156 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 4f. 157 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 5 and 9. 158 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 6. 159 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 6. 160 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 7. 161 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 7. 162 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 7. 163 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 6–9.

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The object of this association is to take our literature and other art forms from the monopolistic control of priests, pundits and other conservatives. […] They [the people] should be made to reflect life and reality.164

Remarkable also is the slightly different view on Hindūstānī and Indo-Roman script. The original version stated, “[t]o strive for […] a common language (Hindustani) and a common script”,165 while the wording in Hindi reads as “[t]o propagate […] Hindustani as the national language and Indo-Roman as the national script”.166 Aḥmad ʻAlī’s statement many years later described the actual matter of a common or national language as such: “We dreamed of winning for Urdu and the regional languages the same respect, and for the Indian people the same dignity, which other civilized languages and societies enjoyed.”167 This shows that emphasis was on all Indian languages and not only on one in particular, though the pet project was evidently Urdu/Hindūstānī. These differences in the manifesto clearly indicate future problems of understanding the aims and role of the founders of the AIPWA and early Progressive Writers’ Movement. However, they also demonstrate the shared commitments of the writers in terms of organising themselves with publishing and translating the first version into Hindi, mentioning the importance of “freedom of expression and opinion”168 and offering financial help to other writers. According to Coppola, this kind of devotion is highly striking as there was little done in founding a literary organisation that connected the whole subcontinent except for The Indian P.E.N.169 in 1934170 and Bharatiya Sahitya Parishad (Indian Literary Assembly),171 an “all-India literary forum”172 in 1936.173 Furthermore, Coppola points out that the involvement of literature and Communism in trying to free India from British rule can be observed in the PWM’s manifesto. His assumption is supported by ʻAlī’s assertion that

|| 164 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 7. 165 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 9. 166 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 9. 167 Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 36. 168 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 10. 169 P.E.N. stands for Poets/Playwrights, Editors/Essayists and Novelists (cf. Rahul Sagar, “The Periodicals: Indian P.E.N., (1934-[?], Bombay)”, IdeasofIndia.org, no date, accessed: Jan 30, 2023, https://www.ideasofindia.org/project/indian-p-e-n/). 170 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 27. 171 The success of Bharatiya Sahitya Parishad led to the foundation of the famous Sahitya Akademia in India (cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 10). 172 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 10. 173 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 10.

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we [the members of the PWM; A/N] were ardent nationalist and anti-British, Marxism was not a ruling passion […]; and as the group expanded, leftist leanings, vague in some and pronounced in others, did become apparent, for there seemed no other way out of the social and political morass.174

In general, progressive writers disapprove of military dictatorships and try to raise the awareness of “an egalitarian society, with social justice and equal opportunities for all, with the ending of discrimination and exploitation between man and man, along with the war against caste, color, creed or class difference”.175 Nevertheless, this sort of approach, with its main goal an independent India, had to change after India’s independence in 1947.176 The founding of the association was also connected to several conferences, such as the International Congress for the Defence of Culture in Paris from 21st– 26th of June 1935, where Z̤ ahīr and Mulk Rāj Ānand met several literary giants such as Lous Aragon, E. M. Foster, Ralph Fox, André Gide, Henri Barbusse, or André Malraux.177 The outcome of this conference was the formation of the International Association of Writers for the Defence of Culture against Fascism, which was supported by the League of American Writers, the League of Left Writers in China, French writers as well as a delegation from the Soviet Union.178 It seems as if around two hundred writers from thirty-eight countries attended the conference in Paris with 3000 to 4000 people in the audience. Among them were delegations from American, Australian, British, French, German (writers in exile like Heinrich Mann) and Soviet writers.179 Only India was not represented adequately, as the delegation was represented by Sophia Wadia a Parsi, who was Indian only by marriage as she was born in Bogotá, Colombia to French parents. To avoid such misrepresentation of India in the future, Z̤ ahīr took the initiative after the conference to affiliate the future PWA with the international forum.180 Finally, the second International Association of Writers for the Defence of Culture held in London from 19th to 23rd of June 1936 was attended by Ānand, representing the AIPWA. The third conference was held in civil war-ravaged Madrid in summer 1937 with W. H. Auden, Ernest Hemingway, Malraux, John Das Passos and || 174 Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 36. 175 Prabhakar Machwe, “A Personal View of the Progressive Writers’ Movement”, in Marxist Influences and South Asian Literature, ed. Carlo Coppola, Volume I (East Lansing: Asian Studies Center, Michigan State University, 1974), 45. 176 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 9f. 177 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 77–81; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 205f. 178 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 206. 179 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 79ff. 180 Cf. Coppola, “Urdu Poetry,” 68 and 91; cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 207.

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Stephen Spender as well as Z̤ ahīr, who participated in the name of the AIPWA.181 Furthermore, there were several meetings in Cambridge and Oxford during February 1936 and April 1946 with many communist leaders as guests. Among the guests were Rev. C. F. Andrews, E. M. Foster, Mahatma Gandhi, George Lansbury, Lord Lytton, Jawaharlal Nehru, Bertrand Russell, Rabindranath Tagore, the Marquis of Zetland and W. B. Yeats.182 The AIPWA was not only active in Europe but also and mainly in India, where it was officially founded in 1936.

2.3.2 The continuation on the subcontinent In British India, the first conference of the All-India Progressive Writer’s Association was held in Lucknow on 9th and 10th of April 1936. The group appointed Premchand as president after Nehru declined.183 During the meeting, the aforementioned altered manifesto was presented. Consequently, a discussion about the national language of free India flared up, where some parties voted for Hindi and others for Urdu. To make the PWA palatable to those who were more conservative, various adjustments had to be made. Also problematic was the fact that the “Hindi writers were deeply sensitive about the relative immaturity and lack of prestige of their language and literature vis-à-vis Urdu”.184 Also, most were orthodox Hindus and did not want to surrender their exclusive position within Hindi literature. This resulted in disagreement over the preferred national language within the PWA.185 Also, the PWA’s ideological adoption of significant communistic views in 1936 compared to 1932, which then became a political platform, led to a split within the association and to many writers distancing themselves from the association.186 Aḥmad ʻAlī, was one of many who left, as he “rejected this identification of progressivism with Socialist Realism”.187 Coppola points out that he eventually defines his definition of progressivism in his essay ārṭ, siyāsat aur zindagī (Art, Politics and Life), which is neither Marxist nor Social Realist.188 Mahmud, on || 181 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 207f. 182 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 208. 183 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 23. 184 Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 11. 185 Cf. Coppola “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 11. 186 Cf. Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 35. 187 Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 65. 188 Cf. Coppola, “The Angārē Group”, 64f.

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the other hand, is not convinced of ʻAlī’s claim of not being or wanting to be a Marxist, as Angāre obviously was a political piece. Proof for this is the distribution of the political ideas of the other three members of the Angāre Group, which they later try to seek through the PWA.189 Adding to this theory is also the close connection, especially through Z̤ ahīr, the PWA later has to the Communist Party of India (CPI).190 On examining the PWM, Gopal scrutinises the support and engagement by male members towards females and female thematic areas insofar as they do not properly implement “progressiveness” and therefore gender into their work. If one analyses the manifestoes, essays and reports of conferences hardly anything deals with the general subject of “women or gender relations, apart from the occasional reference to the liberation of women from feudal ideologies”.191 She also finds various works that “draw on symbolic resources from deeply patriarchal traditions”192 difficult. Besides, even organisational work at conferences that the male members of the PWA, being male-dominated, did not want to carry out, was delegated to female members like Rashīd Jahāṉ, Hajrah Begum or Anil D’Silva. Consequently, Hajrah Begum urged the CPI, who works together with the PWA, to let her establish a “left women’s organisation that would include women from different classes, despite the reluctance of male party leaders to sanction the establishment of a separate organisation”.193 As per Gopal’s view, this elucidates that gender was put into the category of a social problem and would be eliminated once capitalism is abolished. She suspects that the absence of gender-related topics in various documents and the important manifestoes are “often subject to crassest sexism”194 as “[i]ssues such as purdah […] are ‘reduced to an attitude, a habit, a prejudice, social or personal, that will dissolve when more primary questions are posed and more radical commitments made’”.195 Still, current, and nationwide important events such as “Gandhi’s individual satyāgrah in 1940, the ‘Quit India’ Movement in 1942, the Bengal famine in 1943, the partition of India and independence in 1947 [or; A/N] the murder of the Mahatma in 1948 after the communal riots”,196 were written about in length.197 || 189 Mahmud, “Angāre”, 455f. 190 Cf. Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 17f. 191 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 28. 192 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 28. 193 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 29. 194 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 30. 195 Gopal, Literary Radicalism, 29f and cf. 28f. 196 Machwe, “A Personal View”, 45. 197 Cf. Machwe, “A Personal View”, 45.

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As progressive Urdu poetry was intertwined with nationalism, one may not be surprised that especially publications from the time around the Second World War were flooded with ideas against the British regime. The request of foreign rulers for Indian participation in the Second World War culminated in progressive writers calling the Second World War the ‘imperialist war’.198 This anti-war position, which led to the arrest and imprisonments of Sajjād Z̤ ahīr turns when the Germans invade Russia in June 1941. To support their communist brothers the PWA altered its statement against participation in the war and urges the people to support the British.199 A similar change can be seen after Independence and the resulting bloodbath of the Partition of the subcontinent. The socialist and united India that the progressives had hoped for was no more. On both sides, progressives mourned the outcome and wrote at length about Independence and its consequences. As the newly formed states of India and Pakistan were also seen as oppressors, the Left and progressive writers, who still contributed to each other’s journals, criticised the new governments.200 2.3.2.1 Progressive Writers in India after Independence After independence, the course against British oppression became meaningless. Hence, the PWA charted a more political course and identified itself with the Communist idea of the worker and peasant. This is quite different to the course set before, where the progressive writers rejected any “particular ideology or set of political beliefs”201 as for them it was a “revolutionary movement [...] an intellectual revolution”202 and not a political movement.203 Various incidents in the new country though, like the brutal crushing of the Telangana peasant movement, made the progressives realize that they had simply changed one oppressor for another. Thus, they continued to write poetry raising questions of social injustice but their focus also shifted towards international issues of Imperialism.204 Issues of concern for the PWA mostly regarded Third World countries. Progressive poets in India and Pakistan wrote about the Non-Aligned Movement in Bandung, Indonesia in 1955, about the struggles of

|| 198 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 53–57. 199 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 60. 200 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 15 and 63. 201 Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 40. 202 Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 40. 203 Cf. Ali, “The Progressive Writers’ Movement”, 40. 204 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 64–67.

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Iranian students in 1959, about the Algerian freedom movement, the Palestinian struggle, the Anti-Apartheid movement, and the Vietnam War. As mentioned not only Third World problems were addressed but any form of imperialism, including the McCarthy era of repression and dissent in USA, the European student uprisings in 1960s, the Rosenberg execution in 1953 or the murder of Patrice Lumumba, who was the first Prime Minister of the Republic of Congo. Also, the Civil Rights movement in the USA and the assassination of Martin Luther King in 1968 concerned progressive writers on both sides of the border.205 Mir and Mir state that this was due to the similar and shared “struggles of colonized peoples across the world”.206 Troublesome was the decline of fluent Urdu speakers and therefore readers in India after Independence. To preserve Urdu and its literature in India an AllIndia Urdu Progressive Writers’ Convention was convened in April 1960 in Nagpur by the All-India Urdu Writers’ Advisory Committee. To help Urdu writers, various suggestions for “collective business ventures”207 were discussed. It was agreed upon that Urdu speakers and readers should “publish good and inexpensive Urdu books and Urdu literary journals of high calibre”.208 To further promote Urdu, teachers and writers should “publish suitable Urdu textbooks; and make special endeavors to encourage the young writers by publishing their works for royalty”.209 Finally, the Sino-Indian conflict in 1962, as well as the Indo-Pak war in 1965, drove a wedge between India and Pakistan. Though with time most writers sided with India and expressed their views in their poetry, there were also writers such as Ali Sardar Jafri, who tried to unite the people in India and Pakistan instead of dividing them.210 Urdu now being identified with the language of Pakistan and Muslims suffered tremendously. This is one of the many reasons why the PWM in India, with its focus on Urdu, dramatically lost its reputation and a huge amount of its supporters, according to Mir and Mir.211 Hafeez Malik, on the other hand, sees the reason for the decreasing progressive Urdu writing in financial problems

|| 205 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 76–83. 206 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 87. 207 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 658. 208 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 659. 209 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 659 and cf. 658f. 210 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 68ff. 211 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 12f.

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as well as Hindi being adopted as an official language and medium of instruction in Northern India.212 Nevertheless, the PWA is still alive today, though in a different form and size than it used to be. Conferences were being held in April 2008 at Begusarai in Bihar and the Urdu wing had its own national conference in November 2008 in Azamgarh. Furthermore, the 15th national conference of the AIPWA is held in New Delhi in April 2012, which was attended by more than a thousand participants.213 With Urdu being the national language in Pakistan following independence, the Progressive Writer’s Movement in Pakistan lasted a while longer than in India. Facing its own problems in a newly established country, the progressive poets eventually also sustained an enormous setback by the governmental rulers. 2.3.2.2 Progressive Writers in Pakistan after 1947 As communist ideology was strongly disliked in the new Islamic Republic of Pakistan, the PWA struggled from the beginning. Since most of the Hindus had migrated from West Pakistan to India, the Communist Party was non-existent; thence from August 1947 until April 1948, the CPI in Pakistan operated from its Indian secretariat. The decision for a separate Communist Party in Pakistan (CPP) was made during the second Congress of the CPI, which was held in Calcutta between 28th of February and 6th of March 1948. Z̤ ahīr, a member of the CPI and Secretary-General of the AIPWA until 1948, was now appointed the same position in the CPP and resigned from his former positions. The new All-Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association (APPWA) was finally founded in Lahore with Aḥmad Nadīm Qāsmī as the first secretary.214 In the first meeting of the APPWA on 12th of November 1949 in Lahore another manifesto was passed. After an examination of the literary trends in the new state, it was decided to fight “against the oppressions of the Pakistani establishment, and by championing the cause of true democracy, world peace, and the progress of Socialism”.215 The declaration also differentiated between various groups of Pakistani writers. The first group, fighters for true democracy, has already been mentioned. The second group was said to be writers, “who represented only the aims and desires of the Pakistani rulers, whitewashing their || 212 Cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 658. A greatly detailed and lengthy study of the PWM with its beginning, its political involvements and some chosen poets are discussed in Coppola’s dissertation Urdu poetry, 1935–1970: The Progressive Episode. 213 Cf. Jalil, Liking Progress, 361. 214 Cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 659. 215 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661.

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tyranny and injustice, and inculcating complacency and pessimism in the mind of the people”,216 whereas the third group “want[s] to be neutral, preferring to achieve a compromise between the progressive and reactionary writers”.217 Malik depicts five different groups of “reactionary writers.” The first group “believe[s] in art for art's sake; they [are] indifferent to healthy or unhealthy art, being concerned only with stylistic embellishments”.218 According to him, they were the victors “of political and economic status quo, because art as the product of social actions cannot be divorced from the class struggle”.219 Whereas the second group “preache[s] poisonous chauvinism [as; A/N] [t]hey d[o] not really love Pakistan”.220 He furthermore delineates that art and literature for them was “only light, [an; A/N] entertaining art designed to win the favors of landlords and the ruling circles of Pakistan”.221 Therefore, they did not “make any distinction between the toiling masses of India and the fascist government of Nehru and Patel”.222 The third group then again was that of Pakistani nationalists. They were “ignorant of the true spiritual and moral values of Islam; they only [want] to cash in on the sale of ‘Islamic literature’”.223 It is also said that “[t]hey [promote] obscurantism, and s[i]ng the virtues of traditional asceticism as against the superior values of scientific learning and a general rational outlook on life”.224 The fourth group, on the other hand, represented the “Freudians, who follow principles of bourgeois psychology and emphasize the uniqueness of the individual. In their eyes, the sources of Pakistan's problems [are] not in the capitalistic social order, but in the intricate mechanism of the Pakistani mind”.225 The fifth group finally, was described as “a large group of pornographic writers, thriving on the base human instincts”.226 That is why, according to Malik, the manifesto declares that “progressive writers [shall; A/N] look upon art not as a mere reflection of life but as a tool to change society for the better”.227 As per Malik, the APPWA even banished “the bourgeois writers and their allies, the right-wing deviationists including Aziz Ahmad, Akhtar Husain Raipuri,

|| 216 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661. 217 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661. 218 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661. 219 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661. 220 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661. 221 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 661f. 222 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 223 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 224 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 225 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 226 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 227 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662 and cf. 661f.

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Ahmad Ali, Hasan Askari, Mumtaz Shirin, Sa'dat Hasan Manto, Noon Mim Rashid, Mumtaz Mufti, Shafiq-ur-Rahman, Qurrat al-Ayin Hayder, and Muhammad Din Tasir”.228 In addition, the APPWA tried to convince progressive literature journals not to accept and issue any of their works. As a result, many writers took governmental jobs in the public relations departments or at radio stations.229 This also led to the separation of two factions of writers. Malik further explains that the “dissidents [are] led by Hasan Askari, and Sa’dat Hasan Manto [turn] in disillusionment to art for the sake of art, and eventually [succeed] in winning over a number of young writers to their literary theory.”230 As most of them were immigrants from India, their themes revolve around “Indian Muslim life before the partition, [while; A/N] using their colloquial Urdu with intense nostalgia”.231 The other group, by contrast, was later known as the Sawerā Group, according to their journal. The leading figures were Aḥmad Nadīm Qāsmī and Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ. Malik furthermore asserts that the Sawerā Group is responsible for consolidating their rivalries, the Ḥalqah-e Arbāb-e Ẕauq (Circle of Men of Good Taste).232 The opposing movement or rivalries of the PWM was the Jadīdiyat Movement, which was represented by the Ḥalqah-e Arbāb-e Ẕauq with members such as N. M. Rāshid and Mīrājī, who would later gain “control over private and government owned literary publications”.233 After 1947 the Pakistani progressives continued to publicise various newspapers and journals, such as the Pakistan Times, Imroze (Today), Lail-o Nihār (Night and Day/Times) or even Savera (Dawn/Early Morning), Naqsh (Portrait/Picture), Sang-e Meel (Milestone) and Adab-e Latīf (Polite Letters) under the umbrella of Mian Iftikharuddin’s Progressive Papers Limmited (PPL). Also, the PWA played an important role in Lahore and Karachi until the establishement of the CPP in 1948 and the APPWA in 1949. To nip the work of the progressives in the bud, the Pakistani government tried to slander them with interruptive meetings, banned publications and eventually the imprisonment of writers and activists. The most spectacular ones include the allegedly conspiring cases in 1951, the so-called Rawalpindi Conspiracy Case, to overthrow the government, against Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ and Sajjād Z̤ ahīr, who spent several years in prison from 1953 onwards. In 1954, the CPP was eventually banned in Pakistan.234 A different example is Ḥabīb || 228 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 229 Cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 230 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 231 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 232 Cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 662. 233 Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 663. Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 22. 234 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 15f; cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 659.

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Jālib, who was arrested certain times for speaking against military regimes, especially those of Ayub Khan and Zia ul-Haq.235 Additional measures to eliminate the opposing views of the progressive writers against the Republic of Pakistan the APPWA was declared as a party by the government in 1951 and exists until 1958. The Ayub regime then accused the Progressive Papers Limited of collaborating with a foreign power (China) and consequently auctions the company for 4,600,000 Pakistani Rupees to Pakistani businessmen. These, in turn, sold it to Caudharī Z̤ ahūr Ilahī,236 who was a member of the Muslim League, Ayub Khan’s political party. As the Progressive Papers Limited was connected to every profitable newspaper and journal, the APPWA lost its funds and could not function anymore.237 Following the lines of progressive writers, one can also find Kishwar Nāhīd and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, who started writing in the late 1960s. According to Mir and Mir, progressive Urdu poetry could not be identified with one particular group anymore, partly because of growth of progressive literature in Hindko, Panjabi and Sindhi as well as socialism presently not determining progressive literature.238 In the late 1970s Kishwar Nāhīd’s, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s and other writers’ progressive literature became an important tool against the military dictatorship of Zia ul-Haq and his Islamisation programme that restricted women’s rights. Mir and Mir claim that Zia ul-Haq’s Islamization programme was the result of middleclass men, who saw their position of power in society and within their families shrinking due to women emerging onto the job market and becoming more and more independent. The progressive voices that criticised the sexist laws were of different sorts. Some addressed the political grievances more mildly and some spoke openly against the Zina Ordinances, which followed strict Sharia law.239 Nevertheless, the main theme was “[t]he deconstruction of the normative ideals of womanhood and femininity”,240 conclude Mir and Mir. Within the PWM hardly any feminist progressives can be found, though the original London manifesto from 1934 of the founding members of the PWA, clearly stated that it was desirable to “produce and to translate literature of a progressive nature”241 and that it “must deal with the basic problems of our existence || 235 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 18f. 236 Chaudary Zahur Ilahi. 237 Cf. Malik, “Marxist Literary Movement”, 663f. 238 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 18. 239 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 205f. 240 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 214. 241 Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 9.

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to-day -- […] hunger and poverty, social backwardness and political subjugation”.242 It also proposed to revolt against previous literature and “its furtive and sentimental attitude towards sex”.243 Consequentially, feminism, as well as female rights and the female point of view on the female body, were main goals that shall be written about within progressive literature. Next to overthrowing religious orthodoxy and modernising Indian literature in Marxist terms, producing depictions of reality was a principal motive against foreign oppression, while highlighting the importance of the working class and their influence regarding changes in the government.244 Recapitulating, the PWM was responsible for positive changes in Indian literature. Through it, writers also focused on international issues and attended to “exploitation, poverty, ignorance, blind superstition, narrow casteism and communalism”.245 Likewise, they went back to their roots and dealt with folk songs and folk tales and set plots in villages and tribal areas as well as expressing feministic topics openly. Though these were mostly “unnecessarily dubbed as pornographic or obscene”.246 Themes and motives of folk songs and tales also occur in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry whereas they do not seem to be specifically obscene. Finally, yet importantly, due to the PWM new words and technical terms were invented from indigenous synonyms.247 However, after Independence, most progressive writers avoided writing about women and feminism in general, as Mir and Mir illustrate lucidly. Those who did not were quite few. Only during the rising student protests worldwide and the growing sexist laws by the Pakistani government in the 1960s and 70s, did progressive female feminist Urdu writers emerge and openly talk about feminist topics in the guise of poetry. Most known are the figures of Kishwar Nāhīd and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, but others also portrayed their opinions publicly. Yet, the number of progressive female feminist writers in Urdu poetry is regrettably small to this day.248 To grasp the struggles and positions of these authors it is necessary to comprehend the meaning of feminism within the historical and sociological context of the Indian subcontinent.

|| 242 Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 8. 243 Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 7. 244 Cf. Coppola, “The All-India Progressive Writers’ Association”, 6–9. 245 Cf. Machwe, “A Personal View”, 51. 246 Machwe, “A Personal View”, 51. 247 Machwe, “A Personal View”, 51f. 248 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 201–221.

3 Feminism(s) – The problem of defining “a” feminism Researchers of feminism or Women Studies define the term “feminism” differently depending on their academic point of view as well as their historical background and the subject they focus on. There are several debates on how “feminism” shall be understood, whether there is one or several “feminisms” and if the meaning(s) and definition(s) are supposed to be static or in flux, depending on the era, geographic location, historic environment, and political and economic development.1 According to Badran, the term “feminism” was first mentioned in Hubertine Auclert’s magazine La Citoyenne. In an article from the late 1880s, Hubertine Auclert defined “feminism” as a critique of “male predominance (and domination), and [a claim] for women’s rights and emancipation promised by the French Revolution”.2 Gradually spreading from France and French to other languages, the term “feminism” reached British English between 1900 and 1910 and American English in the 1910s and even Egypt in the early 1920s, where the French and Arabic version, al-nisaʼiyya3 or al haraka al-nisaʼiyya (Women’s Movement),4 of the term was used.5

|| 1 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 314 and 324f; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 4; cf. Khawar Mumtaz and Farida Shaheed, Women of Pakistan: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back? (London: Zed Books Ltd, 1987), 1; cf. Mrinalini Sinha, “A Global Perspective on Gender: What’s South Asia Got to Do With It?”, in South Asian Feminisms, ed. Ania Loomba, and Ritty A. Lukose (Durham: Duke University Press, 2012), 356; cf. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Method in Women’s Studies in Religion: A Critical Feminist Hermeneutics”, in Methodology in Religious Studies: The Interface with Women’s Studies, ed. Arvind Sharma, McGill Studies in the History of Religions (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002), 209. 2 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 242. 3 A constructed word from the plural Arabic word for “women”: nisā" (cf. Alexandra Samoleit, “Die ägyptische Frauenbewegung des 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts und ihre Verbindungen zu internationalen Frauenorganisationen. [German: The Egyptian Women’s Movement of the 19th and Early 20th Century and its Connections to International Women Organisations.]”, term paper, Universität Erfurt, 16.03.2007 (München: GRIN Verlag, 2007), 4f, accessed Dec 2, 2018, https://www.grin.com/document/84326. 4 Ream Jazzar, “The Egyptian Women’s Movement: Identity Politics and the Process of Liberation in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” (master’s dissertation, Arizona State University, Dec 2011), vii, accessed Mar 23, 2023, https://hdl.handle.net/2286/R.I.14286. 5 Cf. Badran, Feminism in Islam, 242. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-003

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In the 1960s and 1970s “feminism” was known globally and used during the Western “Women’s Liberation Movement of the late 1960s”6 as well as the “international feminist movement”,7 which started in the 1970s. The then-radical “antiracist and anti-imperialist”8 feminism gradually evolved to a more liberal feminism with a shift of focus from imperialism and racism towards social equality.9 After a Western approach and long Eurocentric usage of the term for many decades in Western and global media, Mohanty and others agree there cannot be only one meaning of the term “feminism” and that it is necessary to define each feminism anew according to the historic and ethnic background of the research group.10 However, many researchers, criticises Mohanty, only distinguish between Western and Third World feminism, which can prove to be incorrect as the subgroups within these groups show similar but not same histories and realities, wherefore the definition of one subcategory cannot simply be transferred to another subcategory.11 Furthermore, the categories Third World and Western do not consist of a homogenous group of women and Third World not only refers to an underdeveloped or overexploited “geographical location as well as particular sociohistorical conjunctures”,12 but also includes minorities, non-Caucasian people and oppressed nationalities from such locations in the developed nations, highlight Johnson-Odim and Mohanty.13 Mohanty further states that, therefore, Third World feminism has to be critical of Western feminism as well as focusing on the historical, cultural, geographical background to form an independent view on the various forms of Third World feminisms and feminism in general.14 As there is a lot more research about Western feminism, which focuses on the white middle-class and hardly any on Third World feminism it is necessary to point out the major differences of these broadly defined categories of feminism. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the industrialised countries emerged from the civil rights movements and many Third World countries broke free of colonial rule. While white women in the industrialised countries slowly secured

|| 6 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 146. 7 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 8 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 9 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 10 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 314 and 324f; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 4; cf. Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 1; cf. Sinha, “A Global Perspective on Gender”, 356; cf. Schüssler Fiorenza, “Method in Women’s Studies”, 209. 11 Cf. Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 74f. 12 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 2. 13 Cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 2; cf. Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 71. 14 Cf. Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 51.

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more rights and social justice this was not the case for women belonging to ethnic minorities in the West or belonging to former colonies in the East. Hence, Johnson-Odim and Mohanty conclude, the quest for equality regarding economic exploitation, imperialism and racism, influences and composes the meaning of “feminism as a philosophy and a movement for social justice”15 in Third World countries, whereas the focus of European and American women is on “gender and class relations”.16 This statement is not entirely true for Pakistan’s feminism as Fahmīdah’s poems show a combination of a debate for social justice as well as gender and class relations. Additionally, researchers highlight that there is the problem of terming the social struggle of women against sexism and oppression of women as “feminism” itself, due to the “racial tendencies of bias and blindness”17 towards Women of Colour within and outside of Europe and the United States of America. As a result, women belonging to this group prefer to use the term “womanism” to “feminism”.18 Johnson-Odim points out that according to Mona Etienne and Eleanor Leacock a common misconception in the West is that “egalitarian relations between women and men”19 are rooted in the West and brought to its former colonies. Yet, the contrary is true as “mutually respectful relations were a living reality”20 in many countries and in Islamic societies before colonialism.21 Naturally the understanding and definition of what “feminism” covers and can mean within former colonies and Eastern countries transformed over the period of time. Several factors underlie internal and external influences, such as patriarchy or the oppression of women, which can be a negative effect of “[i]nternationally orchestrated exploitation”.22 Schüssler Fiorenza for instance, suggests that patriarchy is the “subordination and exploitation of wo/men who are differently located on the

|| 15 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 16 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 314 and cf. 316; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 3f. 17 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 146. 18 Cf. Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 146; cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 319; cf. Schüssler Fiorenza, “Method in Women’s Studies”, 208. 19 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 321. 20 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 321. 21 Cf. Marlé Hammond, “Farida Shaheed with Aisha Lee Shaheed: Great Ancestors: Women Claiming Rights in Muslim Contexts. Xxxvii, 220 Pp. Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2011. £13.99. ISBN 978 0 19 547636 1”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 75, no 3 (10.2012): 587, accessed Apr 8, 2017. doi:10.1017/S0041977X12000778; cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 321. 22 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 322.

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patriarchal pyramid of intermeshed structural oppressions”23 and “feminism” therefore, is “a theoretical perspective and historical movement for changing sociocultural and religious structures of domination and exploitation”.24 Mohanty further clarifies oppression merely being illustrated as the “practice of veiling women”25 or sexual segregation in Islamic or other societies is analytically reductive and consequently shall be disregarded. It is further important to leave Eurocentric assumptions aside and to have a look at the “first and third world power shifts”26 to define “feminism” realistically. Mohanty also criticises the usage of “feminist” concepts like “reproduction, the sexual division of labor, the family, marriage, household [or; A/N] patriarchy”,27 which are applied in a universal way and not within “local cultural and historical contexts”28 and therewith do not depict the reality for women’s subordination. Here again, the sexual division of labour acts as a simple proof for women’s oppression in such societies.29 Johnson-Odim on the other hand, stresses directly the notions of affected women in Third World countries. Thus, she emphasises Cagatay, Grown and Santiago’s definition at the Nairobi Women’s Conference from 1986, that “feminism” “constitutes the political expression of the concerns and interests of women from different regions, classes, nationalities, and ethnic backgrounds”30 and should be defined by the women in question. Furthermore, Johnson-Odim quotes Marie Angelique Savan’s speech from 1982 at length, who also agrees to “feminism” being a political fight against women’s oppression, while maintaining “national and ethnic traditions”31 and eliminating “aspects of our culture which discriminate, restrict and devalue women’s physical, psychological and political development”.32 To achieve this, women shall “speak from a woman’s perspective”33 in writings and day to day life to ensure that “society give[s] and maintain[s] value and respect for women’s contributions in their roles within the labour force, in

|| 23 Schüssler Fiorenza, “Method in Women’s Studies”, 210. 24 Schüssler Fiorenza, “Method in Women’s Studies”, 209f. 25 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 67. 26 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 72. 27 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 67. 28 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 67. 29 Cf. Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 67f. 30 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 325. 31 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 325. 32 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 325. 33 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 325.

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the family and culturally”,34 while condemning any ethnicity, gender or racebased discrimination or injustice.35 To sum up, there are two levels at which feminism manifests: The representation of women, womanhood, and femininity within society at large and dailylife struggles, which involve family, home, sexuality, and work. These images are also reflected in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s work, whose focus is on female sexuality, women’s rights, and the portrayal of women in society as well as their public or religious restrictions. Apart from this, she covered feelings like love, menstruation, motherhood, mortality, or the question of life from the female point of view. However, these levels of feminism tend to be divided into the categories of women in underdeveloped or developing and developed countries and hence judges “[l]egal, economic, religious, and familial structures […] by Western standards”.36 It is also likely that this image of division is adopted and supported by Third World women to self-exoticize their position and engage in “othering” thought patterns. This creates different approaches and perspectives of feminism. While the focus is on “gender difference”37 in the West it is on paternalistic structures in the East, which supports existing stereotyping of Third World women being “religious (read ‘not progressive’), family-oriented (read ‘traditional’), legal minors (read ‘they-are-still-not-conscious-of-their-rights’), illiterate (read ‘ignorant’), domestic (read ‘backward’), and sometimes revolutionary (read ‘their-country-is-in-a-state-of-war; they-must-fight!’)”.38 Interestingly, Fahmīdah did not focus as much on paternalistic structures as she did on gender difference. She also tended to criticise religion, which supported her world view of being progressive, not traditional and being aware of her rights. This is particularly evident in her earliest works. Nevertheless, she did create an image of being revolutionary and after all this is what she claimed to be all her life: a rebel who must fight against injustice within her country. Thus, it is necessary to look at feminism(s) in South Asia from within a cultural and historical background to comprehend the meaning of “feminism” for women in this geographical area.

|| 34 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 325. 35 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 324f. 36 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 72. 37 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 72. 38 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 72. Cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 21.

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3.1 The meaning of “feminism” in South Asia As Mohanty points out, the general biased scholarly opinion about Third World women portrays them as belonging to underdeveloped and overpopulated countries with a high illiteracy rate, oppressive traditions, religious fanaticism, and poverty. They wrongly construct these women as a “homogeneous ‘powerless’ group”39 and impose victimhood of “male violence […] [,] Arab familial system[s] [,] […] economic development [and colonial] process[es] […] [and; A/N] the Islamic code”40 on them. Women are therefore reduced to “the way in which they are affected”41 and not how they feel or think or which “class, ethnic or racial location”42 they belong to. This “universa[l] and cross-cultural[l]”43 application is highly uncritical; hence, this problematic approach shall be avoided as it only serves contrasting Third World women to “the (implicit) self-representation of [modern and educated] Western women”,44 stresses Mohanty. That is why the meaning of “feminism” must be depicted separately for every region, according to cultural structures and women’s political consciousness and self-identity on an organisational and private level during revolutionary and peaceful times.45 Third World women reject the Western notion of “feminism” and even question the term altogether, as for them it means a “liberal, bourgeois, or reformist feminism”46 with the only focus on gender discrimination. Instead as JohnsonOdim, Komarraju and Raman, Mohanty and Ty and Razvi elucidate, the concerning women understand it as a “fundamentally political movement connected […] to the struggle of their communities for liberation and autonomy”47 within the social system and at multiple levels, though of course “sexual egalitarianism is a major goal”,48 just neither the only nor the primary one. This political movement shall generate justice on the private, local, national, and global level while considering women’s oppression, the “role of gender in power relations and

|| 39 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 57. 40 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 57. 41 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 57. 42 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 55. 43 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 55. 44 Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 56. 45 Cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 5f, 33; cf. Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes”, 55ff. 46 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 315. 47 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 317. 48 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 315.

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knowledge construction”49 in the concerned countries, based on race and class. It shall furthermore spread the awareness that “in this male-governed society […] all values are male-oriented”50 and mobilise women to be “as free and independent as men”.51 Dasgupta additionally elucidates that the “politics of power relations, interrogating the stereotypes and critiquing the icons of patriarchal ideology”52 shall be included, especially in “feminist” literature. The younger generation, however, has a slightly different understanding of “feminism,” in particular in India, as Komarraju and Raman expound. Their case study of men and women between 18 and 25 in Hyderabad shows that most believe “feminism” “being ‘for women and of women,’ with only a few pointing out that it is about equality of all genders”.53 Here, Komarraju and Raman discover that most of the participants define “feminism” as something from women for women, excluding the male view in the picture.54 Anagol in her study about Indian feminism in colonial Maharashtra, however, defines “feminism” as “a theory and practice based on […] challeng[ing]”55 women’s subordination in society, while “attempting to redress the balance of power between the sexes”.56 Contrary to Komarraju and Raman’s study highlights, that “feminism” comprises women, as well as men, who are aware of “injustice towards women as a group either by men and/or other women, religion, or by customs”,57 including persons, who voiced their disagreement individually or collectively by speaking out or taking action towards such

|| 49 Rey Ty, and Meena Razvi. “Critical Post-Colonial Feminism in Southeast Asia and South Asia,” (conference paper, Midwest Research to Practice Conference, Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green, Oct 2-4, 2008), 2, accessed Oct 24, 2018, https://www.academia.edu/313728/Rey_Ty_and_Razvi_M._2008_._Critical_Post_Colonial_Feminism_in_Southeast_Asia_and_South_Asia._Midwest_Research_to_Practice_Conference._Bowling_Green_Wes tern_Kentucky_University._pp._230–235. 50 Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 67. 51 Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 67. 52 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 136. 53 Sai Amulya Komarraju and Usha Raman, “Indian Millennials Define Feminism”, Feminist Media Studies 17, no. 5 (2017): 894, accessed Dec 12, 2018, doi:10.1080/14680777.2017.1350519. Cf. Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 136; cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 315– 318; cf. Komarraju and Raman, “Indian Millennials”, 893f; cf. Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 67; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 7; cf. Ty and Razvi, “Critical Post-Colonial Feminism”, 2. 54 Cf. Komarraju and Raman, “Indian Millennials”, 892–896. 55 Padma Anagol, The Emergence of Feminism in India, 1850–1920 (London: Routledge, 2005), 13. 56 Anagol, Emergence of Feminism, 13. 57 Anagol, Emergence of Feminism, 13.

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injustice, while engaging in strategies “to improve the disadvantage status of the female sex”.58 To achieve this, literary expressions seems to be an invaluable tool. In the Indian subcontinent feminist movements arose around partition for national independence against imperialism and as a means for the modernisation of “precapitalist religious and feudal structures”.59 A very important tool was women’s writings, particularly, feminist literature. With the emphasis on “oppressions as fundamental to the experience of social and political marginality […] the crucial role of a hegemonic state in circumscribing their […] daily lives and survival struggles […] [,] writing in the creation of oppositional agency”60 and “differences, conflicts, and contradictions”61 within their communities as well as women’s organisations. Speaking from within their communities about “[s]ex, region, religion, politics, education and language”,62 women were able to inspire and influence literature and consequently “exercise[d] […] power and domination”,63 exemplify Dasgupta and Mohanty. In doing so, Mohanty clarifies that they “covert images of resistance during nonrevolutionary times”64 and document historical events, create a “communal (feminist) political consciousness through the practice of storytelling”65 and redefine the “possibilities of political consciousness and action”.66 To achieve a change, female or feminist writers “construc[t] relationships between the self and the reader”67 while conveying female imagination and the experience of women, using feminist language in “novel[s], poetry, drama, essays, letters and journals edited by women”.68 Mittra and Kumar mention that this is the “essence of the feminist movement [:] gynocriticism”,69 a term created by Ellen Showalter.70 The usage of feminist languages, imagination and female experience are also an important factor in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry and prose, which proves her literature as being of a feminist nature.

|| 58 Anagol, Emergence of Feminism, 13. 59 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 9. 60 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 10. 61 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 10. 62 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 139. 63 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 35. 64 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 35. 65 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 35. 66 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 35. 67 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 37. 68 Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 68. 69 Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 68. 70 Cf. Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 139; cf. Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 68; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 9f, 35, 37.

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As a result, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ and other Pakistani women, living in a segregated and restricted society, can depict their opinions and views on the world freely through the medium of Urdu literature, most of all in poetry. However, a historical summary is essential to be able to comprehend the interplay of external and internal factors such as Western influence and globalisation and imperialism, Islam, and patriarchal and socio-political structures.71

3.2 Forms of feminism in the Indian subcontinent As Jayawardena correctly exemplifies, feminism is “a social movement to reform traditional structures”.72 In the Indian subcontinent it unfolded in “three major waves of feminist expression”:73 various bodies of literature by individuals, individual activism in daily life and activism in an organised movement. The first wave included “poems, short stories, novels, autobiography, journalistic articles, essays and scholarly works which express forms of gender consciousness, disseminate feminist ideas, generate debat [sic!] and consolidate women’s networks”,74 which at the same time underwent three phases, namely “imitation, protest and self-discovery”75 and might have been affected by Western feminist movements in the late 1960s. The second wave concentrated on “creating social service association”76 as well as improving and enforcing rights in education and modern professions, which established a stronger position for women in society and public life. Finally, the third wave built on the social consolidation of women and forced society to deal with women’s rights.77 It is important to note that these three waves existed simultaneously and were sometimes even intertwined. In consequence, the literary works of women, with focus on poetry, who processed and illustrated their anger and protest about “the traditional images of women

|| 71 Cf. Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 68; cf. Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 30. 72 Kumari Jayawardena, Feminism and Nationalism in the Thirld World, ACLS Humanities EBook edition (London: Zed Books, 1994), 73, accessed May 15, 2018. 73 Abida Samiuddin and Rashida Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism and Feminist Movement: South Asia, Vol. 1 India, ed. Abida Samiuddin, and Rashida Khanam (Delhi: Global Vision Pub-lishing House, 2002), vi. 74 Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, vi. 75 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 139. 76 Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, vi. 77 Cf. Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 139 and 146; cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, vi.

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projected in poems written by men”,78 but also by daily-life expectations of society, changed and later on centred around women’s own desires, bodies and thoughts. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, for instance, who was part of the first and third wave of feminism, dealt with these exact issues in her poetical work. To some extent, there were even greater shifts, such as Bengali women poets’ move from alienation and feminism in the 1970s to “transcendence, accommodation and gender relations”79 in the 1990s. Subsequently, “binary oppositions such as male/female, domination/subordination, superior/inferior, aggressive/docile, active/passive, los[t] their rigidity”,80 expounds Dasgupta.81 However, in Pakistani poetry, too, women protested for their rights, criticised social norms that favour men and tried to draw attention to injustice and discrimination in daily and public life. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry is characteristic of this as it deals with these issues to increase the social position of Pakistani women. This activism though, is not only limited to literary works but can also be seen in active protest. One case is the fight for women’s education. 28 per cent of Pakistan’s women are situated in urban spaces and therefore must fulfil the duties of a working woman as well as a housewife. Nonetheless, these middle- and upperclass women are still far more privileged than the lower middle-class women or lower-class women, who might be the most restricted of all as many of them will not even have access to basic education let alone higher education. As a result, female activists are against separate women’s universities, which might “further marginalize women”,82 refusing them entry to technical and higher professional fields and instead only gaining access to courses with “’female-appropriate’ subjects”.83 Instead, they campaign for equal rights around admission and the free choice of subjects.84 At this point, the question arises regarding which social circumstances have led to these oppressed positions of women all over the Indian subcontinent and a brief outline of the different influences on women as well as their position in society today shall provide clarity.

|| 78 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 140. 79 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 140. 80 Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 140. 81 Cf. Dasgupta, “Feminism”, 140. 82 Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 62. 83 Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 62. 84 Cf. Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 59f and 62.

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3.3 Different influences on women Several events in the Indian subcontinent explain the status of women today. They include colonial rule by the British, the revival and inclusion of feminism in Islam, the influence of Hindu culture regarding caste and notions of purity about women, the socio-political position of women as well as patriarchal family structures and the perception of women in general. These criteria shaped the face(s) of feminism in the subcontinent in individual ways.

3.3.1 Colonial rule as influence on women The rights for women and the formation of a feminist agenda are closely related to the political and sociocultural atmosphere of a state. As the civil rights movement in the United States has influenced women’s lives in the US as has the declaration for Independence and casting off colonial rule in the Indian subcontinent. Thus, it is essential to have a brief look at the colonial rule and its influence on women in the subcontinent. Johnson-Odim illustrates, neither the events in the Western world in the 1950s and 60s nor India’s partition resulted in a major improvement for “the quality of life for the overwhelming majority of Third World women”,85 however, the feminist movement in the 1970s ensured that women’s, particularly non-caucasian women, voices and opinions would be embedded in the meaning of “feminism” “as a philosophy and a movement for social justice”.86 Contrary to white women, they still encountered “racism, economic exploitation, and imperialism”.87 These obstacles, which stem from colonialism, tended to be more difficult to overcome for women as colonial rule meant the implementation “of hegemonic masculinities as a form of state rule”,88 wherefore already existent patriarchal structures, as well as different hierarchies for castes and classes, were absorbed and consolidated. Mohanty, referring to KumKum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid’s introduction of Recasting women about Indian colonial and postcolonial history, points out that patriarchies themselves formed and transformed caste and class systems, which resulted in having “a dynamic, necessary relation between

|| 85 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 86 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 87 Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316. 88 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 18.

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understandings of class/caste and patriarchies under British rule”.89 As Mohanty exemplifies, this had a negative effect on women and women’s rights “across class/caste hierarchies”.90 One of these was agrarian regulations, where various groups of (male) landowners were strengthened and favoured, and women per se were excluded from owning property. Apart from this, several “patriarchal practices [such as A/N] marriage, succession and adoption”91 were adopted and embedded unaudited into colonial laws, which added to the detrimental situation of women and eventually worsened it.92 An additional problem for Indian women under British rule was the sexualisation, an outcome of the “consolidation of public and private spheres of the Indian middle class in the nineteenth century”.93 Under the influence of “Victorian ideas of the purity and homebound nature of women”,94 particularly middle-class women were led to believe that these concepts were part of female emancipation, whereas their only purpose was a revival of nationality and rejection of “Western materialism and lower caste/class sexual norms”.95 Interestingly, it was middleclass men, who led these social reform movements and therefore regulated “the sexuality of middle-class women, and selectively encouraging women’s entry into the public sphere, by instituting modes of surveillance which in turn controlled women’s entry into the labor force and into politics”.96 Naturally, early feminist movements in India mainly stem from middle-class women, who focussed on the modernisation of religious norms, the removal of an imperial state and the incorporation of the middle-class as rulers. Mohanty suggests that this created “tensions between progressive and conservative ideas and actions”.97 These movements focused “on gender equality in the home and workplace and questioned both feudal and colonial structures, but were nevertheless partially tied to middle-class familial ideologies and agendas as well as to feudal patriarchal norms”.98 Consequently, women not belonging to the middle-

|| 89 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 18. 90 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 18f. 91 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 19. 92 Cf. Johnson-Odim, “Common Themes, Different Contexts”, 316; cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 18f. 93 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20. 94 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20. 95 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20. 96 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20. 97 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20. 98 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 21.

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class, later started fighting against the “paternal, middle-class”,99 its notions of a “racist […] [and; A/N] imperial state”100 as well as colonialism, class and gender equality.101 Apart from that, the emerging revival of feminism in Islam, particularly in Pakistan as Islam is the state religion, was another feminist movement, which questioned patriarchal structures and strived for gender equality.

3.3.2 Islamic feminism vs. “Feminism in Islam” “Islamic feminism” and “Feminism in Islam” are very often used as synonyms, although there are subtle differences. The term “Feminism in Islam” for instance stems from Western literature that increasingly dealt with the question of women and Islam in the 1990s. The movement, however, started in the second half of the nineteenth century, where gender inequality and male domination were questioned and the demands for public and private equality were made by middleand upper-class women.102 One might cautiously try to place some of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems into this category of “Feminism in Islam” as she questions gender equality in Islam in few poems. However, it is very farfetched to place Fahmīdah herself into this group given that for most of her life she was anti-religious and called herself an atheist before she started believing in Sufism.103 Classifying her or her secular liberal-progressive poetry as “Islamic feminist” or “Islamic feminism” is also out of the question as shall be clear by the context of “Islamic feminism” based on the Qur’an, the Sharīʻa (Islamic Law based on the Qur’an and the aḥādīth104) and Islam as religion. “Islamic feminism”, as Badran elucidates, is “a feminist discourse and practice articulated within an Islamic paradigm”.105 It “derives its understanding and mandate from the Qur’an, seeks rights and justice for women, and for men, in the totality of their existence”.106 Thus, it “uses Islamic discourse as its paramount”107 to fight for gender equality, as Badran further explains. The first occurrence of || 99 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 21. 100 Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 21. 101 Cf. Mohanty, introduction to Third World Women, 20f. 102 Cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, v. 103 Cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 10:05–10:10. 104 A collection of the accounts, actions, and words of the Prophet Mohammed. 105 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 242. 106 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 242. 107 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 246.

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the term “Islamic feminism” can also be dated back to the 1990s when more and more Muslim women opposed the “Arabian patriarchal practices”108 and “imports from surrounding inegalitarian civilizations”,109 which debilitated “the true intent of the Qur’an”110 and therefore, gender equality. To achieve this, “Islamic feminists” examine the Qur’an, as it “affirms the principle of equality of all human beings, and that the practice of equality between women and men (and other categories of people)”111 without appended patriarchal structures that were labelled onto interpretations of Islamic guidelines by male interpreters. As Badran exemplifies, these interpretations, so-called tafsīr, are “promoting a doctrine of male superiority reflecting the mindset of the prevailing patriarchal cultures”.112 She concludes that as “Islamic feminism” “insists on full equality of women and men across the public-private spectrum”113 it is “more radical than Muslims’ secular feminisms”.114 “Islamic feminism” emerged in the subcontinent in Pakistan during the era of Zia ul-Haq’s military dictatorship from 1977–1988, where his Islamisation process limited women’s rights.115 Afiya Shehrbano Zia, however, points out, that “Islamic feminism”, opposing “upper-class, urban-based, academic”116 or liberal secular feminism in Pakistan is not simply a homogenous construct but, according to her, consists of two subsections: the Islamic Revivalist Feminists or Islamic Modernist Feminists and the Islamic Feminists. Zia further mentions, that both groups call themselves “Islamic Feminists”, but while some withing those groups do support the need for a theocratic state and others do not, some revivalist academics do not even recognise feminist values.117 The major and most notable difference between the Islamic Revivalists and the Islamic Feminists, however, is their consideration regarding the notion of politics. Religion being a “private

|| 108 Nikki R. Keddie, “The Past and Present of Women in the Muslim World”, reprint of ‘Journal of World History’ no. 1 (1), 1990, p. 77–108, in Women and Islam: Critical Concepts in Sociology, Vol. 1, Images and Realities, edited by Haideh Moghissi (Oxon and New York: Routledge: 2005), 53. 109 Keddie, “The Past and Present of Women”, 53. 110 Keddie, “The Past and Present of Women”, 53. 111 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 247. 112 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 248. 113 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 250. 114 Badran, Feminism in Islam, 250 and cf. 243, 246ff, 250; cf. Keddie, “The Past and Present of Women”, 53. 115 Cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, viiif. 116 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 233. 117 Cf. Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 227f.

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spiritual, cultural and social vehicle of empowerment”118 for the Islamic Feminists, is a “political expression of belief as a legitimate mode of women’s agency and liberation”119 for the Islamic Revivalists, according to Zia. While Revivalists, therefore, try to re-introduce “Islamic economic, legal and political systems”120 and understand western notions, modernity as well as secular laws as a colonial construct, Zia points out, that groups of religious right-wing organisations, such as the Jamaat-e Islami, still call their women modern, but distinguish the meaning from the western notion of the word. 121 Thus, supporting a “patriarchal, discriminatory social, political and economic order”,122 even women belonging to such groups agree to light beatings according to the Sharīʻa in case of women having a “’certain character’”123 or rethink the concept of polygamy, which is often seen as improper in today’s Pakistan.124 During Zia ul-Haq’s implementation of the discriminative ḥudūd-Ordinances (Penalty Ordinances), the first secular women’s movement took effect due to religion as a basis of the Islamic Revivalists and Feminists to encompass women fighting for women’s rights from all social classes, since the Revivalists managed to provide “’solace and solidarity’”125 also to lower-class women, which seemed to be amiss with the secular Feminists, who could not manage to address enough women for the movement, except from the fewer middle- and upper-classes.126 Today’s “Islamic feminist reformist project”,127 which stems from the Islamic Feminists of the 1980s and at that time resisted against patriarchy, as well as a “male-defined Islam and […] religion as a pawn abused by an oppressive state”,128 unfortunately has not led to a reformed Islam, as intended by international donors, but a “legitimate mobilising strategy almost exclusively for the radical right”.129 Therewith, the project today aims at converting a/the secular state to || 118 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 232. 119 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 232. 120 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 230. 121 Cf. Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 232ff. 122 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 235. 123 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 235. 124 Cf. Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 235, 241. 125 Farida Shaheed, “Women’s Experiences of Identity, Religion and Activism in Pakistan”, in The Post-Colonial State and Social Transformation in India and Pakistan, ed. S. M. Naseem and, Khalid Nadvi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002): 367, quoted in Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 230. 126 Cf. Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 230, 225—245. 127 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 231. 128 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 231. 129 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 231.

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implement religion onto it.130 This clearly contradicts, the Islamic Feminists demand for the separation of religion and the affairs of the state without the implementation of Islamic laws.131 As shown, both strands of Islamic Feminists fight for different women’s rights than secular feminism, which, maybe due to its disentanglement of the religious factor, is able to acquire less supporters for their cause. Besides religion, Pakistan’s changing political atmosphere has a great impact on the lives of women, which shall, thus, be briefly elucidated.

3.3.3 The fluctuating women’s legal rights in Pakistan’s society Already the struggle for Independence in the 1930s and 1940s directed women into political participation, a crucial factor for women’s rights in general and among Muslim women. After the formation of India and Pakistan, Pakistani women pressed for equality of status, opportunity, work, and inheritance under the Sharīʻa (Muslim Personal Law), which were passed as the Charter of Women’s Rights in 1954 by the Constituent Assembly of Pakistan. With the national elections in 1956 women also gained voting rights. When Ayub Khan successfully overthrew the Parliament with his military coup in 1958 the 1954 Charter was abolished. Ayub Khan’s aim was the modernisation of the Pakistani state with the help of “western theories of development”.132 In 1955 a commission of three women and man each and one religious scholar reviewed Muslim Family Law and recommended that “greater rights”133 be accorded “to women in marriage, divorce, maintenance, and custody”134 in the following year. As religious fundamentalists opposed this report it took until 1961, when Ayub Khan passed the Muslim Law Family Ordinance, executing most proposals. Women were now “able to inherit agricultural property (in consonance with Islamic law), second marriages”135 needed the agreement of the first wife and women could initiate a

|| 130 Cf. Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 231. 131 Zia, “Faith-based Politics”, 232. 132 Farhat Haq, “Women, Islam and the State in Pakistan”, reprint of „The Muslim World” no. 86 (2), Apr 1996, p. 158–175, in Women and Islam: Critical Concepts in Sociology, Vol. 3, Women’s Movements in Muslim Societies, ed. Haideh Moghissi (London: Routledge: 2005), 204. 133 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 204. 134 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 204. 135 Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 4.

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divorce. From now on, there were more rules and guidelines for divorces by the man and marriages had to be registered by the state.136 The December 1970 elections were won by Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), who came to power in 1972 after the 1971 war, which led to the separation of East Pakistan from Bangladesh.137 The Constitution from 1973 not only granted education for all women but ensured women’s equality. Article 25– 1 provided this equality for all citizens and their protection. In addition, Article 25–3 stated, that discrimination based on sex is prohibited and public service jobs were to be given without prejudices regarding “religion, caste, sex, residence, and place of birth”.138 However, Bhutto was not long in power, as General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq overthrew the government on 5th of July 1977 and declared Martial Law after Bhutto’s arrest. In March 1978 he declared to implement the Sharīʻa and therefore to Islamise Pakistan’s society. This cut women’s rights drastically. In 1979, Zia ulHaq finally got Bhutto executed on the 4th of April and his government started issuing orders with specifications about the appropriate “Islamic” dress for women. This meant women had to cover their hair and wear “decent” clothes, particularly in government offices and on state television. Additionally, television programmes and films were censored to “purify morality”.139 In 1980 female participants were also banned from all spectator sports. During this time women in public were harassed by strangers for their mode of dress and television programmes portrayed women as the root for corruption, being responsible for bribery, “smuggling or pilfering funds, all in order to satisfy the insatiable female desire for clothes and jewelry”.140 Working women, on the other hand, were seen as “the cause of lax morality and the disintegration of the family and social values”.141

|| 136 Cf. Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 4, cf. Haq, “Women, Islam”, 200f and 203f; cf. Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia, s.v. “Women’s Suffrage”, Encyclopaedia Britannica, Apr 18, 2019, accessed Apr 18, 2019, https://www.britannica.com/topic/woman-suffrage. 137 Cf. Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 62f. 138 Mohammed Abdul Qadeer, Pakistan: Social and Cultural Transformations in a Muslim Nation, Routledge Contemporary South Asian Series (London: Routledge, 2006), 201. Cf. Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 5; cf. Haq, “Women, Islam”, 205; cf. Qadeer, Pakistan, 201. 139 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206. 140 Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 82. 141 Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 82. Cf. Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206; cf. Harro Ranter, “Wednesday 17 August 1988”, Aviation Safety Network, no date, accessed Apr 18, 2019, https://aviation-safety.net/database/record.php?id=19880817-0; cf. Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 71, 73, 82; cf. Qadeer, Pakistan, 171.

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Finally, on 10th of February 1979, Zia ul-Haq issued the discriminative ḥudūdOrdinances, which curtailed women’s rights. These Ordinances prescribe the Qur’anic penalties for adultery, fornication, rape, prostitution, theft, and the consumption of alcohol also called as ẕinā (Adultery/Illicit Sex). It is divided into two parts: “1) zina (adultery and fornication) and 2) ‘zina-bil-jabir’ (rape)”.142 The maximum punishment for ẕinā “is stoning to death for married persons and 100 lashes for unmarried persons”143 and “four Muslim male adult eyewitnesses of good repute to the act of penetration, or a voluntary confession in a competent court of law”144 must give evidence of the committed crimes. Additionally, the punishment for wrongful allegations regarding ẕinā (qaẕf) (Crime of False Accusation) was established.145 At this time, women, especially in urban areas, started fighting back in large numbers as they were afraid of discrimination by the ḥudūd-Ordinances. Among them was Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, who protested openly and edited Āvāz (Voice), a monthly progressive journal that spoke against governmental actions and is one of the reasons for her exile in 1981. Many women joined groups such as the Khawateen Mahaz-e-Amal, the Women’s Action Forum (WAF), to protest the missing distinction between adultery and rape as well as the discrimination against women, as women were more easily convicted due to pregnancy being inadmissible evidence, whereas men still needed four male witnesses to be convicted.146 July 1983 marked another setback for the rights of women. Women should no longer be able to be the head of an Islamic state and female candidates for the elected assembly had to be at least 50 years old, in contrast to 25 years for men, and also needed “a written permission of their husbands”.147 The Qanoon-i-Shahadat Ordinance (Law of Evidence) of 1984 led to further protests from women, as this Ordinance stated that two women are needed to testify against one man, therefore women’s testimony is considered irrelevant unless another woman corroborates her testimony. Apart from this, the Qisas and Diyat (Retaliation and Blood Money) Ordinance, which values women half of a man, triggered protests. If the victim of murder or injury is a woman, only half of the compensation for a man must be paid. Only when Zia ul-Haq died on 17th of August 1988 in a plane crash were women hopeful of change. The gender-

|| 142 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206. 143 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206. 144 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206. 145 Cf. Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 21; cf. Haq, “Women, Islam”, 206. 146 Cf. Mumtaz and Shaheed, Women of Pakistan, 73f; cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, viii. 147 Haq, “Women, Islam”, 207.

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discrimination is later finally emitted when a bill is passed in 1990.148 As can be seen in the 1980s the feminist movement in Pakistan related to political events and the “transformation of the class structure”.149 After the 1988 election and the victory for Benazir Bhutto’s PPP, women gained more influence and the women’s movement impacted politics regarding women’s issues, although, Bhutto’s PPP was not able to abolish the ḥudūd-Ordinances during the PPP’s time in power (1988–1990 and 1993–1996) and despite the party’s disagreement towards them.150 During the elected government of Nawaz Sharif and his Pakistan Muslim League (PML) from 1990 to 1993 and 1997 to 1999 women faced another period of Shariat rule, including “growing political conservatism, as well as religious revivalism increasing at the socio-political levels”.151 Once more, women became vulnerable as the Supreme Court ruled in 1992 that husbands were no longer obliged to give “written notice of a divorce to his local union council”,152 allowing them to “confirm or deny [the divorce; A/N] at will”.153 Moreover, cultural activities for girls and women in educational institutions and dance performances by females were banned in Panjab in 1998. Again, females were required to stick to the Islamic dress code and the Council of Islamic Ideology suggested the obligation of veiling.154 The elected parliament was overthrown another time by the military. This time General Pervez Musharraf, the chief army of staff pushed himself into power in 1999 to establish a “controlled democracy”.155 In 2000/2001 Musharraf tried to increase “women’s political participation through the reservation of seats in parliament (33 per cent)”.156 However, these seats could not be achieved through

|| 148 Cf. Qadeer, Pakistan, 171 and 201; cf. Ranter, “Wednesday 17 August 1988”; cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, viiif. 149 Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 6. 150 Cf. Anita M. Weiss, “Gender Relations and Women Empowerment”, in Muslim Feminism and Feminist Movement: South Asia, Vol. 2 Pakistan, ed. Abida Samiuddin, and Rashida Khanam (Delhi: Global Vision Publishing House, 2002), 140; cf. Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 36. 151 Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 36. 152 Anita M. Weiss, “The Slow Yet Steady Path to Women’s Empowerment in Pakistan”, in Islam, Gender and Social Change, ed. Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad, and John L. Esposito, ACLS Humanities E-Book Edition, (Cary: Oxford University Press, 1997), 136. 153 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 136. 154 Cf. Qadeer, Pakistan, 202; cf. Jean-Luc Racine, “Pakistan in the Game of the Great Powers”, trans. Gillian Beaumont, in A History of Pakistan and Its Origins, ed. Christophe Jaffrelot (London: Anthem Press, 2002), 108; cf. Weiss, “Women’s Empowerment in Pakistan”, 136; cf. Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 36. 155 Qadeer, Pakistan, 166. 156 Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 37.

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women’s candidacy – male members of the parties had to nominate them beforehand. On the other hand, Musharraf’s National Commission on the Status of Women, of 2000 was supposed to be a permanent Institution. As a result, the 2007 Women’s Protection Act reformed parts of the ẕinā-Ordinance, which means, rape was no longer punishable by Sharia Law but by the Pakistani Penal Code. Now, women were not obliged to produce four male witnesses to the crime and false accusations regarding adultery were made more difficult. Additionally, women were supported to participate in public activities and to join the armed forces. Undoubtedly, these changes were not in favour by the conservative Islamic Parties of Pakistan. As Qadeer clarifies, the period of Islamisation gave birth to “Islamic feminism” and a group of women combined “student activism with purdah”157 to “pursu[e] a career and actively participat[e] in public life”158 while dressing more conservatively in “hijab, niqab or burqa”.159 He furthermore claims that nowadays, “[w]omen [are] being freer in public space”160 and that it “is a period of relative openness for women”161 despite constant protests from orthodox religious authorities regarding women’s voting rights and the “vulgarity and indecency of modern feminity”.162 On 18th August of 2008, Musharraf, facing impeachment, resigned as president and the PPP won again, with Asif Ali Zardari as president, whose late wife was Benazir Bhutto. In the next general election from 2013 the PML (N) won again with Mamnoon Hussain as president. This catand-mouse game finally came to an end with the latest elections from 2018, where the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf (PTI) wins, whose president is Arif ur-Rehman Alvi.163

|| 157 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. 158 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. 159 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. 160 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. 161 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. 162 Qadeer, Pakistan, 202. Cf. Christina Alff, “Frauen-Welten in Pakistan“ [German: WomenWorlds in Pakistan], in Wegweiser zur Geschichte: Pakistan, Im Auftrag des Militärgeschichtlichen Forschungsamtes [German: Guidebook about History: Pakistan, At the Behest of the “Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt“], ed. Bernhard Chiari, and Conrad Schetter (Paderborn [a. o.]: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2010), 194f, downloaded Apr 8, 2017; cf. Filomena M. Critelli, “Beyond the Veil in Pakistan”, Affilia: Journal of Women and Social Work 25, no. 3 (August 2010): 243, accessed Mar 31, 2017, doi:10.1177/0886109910375204; cf. Qadeer, Pakistan, 166 and 202; cf. Racine, “Pakistan”, 107; cf. Zia, “Reinvention of Feminism”, 37. 163 Cf. Mehreen Fatima, “Dr Arif ur Rehman Alvi – 10 Things to Know About the Newly Elected 13th President of Pakistan”, dunyanews.tv, Sep 5, 2018, accessed Apr 19, 2019, https://dunyanews.tv/en /Pakistan/455436-Facts-about-Dr-Arif-Alvi-13-elected-President-of-Pakistan-PTI-candidate; cf. “Pakistan’s Musharraf steps down”, editorial, BBC News Aug 18, 2008, accessed Apr 19, 2019,

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Not only the political climate but also traditional family structures and the perception of women define the face of feminism(s) in Pakistan. A closer look shall display women’s struggles in public and private life.

3.3.4 The role of women – Family structures and perception of women Education, which leads to overcoming pardah, restriction of polygyny and the knowledge of other women’s rights under Islamic Law, was the central focus of the late nineteenth women’s movement in the Indian subcontinent. Various Indian feminist journals in several languages helped in encouraging women to overcome patriarchal social customs and seek education and self-expression. Due to middle-class men and Victorian ideas, which came to the subcontinent under colonial rule and are mentioned in an earlier chapter, these magazines portrayed the ideal woman as domestic, educated, a skilful wife and mother to give a helping hand to her educated, middle-class husband. An outside career, except as a teacher, or even independence was looked down upon and only supported the “subordination within the patriarchal family” over decades.164 Eminently the norms of South Asian Muslims restricted women’s’ every move. The good Muslim woman was a housewife, who “serves the men in her family [and; A/N] raises children”,165 leaving “any and all involvement with the outside world to men”166 without physically or symbolically intruding “into that male domain, or […] inquiring about non-family matters”.167 The separation of public and private life, “the exclusion of women from the economic marketplace and political decision-

|| http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7567451.stm; cf. “Profile: Pakistani President Mamnoon Hussain”, editorial, BBC News Sep 9, 2013, accessed Apr 19, 2019, https://www.bbc.com/news/ world-asia-23456284; cf. “His excellency Mr. Asif Ali Zardari”, Presidency of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, s. a., accessed Apr 19, 2019, https://web.archive.org/web/20120729041135/http:// www.presidentofpakistan.gov.pk/index.php?lang=en&opc=2&sel=2; cf. John Pike, “Military: Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz – PML (N)”, GlobalSecurity.org, Jul 10, 2018, accessed Apr 19, 2019, https://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/pakistan/pml.htm. 164 Gail Minault and B. Komal, “Feminine Voice in Urdu Poetries, Fictions and Journals”, in Muslim Feminism and Feminist Movement: South Asia, Vol. 1 India, ed. Abida Samiuddin, and Rashida Khanam (Delhi: Global Vision Publishing House, 2002), 190. 165 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123. 166 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123. 167 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123.

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making”168 and believing women to be “fragile beings“,169 whose “chaste behaviour […] represents the moral fiber of society”170 added to women’s oppression. Several of Fahmīdah’s poems deal with such matters and denounce men’s incorrect notions about women. Weiss argues that these beliefs enthrone men and their power over women. Repeatedly, politicians even try to convince the government for a thorough segregation in public, such as “separate women’s bank branches, […] seating areas on buses, and […] universities”.171 Patriarchy, being vindicated by Islamic doctrine in Pakistan, strips every woman, “regardless of ethnic, religious or class identity”,172 of all rights and “nullif[ies] demands for equal rights for all based on purely rational arguments”,173 illustrates Shaheed accurately. She further claims that Islam as the “self-definition and cultural reality of the people of Pakistan”174 is the source of justified patriarchy over a long historical context. In this regard the highlights the malebased interpretations of Islam, whose outcome is the current “reluctant acceptance of an unequal and inferior position”175 towards men. Common qualities allocated to men are “[p]atriotism, religiosity, […] creativity, […] bravery, rationality, respectability, and humaneness”,176 whereas “obedience and docility”177 as well as cunning, carelessness, non-cooperation and repentance are considered characteristics for women. Shaheed and Mumtaz criticise, that these attributes are particularly found in Urdu textbooks, influencing young children’s notions of men and women. Additionally, many women throughout history are emitted and if not, then their “roles as wives, mothers, and daughters, not on their achievements”178 are accentuated. They conclude that with school lessons subtly expressing the superiority of urban over rural culture, of males over females and of the || 168 Farida Shaheed, “The Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy: Legal Systems, Islam and Women. Reprint of ‘South Asia Bulletin’ Nr. 6 (1). Spring 1986, p. 38–44”, in Women and Islam: Critical Concepts in Sociology, Vol. 1, Images and Realities, ed. Haideh Moghissi (London: Routledge: 2005), 224. 169 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224. 170 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224. 171 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123. Cf. Minault and Komal, “Feminine Voice”, 190; cf. Samiuddin and Khanam, preface to Muslim Feminism, vi; cf. Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224; cf. Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123. 172 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224f. 173 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224f. 174 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224f. 175 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224f. 176 Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 69. 177 Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 69. 178 Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 69.

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rightness to existing role models, education, textbook representations and only few women in Pakistan going to school (the literacy rate is at 16 per cent), this displayed image of society eventually becomes the truth and immobilises the society.179 Nevertheless, nowadays many women in Pakistan and India make their own decisions which is why there is a potential growth of conflict, due to the opposite male notions about women. Despite this, internal power structures crumble and expectations towards women change slowly. As a result, studies beyond primary school level are allowed and sometimes even encouraged, employment and the opportunity to work is increasing and personal decisions by women as well as their mobility within the family are also gaining grounds.180 However, due to the “cultural articulation of patriarchal structures”181 feminism in Pakistan is unlikely to follow its political pattern in industrialised countries, explains Shaheed. Alvi and Rause on the other hand, are convinced that “[f]eminist struggle […] means a struggle for democratisation of society and for its [Pakistan’s; A/N] secularisation”.182 Even Fahmīdah’s opinion and the themes of her poetry are trying for a change towards democratisation and in society in general through the empowerment of women and the resistance of patriarchal ideas and structures. In the overall view, Accad suggests that “women from the neediest levels of society”183 are the frankest ones regarding women’s issues and their relationships towards their family and spouses. They engage in making a change in these domains where others fear to explore, especially, their sexuality and prefer to censor themselves, these topics being too close to “one’s personal life”.184 This is somewhat questionable as those with a far-reaching influence in Pakistan are poets, who mostly belong to the Urdu middle-class and not the lower class. One of them is Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, who boldly explores female desires and sexuality in her Urdu poetry. Being a Marxist, her deep relationship with society investigates gender and class conflict from a Marxian perspective. Women’s and men’s-imposed

|| 179 Cf. Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224f; cf. Shaheed and Mumtaz, “Women’s Education in Pakistan”, 65 and 69f. 180 Weiss, “Gender Relations”, 123 and 129. 181 Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224. 182 Alvi and Rause, “Pakistani Feminism”, 2. Cf. Shaheed, “Cultural Articulation of Patriarchy”, 224. 183 Evelyne Accad, “Sexuality and Sexual Politics: Conflicts and Contradictions for Contemporary Women in the Middle East”, in Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, ed. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo, and Lourdes Torres (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1991), 239. 184 Accad, “Sexuality and Sexual Politics”, 241 and cf. 239.

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morality of the middle-class is openly scrutinised within a Freudian view. Her most shocking collection of verses for Pakistani society, Badan darīdah (Body Lacerated), is followed by reflected poetry of a more and more matured and subtle note.185 A short sketch of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s life will give way for her eloquent and thoughtful play of Urdu and Hindi diction, metaphors, and images.

|| 185 Cf. Mittra and Bachchan, Encyclopaedia of Women, 69.

4 Fahmīdah Riyāẓ Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s notion about feminism and the influence of the Pakistani society on her fight for equality for women are best understood in her own words: But feminism has so many interpretations. What it means for me is simply that women, like men, are complete human beings with limitless possibilities. They have to achieve social equality, much like the Dalits or the Black Americans. In the case of women, it is so much more complex. I mean, there is the right to walk on the road without being harassed. Or to be able to swim, or write a love poem, like a man without being considered immoral. The discrimination is very obvious and very subtle, very cruel and always inhuman.1

4.1 Biographical sketch Fahmīdah Riyāẓ was born on 28th of July 1945 in Mīraṭh,2 Western Uttar Pradesh in British India, into a Mīraṭhī middle-class family of “urban […] subcontinental Muslims, who were all quite well educated in their own tradition”.3 She and her sisters grew up in Hyderabad, Sindh, in Pakistan, where their father, Riaz ud-Din Ahmed, an ‘Alīgaṛh graduate, who moved to Hyderabad long before Partition, learned Sindhi and read and wrote Sindhi poetry. Riaz ud-Din Ahmed taught at a Muslim high-school until his death when Fahmīdah was five years old. Afterwards, Fahmīdah’s mother, Husna, who was the second daughter of a deputy collector in British India, the highest rank Indians could achieve, and therefore came from an eloquent background, was responsible for their upbringing and education. She woke them daily with poems for children in Urdu and Persian, especially Sūfī poems from Ismā‘īl Mīraṭhī. This might explain why Fahmīdah wanted to be a writer from a young age.4 Fahmīdah’s first poems were published 1963 in

|| 1 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz.” 2 Commonly known as “Meerath.” Cf. Amina Yaqin, Gender, Sexuality and Feminism in Pakistani Urdu Writing (London: Anthem Press, 2022), 119. 3 Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 05:30–05:43. Unedited parts of this chapter have already been presented in German in my Bachelor’s thesis from 1st of July 2013 at the Ludwig-Maximilians-University Munich, Germany. 4 Cf. “Literature: SAARC Writers, Intellectual, Poets, Pakistan, Fahmida Riaz (Pakistan)”, Foundation of SAARC Writers and Literature, accessed Mar 22, 2013, http://www.foundationsaarcwriters.com/literature/saarc-writers-intellectual/poets/pakistan/208-fahmida-riaz-pakistan; cf. “Fahmida Riaz: The Progressive Writer and Poet of Sindh”, editorial, Sindhi Dunya Apr 7, 2016, accessed May 6, 2019; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves”, 01:28–01:30, 05:44–06:36, 08:04–08:30, 09:24–09:32, 10:55–10:56, 11:39–11:55, 12:11–12:13, 13:06–13:35, 19:20–19:23, 32:18–32:28. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-004

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Funoon, a famous journal for Urdu literature, when she was only 17 years old. Funoon also published her prose, fictional short stories, polemical pieces, letters to publishers, reviews and translated texts from other languages into Urdu. Many of her early poems can also be found in her later collection. At that time, she also studied at the college of Hyderabad and worked as a newscaster for the Radio Pakistan.5 Being a student at that time, Fahmīdah also witnessed Ayub Khan’s military coup in 1958 and the first declaration of Martial Law as well as striving for a change from 1962 to 1964 also affected the literary scene and movements started to rise against the government. But not only the literary scene was involved in protests, as the students were negatively affected by Ayub Khan’s University Ordinance, students in different cities started protesting against the Ordinance, which was Fahmīdah’s political awakening.6 In 1966 she graduated with a BA in “political science and economics from the Governmental College for Girls”7 and received an MA in Political Science from Sindh University, after she agreed to an arranged marriage with an architectural designer in 1965.8 After the marriage in 1967, Fahmīdah moved to London, to join her husband studies film technique from 1971 to 1972 while working in a library, for an insurance company and for BBC Radio’s Urdu Service.9 In 1967 Fahmīdah’s first volume of poetry, Patthar kī zabān (Tongue of Stone), was published, followed by Badan darīdah in 1972 that caused “tremendous controversy because of its uninhibited and vigorous exploration of female sexuality”.10 It was also her breakthrough in literature.

|| 5 Cf. Farrukhi, introduction to Godavari, xvii–xviii; cf. Aamer Hussein, “Fahmida Riaz: Songs of Experience”, foreword to Four Walls and a Black Veil, Fahmida Riaz, second impression (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2005), xi; cf. Aquila Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, Fahmida Riaz (Karachi: City Press, 2000), 5; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 30:31–30:34. 6 Cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 30:39–32:08. 7 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106. 8 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, xx and 106; cf. Mahmood Jamal, ed., The Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, Penguin Books (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1986), 152; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 01:58–2:00, 33:42–34:16. 9 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, xx; cf. M. A. Rafey Habib, ed., An Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry: Jadīd urdū shā’irī kā intikhāb, MLA Texts and Translations (New York: The Modern Language Association of America, 2003), 151; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 02:01–02:05, 36:26–37:07. 10 Rukhsana Ahmad, ed., We Sinful Women: Contemporary Urdu Feminist Poetry, Including the Original Urdu (London: The Women’s Press Ltd., 1991), 23.

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Her younger sister Najma was at college when it created uproar, but was admired by the college girls.11 During this time Fahmīdah also gave birth to her first daughter, got divorced in 1972 and moved back from London to Pakistan. When she returned Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was in power and Fahmīdah’s curiosity for politics lead her to investigate the background of army investigations in Balouchistan. She, therefore, interviewed people and even visited prisons for it. Settling in Karachi, she married Zafar Ali Ujan in 1976, a “Sindhi […] and a leftist political activist”,12 whom she bears two children and fighting for the rights of Sindhis their flat becomes the meeting place for the Sindhī Revolutionary party.13 In 1976 Fahmīdah’s third volume of poetry, Dhūp (Sunlight), was published as well as Adhūrā ādmī (Incomplete Man/Person), a prose narrative focussing on the connection of freedom and the Pakistani lower-middle- and middle-class psychology “shaping a dehumanising political ideology in the historical and social context of Pakistan”.14 It is based on Erich Fromm’s Escape from Freedom. In 1977, when Zia ul-Haq overthrew Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and started the Islamisation process, Fahmīdah worked as freelance writer while editing and publishing the monthly socio-political journal Āvāz until 1981. As most of the leftist parties had joined the PPP at that time, which was then banned by Zia ul-Haq, Fahmīdah felt it to be important to keep on publishing Āvāz despite her getting notices from the military court. The 14 court cases against her included charges of sedition, due to her republication of “a passage from India Today which took a dig at Gen. Zia’s moustache”,15 rebellion against the state and treason for her views on the coexistence of Bangladesh and India. One of them even carried capital punishment, which means hanging till death. With the help of an admirer, she was able to bail herself out to avoid prison and escaped with her two children, Veerta and Kabir, and a sister to India under the pretext of an invitation to a poetry recitation in March 1981, where she was later joined by her husband Zafar Ali Ujjan. Before leaving Pakistan, she

|| 11 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 23; cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5; cf. Maleeha Hamid Siddiqui, “Literature Prizewinners Fahmida Riaz and Imdad Hussaini Feted”, Dawn.com, Jan 17, 2016, accessed Apr 12, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1233397. 12 Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 40:13–40:18. 13 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, xx; cf. Hisam, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. “Fahmida Riaz: The Progressive Writer and Poet of Sindh”; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 36:57–37:07, 37:39– 37:43, 38:07–39:03, 40:13–40:29, 42:24–42:44–44:56. 14 Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5f. 15 “News & Events”, reprint from ‘Indian Express’, 28 June 1987, editorial, Annual of Urdu Studies 6 (1987): 153, accessed Mar 29, 2017, http://dsal.uchicago.edu/books/annualofurdustudies/pager.html?volume=6&objectid=PK2151.A6152_6_160.gif;

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managed to publish a selection of Shaikh Ayāz’s16 poems in 1979, Halqah merī zangjīr kā (The Circle of my Fetters), which she translated from Sindhi into Urdu.17 In 1981 she also published Merī naz̤ meṉ in New Delhi, which consists of the poetry of Badan darīdah except for the ghazals.18 In India she was allowed to stay as a Pakistani exile with the help of her friend and poetess Amrita Pritam, who approached Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister of India at that time.19 In 2001 a part of Fahmīdah’s unpublished novel, People, is published as “Amina in High Waters” by Muneeza Shamsie. Written in 1983/1984 while being exiled in India, it gives an insight into the most likely circumstances of Fahmīdah’s family situation in Delhi. Amina, which seems to stand for Fahmīdah, had to flee Pakistan with her second husband Murad (presumably for Zafar Ali Ujjan), after “B” or Bhutto was overthrown by Generals. The marriage already experiencing troubles, gets a wider crack, once Amina learns that her husband is having at least one affair in Delhi. Amina being confused an unable to remember time, such as the birth of her child four years ago in 1979, meets a dervish, who encourage to see the truth. She therefore decides to see a lawyer regarding a divorce. On the way Amina meets male journalists and hesitates meeting the solicitor, finally encountering a woman to accompany her to his office at Connaught Circus. After the meeting Amina seems to panic and is convinced that people are watching her and enjoying her disgrace.20 The account of this novel, shows Fahmīdah’s personal struggle in exile and already points towards her starting interest in Sufism.

|| 16 Commonly known as “Shaikh Ayaz.” 17 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106; cf. Raza Rumi, Being Pakistani: Society, Culture and the Arts (New Delhi: HarperCollins, 2018), 120; cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Adhūrā ādmī [Urdu: Incomplete Man], Dūsrā aiḍīshan [Urdu: Second Edition] (Karācī: Riktāb, 1986); cf. “Fahmida Riaz Nominated for Kamal-e-Fun Award”, editorial, Dawn.com Jan 1, 2016, accessed Apr 12, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1231096; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 151; cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5f; cf. M. Ilyas Khan, “Fahmida Riaz: Pakistan Poet Who Dared to Talk About Female Desire,” BBC News. Nov 27, 2018, accessed Dec 4, 2019, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-46362729; cf. “Adhūrā Ādmī”, WorldCat.org, no date, accessed Jun 28, 2013; cf. “News & Events”, 153; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 42:24–44:56. 18 Cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Merī naz̤ meṉ [Urdu: My Poems] (Naʼī dillī: Isṭār pablīkeshanz, 1981). 19 Cf. “Pakistanis seek Friendship with India: Fahmida Riaz”, editorial, Hindustan Times Apr 8, 2013, accessed Dec 3, 2022, https://www.hindustantimes.com/books/pakistanis-seek-friendship-with-india-fahmida-riaz/story-crytG8jngYsrSGcPnjAmFJ.html. 20 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Amina in High Waters“, from an unpublished English Novel: People, in Leaving Home: Towards a New Millenium, A Collection of English Prose by Pakistani Writers, ed. and selec. Muneeza Shamsie, (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2001), 169–177.

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In 1984 Fahmīdah also transliterated selected poems of Amrita Pritam and published the Devanāgarī version alongside the one in Nasta‘līq under the title Amtā Prītam kī shāyrī: Urdū Hindī meṉ sāth-sāth (Amtā Prītam’s Poetry: In juxtaposed Urdu and Hindi). Fahmīdah then stayed as a poet-in-residence at New Delhi’s Jamia Milia Islamia University for one year from 1982 until 1983 and served as a senior research fellow for the All India Institute of Social Science, through which she published her book Pakistan – Literature and Society in January 1986, which exemplifies Pakistan’s various literature genres, writers and historic backgrounds of Baluchi, Panjabi, Pashto and Sindhi. The contents of the book were viewed rather negatively by several reviewers. Also, at the All India Institute for Historical Research she held a senior research fellow position from 1986 until 1987. Her research project was entitled “The role of Muslim women since 1857 – War of Independence”. During her seven years in exile, Fahmīdah learned to read and write in Hindi and travelled often throughout India to speak against communal violence or to recite her poetry publicly and privately. Additionally, she published two volumes of poetry in 1986: Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (Why Don’t You See the Full Moon?) and Apnā jurm sabit hai (My Crime is Proven). Both criticise religious nationalism in India and Pakistan and the usage of village speech and folk forms is highlighted due to Fahmīdah’s extensive travelling in Uttar Pradesh. Despite being in exile, Fahmīdah still followed politics in Pakistan, which even made her write a letter to the Prime Minister on June 27, 1987 to be able to return to Pakistan under the prerequisite that all false charges against her and other Pakistanis in the diaspora may be dropped. She finally returned to Pakistan at the rise of the Hindu right-wing in India in December 1987, when Benazir Bhutto’s PPP returned to power.21 || 21 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 23; cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106f; cf. Asif Aslam Farrukhi, “Book Reviews: Fahmida Riaz. ‘Pakistan, Literature and Society’. New Delhi: Patriot Publishers, 1986(?), 124 pp. Rs70/–.”, reprinted, with some abridgement from ‘The Herald’ (Karachi), May 1986, Annual of Urdu Studies 6 (1987): 140–141, accessed Mar 29, 2017, http://dsal. uchicago.edu/books/annualofurdustudies/pager.html?objectid=PK2151.A6152_6_147.gif; cf. Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. Tarini Manchanda, A Report on the IAWRT Seminar: Hum Gunahgaar Auratein/We Sinful Women. Feminist Cultures of Resistance. Conversations on Art and Activism in South Asia (New Delhi: Goethe Institut/Max Mueller Bhavan, Mar 8, 2014), accessed Jun 15, 2018, https://archive.org/details/IAWRTSeminar2014HUMGUNAHGAARAURATEIN; cf. “Fehmeeda Riaz’s Son Drowns”, editorial, News International Oct 27, 2007, accessed Aug 12, 2017; cf. Amtā Prītam, and Amar Dehlavī, ed., Amtā Prītam kī shāyrī: Urdū Hindī meṉ sāth-sāth [Urdu: Amtā Prītam’s Poetry: In juxtaposed Urdu and Hindi], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ (Naī dillī: Sṭār pablikeshaṅz, 1984); cf. Fahmida Riaz, Pakistan: Literature and Society (New Delhi: Patriot Publishers, 1986), 11; cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Documents: Letter to the Prime Minister of Pakistan on 27 June 1987”, Reproduced from “Mainstream” (New Delhi) 11 Jul 1987, 30, Annual of Urdu

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Back in Pakistan she published her collection Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ (I Am a Statue of Clay) in 1988, which includes her first five volumes of poetry and added a new part to Apnā jurm sabit hai: Hamrakāb (Fellow Travellers). She also started working at the Ministry of Culture as Director-General of Pakistan’s National Book Council in Islamabad until Benazir Bhutto was deprived of power and wrote for the English daily The Frontier Post. Additionally, in 1991 Fahmīdah wrote the short paper Pakistani Literature in English, which was republished in 2010. From 1990 to 1993, when Nawaz Sharif was in power, she was labelled an Indian agent, wherefore she struggled to find a job and therefore worked three consecutive jobs. During Benazir Bhutto’s second tenure, 1993–1996, she was offered a post at the Qāʼid-e-A‘z̤ am Academy22 but ended up as a persona non grata in Islamabad once more, when Nawaz Sharif’s PML is elected again for the period from 1997 to 1999.23 During that time, in 1994 and 1995, Fahmīdah also published the short stories Saajan Ham to Kurta Tumhar (Darling, We Are Indeed Your Cover (fig. for frock)) in the 9th volume of The Annual of Urdu Studies and kyā gulābī kabūtar jīt gaʼe? (Pink Pigeons—Was it They Who Won?/Did the Pink Pigeons Win?) in the literary journal Aaj (Today). The English translations of the “Pink Pigeons” by Muhammad Umar Memon and Sami Rafiq were published in 1998 and 2013.24 The short story about the “Pink Pigeons” only mentions them in passing. The focus on this bibliographical insight of Fahmīdah’s life is on her visit to a literary Fair in Alma Ata, Kazakhstan, in early August 1995. During her visit in this country, which became independent by the Soviet Union, she is reminded of her former neighbour Mullah Yusuf Ziai in Karachi shortly after Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was || Studies 6 (1987): 131–132, accessed Mar 29, 2017, http://dsal.uchicago.edu/books/annualofurdustudies/pager.html?objectid=PK2151.A6152_6_138.gif. 22 Commonly known as “Quaid-i-Azam Academy.” 23 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 23; cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106ff; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 151; cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 6f; cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Pakistani Literature in English (1991)”, in South Asian Literatures, ed. Gerhard Stilz, and Ellen Dengel-Janic, Postcolonial Literatures in English: Sources and Resources, Vol. 1 (Trier: WVT Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2010), 67–69; cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ; cf. “Fahmida Riaz: The Progressive Writer and Poet of Sindh”. 24 Cf. Naazir Mahmood, “Opinion: Fahmida Riaz in Prose”, The Kashmir Monitor, Nov 25, 2018, accessed Jun 14, 2019, https:// www.thekashmirmonitor.net/fahmida-riaz-in-prose/; cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Saajan Ham to Kurta Tumhar” [Urdu: Darling, We Are indeed your Cover (fig. for frock)], Annual of Urdu Studies 9 (1994): n. p.; and cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Did the Pink Pigeons Win?”, trans. Sami Rafiq, in New Urdu Writings from India and Pakistan, ed. Rakhshanda Jalil (New Delhi: Tranquebar Press, 2013), 215–232; cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Pink Pigeons–Was it They Who Won?“, trans. Muhammad Umar Memon, Annual of Urdu Studies 13 (1998): 227–241.

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arrested and Martial Law established in 1977/78. Being married to a member of the Sindhi Peasant Revolutionary Party, the group still conducts clandestine meetings at their small flat. Fahmīdah being afraid for her and her children’s safety, is even more, so when hearing from her maidservant, Bibi Jaan, who is an Afghan descendant and came to Karachi from Bombay, that an Imam has moved into the flat next door. Bibi Jaan, an independent widow with two children of her own and knowing all gossip in the neighbourhood, suggests in Ramadan to send an iftārī25 plate with pakoṛe26 to the neighbour, so that she and Fahmīdah can enjoy their sweets and thus, establishes the contact between the two households. After an invitation of the Mullah’s wife, who turns out to be a Pathan, whose paternal grandfather had to flee the Russian Revolution in 1917 and came via Sinkiang, China, to Parachinar in the North West Frontier Province of Pakistan, Fahmīdah learns that he is a supporter of the new government and has only come into his various esteemed positions due to his religiosity. Fahmīdah, an opponent of forced religiosity, remains friendly, since Mullah Yusuf Ziai, speaking in polished Urdu, and her answering in eloquent Urdu, seems to therefore treat her with “utmost courtesy and deference”27. The revelation of his ancestors having to flee the family home in Kazakhstan clearly shows Fahmīdah’s support albeit concern for the Communist Revolution in Afghanistan, since the Soviet Embassy personnel she seemed to have met, contradicts her dreamy imaginations of Russian figures as described in books of well-known Russian writers. This thought also reems to have Fahmīdah ponder about Kazakhstan’s future as an independent country, freed from Russian rule, being torn apart between the Americans and the Islamists. Later in the short story, Fahmīdah further recounts her friendship with Bibi Jaan, before being forced in to exile for seven years. After her return to Pakistan, she accidentally meets Bibi Jaan again and rekindles her friendship and encounters Mullah Yusuf Ziai’s wife at a beauty salon later. She marvels at history’s turn, as his former highly orthodoxly clad wife and daughter, now a beautician, left female seclusion and Yusuf Ziai had given up being an Imam, now trading in animal skins, after his ancestors fleeing Kazakhstan in trying to secure their religiosity.28

|| 25 A plate with food that is to be eaten for breaking the fast (iftār) in the evening during Ramadan. 26 Fried vegetables, such as onions, potatoes, chillis, or aubergines, coated in chickpea flower. 27 Riaz, “Pink Pigeons”, 232. 28 Cf. Riaz, “Pink Pigeons”.

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In 1990 Fahmīdah founded WADA – Women and Development Agency or Association,29 a non-governmental organisation that she considered to be the first women’s publishing house in Pakistan. It focuses on publishing books by and for women and children and stems from her extensive work with the Women’s Wing of the CPP, the Democratic Women’s Federation, and their lack of support for female writers. In the same year, Fahmīdah’s first book of her trilogy of travelogue was published in Aaj: Zindah bahar (Lane) (Eternal Spring Lane). It was followed by Godāvarī, originally written in exile, in 1992 and Karācī (in English known as Reflections in a Cracked Mirror) in 1996, which expound the impact of nationalism in Bangladesh, India, and Karachi respectively.30 In the early 1990s, Fahmīdah also started writing books for children and published two supplementary readers for the Oxford Urdū Silsilah (Oxford Urdu Series), which are for the Levels 4 and 5. In 1994, the books were first published as Alif Lailāh (One Thousand [and One] Nights/The Arabian Nights) and Pākistān kī lok kahāniyāṉ (Pakistan’s Folk Tales).31 In 1997 Fahmīdah was awarded the Human Rights Watch’s Himmett-Hellmann Award for Resistance Literature in New York and her translated short story Ek thā azhdahā (Once Upon a Time was Azhdahā) by Ruskin Bonḍ as well as her sixth volume Ādmī kī zindagī (The Life of (a) Man) are published in the same and the ensuing year. Between 1998 and 1999, selected translated poems from Furūgh Farrukhzād, an Iranian feminist writer of the 20th century are published under the name Khule darīce se (From the Open Window), followed by The Beautiful Pearl: A Tale from Afghanistan, a Persian short story for elder children revolving around a young girl named Dur Jamala (which means “Beautiful Pearl” in Persian),

|| 29 According to personal communication between Amina Yaqin and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ. Yaqin’s reference furthermore states the founding year as 1987. This seems a little uncertain, since it is supposed to be founded in Pakistan, which Fahmīdah returned to in December 1987 (cf. Yaqin, Gender, Sexuality and Feminism, 121). 30 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106ff; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 151; cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 6f; cf. “Pakistanis seek Friendship with India”. 31 Cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Alif Lailāh: Chauthī jāmā‘it ke liʼe, Mu‘āvin kitāb [Urdu: One Thousand and One Nights/The Arabian Nights: For the Fourth Grade, Additional Material], Pahlī ishā‘at 1994ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 1994], Sattāʼīsvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Twenty-seventh Impression], Auksfarḍ Urdū Silsilah [Urdu: Oxford Urdu Series] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019); cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Pākistān kī lok kahānīyāṉ: Pāṉcvīṉ jāmā‘it ke liʼe, Mu‘āvin kitab [Urdu: Pakistan’s Folk Tales: For the Fifth Grade, Additional Material], Pahlī ishā‘at 1994ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 1994], Bīsvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Twentieth Impression], Auksfarḍ Urdū Silsilah [Urdu: Oxford Urdu Series] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019).

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published in 2002.32 The story portrays the village life of Afghanistan during the end of the Russian occupation and the following between the Mujahidin around 1989 from the perspective of the main protagonist, Dur Jamala, who is waiting many years for her father’s return. 10 of Fahmīdah’s own short stories appeared in 2002 as Khat̤t -̤ e marmūz: Kahāniyāṉ (Mysterious Letters: Stories). The collection contains short stories such as ek muḥabbat kī kahānī (A Love Story), būṛhā aur laṛkā (The Old Man and the Boy), ‘aurat aur cītā (Woman and Leopard), ḥāṣil (Consequence/Profit), khat̤-e marmūz (Mysterious Letters), or us ne kahā thā (He/She told us), which were previously published in the magazine Duniyazād (Born of the World). The stories dāminī (Lightning), ḍholī taro ḍhol baje (Your drummer Played the Drum) and jhunno ko ciṭṭhī milī (Jhunno Received a Letter), also published in Duniyazād is not among them. Aamer Hussein published Fahmīdah’s translation of the collection’s short story Khat̤t -̤ e marmūz as Some Misaddressed Letters in 1999 and the story ‘aurat aur cītā was translated in 2009 as The Woman and the Leopard by Amina Afzar.33 The Woman and the Leopard seems to be a rather cryptic story about a woman hallucinating in a delirium maybe brought on by fever about being abducted by a leopard from her bed into the jungle. Before she is completely eaten, however, the woman attacks the leopard, becoming a savage and finally slightly coming to her senses, seeing her child “wriggling and bawling”.34 After this, she falls into a deep peaceful slumber, dreaming about the now harmless leopard and milk dripping milk into her breasts.35 While this presumable story about motherhood or giving birth, is difficult to interpret, Some Misaddressed Letters gives an insight into Fahmīdah’s life in exile. || 32 Cf. Ruskin Bonḍ, Ek thā azhdahā: Pāṅcvīṉ jāmā‘it ke liʼe, Iẓāfī kitāb [Urdu: Once Upon a Time was Azhdahā: For the Fifth Grade, Supplementary Material], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Auksfarḍ Urdū Silsilah (Karācī: Auksfarḍ yūnīvarsiṭī pres, 1997); cf. Farrukhi, introduction to Godavari; cf. Furūgh Farrūkhzād, Khule darīce se: Intikhāb-e kalām [Urdu: From the Open Window: Selection of Poetry], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ (Karācī: Va‘dah kitāb ghar, 1998); and cf. Fahmida Riaz, The Beautiful Pearl: A Tale from Afghanistan, First Edition published in 2002, Revised Edition published in 2009, Fifth Impression, It’s Story Time (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2019). 33 Cf. Farrukhi, introduction to Godavari; cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Khat̤t̤-e marmūz: Kahāniyāṉ [Urdu: Mysterious Letters: Stories] (Karācī: Āj kī kitābeṉ, 2002); cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Some Misaddressed Letters”, trans. Aamer Hussain, in Kahani: Short Stories by Pakistani Women, ed. Aaamer Hussain, rev. and ext. edition, first published as “Hoops of Fire: Fifty Years of Fiction by Pakistani Women” (London: Saqi Books, 2005), 95–104; cf. Fahmida Riaz, “The Woman and the Leopard: Aurat aur cheetah”, in The Oxford Book of Urdu Short Stories, ed. and trans. Amina Afzar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 367–372. 34 Riaz, “Woman and Leopard”, 372. 35 Cf. Riaz, “Woman and Leopard”, 367–372.

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Written while being exiled in India, the short story seems to describes the circumstances of Fahmīdah’s family situation in Delhi. Amina, which seems to stand for Fahmīdah, had to flee Pakistan with her second husband Murad (presumably for Zafar Ali Ujjan), after “B” or Bhutto was overthrown by Generals. Being a political refugee, the story starts with her day in a hotel, when a poet host, for that evening’s poetry recital after knocking on the door, tells her that “B” was hanged that morning at four o’clock in Pakistan. Her scrambled thoughts due to that news, turn to Murad, who was naïve to believe such a situation would never occur, her previous preparation to smuggle books and statements to prevent Bhutto’s death to Pakistan and its urgent need for aborting as mission, finally settle on the thought that she needs to act normal. This includes a visit to the Pakistani embassy, where she has a college friend, whom she had fallen in love with at that time and had written a book of poetry about his unrequited love for her. Before meeting him, she remembers two misaddressed letters during the Indo-Pakistani wars in 1965 and 1971, who came back to her and his general disinterest in politics. Seemingly afraid of the current political climate, he declines her invitation to the evening’s poetry recital. Reflecting on reciting her written poetry about India’s massive poverty issues and its reception in India, Fahmīdah or Amina concludes that this, too, seems to be a misaddressed “letter” or attempt of hers. As the story continues, the storyteller talks about Murad’s aversion towards hope. Not wanting to accept that their time in exile might last a while longer than anticipated in the beginning, he and Amina wait until the last tea cup of theirs breaks and then Murad purchases twelve instead of the usual set of six pieces, so that he does not have to enter the shop again and both do not need to be reminded of “the idea of leaving things behind”.36 Murad, convinced of hope having left him alone, since the military regime in Pakistan still had not been overthrown at that time, even waits months before planting seeds in their residence and when he eventually does so, he seems to be unable to stop until their whole flat is filled with potted plants. The story then ends with recounting memories of Murad’s support for the Sindhi peasants and two uprisings, where women were involved and due to them and their fraternal protection of their honour, these were successful.37 A continuation of Fahmīdah’s life in India, can be found in “Amina in High Waters” by Muneeza Shamsie (2001), which seems to be a part of Fahmīdah’s unpublished novel, People. Here, her marriage already experiencing troubles, gets || 36 Riaz, “Some Misaddressed Letters”, 100. 37 Cf. Riaz, “Some Misaddressed Letters”, 95–104.

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a wider crack, once Amina learns that her husband Murad is having at least one affair in Delhi. Amina being confused an unable to remember time, such as the birth of her child four years ago in 1979, meets a Darvaish, who encourage to see the truth. She therefore decides to see a lawyer regarding a divorce. On the way Amina meets male journalists and hesitates meeting the solicitor, finally encountering a woman to accompany her to his office at Connaught Circus. After the meeting Amina seems to panic and is convinced that people are watching her and enjoying her disgrace.38 Apart from stories, that seem to be biographical in nature, Fahmīdah’s passion for translating books from other languages into Urdu and, therefore, making them and their vast range of topics available to a wider readership in Pakistan, seems to increase over time. Still not satisfied in the late 1990s and the beginning of the new millennium, she turns to, among others, Indian books for children. Gita Iyengar’s book Who is Smarter from 1995, for instance, translated into Urdu as Sayānā kaun (Who is Smarter?) and published in Urdu in 1998, tells the comical story about the young Brahmin Ganapathy, who one day encounters a young and proud lion in the forest. The inexperienced attempt of the lion wanting to kill the washerman’s donkey but instead ending up being kicked by its hind feet and giving the lion a black eye, is witnessed by Ganapathy who laughs about this scene. Being hurt in his pride the lion attacks the Brahmin, who saves himself into a tree and manages to get away by telling a story to the lion. Since the lion got interested in Ganapathy he finally follows him into the village, forcing the Brahmin to come back into the forest to kill him, when hearing that the story about it and the donkey is being told to Ganapathy’s wife. Again, the Brahmin tells an engulfing story on the way and finally convinces the lion that four knots in the towel, he carries with him, contain his possessions: four donkeys. The lion gets so scared of the thought having to face these that he runs away and Ganapathy is finally saved from being killed by the lion.39 Fouzia Saeed’s “Taboo! The Hidden Culture of a Red Light Area” published in 2001, translated by Fahmīdah in 2011 as Kalaṁk: Hīrā manḍīr kī dar-pardah saqāfat (Shame: The Hidden Culture of the Diamond Market), on the other hand,

|| 38 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Amina in High Waters“, from an Unpublished English Novel: People, in Leaving Home: Towards a New Millenium, A Collection of English Prose by Pakistani Writers, ed. and selec. Muneeza Shamsie, (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2001), 169–177. 39 Cf. Gītā Iyangar, Sayānā kaun [Urdu: Who is Smarter?], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ (Karācī: Auksfarḍ yūnīvarsiṭī pres, 1998); cf. Gita Iyengar, Who is Smart, first Edition 1995, first Reprint 1998 (Saka 1919), Nehru Bal Pustakalaya [Hindi: Nehru’s Children’s Library] (New Delhi: National Book Trust, India, 1998).

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is for elder readers and illustrates Lahore’s red-light district and the interplay of its habitants, managers, and customers.40 Apart from that, there are six additional articles and short stories by Fahmīdah that were published in Aaj, The Annual of Urdu Studies and Duniyazād in between 2000 and 2010. The 11th issue of Duniyazād contained tikone ke dāʼire (Circles of a Triangle), the 14th issue introduced Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk and his novel Ice and the 18th issue reflected on the Egyptian writer Najīb Maḥfūz̤ . Aaj published the short story vah calī gaʼī (She Has Gone) in its 25th issue and an obituary for Muhammad Khalid Akhtar, another Pakistani writer with a focus on humour and satire, in its 35th issue. Fahmīdah’s interest in global topics is evinced in even translating pieces from Ismail Kadare, who is from Albania.41 This interest in topics outside of Pakistan also surfaced through Fahmīdah’s prose, as can be clearly seen by the story of Akhit Jadoo (Sphinx Magic), which translation appeared in 2013 by Amna Afzar. “Akhit” being the ancient Egyptian word for the Sphinx and people that posed riddles already hints at the storyline. Inspired by women from Burma, Bangladesh, India, and the Philippines, who work as domestic helpers in the UAE to support their families, the short story revolves around the travelling woman Akhit Jadoo, who travels Mesopotamia by horse to support her relatives and becomes wealthy by gambling with wise men about all earthly possessions or death by solving a riddle, she poses. Since those riddles involve answers, only farmers can answer, she mainly wins and only stays two nights in every place. However, a farmer’s boy, Hoshi Aang, who serves her in Susa, can solve her riddle, but stays quiet and tells her the solution after Akhit Jadoo won the bet because he admires her skills and is interested in sleeping with her. When it turns out, that Akhit Jadoo is an independent and intelligent woman, who has knowledge about her menstrual cycle and how to avoid pregnancy, he finds it repulsive, calling it sinister magic. The ending of the story then contains a moral, since Akhit Jadoo’s pride of no one being able to solve her riddles gets her killed some time after she visited Susa.42 Unfortunately, only few of Fahmīdah’s short stories have been rendered into English and even her original stories are difficult to find, since they are published in various Journals, many not being available online. Yet, some can be found in

|| 40 Cf. Fauziyah Saʻīd, Kalaṁk: Hīrā manḍīr kī dar-pardah saqāfat [Urdu: Shame: The Hidden Culture of the Diamond Market], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, revised Edition (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2011). 41 Cf. “Fahmida Riaz Nominated for Kamal-e-Fun Award”; cf. Mahmood, “Opinion”. 42 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Short Story: Akhit Jadoo”, trans. Amna Afzar, Critical Muslim Love and Death, no. 5 (January–March 2013): 183–195.

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the Annual of Urdu Studies, such as the short story Daftar men ek din (One Day in the Office), published in the 25th volume in 2010.43 Fahmīdah also translated 50 ghazals from Maulānā Jalāl ud-Dīn Rūmī’s Dīvān-e shams tabrīzī (Collection of poems of Shams-e Tabrizi) into Urdu, which were published as Yah khānā-e āb-o-gil (This Abode of Water and Earth) 2006. In 2005 she was awarded the Al-Muftah Award for Literature in the category poetry in Karachi and the Shaikh Ayāz Award for Literature for her vast translations from Sindhi poetry in 2009. Moreover, she received the Presidential Award for Pride of Performance (Tamghāʼe ḥusn-e kārkragdagī/Sitārah-e Imtiyāz44) in the category literature on 23rd of March 2010 by the President of Pakistan. Her 26-year year old son’s, Kabīr, accidental death on 7th of October 2007 in the US forced her to retreat from many projects and she finally processed his drowning accident at a picnic with friends in writing prose for children and poetry. Kabīr Alī Ujjan was pursuing his Master while working a job. He had left Pakistan around 2000 and his marriage was planned for after the completion of his studies. Fahmīdah’s last volume of poetry, Tum Kabīr … (You Kabīr …), dedicated to her son, was published in early 2017. In 2009 she was appointed the Chief Editor of the Urdu Dictionary Board in Karachi, where she worked at and Urdu dictionary from 2009 until 2011. It consists of 22 volumes and is based on the design of a philological dictionary (philological and historical principles). Its role model is the Greater Oxford Dictionary.45 From 2009 onwards, Fahmīdah, additionally, started to compile and || 43 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Daftar men ek din“ [Urdu: One Day in the Office], Annual of Urdu Studies 25 (2010): 346–353. 44 Cf. Yaqin, Gender, Sexuality and Feminism, 123. 45 Cf. Jalāl ud-Dīn Rūmī, Yah khānā-e āb-o-gil: Intikhāb, Dīvān-e shams tabrīzī [Urdu and Persian: This Abode of Water and Earth: Collection of poems of Shams-e Tabrizi], trans. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ (Karācī: Shaharzād [Scheherzade], 2006); cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 106; cf. Associated Press of Pakistan (APP), “35 Noted Personalities get Awards,” Dawn.com, Mar 24, 2010, accessed Mar 22, 2023, http://archives.dawn.com/archives/106883; cf. “Noted Progressive Poet, Writer Fahmida Riaz Passes Away at 72”, editorial, Dawn.com Nov 21, 2018, accessed Jun 15, 2022, https://www.dawn.com/news/1446990/noted-progressive-poet-writer-fahmida-riazpasses-away-at-the-age-of-72; cf. Farrukhi, introduction to Godavari, xix; cf. Asif Farrukhi, “Inkpaperthink”, Dawn.com, Aug 30, 2009, accessed Mar 21, 2023, http://archives.dawn.com/archives/13382; cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5; cf. Hisam, “Author”; cf. Khan, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. “Fehmeeda Riaz’s Son Drowns”; cf. “Publication of 22-Volume Urdu Lughat Celebrated”, editorial, Dawn.com Jun 18, 2010, accessed Mar 9, 2023, https://www.dawn.com /news/970554/publication-of-22-volume-urdu-lughat-celebrated; cf. Salman Peerzada, “Fahmida Riaz Remembered with Teary Eyes”, Dawn.com, Nov 28, 2018, accessed Feb 4, 2023, https://www.dawn.com/news/1448033/fahmida-riaz-remembered-with-teary-eyes; cf. “Fahmida Riaz: Poems”, Poemhunter.com, The World’s Poetry Archive, 2012, Classic Poetry Series, accessed Mar 24, 2023, http://www.poemhunter.com/i/ebooks/pdf/fahmida_riaz_2012_4.pdf, 3; cf. Riyāẓ,

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translate stories and biographies of famous writers and thinkers so that young readers can widen their knowledge about sometimes not easily accessible literature. One, therefore, finds small biographic books about the Urdu poet Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ or about the Sindhi writer Mirzā Qalīc Beg.46 For even younger Urdu readers between 6 and 9, as well as 5 to 7 years, Fahmīdah writes supplementary material such as Peṛ kī pahelī (The Story of a Tree) and Jangal meṉ bheṛiyā (The Wolf in the Jungle), being first published in the series Kitāboṉ kī kahkashān (Galaxy of Books) in 2011 and 2012.47 Fahmīdah’s important anthology Sab laʼl-o guhar: Kullīyāt (All Rubies and Pearls: Complete Works), which incorporates most of her poetry, was published in late 2011 and contains around 300 poems. Its title is a reference to the verses of Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ. In 2012 her translation of Najīb Maḥfūz̤ ’s48 Wedding Song (Shādiyānah) was published in Urdu. Combined as a new edition, she also published her three travelogues Zindah bahar, Godāvarī and Karācī compiled as Ham log (Our People) in 2013.49 In this year, she also received the Lifetime Achievement || Tum Kabīr; cf. Raza Rumi, “Fahmida Riaz’s ‘Salaam’”, Pak Tea House, Jan 16, 2008, accessed Mar 27, 2013; cf. “Fahmida Riaz: The Progressive Writer and Poet of Sindh”; cf. “Karachi: Fahmida Riaz Appointed Chief Editor of UDB”, editorial, Dawn.com Jun 21, 2009, accessed Apr 9, 2022 https://www.dawn.com/news/472855/karachi-fahmida-riaz-appointed-chief-editor-ofudb; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 24:12–24:39; cf. “Fahmida Riaz“, Lyrikline, accessed Mar 23, 2023, https://www.lyrikline.org/de/autoren/fahmida-riaz; cf. Sanam Zeb, “From My Bookshelf: ‘Akhir-i-Shab Haunts Me Because I Was Associated With the Left’”, Dawn.com, Mar 22, 2017, accessed Mar 14, 2023, https://www.dawn.com/news/1321991/from-my-bookshelf-akhir-i-shabhaunts-me-because-i-was-associated-with-the-left. 46 Cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ, Pahlī ishā‘at 2009ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2009], Dasvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Tenth Impression], ‘az̤ īm Pākistānī [Urdu: Famous Pakistani] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019); and cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Mirzā Qalīc Beg, Pahlī ishā‘at 2010ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2010], Tīsrī t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Third Impression], Roshnī ke mīnār [Urdu: Pillars of Light] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2015). 47 Cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Peṛ kī pahelī: 6 se 9 bars ke baccoṉ ke liʼe [Urdu: Story of a Tree: For Children from 6 to 9 Years], Pahlī ishā‘at 2011ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2011], Chaṭī t̤a ̤ bā‘at [Urdu: Sixth Impression], Kitāboṉ kī kahkashān [Urdu: Galaxy of Books] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019); and cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Jangal meṉ bheṛiyā: 5 se 7 bars ke baccoṉ ke liʼe [Urdu: The Wolf in the Jungle: For Children from 5 to 7 Years], Pahlī ishā‘at 2012ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2012], Dasvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Tenth Impression], Kitāboṉ kī kahkashān [Urdu: Galaxy of Books] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019). 48 Commonly known as “Naguib Mahfouz.” 49 Cf. Asif Farrukhi, “Stories of Our People”, Dawn.com, Oct 14, 2014, accessed Apr 9, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1049458; cf. “The Worst of Times”, editorial, Dawn.com – InpaperMagazine May 20, 2012, accessed Apr 9, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/719829/theworst-of-times; cf. “Fahmida Riaz’s Anthology Launched”, editorial, Dawn.com Sep 19, 2019, accessed Apr 12, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/658128.

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Award by the Yorkshire Adabee Forum at the Urdu Conference.50 The ensuing years Fahmīdah had quite a lot of short stories and translations published, mainly from Persian to Urdu, focussing on being suitable for children. Next to those about famous writers and thinkers written in Urdu in 2009 and 2010, the Oxford University series called Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers is published in English and focusses on famous works of Sufi poets such as Shaikh Saʻdī Shirāzī, Shaikh Farīd ud-Dīn ʻAt̤t ā̤ r, Shāh ʻAbdul Lat̤īf Bhiṭāʼī, Rūmī and the Tunisian historiographer and historian Ibn-e Khahldūn.51 The first book in the series, Our Shaikh Sa’di: A Selection from ‘Gulistan’ and ‘Bustan’, contains a translated selection of Shaikh Saʻdī’s works called Gulistān (The Rose Garden) and Būstān (The Orchard) from the thirteenth century. The books, which were and are an important part of Islamic schools in India, try to guide “kings and powerful officials regarding”52 values and humanitarian help for the people.53 The second book, The Simurgh and the Birds: A Selection from ‘Mantiq-ut-Tayr’ by Shaikh Farid ud-Din Attar, published in 2014, depicts “the basic ideas on which Sufism is based”,54 using an abridged translation of Mant̤iqut̤-t̤air (Conference of the Birds), which highlights “the golden age of the blossoming of Sufi philosophy in the medieval era”.55 Written as a fable, each bird has a different human weakness, so that “the reader can learn to confront his or her fears […] and focus on human potentials of humility, patience, self-improvement, and courage”56 while reading this poem.57 The third book in the series is a

|| 50 Cf. Rubab Karrar, “Sixth Global Urdu Conference: A Lifetime of Creativity,” Dawn.com, Dec 8, 2013, accessed Apr 9, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1060887. 51 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, trans. and ed., Our Shaikh Saʼdi: A selection from ‘Gulistan’ and ‘Bustan’, First Edition 2013, Fourth Impression 2019, Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2019); cf. Fahmida Riaz, trans. and ed., The Simurgh and the Birds: A Selection from ‘Mantiq-ut-Tayr’ by Shaikh Fareed ud-Din Attar, Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2014); cf. Fahmida Riaz, trans. and ed., Our Bhitai: A Selection from ‘Shah jo Risalo‘ by Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai, Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2015); cf. Fahmida Riaz, trans. and ed., Our Rumi: A Selection from ‘Masnavi-i Ma’navi’ and ‘Diwan-e Kabir’ by Jalaluddin Rumi”, Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2016); cf. Fahmida Riaz, writer and ed., Ibn e Khaldun and his Muqaddimah, Literary Heritage Series for Young Readers (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2018). 52 Fahmida Riaz, Our Shaikh Saʼdi, vi. 53 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, Our Shaikh Saʼdi, v–vii. 54 Riaz, The Simurgh and the Birds, vi. 55 Riaz, The Simurgh and the Birds, vi. 56 Riaz, The Simurgh and the Birds, viii. 57 Cf. Riaz, The Simurgh and the Birds, vi–viii.

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compiled translation of Shāh ʻAbdul Lat̤īf Bhiṭāʼī’s poetry, which “mirror[s] the geographical features of the land he passed through”,58 is, unlike the other books, translated from Sindhi and not Persian.59 Our Bhitai: A Selection from ‘Shah jo Risalo’ by Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai is written in different surs (Modes of Singing; in Hindi and Urdu: rāg or rāgnī), a form of singing. The oral collection of this poetry was “memorized by wandering minstrels”,60 who sung them while travelling, wherefore, it is known as “Shāh jo Risālo”, meaning “’all that Shah wanted to communicate to the people’”.61 The poetry deals with topics and descriptions about farmers, weavers, fishermen, sailors as well as women in daily life.62 The fourth book, Our Rumi: A Selection from ‘Masnavi-i Ma‘navi’ and ‘Diwane Kabir’ by Jalaluddin Rumi, is again a selected translation from Persian to English, published in 2016. The selected verses shall bring young readers of South Asia closer to “the tradition of empirical learning in [their] past”63 as well as show them that all humans on this earth are equal and deserve the same love, no matter which race, religion, or ethnicity.64 The last book in the series, Ibn e Khaldun and his Muqaddimah, gives a short overview over Ibn-e Khaldūn and his life, his personal traits as well as his Muqaddimah (An Introduction), which was “written by him as a preface to a book of history”65 in 1337, containing “his life’s experiences, observations, and analysis”66. According to Fahmīdah, his ideas about social sciences were so unique, that they were the regarded to on a daily basis even until the 19th century, when European philosophers discovered and utilised them.67 On 5th of January 2016 Fahmīdah was awarded the Kamal-e-Fun Award 2014 and worked for Oxford University Press.68 With them she also published further books in 2017 and 2018, although they finally terminated her employment “due to her long sick leave”.69 There is, for instance, Qil‘ah-e farāmoshī (The Fort of || 58 Riaz, Our Bhitai, 8. 59 Cf. Riaz, Our Bhitai, 3–8. 60 Riaz, Our Bhitai, vii. 61 Riaz, Our Bhitai, vii. 62 Cf. Riaz, Our Bhitai, viii; 1–2. 63 Riaz, Our Rumi, xii. 64 Cf. Riaz, Our Rumi, xii. 65 Riaz, Ibn e Khaldun, 4. 66 Riaz, Ibn e Khaldun, 4. 67 Cf. Riaz, Ibn e Khaldun, 4–5. 68 Cf. “Fahmida Riaz Nominated for Kamal-e-Fun Award”; cf. “Honour: Kamal-e-Fun Award Goes to Urdu Poet Fahmida Riaz”, editorial, Express Tribune Jan 6, 2016, accessed May 11, 2019, https://tribune.com.pk/story/1022437/honour-kamal-e-fun-award-goes-to-urdu-poet-fahmidariaz/. 69 Gandapur, “My Memories.”

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Forgetfulness), which conveys a story about “Mazdak, who started a revolution which has shattered the kingdoms of Iran back in [the; A/N] 5th centuries [sic!]”,70 as well as a story about her grandsons Sulaiman and Dawood called The Eighth Wonder.71 This small book gives some insight into Fahmīdah’s daughter’s family constellation in Lahore since the plot, narrated by the voice of her seven-year-old grandson Sulaiman, depicts her own but also her new-born, two-months old grandson’s nickname and portrays the living situation during her short visit at her daughter’s house. The book seems to narrate one of her short visits to her grandsons in a very intimate way and might be a reminder about their time together, for when she is no more. As such the booklet seems to portray Fahmīdah’s family life away from Karachi, where she lived with her husband Zafar Ali Ujjan, who suffered paralysis and became bedridden around 2013.72 After being diagnosed with auto-immune syndrome in 2017, Fahmidah moved to Lahore to her daughter, Veerta Ali Ujjan, who is a doctor. Only dependant on oxygen she spent some time with her and her grandchildren before dying at the age of 72 in a local hospital in Lahore on Wednesday evening the 21st of November 2018. Following her last wishes to be “buried wherever she died, with the minimum of fuss [and; A/N] [t]ravel and being alone […] panic-inducing for her so [that; A/N] she had asked […] not to put her in the morgue”,73 the family kept her at home for the night before bringing her to Bahar Shah, the nearest graveyard to their home.74 Fahmīdah also left behind another daughter from her first marriage, who currently resides in the US.75 To get an insight into Fahmīdah’s poetry and her way with words, it is essential to reflect about which topics moved her most and were most dear to her. A look at her personality and style of writing is therefore helpful.

|| 70 Shernawaz Gul, “Community Reviews”, Goodreads.com, Oct 21, 2018, accessed Jun 5, 2019, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36634046-qila-e-faramoshi. 71 Cf. Gandapur, “My Memories”; cf. Gul, “Community Reviews”; cf. Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, Qil‘ah-e farāmoshī [Urdu: The Fort of Forgetfulness] (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2017); cf. Fahmida Riaz, The Eighth Wonder (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2018). 72 Cf. “Fahmida Riaz Nominated for Kamal-e-Fun Award”; cf. Khan, “Fahmida Riaz”. 73 “The Daughter Clarifies Statement About Fahmida Riaz”, editorial, Dawn.com Dec 20, 2018, accessed May 6, 2019, https://www.dawn.com/news/1452399. 74 Cf. “Noted Progressive Poet”; cf. Gandapur, “My Memories”; cf. Khan, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. “Pakistan’s Progressive Poet Fahmida Riaz Dies at 73”, editorial, Times Now News.com Nov 23, 2018, accessed Jun 15, 2019, https://www.timesnownews.com/international/article/pakistansprogressive-poet-fahmida-riaz-dies-at/319173; cf. “The Daughter Clarifies Statement About Fahmida Riaz”. 75 Cf. Khan, “Fahmida Riaz.”

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4.2 Personality and style Fahmīdah’s thoughts and personality are reflected in her literature. Claiming to be an atheist and a revolutionary Marxist she read Karl Marx from a young age. While being influenced by Marxism she also looked up to independent women, being deprived of a close male role-model in her early life. Social injustice and bereaved of love were equally painful for her, hence, she participated in active and literary protest to voice her opinion about a variety of topics regarding injustice. Her goal was to bring “about a social change in society”.76 “[T]he denial of sexuality to women”77 set Fahmīdah thinking and she concluded that this denial of sexuality or “self-assertion”78 is a form of oppression by men. To change things within society one had to empower women to openly express their sexuality.79 In Fahmīdah’s feminist and political poems, which try to achieve the mentioned social change, one can see her love for languages and literature. Having read ‘Platts’ Urdu-Hindi to English Dictionary like a book of poems’80 her “poetic language is playful and eclectic”,81 states Kasmi. No wonder that “Sindhi, Hindi, Arabic, Persian and Braj idiom mingle freely with the polished conventions of Urdu verse, de-centring its containment within any border, communal or national.”82 Fahmīdah herself said in an interview with Eleanor Wachtel at the Jaipur Literary Festival in February 2013 that according to her Hindi and Urdu are the same language, Urdu only being the urban version of a language used to be called Hindi or Hindwī, which again is the urban version of Khaṛī Bolī. The only difference being the script.83 Thus, she “use[s] Persian and Arabic words liberally when [she] want[s] to”84 and living in Sindh also tries to bring Urdu closer to Sindhi in her poetry. The Hindi words in it she got from reading “early Urdu poetry || 76 Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 10:10–10:19 and cf. 09:50–10:30, 17:54–18:38, 40:04–40:11, 41:16–42:21. 77 Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 26:31–26:33. 78 Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 27:00–27:03. 79 Cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 26:14–27:22. 80 Rakhshanda Jalil, “Literary Tribute. ‘Never Thought of Myself as A Rebel. A Poet Has a Different Framework’: Fahmida Riaz (1946–2018). A Tribute to the Feminist Revolutionary Poet and Writer from Pakistan, Who Died on November 21, 2018”, scroll.in, Nov 25, 2018, accessed Dec 4, 2018, https://scroll.in/article/903147/never. 81 Sara Kasmi, “Don’t Make My Corpse Apologise: Lessons in Dissidence from Fahmida Riaz,” Dawn.com, Dec 4, 2018, accessed Jun 15, 2019, https://www.dawn.com/news/1449401/dontmake-my-corpse-apologise-lessons-in-dissidence-from-fahmida-riaz. 82 Kasmi, “Corpse Apologise”. 83 Cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 20:07–21:09. 84 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz.”

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and modern poets like Miraji”85 even before being exiled in India.86 Moreover, Fahmīdah’s notion about rural language being “more vital and more adequately reflect[ing] everyday life”87 affect her usage of “purely vernacular and [of; A/N] Indic origin [vocabulary] instead of the high-flown Persian terms […] which are less easily understood by an audience belonging to the lower strata of society and lacking proper education”,88 points out Pietrangelo. He further states that even her Arabic and Persian loanwords belong to the “core of the common language.”89 In Fahmīdah’s own words, literature, which “is something alive, like any other living organism”90 “reflects the conflicts and aspirations of the peoples of the country.”91 Pakistani people being “a tortured and betrayed people”,92 who “overcome with confusion, faced with repression and even catastrophe”93 depict their daily struggles in Pakistani literature. According to Fahmīdah, it contains “remarkable vigour and hope.”94 In general, her “work reflects Pakistan, in all its positive and negative developments that influence the lives of the people and mirror the new country”,95 describes Fahmīdah her efforts. The women’s movement in Pakistan, which results in the liberation of women and girls in the middle-class, is responsible for Fahmīdah being able to write in her own voice about love between women and men, despite belonging to the “sharif middle-class”.96 In her poetry, she also “celebrate[s] female sexuality and mourn[s] its suppression and mutilation by social compulsion”97 while additionally “reflect[ing] the political reality of Pakistan”98 and pointing out several issues. These are, for instance, “the status of the Urduspeaking people in Pakistan”, “the events and ambience of Pakistan as [she] saw it since the days of Z. A. Bhutto […] [a; A/N] spineless cajolery and mindless || 85 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz.” 86 Cf. Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz.” 87 Valerio Pietrangelo, “Urdu Literature and Women: Student Paper”, Annual of Urdu Studies 19 (2004): 161, accessed Dec 16, 2022, http://digital.library.wisc.edu/1793/18637. 88 Pietrangelo, “Urdu Literature”, 161. 89 Pietrangelo, “Urdu Literature”, 161. 90 Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 91 Riaz, Pakistan: Literature and Society, 122. 92 Riaz, Pakistan: Literature and Society, 122. 93 Riaz, Pakistan: Literature and Society, 122. 94 Riaz, Pakistan: Literature and Society, 122. 95 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”, para. 5. 96 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 97 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 98 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”.

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adoration exhibited by the Pakistani intelligentsia towards a political leader who had no respect for democratic institutions”,99 the issue of the Aḥmadiyyah being declared as non-Muslims, the Liaquat Bagh massacre on 23rd of March 1973 where “a rally of the opposition in Rawalpindi was fired upon for four hours”100 or “a major army operation [that; A/N] was carried out in Balouchistan”.101 Besides, she writes about “the summary military courts, [or; A/N] the body-search of passengers in buses”102 and the “pain of exile that many Pakistanis had to suffer during that [Zia ul-Haq’s; A/N] era”.103 Apart from that, Fahmīdah deals with unresolved social and communal issues in India, which are also illustrated in her novel Godāvarī. The other two novels, Zindah bahar and Karacī, discuss the “trauma for Pakistanis of accepting it [Bangladesh] as a foreign country”104 and trace Karachi’s “class composition and characteristics”.105 Also, her translations centre similar themes. An example for this is the “poetry of the rebellious Sindhi poet Attiya Dawood into Urdu”,106 who talks about the “still prevailing practice of ‘honour killings’”107 in Pakistan.108 Fahmīdah’s poetry, which according to Alvi “relies on a heavy use of intertextuality and allusion to mythologies”109 was very often misinterpreted due to the critics’ lack of examining “the relationship between the life and works of [her as; A/N] a writer”,110 clarifies the poetess.111 Fahmīdah’s poetry is, except for some few pieces in the classical ghazal form, written as pāband112 (guided/regulated verse) or āzād naz̤ m (free verse). These are “free from the rigidity of line length and the conventions of rhyme and meter || 99 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 100 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 101 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 102 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 103 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 104 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 105 Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 106 Christina Oesterheld, “Islam in Contemporary South Asia: Urdu and Muslim Women”, Oriente Moderno 23 (84), no. 1 (2004): 229, accessed Mar 5, 2023, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25817926. 107 Oesterheld, “Islam”, 229. 108 Cf. Oesterheld, “Islam”, 229. 109 Asad Alvi, “Fahmida Riaz: The Act of Translation as Mourning, I Invite You to Meet Fahmida in the Liminal Act of Translation Beyond the Wall that Divides the Living from the Dead”, Prism – Dawn.com, Jan 9, 2019, accessed Mar 22, 2023, https://www.dawn.com/news/1456045. 110 Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 111 Cf. Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 112 Cf. Mohammed Hanif, “All the Political Parties Have Government Agents in their Ranks: Fahmida Riaz”, Reprint of the Herald’s July Issue 1988, Herald – Dawn.com, Feb 11, 2019, accessed Feb 19, 2023, https://herald.dawn.com/news/1398808.

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crucial to ghazal composition”113 and are, therefore ‘relevant for the current times’,114 claims Fahmīdah. Preferring to “give a sustained kind of expression to [her] thought”115, most poems revolve around a single topic.116 Being free from the “conventional rhyming schemes, her poetry resonates with musical qualities and contains an internal meter”,117 she furthermore integrates “language and imagery of traditional Hindi gits (songs, village songs, folk songs) into her Urdu poetry”,118 highlights Anantharam. Naturally many poets and writers such as Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ, Naz̤ īr Akbarābādī, Premchand or Rumi have influenced Fahmīdah’s thinking and style of writing. Particularly, Naz̤ ī Akbarābādī’s “vast, almost limitless vocabulary”119 in his poems about “Holi, Divali and Eid in 18th century India”120 influenced her themes and diction, Shaikh Ayāz’s pieces affected her poetry “as far as form and meter are concerned”,121 and Rumi, who introduced her to Sufism around 2004, which is “concerned with the mysteries of the universe and the place of the individual in that mystery […] still deeply attract[s] a thinking mind”,122 says the poetess.123 With time Fahmīdah’s “mental framework”124 changes and the approach to topics such as religion are seen in a different light from being “a human invention”125 to a “discovery”.126 This also explains her initial poetry against religion, which later changed when “[s]he found that most religions began when society had already institutionalized the subjugation of women, and religion never gave women an equal status”.127 Opposing religion, however, does not mean spirituality not being important to her.128 || 113 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 110. 114 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 100. 115 Hanif, “Political Parties Have Government Agents in their Ranks”. 116 Cf. Hanif, “Political Parties Have Government Agents in their Ranks”. 117 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 110. 118 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 110f. 119 “Interview: Talkingbooks. Writer, Poet and Activist Fahmida Riaz Quips About Her Reading Habits”, editorial, Dawn.com – InpaperMagazine Apr 17, 2011, accessed Apr 8, 2017, https:// www.dawn.com/news/621574/interview-talkingbooks-2. 120 “Interview: Talkingbooks.” 121 Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 122 Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 123 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 110f; cf. “Interview: Talkingbooks”; cf. Qasim A. Moini, “Compendium of Sufi Verse Launched”, Dawn.com, Dec 7, 2014, accessed Apr 12, 2017, https://www.dawn.com/news/1149206; cf. Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive”. 124 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz”. 125 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz”. 126 Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz”. 127 Manchanda, A Report on the IAWRT Seminar. 128 Cf. Jalil, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. Manchanda, A Report on the IAWRT Seminar.

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Remarkable is Fahmīdah’s notion about the quality of books in Pakistan today, which differs depending on whether they are Urdu or English publications. Though deeply interested in “a serious study of religion, or even Islam”,129 prose and poetry, all these genres nowadays are written disappointingly, states the poetess in an interview of 2015. English publications by Pakistani authors, she highlights, are as important as those in Pakistani languages. These authors “belong to a certain class and their works reflect the ethos and experiences of the well-todo classes in Pakistan” but are nevertheless worth any less. Additionally, translations from several Pakistani languages into English are necessary in the future.130 In her poetry, Fahmīdah questions idealised standards of female beauty, which oppress women. She includes symbols and myths from the Bible and the Qurʼan, experiments with dialects and, as pointed out above, folk songs and tales. The critique from her family and society, which naturally occurs, does not stop her from continuing her work.131 Her first volume of poetry, Patthar kī zabān, addresses topics such as love, sexual awakening from a female point of view and the wish for a partner in life.132 Her second volume, Badan darīdah, another collection “about the oppression of women, the constraints on them - not to express themselves”133 revolves around the “experience of ‘offering your body to somebody for whom you have no desire’”134 as well as “human existence, loneliness, disillusionment, sexual politics, female sexuality and motherhood, to spirituality, religion and nature”.135 The third volume, Dhūp, depicts Fahmīdah’s increased involvement in political and social issues and focuses on language, identity and culture, particularly “between Sindhi and the language of the common people in the villages and town of Uttar Pradesh”.136 Written between 1987 and || 129 “Top Reads: Pakistani Writers Reveal Which Books They Loved and Loathed in 2015”, editorial, Dawn Books & Authors Dec 30, 2015, accessed Apr 12, 2017, https://images.dawn.com/ news/1174542. 130 Cf. “Top Reads”; cf. Sindhu, “Herald Exclusive.” 131 Cf. Hussein, “Fahmida Riaz”, xiv–xv; cf. Mehr Afshan Farooqi, ed., The Oxford India Anthology of Modern Urdu Literature: Poetry and Prose Miscellany (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2010), 95; cf. Wachtel, “Making Waves,” 25:42–26:10, 27:37–27:56. 132 Cf. Hisam, “Author.” 133 Hanif, “Political Parties Have Government Agents in their Ranks”. 134 Kuldeep Kumar, “Fahmida Riaz: Voice of a Torn Soul,” The Hindu, Nov 30, 2018, accessed Dec 10, 2022, https://www.thehindu.com/books/books-authors/fahmida-riaz-voice-of-a-tornsoul/article25625730.ece. 135 Hisam, “Fahmida Riaz.” 136 Hisam, “Fahmida Riaz.” Cf. Hanif, “Political Parties Have Government Agents in their Ranks”.

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1988 her fourth volume, Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?, which is a long poem divided into seven chapters, Fahmīdah writes about “the hopes, despair and struggle of the Pakistani people”137 during the regime of Zia ul-Haq. It also depicts this time’s “atmosphere of oppression and violence”138 and is initially published in Devānāgarī in India in 1986 while Fahmīdah resides in exile. Apnā jurm sābit hai (My Crime Is Proven) is released in the same year, giving an additional account of “Fahmida’s experiences of traveling through villages in Uttar Pradesh”139 and criticising religious nationalism in India and Pakistan.140 Hamrakāb too follows in those footsteps and largely deals with the critique of political or social issues, including being in exile. The seventh volume Ādmī kī zindagī comprises the aftermath of Fahmīdah’s journey, “[p]olitical chaos, the desire for internal and external union and the literary quest of human life”.141 Tum Kabīr …, her last volume with old and new pieces, fulfils an old promise made to her dead son and is dedicated to him. In it, she explores the worldwide political landscape with a glimpse of religious topics and human mortality.142 A more detailed picture can be seen through the transliteration, translation, and historical-hermeneutical analysis of Fahmīdah’s Urdu poems. A selection of 47 of her poems over a period of 50 years provides answers regarding the portrayals of women and their views on various matters of everyday life in Pakistan. The eight volumes of poetry are each represented by seven to eight poems that give an insight into the current matters and themes during the time of composition. Only in the case of the fourth volume, there will be one poem and in the case of the last, there are nine poems due to the currency of the volume. After each poem’s transliteration and translation, as close as possible to the text, comes a short analysis of the imagery and metaphors, regarding Fahmīdah’s stages in life that shall provide some clarity about the content of the poem.

|| 137 Cf. Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature.” 138 Raza Naeem, “Fahmida Riaz, the Ninth Heroine of the Indus Valley: With Her Startling Narrative Style and Themes Spanning from Female Desire to Political Consciousness, Fahmida Riaz’s Urdu Poetry Is Among the Best in the Modern Era”, The Wire, Nov 22, 2018, originally published Jul 28, 2018, accessed Dec 4, 2018, https://thewire.in/culture/fahmida-riaz-the-ninth-heroine-of-the-indus-valley. 139 Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 107. 140 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 107; cf. Naeem, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 141 Naeem, “Fahmida Riaz.” 142 Cf. KarachiLitFestival, “KLF-2017: Book Launch: Tum Kabeer and Qila E Faramoshi by Fahmida Riaz (11.2.2017),” YouTube video, posted by “KarachiLitFestival”, Mar 01, 2017, accessed Mar 14, 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zo9gOyGXMeY.

5 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ The first English translations from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s Urdu poetry appear in Mahmood Jamal’s Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry from 1986 where he concentrates on 15 poets and only two poetesses, Kishwar Nāhīd and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ, “who have made some contribution to the development of modern Urdu poetry”1.2 This selection might also show the scarcity of female poets in Urdu poetry. Due to Jamal’s focus on modern Urdu poetry, he leaves out the classical form used in poetry: a ghazal. Obtaining a degree in South Asian Studies and thus being trained in scholarly work and philological methods, he tries to translate the selected poems as close to the original as possible.3 His focus is on the first two volumes of Fahmīdah’s poems: Patthar kī zabān from 1967 and Badan darīdah from 1972.4 From the former volume, one can find four poems: guṛiyā (Doll),5 jhijak (Inhibition), patthar kī zabān (translated as “Voice of Stone”) and sac (Truth). Guṛiyā is a poem, which satirically portrays the way girls are seen and treated in Pakistani society by comparing them to dolls. Jhijak sarcastically illustrates in what fashion a virgin shall behave in the minds of Pakistani men. Patthar kī zabān describes the long and desperate wait of a girl for her lover in the mountains and sac again emphasises the double standard of the Pakistani society. From the second volume, there are translations of three poems. Mere aur tumhāre bīc (Between You and Me) describes a couple that does not know boundaries in their relationship. Still, the female is missing a certain amount of love. Muhājir (Mohajir) then again describes the dilemma of the Indian Muslim immigrants to Pakistan and their disappointment and inability to blend in into the new society. Finally, there is vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai (She Is a Woman Impure) that demonstrates Pakistan’s society where women are being seen as impure, shameless and the companion of evil due to their monthly menstruation.6 A relatively hidden volume of translated poetry by Rajinder Singh Verma from 1989 contains three rather uniquely translated poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ. The first poem patthar kī zabān (The Tongue of Stone) from the eponymous

|| 1 Jamal, Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, 20. 2 A table of the already translated poems can be found enclosed in Annexe D. 3 Cf. Jamal, Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, 1 and 20. 4 Cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5. 5 The given English titles in this chapter might not always be the correct translations. Since they refer to the works of the mentioned translators, they are quoted as stated in those works when referred to for the first time. 6 Cf. Jamal, Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, 153–159; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-005

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volume as well as the two poems āḍan ke nām (Auden! I Endorse) and muqā bilahe ḥusn (Beauty Competition) from Badan darīdah have been, at times, rendered in a style of archaic English.7 The poem āḍan ke nām is most likely an appreciation of W. H. Auden’s work, a very influential British/American poet of Modernism in the 1930s to 1973.8 Rukhsana Ahmad’s We Sinful Women: Contemporary Urdu Feminist Poetry, Including the Original Urdu from 19919 however, highlights the achievement of seven modern female poets who according to her have been brushed aside in male-dominated Urdu poetry.10 Among them are famous poetesses such as Kishwar Nāhīd, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ and Sārā Shaguftah. Contrary to Jamal Ahmad also presents the original poems in Urdu, which is an advantage for readers with knowledge of the original language. However, for the sake of rhyme, she does not always observe a translation close to the original text.11 The selection focuses on poems about “feminist struggle or political awareness”12 regarding the difficult situation for women in Pakistan, whose rights were tried to be subverted at different times.13 Fahmīdah’s work is represented by translations from Badan darīdah and the fifth/sixth volume of poems Apnā jurm sābit hai14/Hamrakāb15 from 198616/198817 which covers her poetry from 1981–198718. Ahmad’s anthology of poems represents Fahmīdah’s Badan darīdah with several translations of her poetry. Next to the translation of āḍan ke nām (To Auden) it contains ae vālī-o rab-e kaun-o makāṉ (O God of Heaven and Earth), which describes the evening prayer when the sunset starts. In it, the praying protagonist feels desolated and longs for some love. There is also, aqlīmā (Akleema) which

|| 7 Cf. Rajinder Singh Verma, transl. Contemporary Urdu Verse: Hundred Masterpieces of Eighty Major Urdu Poets (Delhi: Atma Ram & Sons, 1989). 8 Cf. Academy of American Poets, “Poet. W. H. Auden”, Poets.org, (s. a.), accessed Aug 3, 2017, https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/w-h-auden. 9 First published 1990 by ASR Publications in Lahore. 10 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 1 and 7. 11 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 19f. 12 Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 6. 13 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 8. 14 Cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 7. 15 Cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5. 16 Cf. Anita Anantharam, “One Day the Girl Will Return: Feminism, Nation, and Poetry in South Asia,” (doctoral dissertation, University of California, Berkley, South and Southeast Asian Studies, Fall 2003), 154, downloaded Nov 10, 2016, https://www.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/one-day-girl-will-return-feminism-nation-poetry/docview/305338158/se-2. 17 The first edition of from 1988, though the reference states a later edition from 2013. 18 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 311.

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has a religious and social connotation. In it, the Islamic-Pakistani tradition of focusing on men more than on women is criticised. The poem revolves around Aqlīmā, the twin sister of Qābīl (Cain) and their younger brother Hābīl (Abel).19 Though having a physical difference she is nevertheless a human that should also be spoken to by Allah and asked for something. Likewise, bākirah (Virgin) displays the exaggerated worth of virgins by comparing them as sacrifices in the name of God. The poem ek ‘aurat kī haṅsī (The Laughter of a Woman) analogically describes the sexual desire of women that they are not allowed to show in the Pakistani society as well as personal freedom of women that is suppressed. Another poem describing women’s pleasure is lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā (Come, Give Me Your Hand) which portrays the pregnancy of a woman who lets her husband feel the child moving inside her womb. The mother also gives insights into their intimate relationship regarding the new baby and the joy and retrieved faith in God. Rajm (Stoning) on the other hand is related to a story of Ibn-e Omar, where a man shields the woman from the stones while they are both punished to death for committing adultery.20 Sūrah-e yāsīn (Surah-e-Yaseen) might seem religiously related, yet it describes a wandering woman at night that is afraid in search of her home. Taṣvīr (Image), however, outlines God’s beautifully made character of humans within their heart that is mostly forgotten and differs drastically to what it appears to be on the outside. Also present is vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai (She Is a Woman Impure).21 Notable is the slightly different translation of Ahmad’s vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai compared to Jamal’s version.22 Additionally, Ahmed included cādar aur dīvārī (Chadur and Diwari), khānah talāshī (Search Warrant) and kotvāl baiṭhā hai (The Interrogator) which are taken from Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb. Cādar aur dīvārī delineates ironically the enforcement on women in orthodox Islamic views to cover them in a black Burqa, so that men are not tempted by them. The poem suggests that men themselves are the ones who are rotting corpses and need covering. It further highlights the absurdity to wear a Burqa and talks about various girls and women who all wear one for different reasons: The prostitute, the wives and the virgins who marry elderly men. Khānah talāshī, in turn, details Fahmīdah’s own experience of her house search under the military regime of Zia ul-Haq, due to her criticism against

|| 19 Cf. IslamTutor, “The Story of Habeel and Qabeel”, islamtutor.blogspot.de, Dec 27, 2011, accessed Aug 3, 2022, http://islamtutor.blogspot.de/2011/12/story-of-habeel-and-qabeel.html. 20 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, Four Walls and a Black Veil, second impression (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2005), 40. 21 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 66–101; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 22 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 96f; cf. Jamal, Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, 159.

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his politics.23 Also kotvāl baiṭhā hai recounts Fahmīdah’s experience with the police. Most salient is Ahmad’s title of cādar aur dīvārī (Chadur and Diwari) as Sharpe and even Anantharam, though quoting Ahmad, indicates the proper title which is cādar aur cār dīvārī (Four Walls and a Black Veil).24 Interestingly, this is also one of the most translated poems. Either entirely based on Ahmad’s from 1991 or Riaz’s and Sharpe’s version from 2005 or adapted and altered, very often even abridged. Zahra Shah, for instance, publishes her adapted version, based on Ahmad in 2019 under the name as “Four Walls and the Chadar”.25 It, therefore, also emerges with several variations regarding its original title, but also the translated title, as can be seen in the enclosed Table 1 of the Annexe. M. A. Rafey Habib, too, presents his translations along with the original Urdu poem. In his Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry from 2003 is the majority again male. Out of ten poets, only two are female: Kishwar Nāhīd and Fahmīdah Riyāẓ. He heavily draws upon famous progressive or postmodern writers such as Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ, N. M. Rāshid or Mīrājī and his choice of female writers shows his preference for well-known poetesses.26 This is why the question arises if lesserknown poetesses are not relevant or that Nāhīd and Fahmīdah are that famous that they cannot be ignored, though one might only focus on male writers. Habib tries to retain the original meaning of the Urdu poems but for the sake of Western readers, he alters some words or sentence structures from time to time.27 This is problematic, as such a translation does not evince the original structure and essence of a poem. Traditional constructs in society and the métier of Urdu poetry being classically identified as a male domain are the reason for the smaller number of female writers being neglected. However, excluding poetesses leads to a distorted picture of social structures and society at large. Moreover, it means denying the existence of poetesses next to women’s voices, views and feelings and therefore should not be ignored in research.

|| 23 Cf. Parvati Sharma and Shahrukh Alam, “Two Poems by a Pakistani Poet That Could Have Been Written in India Today: Fahmida Riaz’s Poetry Captures the Story of a General, Tyranny, and a Nation”, scroll.in, Mar 9, 2019, accessed Mar 28, 2016, https://scroll.in/article/804803/twopoems-by-a-pakistani-poet-that-could-have-been-written-in-india-today. 24 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 66–101; cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 94–99; cf. Anantharam, “One Day the Girl Will Return”, 154f; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 25 Cf. Zahra Shah, adap. and transl, “Four Walls and the Chadar”, in Disputed Legacies: The Pakistan Papers, ed. Neelam Hussain, Zubaan Series on Sexual Violence and Impunity in South Asia (New Delhi: Zubaan, 2019), xvii–xix. 26 Cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry. 27 Cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, xxxv–xl.

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Like Jamal, Habib emphasises on Fahmīdah’s volumes Patthar kī zabān and Badan darīdah. Habib takes from Patthar kī zabān the two poems pachtāvā (Remorse) and patthar kī zabān (Tongue of Stone). Pachtāvā narrates the story of Adam being thrown out of Paradise and the pleasure of sin before remorse. From Badan darīdah, he translates the poems āḍan ke nām (To Auden), bākirah (Virgin), kab tak? (Until When), lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā (Come, Bring Your Hand Here) and sūrah-e yāsīn (Sura Ya Sin).28 The poem kab tak? scrutinises if men stay with women until they are old. The tenor of the poem finally shows the assumption that men only love their wives until they are young and of childbearing age. Remarkably is that the English translation from patthar kī zabān differs vastly to the one from Sharpe and Yaqin and is closer to Jamal’s but still uses different diction.29 Likewise, there is a vaster difference in phraseology in the translation of Ahmad and Habib’s āḍan ke nām.30 A smaller difference in diction can be found between Ahmad’s, Habib’s and Yaqin’s bākirah,31 as well as between Habib’s and Sharpe’s kab tak?.32 Also the English expressions between Ahmad’s and Habib’s lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā33 and between Ahmad’s, Habib’s and Yaqin’s sūrah-e yāsīn are rather similar.34 Those differences of wordings in the English translations show that there are only a few translations of Fahmīdah’s poems that transfer the original meanings and expressions. Furthermore, the variety of translations might make English readers unaware of what the original texts are. In her dissertation titled One Day the Girl Will Return: Feminism, Nation, and Poetry in South Asia from 2003,35 Anita Anantharam aims to connect Hindi and Urdu literature and tries to show what drives four poetesses from different periods and areas to compose feminist and anti-governmental poetry. Thus, she || 28 Cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry,151–171; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 29 Cf. Jamal, Penguin Book of Modern Urdu Poetry, 157; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 164f; cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 2f; cf. Amina Yaqin, transl., “Fahmida Riaz: Poems”, Annual of Urdu Studies 19 (2004): 423f. 30 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 76f; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 158–161. 31 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 78f; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 152–155; cf. Yaqin, “Fahmida Riaz,” 425f. 32 Cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 162f; cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 32f. 33 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 72–75; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 154–159. 34 Cf. Ahmad, We Sinful Women, 68f; cf. Habib, Anthology of Modern Urdu Poetry, 168–171; cf. Yaqin, “Fahmida Riaz,” 424f. 35 In 2009 Anantharam publishes the paper Engendering the Nation: Women, Islam, and Poetry in Pakistan that contains an edited version of her dissertation’s second chapter. In 2012, she finally publishes Bodies that Remember: Women’s Indigenous Knowledge and Cosmopolitanism in South Asian Poetry, an edited version of her thesis (Cf. Anantharam, “One Day the Girl Will Return”; cf. Anantharam, “Engendering the Nation,”; cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember).

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analyses fully or partially translated poems from Mahādevī Varmā, Kishwar Nāhīd, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ and Gagan Gill. Anantharam does not utilise the original text sources, wherefore Urdu readers cannot make conclusions about the quality of the translation, apart from the comparison of the diction between English and Urdu.36 For the selection of Fahmīdah’s poems, Anantharam prefers pieces from Badan darīdah as well as from the third volume Dhūp from 197637 and Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb. From Badan darīdah, Anantharam takes four poems that are translated by herself: ‘ishq, āvārah mizāj (Love, the Wanderer), meghadūt (The Cloud Messenger), pahlī bār (First Time), zabānoṉ kā bosah (The Kiss of Tongues). ‘Ishq, āvārah mizāj draws an image of the different stages of love and heartbreak during lifetime. The poem meghadūt, too, describes love: both physically and metaphorically. By doing so it combines the Kalidasa’s story of Yaksha and his wife in Sanskrit (Meghadūta) and the story of Hajār (Hagar) of the Qurʼan, who runs seven times between the mountains Ṣafā and Marwah in search of water for her son Ismā‘īl.38 It also implies the Sūfī tradition of being separated with God and wanting to be united with him.39 Another two poems, namely pahlī bār and zabānoṉ kā bosah, also illustrate physical intimacy. Zabānoṉ kā bosah draws an image of the intimacy of a French kiss from the female point of view whereas pahlī bār pictures the moment after the first time of sex.40 The translation of bākirah, on the other hand, is quoted from Ahmad’s We Sinful Women. Taken from Dhūp is a short excerpt from gīt (Gīt – “Song”) which is written in the manner of a folk song and narrates the story of village life.41 The two poems Pūrvā āncal (Eastern Border) and Ahmad’s translation of cādar aur cār dīvārī are from Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb.42 Pūrvā āncal also describes village life but with sharp criticism of religious politics mostly between Hindus and Muslims while pointing out to the wise Buddhists.43 Fahmida Riaz’s Four Walls and a Black Veil from 2004 is a collection of 38 translated poems into English from Fahmīdah’s first seven volumes. The original Urdu text is juxtaposed to the English translations so that Urdu readers can compare the translations themselves. Patricia L. Sharpe, who is the main translator, renders 28 of the poems into English. Five poems are present from Patthar kī || 36 Cf. Anantharam, “One Day the Girl Will Return”, 1af and 1. 37 Cf. Ismail, introduction to Zinda Bahar Lane, 5. 38 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 138ff. 39 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 133f. 40 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 120ff. 41 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember, 145. 42 Cf. Anantharam, “One Day the Girl Will Return”; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 43 Cf. Anantharam, Bodies that Remember.

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zabān. Those are apne dost ke liye (For a Friend), guṛiyā (Doll), jab nīnd bharī ho āṅkhoṉ meṉ (When Sleep Fills the Eyes), mirī janbīlī kī naram khūshbū (The Soft Fragrance of My Jasmine) and patthar kī zabān (Tongue of stone). Apne dost ke liye compares dying or dead love with trees in the season of autumn. Also, jab nīnd bharī ho āṅkhoṉ meṉ speaks of bygone love that is relived before the female protagonist falls asleep at night. This theme of love can also be found in merī janbīlī kī naram khūshbū where the female narrator depicts awakening love and the longing for her lover at nights.44 An overview of Badan darīdah is represented by 20 poems from which Sharpe herself translates 11. Āʼo (The Summoning), for instance, talks about infatuating love that draws men to women. Besides, passion is central in Badan darīdah, which is the fulcrum of bhīgī kālī rāt kī beṭī (Daugther of the Wet, Dark Night) as well as in vaṣl ik kiran ban kar (My Passion). At the same time, another poem ranges within the common theme of sexuality: mere hāth (My Hands). It seems to relate the exploration of the female’s body to nature in springtime. Also, muqā bilah-e ḥusn (Vital Statistics) depicts the measuring of the female’s body by her lover so that the man can estimate her value. However, when she suggests doing the same with his body, he seems to be reluctant. In contrast to this is mere lāl (My Precious One) which outlines the time of pregnancy between mother and child. The child is described as moving in the womb and the mother tries to put her child asleep. Then there is also nazar-e firāq (For Firaq Gorakhpuri), a poem dedicated to a famous Indian poet. It describes the surrounding and people of the confluence of the rivers Yamuna, Ganga, and Sarasvati in Allahabad.45 The narrator’s mind little by little understands the loss of such a great poet. The volume Badan darīdah is also delineated by kab tak? (How Long?), meghadūt (The Rain God), pahlī bār (After the First Time) and zabānoṉ kā bosah (Deep Kiss). The other nine poems, called ae vālī-o rab-e kaun-o makāṉ, aqlīmā, bākirah, ek ‘aurat kī haṅsī, lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā, rajm, sūrah-e yāsīn and vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai are directly taken from Ahmad’s We Sinful Women.46 The four poems buṛhtī nār (Girl in My Arms), ek laṛkī se (To a Girl), jāp (Mantra) and tīs janam sā gir meṉ (Thirty Birthdays) give an overview of the diverse subjects of poems in Dhūp. The narrator of the poem buṛhtī nār talks about motherly love and fear for the narrator’s daughter. Similarly, ek laṛkī se illustrates the strength of women and undermines their ability to decide freely regarding their wishes and demands. Jāp conversely, sketches diverse praises for the river Indus. || 44 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; and cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 45 Cf. “Prayag Raj: Triveni Sangam”, Prayag darshan, no date, accessed Aug 10, 2017. 46 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; and cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar.

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In it swings a bitter and sad note about the separation of India and Pakistan while the narrator relates past and present of the river’s story. Also, the content of tīs janam sā gir meṉ involves the theme of water. Linked to it is the evening of the 30th birthday of the storyteller, which she spends at the seashore. During that time, she observes and recollects her own life as well as signs of others’ lives in the sea. It seems as if the narrator is angry with God for time passing by so fast as well as other injustices.47 The translation of siṭī korṭ meṉ (In the City Court) then again, an extract of the poem dūsrā bāb (Second Part/Chapter) from the collection Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?, is prepared by Sharpe and Baidar Bakht. This poem draws a vivid picture of the court and its charade of people and charges during the Zia ul-Haq regime.48 From the volume Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb there can be eight poems found: Ahmad’s translation of khānah talāshī and kotvāl baiṭhā hai as well as Sharpe’s translation of another six poems. These are cādar aur cār dīvārī (Four Walls and A Black Veil), ba‘d meṉ jo kuch yād rahā! (Recollections), khufyah mulāqāteṉ (Clandestine Meetings), jab nahīṉ cain (The Laughter of the Stone), pūrvā āncal (Purva Anchal) and ta‘zītī qarārdādeṉ (ḥarf ākhir) (Condolence Resolution). All poems seem to have emerged from troublesome experiences during the Zia ul-Haq regime as well as her time in Indian exile. Ba‘d meṉ jo kuch yād rahā! for example, reflects on Fahmīdah’s experience of her visit to the Pakistani embassy where apparently no one cared for her. Even jab nahīṉ cain delineates the pain and helplessness of Fahmīdah when she visited her embassy. Instead of someone opening the door the staff laughed behind closed doors.49 Also, khufyah mulāqāteṉ recounts on secret meetings with Fahmīdah where visitors from Pakistan had to meet her secretly or even avoided her.50 Likewise, ta‘zītī qarārdādeṉ (ḥarf ākhir) draws an honest picture of Fahmīdah’s way of thinking and living. She asks in it for the world to see her true life and not to embellish any fact after she dies through a condolence meeting to convince the Pakistani authorities of her patriotism.51 Finally, there is a rearranged part of the long poem ādmī kī zindagī (translated as “The Life of Man”) from the eponymous volume that has been published in 1999. In it, the narrator compares life with a woman who made Man. She finds

|| 47 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; and cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 48 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; and cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 49 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 137. 50 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls, 137. 51 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; and cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar.

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out that neither can they be friends nor do they have similar expectations of life. Nevertheless, Man can love life.52 2004, Amina Yaqin translates, collected under the title Fahmida Riaz: Poems, 14 poems from Patthar kī zabān, Badan darīdah, Dhūp and her fourth volume Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?, which contains poetry from 1980.53 Two poems, namely jhijak (Reserve) and patthar kī zabān (translated as “The Language of a Stone”), are from Patthar kī zabān. Seven other poems are from Badan darīdah: aqlīmā (Aqleema), bākirah (Virgin), ek ‘aurat kī haṅsī (The Laughter of a Woman), muhājir (Mohajir), sūrah-e yāsīn (Sura-e Yasin), taṣvīr (Image) and vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai (She Is a Woman Impure). Taken from Dhūp are dīvār (Wall), lorī (Lullaby), muhājir (Mohajir), rāj siṅghāsan (The Ruling Throne) as well as an excerpt of a nameless second poem in the volume of poetry (Won’t You See the Full Moon?) from Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?.54 The poem dīvār seems to deal with Fahmīdah’s protest and exertions against injustice. It suggests that with every time something terrible happens her inner self shall be furious. A similar mood shows muhājir. It points out to the Indian Muslim immigrants after the Partition in 1947. It is possible that Fahmīdah also indicates with the term “Sain” to the rise of the nationalistic Sindhi movement that was very active in the 1970s.55 Lorī, in turn, reflects upon a mother’s fear for her daughter. It mentions the frightening and dangerous world while reassuring that the mother will make her daughter strong and brave for being able to face it without fear. The idea of strong women is further pursued in rāj siṅghāsan, which emphasises the power and intelligence of women and that they have the same rights as men in offering their prayers in temples. The portion of the nameless poem gives an insight into the situation of Fahmīdah’s exile in India. It shows her sadness regarding the humiliations she must endure as a critical writer under the Pakistani regime.56 Besides the pieces from Dhūp and Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?, the poems have already been translated by Ahmad, Habib, Jamal or Sharpe. As all Yaqin’s translations differ vastly in diction if compared to the same poems from other authors the question arises if Yaqin, a scholar for South Asian Studies, saw || 52 Cf. Riaz, Four Walls; cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar. 53 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 239; and Yaqin, “Fahmida Riaz”. 54 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar; and cf. Yaqin, “Fahmida Riaz”. 55 Cf. Asma Hussain Morio, “Wrong Use of the Word ‘Sain’”, PakistanToday.com.pk, Jun 30, 2016, accessed Aug 12, 2017, https://www.pakistantoday.com.pk/2016/01/30/wring-use-of-theword-sain/; cf. Nadeem Farooq Paracha, “Making of the Sindhi Identity: From Shah Latif to GM Syed Bhutto”, Dawn.com, Sep 10, 2015, accessed Aug 12, 207, https://www.dawn.com/news/ 1205900. 56 Cf. Yaqin, “Fahmida Riaz”.

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the lack of former translations whereas she decided to do her own ones and use scientific transliteration at various places within the paper. Furthermore, her translation does not show an artificial rhyming pattern in English but chooses wordings close to the original text in Urdu. Thus, Yaqin’s translations might be the closest and most accurate ones to the existing English translations of Fahmīdah’s poems. Nishat Zaidi, too, publishes a single poem in a literary journal. However, her poem apne dost ke liye (translated as “For My Friend”) from Fahmīdah’s first volume was also translated by Fahmida Riaz and Sharpe and published in the same year of 2005.57 Also, Mir and Mir quote, transliterate and translate chosen poems from Fahmīdah in their book A Celebration of Progressive Urdu Poetry: Anthems of Resistance. To highlight the impact of female Urdu writers on Pakistani society as well as the different feminist motives and themes they fully translate aqlīmā (Aqleema) and cādar aur cārdīvārī (The Veil and the Four Walls of Home) as well as parts from tīsrā bāb (Will You Not See the Full Moon?) from the volume Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge?. The last poem criticises consumption and at the same time “ridicule[s] the subservience of the Pakistani society to the petrodollars of the Saudi kingdom”58 during the Zia ul-Haq regime’s Islamization project.59 Additionally, to the above-named printed publications, two Blogs with selected poems can be found. 2014, Shabana Mir shows the translation tum bilkul ham jaise nikle (Turned Out You Were Just Like Us), which is published under the name nayā bhārat (New India) in the eighth volume Tum Kabīr … from 2017. The poem was originally written in 1996 and published in Devānāgarī in India under the title qatrā qatrā (Drop by Drop). Another partial translation of tum bilkul ham jaise nikle (You Turned Out to Be Just Like Us) can also be found by Khushwant Singh on HilleLe.60 The poem is full of sarcasm and cynicism about the rising Hindutva in India. It compares the attitude of Indians when religious fundamentalism started to be on the rise in Pakistan and portrays an image of what is yet to come to India. In the end, it mocks Indians, who thought themselves superior to || 57 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, and Nishat Zaidi, “For My Friend”, Indian Literature 49, no. 1 (225) (2005): 63–63, accessed Aug 18, 2020, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23346560; cf. Riaz, Four Walls. 58 Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 218. 59 Cf. Mir and Mir, Progressive Urdu Poetry, 218–221. 60 Cf. “Fahmida Riaz at IAWRT Seminar ‘Hum gunahgaar Auratein’ on March 8”, Hillele, Apr 12, 2014, accessed Apr 14, 2017; cf. Kumar, “Fahmida Riaz”; cf. Shabana Mir, “Fahmida Riaz on Fundamentalism on Both Sides”, Koonj – The crane: A Blog about Academy, Culture and Religion, Apr 11, 2014, accessed Apr 14, 2017, https://koonjblog.wordpress.com/2014/04/11/india-awashin-fundamentalism-hail-fellow-well-met/; cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 31f.

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Pakistanis in their ways of dealing with their country and having no fundamentalism. However, it turns out that they have much more things in common than they thought. Additionally, the poem bhagat singh kī mūrat (Bhagat Singh’s Statue) from Tum Kabīr … has partially been translated by Chaman Lal in the 2008.61 Parvati Sharma, on the other hand, presents her translations of kotvāl baiṭhā hai (SHO Sahib Is Waiting) and ek manz̤ ar (On Nazeer Abbasi), mistakenly displayed as Nazeer Abbasi par, from the volume Hamrakāb on scroll.in. The poem illustrates a scene from the habeas corpus hearing of Nazeer Abbasi, a municipal worker, who openly spoke against Zia ul-Haq’s regime and then disappeared in 1980.62 Atlanta Review too publishes 2014 a translation of Fahmīdah, titled In the Underground Train by Waqas Khwaja.63 The original Urdu title is zamīn doz rail meṉ from the second volume Badan darīdah.64 Some translators, however, do not only translate but also contrast their translations with the original text in Urdu. Next to Rukhsana Ahmad one also finds Amna Chaudhry, who translated two poems each from Fahmīdah’s first and third volume, Patthar kī zabān and Dhūp. Out of the first two, guṛiyā (translated as “Plaything”) and baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah (From Where I Sit I Can See Him), the second poem had, due to overlooking, been selected at the beginning of this project. The other two poems, ek laṛkī se (From a Girl) and buṛhtī nār (translated as “War Cry for a Young Woman”), taken from Dhūp, had, like guṛiyā, already been translated by Riaz and Sharpe in 2005 and differ considerably from Chaudhry’s translation.65 There are also parts of several poems in various articles by different translators. In 2004, Christina Oesterheld translates a stanza from ek laṛkī se (To a Girl), from the third volume, in her article Islam in Contemporary South Asia: Urdu and Muslim Women. Amina Yaqin publishes parts of cādar aur divārī (The Veil and Seclusion) and jhijhak (Reverse), from the first and fourth volume, in her article

|| 61 Cf. Chaman Lal, “Bhagat Singh’s Statue in Parliament: Disturbing Questions”, Liberation – Central Organ of CPI (ML), Oct 17, 2008, accessed Jun 24, 2018, http://www.archive.cpiml.org /liberation/year_2008/october/remebering%20bhagat%20singh.html. 62 Cf. Sharma and Alam, “Two Poems by a Pakistani Poet”. 63 Cf. Waqas Khwaja, “In the Underground Train”, Atlanta Review 2, no. 2 (Spring–Summer 2014): 56, accessed May 4, 2017, http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=LitRC&sw=w&u=lmum&v= 2.1&id=GALE%7CA366730879&it=r&asid=9ed442f9077c87ed077a094272c4534c. 64 Waqas Khwaja, Email to author, January 21, 2018. 65 Cf. Fahmida Riaz, “Four Poems”, Exchanges: Journal of Literary Translation Hysterium (Fall 2015): no page, trans. Amna Chaudhry, accessed Sep 26, 2022, https://exchanges.uiowa.edu/issues/hysterium/four-poems/; cf. Riaz, Four Walls.

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Badan Darida (The Body Torn): Gender and Sexuality in Pakistani Women’s Poetry in2006. Parts of ādmī kī zindagī are translated by Harris Khalique and published in 2008 in Asif Farrukhi’s Introduction to Fahmida Riaz’s Godavari. Also, the second volume’s zabānoṉ kā bosah is translated and presented as “Tongue’s Kiss” and “Tongue Kissing” by Adeeba Talukder and Waqas Khwaja at a translation slam in the States in 2011.66 From Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s last volume Tum Kabīr … (2017) Badri Raina’s partial translation of naʼī ḍikshnarī (New Dictionary) can be found Zubeida Mustafa’s article Will Pakistan Follow Egypt? published in 2011, which indicates that the poem was published before 2017. The poem revolves around Fahmīdah’s time and work when she worked as Chief Director of the Urdu Dictionary Board from 2009 to 2011. Fahmida Riaz herself also publishes parts of some of her poems in her article This too is Pakistani Literature, from 2013. These are 23. mārc 1973 (23rd March 1973), 23. mārc 1974 (23rd March 1974) as well as parts from patthar kī zabān – 2 and parts from kāfir hai ….! (He is an Unbeliever …!). The first poem criticises the Liaquat Bagh massacre, which was the firing on an opposition’s rally in Rawalpindi that lasted for several hours. The second poem portrays the critique of the Pakistani intelligentsia who admired a corrupt leader that had no respect for democratic values. The third poem is a critique of a major army operation in Balouchistan and the last poem describes Fahmīdah’s outrage regarding the governmental decision of declaring Aḥmadiyyah as non-Muslims.67 There is a small number of likely quoted and republished translation of poems, mainly those translated by Rukhsana Ahmad and Riaz and Sharpe. For instance, Mehr Afshan Farooqi cites Habib’s and Sharpe’s translation of lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā and cādar aur cār dīvārī in The Oxford India Anthology of Modern Urdu Literature: Poetry and Prose Miscellany, a collection of various translations of Urdu literature from 2008.68 Also, Reza Aslan in Tablet & Pen: Literary Landscapes from the Modern Middle East, A Words Without Borders Anthology cites Ahmad’s and Sharpe’s vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai and siṭī korṭ meṉ.69 In the 2011 published anthology, Aslan tries to give an overview over various works from literature in Arabic, Persian and Urdu by evincing elected English translations to illustrate the diverse “oriental” literature for English readers.70 Also Raza Rumi cites parts of other’s translations in his book Being Pakistani: Society, Culture and || 66 Cf. PEN America, “Translation Slam”, YouTube video, posted by “PEN America”, May 3, 2011, accessed Mar 31, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KO46PzcLz9M. 67 Cf. Riaz, “This Too is Pakistani Literature”. 68 Cf. Farooqi, India Anthology of Modern Urdu Literature, 95–98. 69 Cf. Reza Aslan, ed., Tablet & Pen: Literary Landscapes from the Modern Middle East, A Words Without Borders Anthology (New York and London: W. W. Norton & Company, 2011), 518–522. 70 Cf. Aslan, Tablet & Pen, 518–522.

47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 115

the Arts (2018), in which he gives an overview of Pakistan’s diverse culture, particularly via its literature. All verses of the translated poems, including Khushwant Singhs translation of nayā bhārat are quoted from other translators. The adjuvant excerpts are taken from Riaz and Sharpe’s translations, such as pūrvā āncal (Purva Anchal), zabānoṉ kā bosah as bosa (Deep Kiss), lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā as “Come Give me Your Hand”, jāp (Mantra), aqlīmā (Aqleema) and taʻzītī qarār dādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir) (Condolence Resolution) as well as cādar aur cār dīvārī (Chadur and Chardiwari) from Ahmad’s anthology.71 As shown, these three among other authors simply quote others’ translations without giving their own translating interpretation of the Urdu poems. Due to Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s death in November 2018 a flood of translations and partial translations were published in various blogs and newspapers. Some of these have not been translated before, some have been. Here, four poems that were selected at the beginning of this project also appeared but differ vastly from the translations of this book. These are ākās bel (Rootless Creeper), inqilābī ‘aurat (Revolutionary Woman), lorī (Lullaby) from Badan darīdah and muraqqa‘ (A Book of Fine Penmanship). The poems ākās bel and lorī focus on the theme of motherhood while inqilābī ‘aurat is a self-portrait of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s persona and muraqqa‘ appraises South Asian women. Parts of ākās bel are translated as akaas bayl (Aerophyte) in Asad Alvi’s article Fahmida Riaz: The Act of Translation as Mourning, I Invite You to Meet Fahmida in the Liminal Act of Translation Beyond the Wall that Divides the Living from the Dead, from 2019. Alvi also translates lao, apna haath lao zara (Give Me Your Hand), lorī as loree, aao (Come) and Vah: zane-napaak (She: Body Object in Blood). In 2018, he also translates parts of inqilābī ‘aurat, parts of tum bhi[sic] ham jaise nikle (You, Too, Are Like Us) and parts of cādar aur cār dīvārī (Four Walls and the Chador) in his article Fahmida Riaz, the Woman Who Decolonized Feminism: Through Translation, Fahmida Could Move across Temporalities and Geographies, She was Dictated by no Singular Logic. Further parts of nayā bhārat (here without a title), parts of muraqqa‘ (here without any title) and parts of warlḍ baink (World Bank) are presented in Salman Peerzada’s Obituary: She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways, in 2018. The poem warlḍ baink criticises worldly capitalism. Further translations of aforehand translated and untranslated poems also turn up. From Badan darīdah, there is the poem 23. mārc 1973 in Tahira Naqvi’s article Translation of “23 March, 1973” by Fahmida Riaz in 2019 and parts of the same poem appear in 2018 in M. Ilyas Khan’s article Fahmida Riaz: Pakistan Poet || 71 Cf. Raza Rumi, Being Pakistani: Society, Culture and the Arts (New Delhi: HarperCollins, 2018), 119-125.

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Who Dared to Talk about Female Desire. Tahira Naqvi also presents the poem ae arẓ-e vat̤an! as ai arz-e-vatan (O My Land!) from Hamrakāb in her 2018 article “O My Land!” (ai arz-e-vatan): Tahira Naqvi’s Trnaslation [sic] of Fahmida Riaz. This poem is a critical approach towards politics and society during Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s time in exile. Besides this, Raza Naeem gives another interpretation of Fahmīdah’s poems and partially portrays two from the first and fifth volume in his article Fahmida Riaz, The Ninth Heroine of the Indus Valley: With her Startling Narrative Style and Themes Spanning from Female Desire to Political Consciousness, Fahmida Riaz’s Urdu Poetry Is Among the Best in the Modern Era: mirī janbīlī kī naram khūshbū and cādar aur cār dīvārī (The Veil and the Four Walls of Home). From the second volume, he partially interprets aqlīma (Aqleema) and muqā bilah-e ḥusn (Beauty Contest) as well as parts of the sixth volume’s ta‘zītī qarārdādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir) (Condolence Resolutions). Aside from this, Khalid Alvi’s article A Rebel, a Feminist: Fahmida Riaz’s Radicalism Attracted Hostility but That Didn’t Curb Her Spirit from 2018, contains parts of ta‘zītī qarār-dādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir) (Condolence Resolution) and naʼī ḍikshnarī (Let Us Create a New Lexicon) from Fahmīdah’s last volume. Likewise, Dr Ahmed S. Khan’s comment in the online newspaper Pakistan Link, contains a common Pakistani transliteration and translation of taṣvīr (Portrait) as well as translations of nayā bhārat as “tum bill’kul hum jas’say nick’lay” (You Turned Out to be Just like Us) and taʼzītī qarār-dādeṉ as “Taazee’yatee Qaraar’daadaiN” (Condolence Resolutions).72 Also reappearing are parts of former translations from Amina Yaqin’s translations of lorī, rāj siṅghāsan and vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai and lines from Naeem’s translation of ta‘zītī qarār-dādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir). These can be found in Sara Kasmi’s article Don’t Make My Corpse Apologise: Lessons in Dissidence from Fahmida Riaz published 2018. Interestingly, parts of one poem reoccur in articles of three different authors after Fahmīdah’s death. The actual headline, nayā bhārat (New India), is hardly mentioned. Instead, most authors refer to the poem as tum bilkul ham jaise nikle (You Turned Out to Be Just Like Us), a poem which was originally written in the 1992 after the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhyā by Hindu extremists and published in her last volume, as aforesaid.73 Here the Portrayal of the right-wing Hindu nationalist uprising is compared with Pakistan’s black time under Zia ul-Haq’s martial law. These partial translations are found in the 2018 articles from Rakhshanda Jalil, Literary Tribute. ‘Never

|| 72 Cf. Ahmad S. Khan, “Book & Author. Fahmida Riaz: A Rebel Poetess & a Remarkable Writer”, Pakistan Link, Jun 25, 2021, accessed Jan 1, 2023, https://www.pakistanlink.org/Commentary/2021/June21/25/02.HTM. 73 Cf. Yaqin, Gender, Sexuality and Feminism, 169.

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Thought of Myself as A Rebel. A Poet Has a Different Framework’: Fahmida Riaz (1946–2018). A Tribute to the Feminist Revolutionary Poet and Writer from Pakistan, Who Died on November 21, 2018, in Kuldeep Kumar’s Fahmida Riaz: Voice of a Torn Soul, and in Yasmeen Rashidi’s Watch: You Turned Out to Be Just Like Us – Equally Stupid: Fahmida Riaz, Yasmeen Rashidi Pays Tribute to Famous Pakistani Poet and Writer Fahmida Riaz. Surprisingly only two, so far unpublished poems, are amidst the tributes to Fahmīdah. These are koʼī hotā agar jo aise bhīṅc kar pyār kartā (Had There Been Someone Who Could Hold Him Close) and din ḍhale ghar mere shām āʼī hai (Dusk Arrives at My Home as the Day Retreats). Both poems talk about love and love for life. Besides, parts of the poem ādmī kī zindagī (here translated as “Life and Man”) these are published and partially translated by Shueyb Gandapur in his 2018 article My Memories of Fahmida Riaz. Most of the translations are simply rendered into English, wherefore native speakers who are not able to read the original Urdu miss on the flow and imagery of the poems. Only Mir’s translation from 2014 is also found with a Devanāgarī version on HilleLe and Sharma adds 2016 the roman transliteration of the poems, though it is not the scientific version, which is used in the philological field of South Asian Studies.74 A recent publication by Amina Yaqin, is surprisingly refreshing among those translations, since her book Gender, Sexuality and Feminism in Pakistani Urdu Writing from 2022, are accompanied by the Urdu original as well as a nearly scientific transliteration, for those unable to read Nastaʻlīq. Her translated or partially translated poems such as aqlīmā (Aqleema), bākirah (Virgin), ek ʻaurat kī haṅsī (The Laughter of a Woman), a part of lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā (Come, Please Give me Your Hand), taṣvīr (Image), lorī (Lullaby) from Dhūp, rāj siṅghāsan (The Ruling Throne) and the dedicatory poem to Kyā tum pūra cānd na dekhoge? named as “Won’t you see the full moon?, are mainly reproduced version of her previous article from 2004. However, there are a few updated full or partial translations such as a part of jhijak (Hesitation), sūrah-e yāsīn (Sura-i Yasin), vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai (She Is an Impure Woman) as well as a part of cādar aur dīvārī (The Wall and Seclusion). Yaqin’s book also contains even entirely new translations, namely a part of zabānoṉ kā bosah (The Tongues that Kissed), a part of pahlā bāb without a translated title, but sometimes mentioned as “Kya tum” (Why You), a part of dūsrā bāb, called “kyā tum” (Kya tum – Why You) and a part of the recently often translated nayā bhārat (The New Bharat). Some of those mentioned poems are also published and Yaqin and Nazia Khan’s || 74 Cf. “Turned Out You Were Just Like Us: Fahmida Riaz Tells Indians”, Hillele. Oct 7, 2015, accessed Apr 14, 2017; cf. Sharma and Alam, “Two Poems by a Pakistani Poet”.

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article Partition and its Echoes in Karachi.75 These are bākirah, a part of sūrah-e yāsīn (here called Sura-e Yasin), vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai, zabānoṉ kā bosah, the dedicatory poem to Kyā tum pūra cānd na dekhoge?, the nameless part of pahlā bāb, and “kyā tum” from dūsrā bāb. The article, additionally, includes an up-todate new translation of a poem, called maʻīshat (Economy), which is taken from the travelogue Karachi from 1998.76 Concluding, it is obvious that most of the above-mentioned English translations differ in diction and therefore convey different meanings so that non-Urdu speakers might be left puzzled as to what the original text says. Furthermore, except for some view translators, original text passages and scientific or near-scientific transliterations are very often absent. To have a more precise insight into Fahmīdāh’s trail of thought, her feminist themes, and topics and essentially those of the Urdu speaking middle-class in Pakistan, a close literal translation of her poems which tries to contain the ambience of the original culture, rather than over-interpretating, is in order. For an even deeper understanding of the original text and for readers of non-Nastaʻlīq scripts, a scientific transliteration helps in retaining the original diction and flow of the poems, as well as its meter, metaphors, and sayings. At the same time, the aforementioned question regarding a potential change of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s feminist perception as well as the relation between the stages in her biography and singular poems as well as her volumes of poetry is best complied with the chronological appearance of these poems. Therefore, the 47 selected Urdu poems, hereafter, are arranged according to their volumes and their appearance within. However, it is important to note, that few poems in the later collected volumes, such as the seventh and eighth volume, Ᾱdmī kī zindagī or Intikhāb-e kalam and Tum Kabīr …, do contain poems that were written long before publication.

|| 75 Cf. Amina Yaqin, and Naiza Khan, “Partition and its Echoes in Karachi: The Political Agencies of Fahmida Riaz and Perween Rahman”, Journal of Commonwealth Literature 53, 3 (2022): 544–561, accessed Nov 5, 2022, https://doi.org/10.1177/00219894221115910. 76 Cf. Yaqin, Gender, Sexuality and Feminism, 119—178; and cf. Yaqin and Khan, “Partition”.

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5.1 Patthar kī zabān (1967) – First volume ek rāt kī kahānī77 — A night’s story baṛī suhānī sī rāt thī vah

It was a very charming night

havā meṉ an-jānī khoʼī khoʼī mahak

In the wind an unfamiliar lost fragrance had

racī thī bahār kī khvush-gavār ḥiddat se rāt gulnār ho rahī thī rūpahle sapne se, āsmāṉ par saḥāb ban kar bikhar gāʼe the 5

tered in the sky And like (this) one night

ek āṅgan meṉ koʼī laṛkī khaṛī hūʼī thī

Some girl (had) stood in a courtyard

khamosh ….. tanhā

Silent ….. lonely

vah apnī nāzuk, ḥasīn socoṉ ke shahar

Lost in the delicate (and) beautiful city of her

meṉ kho ke rah gāʼī thī bhar gāʼe the vah aisī hī rāt thī kih rāhoṉ meṉ us kī motī bikhar gāʼe the

thoughts All colours of the rainbow, have been filled into her eyes It was such a night that in its paths her pearls had been dispersed

hazār āchūte, kunvāre sapne

A thousand untouched, maiden dreams

naz̤ ar meṉ us kī, camak rahe the

In her glance, they sparkled

sharīr sī rāt us ko cupke se vah kahānī

In the flirtatious night she was quietly listen-

sunā rahī thī 15

ate flower, the night was maturing Like silvery dreams, the clouds were scat-

aur aisī ik rāt

dhanak ke sab rang us kī ānkhoṉ meṉ 10

mellowed With spring’s sweet intensity of a pomegran-

ing to a story

kih āj

So that today

vah apnī cūṛiyoṉ kī khanak se sharmāʼī

She was blushing from her own bangles’ jin-

jā rahī thī

gling sound

A virgin imagining a love relationship The poem ek rāt kī kahānī (A night’s story) tells the story of an unmarried young woman longing for a sexual relationship. The headline already mentions “the story of a night,” which can be seen as an indication for the wedding night as this is regarded as a very special night between childhood and adulthood for women in South Asia. The first part of the poem plays with a warm spring’s night and the blooming and blossoming of flowers. Fragrances fill the air again and particularly the fragrance of the pomegranate flower, a fruit which stands for fertility, rebirth and

|| 77 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 24.

120 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

becoming pregnant, is prominent.78 The night maturing is another indicator for the girl that stands alone in the courtyard, being in or out of puberty and developing sexual desires. The second half of the poem describes the kind of thoughts the young woman has. They are exciting and contradictory thoughts as they make her eyes shine with “all colours of the rainbow,” while the mentioned pearls stand for perfection, love, unity, and purity.79 On the other hand, she listens to a story that makes her blush “from her own bangles’ jingling sound”, a theme that is closely related to the chiming sound of bangles, worn by a bride on her wedding night. Fahmīdah’s ek rāt kī kahānī depicts the romantic longing for relationships of unmarried women in South Asian society. The beginning of spring symbolises the awakening of love and sexuality with a slightly palpable sensuality, which climaxes in the last line when the girl blushes due to hearing the soft, rhythmic sound of her bangles. ab so jāʼo80— Now go to sleep

5

10

ab so jāʼo

Now go to sleep

aur apne hāth ko mere hāth meṉ rahne do

And let your hand remain in my hand

tum cāṅd se māthe vale ho

Your forehead is like the moon

aur acchī qismat rakhte ho

And you are fortunate

bacce kī sī bhole ṣūrat

With a face innocent like that of a child

ab tak ẓid karne kī ‘ādat

Until now the habit of being stubborn

kuch khoʼī sī bāteṉ

Some lost stories

kuch sine meṉ cubhtī yādeṉ

In the bosom some piercing memories

ab aṅkheṉ bhulā do ….. so jāʼo

Now forget about them ….. Go to sleep

aur apne hāth ko mere hāth meṉ rahne do

And let your hand remain in my hand

so jāʼo ….. tum shahzāde ho

Go to sleep ….. you are a prince

aur kitne ḍheroṉ pyāre ho/aur ham ko

and how much beloved are you/and how

kitne pyāre ho!81

very dear we are!

acchā to koʼī aur bhī thī?

I see(,) so there was someone else as well?

acchā, phir bāt kahāṉ niklī?

Fine(,) then where did the story slip away?

|| 78 Cf. Suzie Canale, “Symbolic meaning of the pomegranate”, Exotic Flowers: Boston’s Premier Florist Blog, Sep 7, 2016, accessed Jun 21, 2019, http://blog.exoticflowers.com/blog-0/symbolicmeaning-of-the-pomegranate. 79 Cf. Monarch13, “The Meanings and Myths of Pearls”, Bellatory, Dec 15, 2014, accessed Jun 21, 2019. 80 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 29f. 81 For the first version cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 26; for the second cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 29.

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15

20

kuch aur bhī yādeṉ bacpan kī

A few and more memories of childhood

kuch apne ghar ke āngan kī

A few of your house’s courtyard

sab batlā do ….. phir so jāʼo

Profess everything ….. Then go to sleep

aur apne hāth ko mere hāth meṉ rahne do

And let your hand remain in my hand

yah ṭhanḍī sāṅs havāʼoṉ kī

This cool breath of the breeze

yah jhilmil kartī khāmoshī

This silence sparkles

yah ḍhaltī rāt sitāroṉ kī

This deepening starry night

bīte nah kabhī ….. tum so jāʼo

(Hope) it never passes ….. You go to sleep

aur apne hāth ko mere hāth meṉ rahne do

And let your hand remain in my hand

Being in love Ab so jāʼo (Now go to sleep) shows the comforting words of a female lover to her beloved. Through the voice of the woman, the reader feels soothed and lulled into sleep as the title already suggests the beloved to do. Initially, the female lover comforts her beloved with sweet-talking about his characteristics and that he shall forget about unimportant “lost stories” and “piercing memories” while leaving his hand in hers so that she can protect him from any harm as if he was a small child. She goes on in charming him how “beloved” and what a “prince” he is, talking to him as if he was an upset child. In the end, the woman describes the loveliness of the night in the hope that “it never passes,” relating to this relationship and its beauty that the woman cherishes and expects to last for a long time. The poem ab so jāʼo images the romantic relationship between man and woman and additionally between a mother and her child. This is symbolised by the repetition of “and let your hand remain in my hand,” which stands for comfort, belonging and protection. khushbū82 — Fragrance

5

ṭab ṭab būndeṉ, be-kal khavāhish

“Ṭab ṭab” (make) the raindrops, restless desire

sāvan rut chāʼī hai har sū

The rainy season has spread in all directions

ām ke peṛoṉ se ātī hai

From the mango trees comes

koʼal kī āvārah kū kū

The koel’s wandering “cuckoo”

gham, dhartī kī saundhī khūshbū

Sadness, the fragrance of moist earth

soʼī yādoṉ ko sahlāʼe

Sleeping memories have been caressed

bītī barsātoṉ kī guphā meṉ

In the cave of elapsed rainy seasons

khoʼe khoʼe chanke ghungurū

Lost lost chiming ghungurū83

|| 82 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 31f. 83 A string of small bells worn around the wrist or ankle.

122 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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15

20

lahar lahar be cain hai sāgar

Wave after wave, the ocean is restless

sāḥil pyāsā ẕarrah ẕarrah

Every grain of sand on the sea-shore is thirsty

dekh ke baṛhte hāth tumhāre

Seeing you extend your hand

lahar uṭhe rukh par gesū

(Like) waves, tresses have swelled upon the face

ghūnghaṭ meṉ taṛapī cingārī

In the veil fluttered a spark

bhaṭkī bāteṉ, bahakī dhaṛkan

Wandering talks, intoxicated heartbeat

sargoshī meṉ uljhī siskī

In the whispers entangled sigh(s)84

ḍhalak gāʼe shāne par āṅsū

On the shoulder tears fell

kānc kī cūṛī ke ṭukṛoṉ se

From the broken pieces of the glass-bangles

dhyān meṉ baiṭhī khel rahī thī

In my imagination I sat down and was frolicking

simṭī sun kar nām tumhārā

I shrunk(,) after hearing your name

āʼī garam, ḥinā kī khushbū

The fervid fragrance of Henna came

kahīṉ sunahrā vaṣl nah damake

Somewhere the golden unions85 didn’t bloom

86

ṭoh meṉ rahtī hai sab/sārī duniyā

The whole world waits in anticipation

bol nah uṭheṉ dushman-e ghungurū

(For) the chiming of the foe (of our union) the ghungurū

bāt khulegī, mujh ko mat chū

will leak out, don’t touch me

Anticipation and memories of sex Fahmīdah’s poem khushbū (Fragrance) is a sensual piece about female desire in South Asia. It is comprised of six verses with four lines each, while the poem unfolds its story, every verse addresses different themes. The first four lines highlight awakening love and sensuality from a female point of view. Raindrops and the rainy season, which stand for a “restless desire” that “has spread in all directions” and the koel’s mating call in form of a “cuckoo” are salient features. Lines five to eight point to memories of past love and sensuality, evident in the mentioning of “sleeping memories,” which were “caressed” and “elapsed rainy seasons” that remind of the “lost chiming ghungurū.” Symbolically “chiming ghungurūs” stand for a rhythmic sound and is worn by women around their ankles, which serves here as a metaphor for sex. The following lines || 84 Or “sighs were entangled in the whispers.” 85 What Riyāẓ means here is most likely “sexual intercourses.” It can also be translated in this way, but it is doubtful if she really wanted to be that blunt. 86 The first version appears in Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 32; the second one in Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 27.

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(9–12) emphasise the overcoming lust and desire of a woman. Talking through a female voice, she imagines a restless ocean, with waves rolling onto the sea-shore where “every grain of sand […] is thirsty.” After the man extends his hand to her, her hair seems to come undone due to the joy she is experiencing before the poem turns to a flashback of the time of a South Asian wedding. In lines thirteen and fourteen a fluttering spark in the wedding veil and the “intoxicated heartbeat” of the bride alluded to the anticipation and nervousness of the following wedding night. Sighs entangled in whispers of relatives and guests at the wedding in line fifteen stand for the appraisal of the beauty of the bride, before the following line displays the image of the parting of the bride’s parents and the relocation to her new husband in form of tears that fall onto her shoulder. The second-last verse illustrates the actual wedding night. The “broken pieces of the glass-bangles” in the subsequent line stand for the consumption of the wedding itself as the husband is supposed to break them on the wedding night. Also, the freshly applied “fervid fragrance of Henna” in line twenty, one or two days before the wedding, smells only very intense in the first days after its application. The contradictory feelings regarding anticipation of sex and the fear of what is going to happen are shown in the woman “frolicking” and shrinking “after hearing [his] name” in the following lines. The final verse contemplates the taboo about sex even when being married in South Asia. The lines twenty-one and twenty-two portray the vivid image of relatives and society keeping on asking the bride whether she is finally pregnant and when the first child will come. As “the golden unions didn’t bloom” the woman, who is not yet pregnant is then confronted with not being able to publicly show her affection towards her husband or that she even has sexual intercourse with him. Therefore, khushbū draws a picture of female desire and the social restrictions of exhibiting women’s wishes, even within marriage. bārish87 — Rain

5

jab bhī mere āṅgan

Whenever (in) my court-yard

būṅdiyāṉ barastī haiṉ

small rain-drops shower down

band kar ke darvāze

After shutting the door

baiṭhtī hūṉ kamre meṉ

I sit down in my room

jāntī hūṉ yah būṅdeṉ

I know that these drops of rain88

|| 87 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 36f. 88 Būṅd (“drop” or “drop of rain”) also means “blood” or “semen” (cf. John Thompson Platts, A Dictionary of Urdū, Classical Hindī, and English (London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1884), s.v. “‫ﺑﻮﻧﺪ‬ [būṅd]”, 176).

124 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

cāhtī haiṉ jo mujh se

which are a desire from me

chat pah vah kareṉ ṭap ṭap

(that) on the roof they make “ṭap ṭap”

khiṛkiyoṉ pah ho rim-jhim

(that) on the windows are “patter patter”

mujh ko chīṛne ko yah

to tease me

kaise rūp bhartī haiṉ

How they assume this appearance

yā to yūṉ ṭapaktī haiṉ

or thus they drip-drop

har t̤araf gireṉ jaise

In every direction they fall

āṅsūʼoṉ ke qat̤re se

Like drops of tears

aur kabhī darīce par

And sometimes on the window

khilkhilā ke haṅstī haiṉ

they burst out laughing

ḍoltī havāʼoṉ meṉ

They swing in the breezes

sunsunāne lagtī haiṉ

They seem to whistle (with enjoyment)

nāctī haiṉ pattoṉ par

They dance on the leaves

ḍāl se phisaltī haiṉ

They slide from branches

khiṛkiyoṉ ke shīshoṉ par

On the window panes

jhānjhaneṉ bajātī haiṉ

(like) tinkling anklets (they sound)

pattharoṉ pah gātī haiṉ

On the stones they sing

dhīre dhīre sab dhartī

Slowly slowly all the earth

sāṅs lene lagtī hai

begins to take a breath

har nafs mahaktā hai

Every soul emits fragrance

band kar ke darvāze

After shutting the door

baiṭhtī hūṉ kamre meṉ

I sit down in my room

phir bhi hāth bārish ke

Still the hands of the rain

mujh ko ḍhūnḍ lete haiṉ

find me

mere rūʼeṉ rūʼeṉ ko

Every hair of mine89

chū ke choṛ jāte haiṉ

After touching (me) they leave behind

ek larzish-e paiham

one continuous tremor

ab kahāṉ chupūṉ jā kar

Now where shall I hide after (this?)

jāntī hūṉ yah būṅdeṉ

I know (that) these drops of rain90

mere dil pah barseṉgī

will pour down on my heart

merī kaccī miṭṭī ko

My virgin flesh

cūm kar jagā deṉgī

they will arouse after kissing

us ki saundhī khūshbū phir

Its fragrance like wet earth afterwards

main kahāṉ chupāʼūṉgī

Where will I conceal it?

log ṭhīk kahte haiṉ

People say correctly (that)

do hī aisī cīzeṉ haiṉ

there are only two things

|| 89 This means “every particle of my being.” 90 Cf. two footnotes above.

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jo kabhī nahīṉ chupteṉ

that may not be concealed

un meṉ ek khūshbū hai

One of them is fragrance

Female pleasure The poem bārish (Rain) portrays female pleasure and South Asian society’s taboo regarding the exhibition of female sexuality and desire. Through the female protagonist’s voice sexual desire is illustrated as raindrops, whose impact is still perceptible even “after shutting the door” and “sit[ting] down in [her] room.” Their noises on the roof as “ṭap ṭap” and the “patter patter” on the windows tease her, like hands on her body. Falling into “every direction” they “burst out laughing,” “swing,” “whistle,” “dance,” “slide” or “sing” – a clear palpable sensuality in the poem. After touching her like a lover, the “continuous tremor” they leave behind suggests an orgasm of the woman, which she then wants to hide out of shame and fear. Fahmīdah’s poem then accentuates society’s notion of sex. Sexual arousal being forbidden, the woman questions herself how to conceal it, as its fragrance of wet earth, which seems to stand for the vaginal lubrication, cannot be concealed. Fahmīdah’s bārish is a feminine account of sexual lust, which is already symbolised by the title, rain. Standing for bringing new life after a hot summer in South Asia it also represents the awakening of sexuality. baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah91 — He (has) sat down across me92 baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah

5

10

He (has) sat down across me

jāne kis soc meṉ paṛā hai

Who knows which thought occupies him

acchī ānkheṉ milī haiṉ us ko

He has amiable eyes

vaḥshat karnā bhī ā gayā hai

yet, terror has appeared (now)

bich jāʼūṉ maiṉ us ke rāste meṉ

I may spread myself in his paths

phir bhī kyā us se fāʼidah hai

yet what is there to gain from it

ham donoṉ hī yah to jānte haiṉ

Only we both know that

vah mere liye nahīṉ banā hai

he hasn’t been made for me

mere liye us ke hāth kāfī

For me his hand is enough

us ke liye sārā falsafah hai

For him is the entire philosophy

merī naz̤ roṉ se hai pareshāṉ

From my glances he is confused

khūd apnī kashish se hī khafā hai

With his own attraction he is angry

|| 91 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 54f. 92 This poem had already been published by Amna Chaudhry in 2015, but was not found during the research stage for this book due to its convoluted publication.

126 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

15

20

sab bāt samajh rahā hai lekin

He understands everything (at this moment) but

gum-sum sā mujh ko dekhtā hai

very silent does he observe me

jaise mele haiṉ koʼī baccah

Like some child at fairs

apnī māṉ se bichaṛ gayā hai

who has been separated from its (own) mother

us ke sīne meṉ chup ke roʼūṉ

Concealed at his chest(,) I may cry

merā dil to yah cāhtā hai

My heart really desires this

kaisā khūsh-rang phūl hai vah

What a bright-coloured flower it is

jo us ke laboṉ pah khil rahā hai

which is blooming on his lips

yā rab vah mujhe kabhī nah bhūle

Oh, God, may he not ever forget me

merī tujh se yahī du‘ā hai

To you I make this very prayer

Longing for a lost lover The poem baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah (He (has) sat down across me) revolves around the realisation of a woman that a former relationship was not meant to be, yet she still longs for her lover. The attraction and confusion of the female and male protagonist are reflected through the voice of a woman. She admires his “amiable eyes” and his “brightcoloured flower […]/which is blooming on his lips,” standing for “a window to the soul” and sensuality. At the same time, the woman is confused stating “he (has] sat down across me” but that there is no gain in throwing herself at him and “he hasn’t been made for [her].” His uncertainty about the situation they both are in, sitting across each other, and his confusion are described as terror in his eyes and being confused by the glances of the woman. Not knowing what to do, he then observes her “like some child at fairs/who has been separated from its (own) mother,” which symbolises vulnerability and the feeling of being lost. The difference between these two characters and a possible reason for the separation becomes clear when the female protagonist talks about their expectations in the relationship. She seems to have been happy with just holding hands and living in the present, whereas he liked “the entire philosophy,” a symbol for wanting to discuss nature and meaning of life. Clinging on to some hope and the importance of the relationship for the woman is finally displayed by her addressing God asking that the man “may […] not ever forget [her].” Baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah visualises the confused state of a woman after ending a relationship and accidentally meeting her former lover. The internal feelings of love and confusion are already symbolised with the heading or the first line, where “he (has) sat down across me,” which climaxes in the last two lines where she displays some hope regarding the relationship when she prays to God to keep her on his mind.

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lambe safar kī manzil93 — Long journey’s destination

5

shām ke phailte dhund lage meṉ

In the evening’s spreading twilight

jāne kab se khaṛe hūʼe haiṉ ham

not knowing since when I have been standing

sāre din kī thakan se pazhmurdah

From all days of weariness(,) numbed

kāvish be ḥuṣūl par nādim

Ashamed of (the) profitless endeavour

gard-ālūd rukh …. jhukī naz̤ reṉ

Dusty faces …. Dropped eyes

sar nigūṉ …. bā-adab …. ba-ṣad takarīm

Head lowered (with shame) …. Respectfully (greetings)…. hundred times honour

pusht par zindagī kā bojh liye

Holding on the back the burden of life

muntaz̤ ir apne apne gāhak ke

Looking out for one’s own customer

The daily life of prostitutes Lambe safar kī manzil (Long journey’s destination) sketches the everyday life of prostitutes and their hardships. Their hard life and result, namely to work further and further as a prostitute and not be able to retire, is expressed by the headline “Long journey’s destination.” The poem draws attention to the long working hours, in which sex workers must stand day and night in the cold, being weary and “numbed” and having “dusty faces” and “dropped eyes.” As a result, they are ashamed of not even making a profit, for their entire “endeavour,” while their self-esteem in such a down looked trade suffers, too. Standing there with the “head lowered (with shame)” they still have to greet and treat every customer “respectfully” and with “hundred times honour” as if he were a nobleman. That the labour of sex workers is indeed not an easy one and more importantly, is not even respected by society is indicated in the last two lines of the poem, which read as “Holding on the back the burden of life/looking out for one’s own customer.” Fahmīdah’s lambe safar kī manzil demonstrates the hard labour of sex workers in South Asia, which neither have the respect of the society nor earn enough money for this kind of work. qat̤rah qat̤rah94 - Drop by drop qat̤rah qat̤rah dil meṉ āṅsū girte haiṉ

Drop by drop in my heart the tears fall down

ik āṅsū us shakhṣ kā, jo be gānah hai

One tear for that person, who is unknown

ik āṅsū us nām kā, jo ham le nah sake

One tear for that name, which I couldn’t utter

|| 93 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 59. 94 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 62.

128 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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ik āṅsū us du‘ā kā, jo pūrī nah hoʼī

One tear for that prayer, which wasn’t fulfilled

ek fuẓūl sī bāt kih jo be sūd kahī

One very superfluous talk, which was told

(āṅsū merā khvāb, maiṉ jis se gha-

(A tear (is) my dream, from which I may get ag-

without profit brāʼūṉ āṅsū merī murād, jisse maiṉ bahlāʼūṉ)

itated A tear (is) my desire, from which I should be diverted)

ik āṅsū us cahre kā, jo yād rahe

One tear for that face, which should be remem-

āṅkhoṉ ke raste jo dil meṉ utār jāʼe

The way of the eyes, which descended into the

ik āṅsū us ṭhahre ṭhahre lahje kā

One tear for that sluggish accent

ik āṅsū us vahm kā, ẕahn meṉ jo āyā

One tear for that illusion, which came to mind

ik āṅsū jhūṭ kā, jo auroṉ se kahā

One tear for that lie, which was told to others

bered heart 10

15

phīkī haṅsī se kaise qiṣṣah khatm kiyā

With cheerless mirth how (I) ended the tale

lamḥah lamḥah rāt guzartī jātī hai

Moment by moment the night passes by

qat̤rah qat̤rah dil meṉ āṅsū girte haiṉ

Drop by drop in my heart the tears fall down

Heartbreak The poem qat̤rah qat̤rah (Drop by drop) unveils the feelings of a heartbroken woman at night, who broke up with her former lover. Comparing the tears in her heart, the voice of a woman counts her tears, which symbolise the various attributes of the man she is longing for. In the very beginning, she clarifies that “the person […] is unknown,” indicating that the realisation has set in about not knowing her former lover at all, as he has changed his behaviour to that extent. This perception is further portrayed when she ascribes “one tear for that illusion” and one for the “lie, which was told to others.” This led her to “end[ing] the tale [with cheerless mirth]” and now she is unable to even utter his name. It seems as if she had hoped for things not to be true as one tear is for an unfulfilled prayer and another one for a “very superfluous talk” that ended in no result. At the same time, the woman is still in love with that man, which partially agitates her and she tries to divert her desire for his face, his eyes and his “sluggish accent.” This is why it is very likely, that Fahmīdah’s qat̤rah qat̤rah deals with the inner torment of women after breaking up with the partner.

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ik ḥarf-e mudd‘ā95 — A speech of allegation ik ḥarf thā laboṉ pah, khaṭaktā phāṅs sā ik nām thā zabān kā chālā banā huʼā lo maiṉ zabāṉ tarāsh ke khāmosh ho gaʼī lo ab to merī āṅkh meṉ āṅsū nahīṉ koʼī 5

bis ek merā gung ….. mirā ḥarfe mudd‘ā

One word was on the lips, it pricks like a splinter One name was, (which) has formed a tongue blister Look! After pruning my tongue, I have become silent Look! At least (there) isn’t any tear in my eye(s) now My only poison silent ….. my speech of allegation

Being unable to say something that is on someone’s mind Ik ḥarf-e mudd‘ā (A speech of allegation) highlights the fact that just because a person does not utter a word regarding an unjust matter, it does not mean that the person’s opinion has changed or that the matter disappeared. Told in a female voice the poem plays with metaphors such as a “splinter,” which “pricks [on the lips]” and stands for an unsaid word or a “tongue blister” that symbolises “one name”. Also, the silence after “cutting [one’s own] tongue” and therefore the “speech of allegation,” which is compared to “poison” and is muted for the time being, portrays a strong image. It is unclear if the poem hints at a fight or even at the break-up of a relationship, as “(there) isn’t any tear in my eye(s) now” might suggest. Supporting this theory is the former mentioned word, that “pricks like a splinter” and may stand for an accusation regarding the misbehaviour of the former partner. It is also feasible that Fahmīdah’s ik ḥarf-e mudd‘ā is directed at a political leader, possibly Ayub Khan, in the landscape of the 1960s in Pakistan. Evidence for this might be “one name” that finally forms the “tongue blister.” Resulting in Fahmīdah’s activism there might have been sanctions against her early on, which forced her to “prune her tongue” and “become silent” about certain matters.

|| 95 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 71.

130 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

5.2 Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume muraqqa‘96 — A book of fine penmanship

5

ham ne dekhī ‘ajīb ik nārī

I saw a unique woman

sāṅvlā raṅg, jāmnī sārī

Nut-brown complexion, purple Sāṛī

aur bātoṉ meṉ aisī cancalatā

And in conversations such naughtiness

chūṭe rangoṉ kī jaise pickārī

Colours shot forth like a jet

ūdī bindiyā bhavoṉ ke bīc jaṛī

A light shaded purple Bindī attached in the middle of the eyebrows

aur bhaveṉ rāt kī t̤araḥ kārī

And eyebrows as black as the night

jaise kālā hiran ho madh ban meṉ Like the blackbuck97 (is) amidst the forest aisī hai us kī ānkh kajrārī 10

such are her eyes, black in colour

lāl hoṅṭoṉ pah aisī madirā hai

On her red lips is such a liquor

ho gaʼī jis se sānjh matvārī

from which the dusk became intoxicated

us kī campā kalī gale meṉ paṛī

Her necklace in the motif of champac98 buds embracing her neck

15

gorī kaliyoṉ kī jhūltī ḍārī

Swinging branch of fair buds

jaise badlī meṉ cānd lipaṭe hoṉ

Like the moon may have been wrapped in small clouds

aise kūlhoṉ pah ghūmtī sārī

like this goes the Sāṛī around the buttocks

haiṉ mudavvar khut̤ūt̤ sar tā sar

Round lines are from end to end

chātiyāṉ gol aur gaj bhārī

Breasts round and hips99 big

lāl patthar kī lauṅg nāg meṉ hai

A red-stoned gold nose-pin100 is in the nose

yā bhabūkā sī koʼī cingārī!

this red like a spark (of fire)!

dekho logoṉ yah nār hai kih ghaṭā Look people this woman is but even a gathering of clouds 20

rang aur rūp se bharī sārī

Filled fully with colour and features

jhuke ākāsh jis se milne ko

the sky bent down to be united with her

issī nirmal dhanak kī ik dhārī

A strip of that fine rainbow

|| 96 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 88f. 97 The Indian blackbuck is an antelope, which has black eyes, surrounded by black fur. The female blackbucks are beige or light brown in colour, in contrast to the males, which are black and white (cf. “Wildlife in India: Indian wild animals, Black Buck”, iloveindia.com, no date, accessed Mar 12, 2018, http://www.iloveindia.com/wildlife/indian-wild-animals/black-buck/). 98 A tree of the magnolia family bearing a fragrant yellow flower (cf. Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, s.v. “champac”, accessed Mar 12, 2018, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/champac). 99 The word gaj, means “elephant” and is used as an idiom for hips. 100 Nose-pins mostly have the form a clove, hence the word lauṅg (clove) for a nose-pin in Urdu (cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﻟﻮﻧﮓ‬lauṅg]”, 971).

Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume | 131

Admiration for the appearance of a beautiful woman The poem muraqqa‘ (A book of fine penmanship) describes the bodily features and traits of a South Asian married woman. Written in the perspective of a third person, the narrator depicts a picture of a dark complexed bubbly and intelligent beautiful married woman in traditional Indian attire. Comparing her black eyes and eyebrows to the night and a “blackbuck […] amidst the forest” and “on her red lips [being] such a liquor/from which the dusk became intoxicated” one can feel the palpable sensuality in the poem. Fahmīdah further paints a picture of her necklace “embracing her neck” and comparing it with the moon being “wrapped in small clouds” and the round shape of her “buttocks,” “breasts” and “big hips.” The final assimilation of the woman with a “gathering of clouds,” a symbol for splendour and glory, “filled fully with colour” and the “sky bend[ing] down to be united with her” gives this poem a particular sensual note, suggesting a physical and not only a metaphorical union and the desire of the narrator to be intimate with the described woman. Fahmīdah’s muraqqa‘ fathoms the features of South Asian women, which are connected to society’s ideal of beauty and sensuality. ākās bel101 — Rootless creeper102

5

tū harī bharī

You thriving

ākās bel

rootless creeper

mere tan se lipaṭ kar baṛhe

Clinging to my body you flourish

aur būṅd būṅd

And drop by drop

mere ang se

from my body

jīvan ras pītī jāʼe

you drink up my elixir of life

murjhā calī meṉ

In starting to wither away

jaise sūkhā pāt

like a dried-up leave

tū jaise jaise khilī

you bloomed by hook or by crook

|| 101 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 112f. 102 Cuscuta reflexa (the biological term for “rootless creeper” or “giant dodder”) is a plant parasite, which grows on the sprouts of other plants without own leaves and roots. With the help of its haustoria, the parasite enters the stem of the host plant and obtains nutrients, water and assimi-lates (cf. Marc Bleischwitz, “Charakterisierung einer pflanzlichen Cysteinprotease aus Cuscuta reflexa: Kurzbeschreibung (Abstract) [German: Characterisation of a vegetal cysteine protease from Cuscuta reflexa: Brief description (Abstract)],“ (doctoral dissertation, Technische Hochschule Darmstadt, 2008), accessed Mar 14, 2018, http://tuprints.ulb.tu-darmstadt.de/1019/). Cf. “Cuscuta Reflexa”, no date, The PLANTS Database, accessed Mar 14, 2018, https://plants.usda.gov/core/profile?symbol=CURE.

132 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

10

15

20

paṛ gaʼī zard

I became pale

mirī103 sab lālī

My whole redness

tire mukh gulāb ko milī

obtained your rosy face

mujhe rāt kī kālak milī

The blackness of the night united with me

tujhe bhor kā prakāsh

the brightness of dawn with you

maiṉ gaṛī jāʼūṉ pātāl meṉ

I may be driven into hell

tujhe khīṅc rahā ākāsh

you are pulled to heaven

mat nīṅd se cauṅk ke dekh mujhe

Don’t look at me after waking up from your sleep

maiṉ tujhe chātī se lagāʼūṉ

I may fondle you

aur kāṅptī uṅgliyoṉ se

and with trembling fingers

tere kāle bāl suljhāʼūṉ

I may untangle your black hair

The mixed feelings of motherhood In ākās bel (Rootless creeper) a mother talks about her contradictory relationship with her new-born child. A female voice represents motherhood in a critical but still affectionate way. In the beginning, she uses expressions of tenderness, which one would expect from a mother, such as, “thriving,” “clinging to my body,” “blooming,” “your rosy face” and “brightness of dawn.” Simultaneously she describes her child as a “rootless creeper,” a parasite, which grows on other plants and deprives them of their nutrients to survive. Here, Fahmīdah highlights the health of the parasite as thriving while it clings to her body and is thus able to live while drinking up the “elixir of life” from the host. The host eventually “wither[s] away/like a dried-up leaf” and the creeper blooms becoming red and healthy and the host paler. The mother, who stands for the host, being convinced to be pulled to hell and her child to heaven finally seems to be even more confused when her child wakes up from sleep and looks at her. “[W]ith trembling fingers” she may show her child love and at the same time is afraid of it or afraid of the negative way she thought about the child. The pictures of breastfeeding come to mind when Fahmīdah uses images such as “clinging to my body” and “drinking up my elixir of life.” Being deprived by sleep at night, the child seems to look healthy, while the mother “became pale,” a common scenario for new parents. At the time of writing ākās bel, Fahmīdah had been married and moved to London where she gave birth to a girl. This poem is an account of how confusing and exciting motherhood is for a young woman.

|| 103 Poetical form to maintain a certain rhythm. The first ye disappears. Also, cf. tire in line 12.

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is qadr tar-o tāzah104 — So fresh and mellow is qadr tar-o tāzah!

5

10

15

So fresh and mellow!

tāl kā kaṅval jaise

Just as a pond of lotuses

cāṅdnī sijal jaise105

just as bright moonlight106

jaise phūṭtī koṅpal

just as a sprouting bud107

jaise jhāg sā bādal

just as a foam-like cloud

chū bhī lūṉ to mailī ho!

(if) I even touched it(,) it may get dirty!

ā humak ke bāṅhoṉ meṉ

Come(,) leap forward into (my) arms

tujh ko godeṉ bhir lūṉ

I may take you fully into the lap

cūs lūṉgī ras terā

I will absorb your spirit

maiṉ to kālā bhauṅrā hūṉ

I just may be a (great) large black bee108

par maiṉ apne bosoṉ se

But from my kisses

kis liye hirāsāṉ hūṉ

why may I be frightened(?)

dil kī thāh meṉ mere

In the bottom of my heart

jo udās jazbah hai

the passion which is sad

us se kyūṉ hūṉ sharmandah

why may I feel ashamed of it(?)

Happiness and regret towards her new-born Is qadr tar-o tāzah (So fresh and mellow) recounts the complicated relationship of a mother to her new-born. Addressing the child directly, the voice of a mother compares her child with “fresh and mellow” fruits and vegetables, “a pond of lotuses,” the moonlight, a “sprouting bud” and a “foam-like cloud.” The attributes stand for something new as well as beauty and purity. The mother being happy, caring and nurturing her child, kissing it, taking it onto her lap and into her arms describes herself as a “(great) large black bee,” possibly to symbolise the hard work of bees and their humming and buzzing while hovering around flowers. Despite her joy, the mother also feels certain anxiety and sadness in her, which she is unsure to be ashamed of or not. This confusion might lead from the fear of something happening to the child or the task of raising a child. As Fahmīdah’s marriage might have been already on the edge of breaking apart,

|| 104 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 114; and cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 132. 105 This line is missing in the later Kulliyāt from 2011 (cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 114; and cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 132). 106 Cf. footnote above. 107 “A new leaf” and “a “young shoot” is also possible. 108 According to Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﺑﻬﻮﻧﺮﺍ‬bhauṅrā]”, 197 they are “said to be enamoured of the lotus”.

134 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

there is a possibility of this being an indication towards the perplexed situation she might find herself in. Fahmīdah’s poem is qadr tar-o tāzah draws a picture of the inner state of new mothers. dūjā sāyah109 — Second shadow tū mirī god meṉ khil khil haṅstī campe kī sī kalī sahī terī jān kī sārī kāyā merī kokh meṉ ḍhalī sī is kamre meṉ ham tanhā haiṉ yah dūjā sāyah kis kā hai bār bār kyūṉ terā cahrah tārīkī meṉ kho jātā hai 5

kaisā dohrī dhār kā khanjar palne kī ḍorī se bandhā hai jis meṉ merā lahū racā thā, is tan par kyūṉ laraz rahā hai

In my lap you laugh giggling as if resembling a true bud of champak(.) The existence of your whole body is casted in my womb(.) In this room we are alone, whom does this second shadow110 belong to(?) Why is your face constantly lost in darkness(?) What a double-edged dagger is tied to the string of the cradle(?) In which my blood was soaked, why is (it) trembling at this body?

Loving the common child from a former partner The poem dūjā sāyah (Second shadow) portrays the existing presence of the separated spouse in the common child. Through the voice of the mother, the poem talks about the situation between mother and child at home. The child being happy and unaware that the parents might have separated is compared to a flower in bloom. That child still being part of the mother is symbolised as a cast in the mother’s womb. Despite both being alone at that moment, the mother still feels a presence in the room in form of a “second shadow” or an evil spirit, which influences the child being “lost in darkness”. Here, one feels the presence of the father, despite not being physically present. Having separated from the father, the mother is afraid of and confused regarding her child, while looking at it sleeping in the cradle, that is why she “trembl[es] at this body.” The pain of separation and the ties to father and mother through their common child are symbolised by a “double-edged dagger [being] tied to the string of the cradle(?)/In which [her]blood was soaked.” Fahmīdah’s poem dūjā sāyah discloses a picture of the inner confusion of a mother towards her common child with a partner, whom she left. || 109 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 115. 110 The influence of an evil spirit.

Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume | 135

lorī111 — Lullaby

5

10

15

20

kab se sar par tanī khaṛī hai

Since when it is raising stretched above the head

kahīṉ nah jātī

lest (it) disappears

kālī rain

Dark night

ādhī rain

Midnight

pāgal tan kyūṉ khoj rahā hai

Foolish person(,) why are you searching(?)

khoj rahā hai andhyāre meṉ

Searching in the darkness

apne ang se ṭūṭā ang

Body parts detached from its own self

ṭūṭe ang kī māṅg jagātī

awakening the longing for the detached body parts

kahīṉ nah jātī

lest (it) disappears

kālī rain

Dark night

ādhī rain

Midnight

maiṉ jangal kā mor banī hūṉ

I become a peacock of the forest

āṅsū pī kar nāc rahī hūṉ

After swallowing (my) tears, I am dancing

yūnhī rahe sar par muṅḍ dātī

(it) remains exactly like this, hovering over the head

kahīṉ nah jātī

lest (it) disappears

kālī rain

Dark night

ādhī rain

Midnight

mere sīne ke piyāloṉ meṉ

In the cups of my breasts

nāc rahi hai dūdh kī dhārā

is dancing (a) stream of milk

merī kokh meṉ gūṅj rahī hai

In my womb (it) is echoing

san-san kartī

it tingles

kālī rain

Dark night

ādhī rain

Midnight

Motherhood – Waking up at nights Fahmīdah’s lorī (Lullaby) pictures the search of children at night for milk and waking up their mothers. While the night stretches and reaches midnight, the baby starts searching in the darkness. The direct voice of the mother describes her baby, which is already born but is still a part of her as “body parts detached from [her] own self/awakening the longing for the detached body parts.” This is supported by her declaration of the echoing in her womb. The “stream of milk [dancing]/[i]n the cups of [her] breasts” indicates that the child searches for her mother as she is hungry. In || 111 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 116f.

136 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

the meantime, the mother “become[s] a peacock of the forest,” which dances after “swallowing [her] tears.” A peacock traditionally stands for pride and beauty. Normally it dances to attract the attention of the female and for courtship. Maybe Fahmīdah suggests here, that the mother is tired of not being able to sleep but still cares for her child trying to attract her attention. But it is also possible, that the mother in this poem simply is not possible to breastfeed her child, a common frustrating experience by a high number of women, wherefore, she “swallow[s] [her] tears”, while the milk is pouring forward. While this may be the case, the reality of new mothers and the inability to sleep at nights, is also being portrayed by lorī. badan darīdah112 — Torn body sarsarāne do ẕarā rāt ke us resham ko

Let this silk of this night rustle a bit

us meṉ malfūf kissī ‘ahd ik lāsh bhī hai

Wrapped up in it is also some lifetime of a

rāt jo jurm bhī hai jurm kī pādāsh bhī hai

The night is inasmuch both a sin and its ret-

rāt pānī kī t̤araḥ sar se mire bahtī hai

The night flows like water from my head

mire bāloṉ se ṭapaktī hūʼī būṅdeṉ jaise

like the dripping drops from my hair

mire shānoṉ se ḍhalaktī hūʼī girtī jāʼeṉ

(they) may swoop down slidingly from my

corpse ribution 5

shoulders band hone lageṉ āṅkheṉ vah nashah t̤ārī hai hāṉ dahan meṉ hai mire ẕāʼiqah un bosoṉ kā 10

The eyes may begin to close, (as) this intoxication comes Truly, in my mouth is the taste of those kisses

jin ko cakhne se bhī inkār kiyā thā dil ne

that the heart had even refused to taste

mirī rag rag meṉ vah sayyāl ravāṉ hai ab

In every vein of mine runs that fluid until

tak

now

jis se bac jāne pah iṣrār kiyā thā dil ne

from which the heart had persisted in escap-

mire at̤rāf patangoṉ kī t̤araḥ uṛte haiṉ

Around me flies like moths

mire bose, vah mire jhūṭ se bojhal bose

my kisses, my those lie laden kisses

khūn kī chīṅṭeṉ uṛāte hūʼe ghāyal bose

splashes of blood scattering from the kisses

ing

stricken with love

|| 112 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 119f.

Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume | 137

15

kab kī vah kash-makash-e ẕahn-o zabāṉ khatm hūʼī ik taṛap bāqī thī so dushman-e jāṉ khatm hūʼī ab to vah merī thakāvaṭ bhī mujhe choṛ

Since long has this struggle of mind and tongue ended A throb was remaining now the mortal enemy is dead Now my exhaustion, too, has left me

cukī! vah darīdah badanī jān ko bhī toṛ cukī113

That tearing of the body has also demolished the life114

ik siyah lahar bahāʼe (liye) jātī hai mu-

A black wave carries me away (along with it)!

jhe! 20

khūṉ ravānī se badan choṛ rahā ho jaise!

As if the blood leaving the body briskly!

nīnd hai maut hai yā yah koʼī be-hoshī

It is sleep, it is death or this is some stupefac-

hai ab to har sāṅs dam-e bāz pasīṉ lagtī hai!

tion Now at least every breath seems like the last breath!

Offering your body to someone you do not desire In badan darīdah (Torn body) Fahmīdah processes the feelings of being in a relationship while feeling no sexual attraction towards that partner. Telling the story through the voice of a woman, a corpse wrapped up in silk, while the night is “both a sin and its retribution” portrays vividly the woman’s feelings, who offers her body to a person she does not desire but is in a relationship with. The night passes by so fast and without noticing like water, which flows from her head, drips from her hair and swoops down her shoulders. She describes her “lie laden kisses” as a disease like “splashes of blood” that fly around her like moths, who are attracted to light and then burn or kill themselves because of their attraction. Being torn between surrender and fighting regarding her not wanting to be with him in bed, her tongue gives up and finally, even exhaustion leaves here. She feels numbed and a “black wave carries [her] away,” while the blood leaves her body and she is confused if it is only sleep or death. Giving up her fight, she is finally convinced that “every breath seems like the last breath.” The poem badan darīdah, therefore, very likely mirrors the inner struggle and final surrender of a woman while offering her body to a person she does not desire.

|| 113 This line is missing in the older version from the original 1988 but is present in the newer version from 2011 (cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 119 and cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 139). 114 Cf. footnote above.

138 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

aliz vāṭar – laik ḍisṭrikṭ115 — Alice Water – Lake District chāyā jātā hai mirī āṅkh kī be-tābī par

Overwhelmed over the restlessness of my eye

cādar-e āb kī khāmosh-nigāhī kā

The enchantment of the silent observation of

fusūṉ

cascades of water

par sameṭe hūʼe shākhoṉ meṉ havā sotī hai

(If) it folds up (its) wings(,) the wind sleeps in the branches

cār at̤rāf kī gahrāʼiyāṉ haiṉ aur maiṉ

There are the deeps of four directions and me

hūṉ 5

sāmrī shām kī rangīn naz̤ ar bandī hai

A magic evening of colourful illusion was composed

dil, magar jāntā hai

116

ik gumāṉ sā hai kih is bhed bhare pānī

but the heart knows117 An illusion is there in this mysterious water

meṉ mujh ko mil jāʼegā us shauq gurezāṉ kā

I will obtain the sign of fleeing passion

surāgh 10

jis ne toṛā hai mere jism kā tārīk sukūt

which has destroyed my body’s dark silence

vāhimah hai kih issī jhīl kī gahrāʼī meṉ

The imagination is that in this very depth of the lake

koʼī isbāt kā ḥarf

(is) some word of confirmation

koʼī iqrār …. kahīṉ merī ṣadā suntā hai

(is) some acceptance …. (that) somewhere (he) hears my call

dil magar jāntā hai

but the heart knows

yah mirā dil kih fireb āshnā hai

Here my heart becomes tame (with) delusion

Clinging onto false hopes about a broken relationship The title of the poem aliz vāṭar – laik ḍisṭrikṭ (Alice Water – Lake District) refers to some small lake in the United Kingdom’s Lake District in Northwest England. The poem itself deals with living in an illusion, despite subconsciously knowing that it is just that – an illusion. Portrayed through the voice of a woman the environment of “cascades of water” and no wind going is described. She seems to stand at the lakeside pondering about a “colourful illusion” in the “mysterious water” of the lake. Her “body’s || 115 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 136. 116 In the version from 1988 this line is attached to the following verse (cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 164). 117 Cf. footnote above.

Badan darīdah (1967–76) – Second volume | 139

dark silence” is destroyed by “fleeing passion,” which seems to have revived the protagonist. She again feels hope to get “some word of confirmation” from the depth of the lake for her partner to come back to her. Despite this, she knows deep down inside herself that this is just a false hope she clings onto but she still tames her heart with delusion to maintain this hope. Aliz vāṭar – laik ḍisṭrikṭ narrates how false hope regarding the reparation of a broken relationship makes it possible to hold up in life. amar bel118 — Love-vine119

5

10

yah kaisī amar bel lipaṭī dil se

How this love-vine clings to the heart

pītī hai lahū phulvārī kā!

it drinks an orchard of blood!

koʼī sāvan jis ko rās nahīṉ

Which doesn’t adapt to any rainy season

miṭṭī ne jis ko janam diyā

Which is born from clay

phir choṛ diyā

(and) then it left

ab aisī amar bel lipaṭī

Like this now the love-vine clings

pītī hai lahū

It drinks blood

jal jāne tak

until being burned up

dhīre dhīre mar jāne tak

Slowly slowly until dying

lekin yah mire sīne kī jalan

But this heat of my bosom

jītne kī jalan

A flame to live

yah yūṉ to nahīṉ kumlāʼegī

In this case it will not fade away

yah amar bel ban jāʼegī

This love-vine will prosper

|| 118 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 137. 119 A plant parasite resembling a “dodder” (ākās bel/Cuscuta), but not related to it at all. In contrast to the Cuscuta, it is only a hemiparasite and contains chlorophyll. The Cassytha filiformis or Love-vine has pale green to yellow-green to orange coloured twining stems. In its characteristics is similar to a misletoe (Cf. “Flora of North America: Lauraceae, Cassytha, Cassytha filiformis”, eFloras.org, accessed Mar 20, 2018, http://www.efloras.org/florataxon.aspx?flora_id= 1&taxon_id=200008689; cf. Harden, G. J., “New South Wales Flora Online: Genus Cassytha”, PlantNET (The NSW Plant Information Network System), no date. accessed Mar 20, 2018, http:// plantnet.rbgsyd.nsw.gov.au/cgi-bin/NSWfl.pl?page=nswfl&lvl=gn&name=Cassytha); cf. Oxford Hindi-English Dictionary, ed. Ronald Stuart McGregor, 41th Edition (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2011), s.v. “अमर [a-mar], अमर-बेल [amar-bel]”, 51; cf. Dan Nickrent, “Lauraceae Juss (Cassytha): The Laurel Family (Love Vine)”, The Parasitic Plant Connection, no date, accessed Mar 20, 2018, http://parasiticplants.siu.edu/Lauraceae/index.html; cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﺍﻣﺮ‬amar]”, 81).

140 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

khilqat jin kī khūsh-rangī dekh ke rashk kare 15

After seeing the luxuriance of those(,) the creation is envious

vah zahrīle phal lāʼegī

It will bring forth poisonous fruits

yah yūṉ to nahīṉ murjhāʼegī

In this case this will not wither

The joys of motherhood while others are envious Amar bel (Love-vine) talks about maternal emotions when breastfeeding one’s child. Like ākās bel, amar bel revolves around a mother’s relationship to her child and the act of breastfeeding. Here, however, the love-vine clings to the heart drinking “an orchard of blood/until being burned up.” Instead of weakening the mother or host, the love-vine or child will burn “slowly slowly until dying” as if the child falls asleep while drinking milk. This explanation is plausible as the “heat of my bosom/a flame to live” will let the child prosper, wherefore it cannot die. In the end, the mother explains that others or society around her is jealous for her having the luxury of having a child and being happy. It is given as a general statement: “After seeing the luxuriance of those(,) the creation is envious”. Jealousy only leading to more jealousy it is an endless cycle that cannot be broken and lives on forever, which Fahmīdah metaphorically describes as “it will bring forth poisonous fruits.” The poem amar bel highlights the experience of breastfeeding and envy from others due to such display of happiness.

5.3 Dhūp (1973–77) – Third volume āshā ḍor āṭūṭ120 — Indestructible string of hope

5

jalātī dīpak rain ni-rās

(The) hopeless night inflames the lamp

luṭe jab nagar bharosoṉ kā

when the whole town of faith is plundered

kāmnāʼeṉ ho jāʼeṉ udās

Wishes may become sorrowful

kissī kī ek dhaṛaktī jān

Someone’s pounding soul

koʼī nir-bal sā ik insān

any feeble human

jo ṭakrā de nainoṉ se nain

who may (let his) eyes meet121 with (my) eyes

hameṉ phir ā jātā vishvās

Then trust returns to me

āshā ḍor āṭūṭ

Indestructible string of hope

|| 120 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 171. 121 The verb ṭakrānā means “to knock (against)” or “to bring into collusion.” For a better understanding “to meet” is used (cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﭤﮑﺮﺍﻧﺎ‬ṭakrānā]”, 357).

Dhūp (1973–77) – Third volume | 141

Never give up hope The poem āshā ḍor āṭūṭ (Indestructible string of hope) speaks about hope always being there until the end no matter how bad the situation may be. Fahmīdah describes a bad situation where one’s faith is being destroyed while darkness and hopelessness reign. She uses the image of a lamp burning but it is not made of wax or oil, as one would assume, it is rather made of a “hopeless night.” The metaphor of “the whole town of faith is plundered” may be understood as something sacred or one’s faith being destroyed. Even the line “wishes may become sorrowful” only adds to this presumption. Trust then will only return to the narrator when a “pounding soul” or a “feeble human” connects with her and looks her into the eyes. This indicates, that for the narrator humanity or humane values are absent and she is on the search for one person to meet her and give her back full hope, where there is only a spark left of it. Fahmīdah’s āshā ḍor āṭūṭ draws a grim picture of humanity. Given when it was written, it is possible that she accuses society of standing by and watching during the time of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who misused the political system around this time. rāt talmalātī hai122 — The night is restless

5

10

rāt talmalātī hai

The night is restless

be-bassī ke panje meṉ

In the clutch of helplessness

hāṅptī, ghuṣīlī rāt

(the) gasping, irascible night

paṅkh phaṛphaṛātī hai

flaps its wings

meri kokh meṉ har ān

In my womb every time

pal rahā hai sannāṭā

a howling is thriving

aur, meri tanhāʼī

and, my loneliness

cūstī hai sīne se

sucks from (my) breast

garam dūdh kā dhārā

a stream of hot milk

‘umr-bhar kī kaṛvāhaṭ

Life-long bitterness

pūchne lagī ik bār

seemed to have asked one time

[‘]zuhr yah bhī pīnā hai!

[‘] (I) also have to drink this poison!

sārī rāt jīnā hai!’123

(I) have to live the whole night!

|| 122 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 172ff. 123 These simple quotes only appear (and in uncompleted form) in the former collection of poems (Cp. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 225 and Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 172).

142 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

15

20

25

30

35

40

par yah kaisā dhyān āyā

But as this kind of imagination came

shānt ho gaʼī kāyā

the body became calm

bhūle barse saṅgī kā

of a long-forgotten companion

koʼī bol nirmī kā

Some words of softness

‘pyār hī to jīvan hai’

‘Indeed(,) only love is life’

kyā khayāl āyā hai

What thought has come

kaisī yād lāyā hai

Which kind of memories it has brought forth

dard ḍhal gayā jaise

Just as the pain faded

dil saṅbhal gayā jaise

Just as the heart recovered itself

jaise mere māthe par

As if on my forehead

mahrbān hoṅṭoṉ se

with affectionate lips

koʼī pyār kartā hai

someone is caressing (it)

jaise naram hāthoṉ ne

As if gentle hands

khushk kar diye āṅsū

dried (the) tears

pattiyoṉ kī jhālar se

From the fringe of the leaves

ṭūṭne lage jugnū

fire-flies seemed to be breaking loose

so rahā hai sab sansār

The whole world is sleeping

jāgtī hai bas miṭṭī

only the soil is awake

us samne to akhvaʼoṉ ke

This time from shoots

bīc phūṭte hoṉge

buds will be sprouting

ab jo āʼī purvāʼī

Now when the easterly wind came

rāt kī mahak lāʼī

it brought the fragrance of the night

pās hī kahīṉ shāyad

Maybe only near somewhere

jhāṛ hai canbilī kā

it is (a) bush of jasmine

aisī nīnd āʼī hai

Such a sleep has come

yūṉ gumān hotā hai

Thus(,) seems to be the imagination

jis t̤araḥ mirā premī

such that my lover

mera pās sotā hai

sleeps next to me

Longing for the lover at nights The poem rāt talmalātī hai (The night is restless) talks about the inability to sleep at night due to longing for a lover or partner and is filled with palpable sensuality that depicts the feelings of longing and desire for a man. The woman’s voice in this poem describes her difficulty to sleep at nights. The reason for it is her desire for a partner, which tortures her. Longing for sexual pleasure, as “a howling is thriving” in her womb and only her loneliness “sucks from [her] breast/a stream of hot milk,” she falls into a depressive mood. Being lost in

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memories she suddenly remembers her former lover’s “words of softness” and her “body became calm.” More and more memories come back despite her just having overcome some heartbreak. She gets excited due to the imagined affection of her former lover, who caresses her forehead “with affectionate lips” and dries her hears with “gentle hands.” Using the image of spring, symbolising the awakening of love and sexuality, while “[t]he whole world is sleeping” and the night brings the fragrance of jasmine. Especially married women in South Asia decorate their hair with jasmine, but it is also generally seen as a sign of beauty. Here, it can stand for the former state of being married or former married life and the memories attached to it or for a more general view of beauty and sensuality. The woman finally falls asleep and imagines her lover sleeping next to her. jānāṉ124 — Sweetheart jānāṉ! dil ‘ishq se sulagtā hai

Sweetheart! The heart burns with a flame of pas-

dekho yah roshnī kā favvārah

Look at this fountain

kyā maut ke ba‘d bas andherā hai

Is after death only darkness?

mere dil ko yaqīṉ nahīṉ ātā

My heart doesn’t possess the certainty (of it)

laharātā hai ‘ajīb ik sho‘lah

A unique flame blazes up

sion

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haṅste baccoṉ kī nāctī āṅkhoṉ meṉ

In the dancing eyes of smiling children

doshīzāʼoṉ ke garam rukh-sāroṉ meṉ

in the glowing cheeks of unmarried young girls

sar-kash laṛkoṉ ke gūṅjte na‘roṉ meṉ

in the resounding shouts of rebellious boys

laharātā hai ‘ajīb ik sho‘lah!

blazes up a unique flame!

jānāṉ terī tang tar ham-āghoshī meṉ

Sweetheart, in your tighter embrace

aur mere garam bosah-e lab meṉ

and in my hot French kiss

cāhat meṉ badan ke tund ṭakrāʼo se

In the desire from the swift clash of the bodies,

jo sho‘lah ‘ishq kā bhaṛak thā hai

when the flame of passion has throbbed violently.

sāḥil par sīpīyoṉ ke matvāle

On the seashore the fond of shells

laṛkoṉ ke rukhoṉ pah jo damaktā hai

boys on whose faces it glows

jo hāth saṅvārte haiṉ is duniyā ko

The hands, which construct this world

is hāth kī nabẓ meṉ dhaṛaktā hai

In this pulse of the hand(,) it beats

vah sho‘lah kis qadr furoẕāṉ hai!

this flame that is that much luminous!

|| 124 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 175f.

144 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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tārīkī-e marg, jaise sūkhā jangal

The obscurity of death, like a withered jungle

is sho‘le kī lapaṭ se lau dene lagā

from this gust of the flame(,) it started to shine

har nakhl-e khushk, roshnī kā mīnār

every parched tree, a pillar of light

mere cāroṉ t̤araf cirāghāṉ hai

All my four extremities are an illumination

maiṉ bhīg gaʼī hūṉ is ujāle meṉ

I have been passed into this light

sar par sūraj hai sāmne tum ho

Above the head is the sun, in front are you

sāyah bhī to darmiyāṉ nahīṉ bāqī

Then even a shadow in between doesn’t remain

tārīkī kā nishāṉ nahīṉ bāqī

The impression of obscurity doesn’t remain

Feeling alive and questioning what comes after death The poem jānāṉ (Sweetheart) talks about many varieties of passion and the conclusion of death being more than mere darkness. Drawing from a certain amount of Persian and Arabic diction like favvārah for “fountain”, yaqīṉ for “certainty”, doshizāʼoṉ for “unmarried young girls” or “virgins”, rukh-sāroṉ for “glowing cheeks”, sar-kash for “rebellious”, nabẓ for “pulse”, furoẕāṉ for “luminous”, tārīkī-e marg for “[t]he obscurity of death” and nakhl-e khushk for “parched tree” this poem differs slightly from the ones before. Narrating in the first person of a woman addressing her lover, she is certain that there is more than darkness after death. “A unique flame blazes up” several times in the poem, a symbol for eternity, life, love, hope and wiping out darkness. The following paragraph portrays the elixir of life in human beings. May it be “dancing eyes of smiling children,” “glowing cheeks of unmarried young girls” or “resounding shouts of rebellious boys,” all are full of life, love, and hope and therefore capable of banishing emptiness and obscurity. The next paragraph demonstrates human’s forms of passion in three different situations. One is the physical passion two lovers can have through sex, which is described as “tighter embrace,” “hot French kiss” and “the swift clash of the bodies.” The other one is the passion for something one is yet eager to experience such as the excited glowing faces of young boys, who are “fond of seashells,” an image for the vagina. Lastly, there is a passion in faith, believing in something superior to humans, which passionately “construct[ed] this world.” Finally, the last paragraph affirms that death is “like a withered jungle” set ablaze creating “pillar[s] of light.” Being able to overcome death, the female narrator is opposite of her lover with no shadow in between and the sun above them. Here, Fahmīdah portrays the migration of the sun, a daily cycle, which prevents an eternal night and therefore is the last proof for death not being able to be eternally dark. Fahmīdah’s jānāṉ suggests the existence of an ulterior being and a life after death.

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girhastan125 — Housewife sangīt ke dāʼire banātī hūʼī cāl

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The (style of) walking is making scales of music

āṅgan se rasoʼī kī t̤araf jātī hūʼī

Going from the courtyard to the kitchen

ik hath dhare kamar kī gūlāʼī meṉ

Keeping one hand on the curve of the waist

cuṭkī meṉ sārā kām nibṭāʼī hūʼī

Finishing all tasks with a snap of fingers

haṅstā bālak harī bharī godī meṉ

The boy laughs in the luxuriant lap

sukh-cain suhāg kā subhāʼo meṉ racā

Tranquillity of martial love created in nature

hoṅtoṉ pah caṭakte haiṉ rasīle bose

Juicy kisses were emitted with a snapping sound upon lips

sab tan se chalaktī hūʼī jīvan madirā

From the whole body the wine of life is overflowing

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ghar ke biyohār meṉ savere se lagī

From dawn engaged in the business of the house

cahre pah thakāvaṭ kā kahīṉ nām nahīṉ

On the face nowhere traces of fatigue

gadrāʼe badan meṉ hai javānī kā tanāʼo

In the half-ripe body is the tension of adolescence

parbat bhī kāṭ de to kuch kām nahīṉ

Even if you divide a mountain, it’s no big deal

dūje ko tāktī hai cancalatā se

She gazes at others with restlessness

lambī coṭī kamar pah bal khātī hai

A long-plaited lock of hair is twisted at the back

haṅstī jātī hai culbulāhaṭ se bharī

She keeps on smiling with full gaiety

sājan ko jhalak dikhā ke uksātī hai

while showing (her) glimpse she seduces (her)

dekho to suhāginī ke mukhṛe kī damak

Just look at the married one’s face’s glow

apne prītam kī āṅkh kā tārā hai

She is the apple126 of her husband’s eye

jīvan khetī ko sīnctī jāʼegī

She will keep on irrigating life’s field

amrit kī nadī kā ras pharā dhārā hai

(which is) an essential torrent of the river of life

husband

20

The charm of married life Girhastan (Housewife) highlights the perfect character and life of a South Asian housewife. At the beginning of the poem, a homeworking woman’s sensual figure and her tasks at home are described. When she walks it is like “making scales of music” and her hand is “on the curve of the waist” while finishing everything in no time. She is further portrayed as a mother, whose motherhood and status as a wife is the goal in life, symbolised by a “luxuriant lap” and “the wine of life” in her body. Being a young stay-at-home spouse, only having a “half-ripe body”

|| 125 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 180f. 126 In Urdu one uses the word for “star” (tārā) instead of “apple.”

146 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

with “the tension of adolescence,” she is full of energy being able to finish the daily chores. As a perfect role-model of a homemaker in South Asia, she always smiles “with full gaiety,” “gazes at others with restlessness” and “seduces (her) husband” with a glimpse while wearing a long plait. Being able to bear children, as “keep[ing] on irrigating life’s field,” the homemaker perfects the image of marriage bringing ultimate happiness for women and at the same time being an essential pillar for society and patriarchy. Fahmīdah’s girhastan is an ode to married women’s lives and a critique of society’s imagination of a flawless wife and her tasks. qurrat ul-‘ain127 — Qurrat ul-‘ain128

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arī tujhe sharāp lagā

The enemy cursed you

līkh tirā janam birhah

Engrave your lifetime of separation

birhah nahīṉ rog, jān!

Separation is no defect, dear!

birhah nahīṉ rog ……

Separation is no defect ……

purkhoṉ kā pāp thā

It was the sin of the ancestors

jug jug kā qarẓ cukā

An eternal debt was repaid

cāndī meṉ tul nah sakī

It couldn’t be weighed in pure silver

tū nah banī bandnī

You weren’t created to be bound

khetī tirī dīhah kī

You endure your body which is

sūnī sunsān

hollow (and) dreary

dīhah nahīṉ dīhah jān

A body isn’t (like another) body, dear

dīhah nahīṉ dīhah

A body isn’t (like another) body

tirī soc, tire bol

Aour imagination, your words

sau bhī tirī dīhah

also in hundreds (in) your body

khetī tirī dīhah kī

You endure your body which

harī bharī lahak rahī

keeps on shining prosperously

sundarī

Beauty

suhāginī

Fortunate woman

rūp matī

Beautiful mind

|| 127 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 211f. 128 Qurrat ul-‘ain means “brightness of the eye” or “tranquillity” but it is much more likely that this poem is about the feminist writer Qurrat ul-‘ain Hyder.

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20

saras-vatī

Sarasvatī129

birah rain kāṭ rahī mān bharī

The sharpness of the separation of the night is re-

sīj par jal-bal kar sulag rahī uṛātī cingāriyāṉ

maining on the bed filled with honour Scorching, keeping on burning brightly the spark flies away

jugnū sī camak raheṉ

Keeping on glowing like fire-flies

dūr dūr ……!

far far away ……!

Being a writer without being a married woman or mother The poem qurrat ul-‘ain (Qurrat ul-‘ain) emphasises the beauty of being a writer despite the common notion of society that perfection for women can only be attained when they are mothers or wives. This piece points out that contrary to South Asian beliefs it is no defect in a woman if she is without a partner in life and although society might say that “[t]he enemy cursed you” or that “[i]t was the sin of the ancestors/[whose] eternal debt was repaid.” Also, not having any children and therefore the woman’s body being “hollow (and) dreary” is not her fault. The narrator, who addresses the woman in an affectionate and very personal way, then accentuates that no two bodies are the same and her imagination and words are a replacement for children and of much greater value. She, therefore, is a beautiful woman, standing for learning and eloquence and it is no need for her being married or having children despite social values and pressure. Only on the marriage bed or the “bed filled with honour” one can feel some separation from a partner, the narrator tells and even that spark of sharpness regarding the state of being partnerless eventually flies away burning and glowing. Fahmīdah’s qurrat ul-‘ain seems to be a dedication to all unmarried and childless women, maybe even lesbian couples, in South Asian society in general and to the feminist writer Qurrat ul-‘ain Hyder in particular, who never married but was a well-known and praised Urdu writer.

|| 129 The Hindu goddess of learning and eloquence (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat: Oxford Urdu-English Dictionary, ed. Salīmuddīn et al. (Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2013), s.v. “‫[ ﺳﺮﺳﻮﺗﯽ‬sarasvatī]”, 698f.).

148 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt130 — A very blunt talk har nārī ke man meṉ chupī hai ek purānī abhīlāshā

In every woman’s heart is hidden an old desire

man cāhe manush ke sāth phire, ghūme

The heart(s) craved for strolling, wander-

bārish meṉ bhīge

Being wet in the rain

sardī se kāṅpe

Trembling from coldness

garmī jhele

Bearing heat

ing with a man

5

miṭṭī se khele

Playing with soil

miṭṭī ko bhī bhed batāʼe

and telling secrets to earth

nārī ko sharmīlā kahne vāloṉ ko sharmāʼe

Towards women shy speakers blushed

aur soce apnī kokh meṉ palne vale jīv kā

and thought in their womb is thriving the

nām! 10

name of life!

par dīvānī abhīlāshā ke hāth paṛī zanjīr

But the mad desire was tied by a chain

jis se bandhī taqdīr

by which fate was bound

jis meṉ uljhe maḥal dū maḥle, ghālīce,

in which became entangled a two-storey

darbān bijlī se calne vālā aṭṛam khaṭṛam sāmān

building, small rugs, guards with electricity working odds and ends (of) things

15

mūrkh purushoṉ kā armān

Desire of foolish men

yah to badan kā hai apamān!

so(,) this is the figure of disgrace!

ghālīcoṉ ke sāth bhulā nārī kab tak soʼegī

Along with small rugs he bewilders the

be-shak rāt kī tanhāʼī meṉ chup chup kar

Doubtlessly, in the solitude of the night af-

wife until she sleeps(.) roʼegī

ter escaping observation she cries(.)

The difference between women’s and men’s notions about marriage Fahmīdah’s poem ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt (A very blunt talk) stresses on the different opinions of men and women regarding the ideal picture of marriage. Establishing the fact that women’s desire since the beginning of time is to be in a partnership but at the same time enjoying small moments of happiness as children do in nature the poem turns towards men’s concepts of women. Men primarily tend to see women as the giver of life and their function to bear children, as the narrator suggests when Fahmīdah describes “in their womb is thriving the name of life.” Ideally, their lives should be a domicile picture with “a two-storey building, small rugs, guards/with electricity working odds and ends (of) things.” In short, it is all

|| 130 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 225.

Dhūp (1973–77) – Third volume | 149

very materialistic with no passion or affection from the men’s sides. Discarding it as disgrace this notion of marriage is contrary to what women imagine married life should look like and therefore, they are irritated, disturbed and hurt by it, which is why the woman in the poem cries “in the solitude of the night, after escaping observation.” Fahmīdah’s ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt openly discusses several reasons for disappointment in marriages and works through the different notions of women’s and men’s ideas of married life. gīt131 — Song dekho rī morī jholī meṉ camake l‘al

Oh, look, friend(,) in my bag sparkled rubies

damaktī aise, bhaṭaktī jaise, more

Shining in such a way, like going astray, in the

āṅcal meṉ

border of my ḍupaṭṭā

kiran cauncāl

A lively ray

galī meṉ khaṛī khele, balāʼeṉ dhartī

In an alley playing while standing, the earth

le, pavan le jhuk ke

takes all the misfortunes upon itself,132 the wind absorbs (it) while bowing down

5

cunariyā saṅbhāl

take care of (your) scarf

koʼal sī bole, patang sī ḍole, pavan

Chirping like a koel, oscillating like a kite, gen-

saṅg haule

waving hair

caṭak kar bole, haṭoṉ par raule,

Speaking snappishly, hue and cry on obstinacy,

calittar bhole

10

tly with the wind

uṛātī bāl

innocent conducts

mornī cāl

A move of a peahen

hameṉ hī chale chorī, chuṛāʼe jor-ā-

(That) girl only deceived us, we set (her) free

jorī, kalāʼī gūrī gūrī

forcefully, fair wrist

jhaṭak kar bāl

while shaking the hair

jhāṅk chip jāʼe, tanak pās āʼe, khaṛī

Sought and hid, came a bit near, behaved co-

iṭhlāʼe lacaktī ḍāl

quettishly while standing A branch swings

|| 131 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 229f. 132 The term balāʼeṉ lenā is an idiom and describes the action of “draw[ing] the hands over the head of another (and then crack the fingers over one's own temples)” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﺑﻼ‬balā]”, 163) to avoid the evil eye or bad luck (cf. ibid., 163).

150 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

pīche se jo maiṉ ā lūṉ, corī se/le133 paṭā lūṉ, haṭīlī kā mazā lūṉ 15

If I may come up from behind, I may seduce (her) secretly, I may enjoy the stubborn (girl)

cūm kar gāl

while kissing (her) cheek

gulāb sī sāṅseṉ, kitāb sī āṅkheṉ, javāb

Rose-scented breaths, eyes like a book, body

sī kāyā

like an answer

janam se savāl

A question from birth

base rahe morā āngan, haṅse rahe

My courtyard kept on settling, my childishness

morā bacpan, dikhāʼeṉ jaise darpan

kept on laughing, they may show (them) like a mirror

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guzarte sāl

the elapsing years

janam kī pūjā, yah tulsī paudā, utār

Worship of life, this (holy) basil sapling, mother

rahī mayyā ārtī thāl

is offering134 (on an) ārtī135-tray

Moments of beauty in life The poem gīt (Song) reflects on several moments in life that show various nuances of beauty and happiness. In the beginning, a girl tells a friend that she has sparkling rubies in her bag, which seem to stand for something very beautiful and rare that she possesses, as a ruby symbolises prosperity, passion, and peace.136 Next, the focus shifts on the beauty of nature comparing it with the beauty of life and body where “the earth takes all the misfortunes upon itself, the wind absorbs (it) while bowing down” and birds sing, while someone’s hair is waving in the wind. The joy of childhood and freedom, where one speaks snappishly (like in puberty) and is therefore compared to the behaviour of a peahen and girls deceiving and shaking their hair as well as playing hide and seek and

|| 133 This version appears in Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 230. The first version appears in the former version from 1988 (cf. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 298). The second version appears to be a typographical error as the correct expression for “secretly” is corī se. 134 In the sense of a ritual where a tray is “passed a certain number of times” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﺍُﺗﺎﺭ‬utār]”, 7, para. 6.) over a person (cf. ibid., 7). 135 Ārtī is a religious ritual from Hinduism in which a round tray consisting of a five-wicked burning lamp, flour and incense is moved in circles around the head of a person or an idol. It is done in adoration (cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﺁﺭﺗﯽ‬ārtī]”, 39; and cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﺁﺭﺗﯽ‬ārtī]”, 121). 136 Cf. Linda Mason, “Crystal Encyclopedia: Ruby Meanings and Uses”, Crystal Vaults, no date, accessed Jul 2, 2019, https://www.crystalvaults.com/crystal-encyclopedia/ruby.

Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) – Fourth volume | 151

behaving coquettishly, is portrayed next. The boys’ first innocent advances on girls that they desire that smell like roses and the reflection of elapsing years are described when one realises that there is always a part that stays a child inside oneself. Finally, life itself, also in the form of the holy basil, which is stands for life itself, is worshipped in a religious Hindu ceremony. Fahmīdah’s gīt praises life and its playfulness in a way, which seems to be a song for children.

5.4

Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) – Fourth volume

intisāb137 — Dedication apne dil kā khanaktā sikkah

Chinking coins of one own’s heart

jo tum har ṣubah sūraj ke sāth havā

which you toss up into the air every morning

meṉ uchālte ho agar khauf ke rukh par gire, to yah

along with the sun(.) If it falls on the face of fear, then don’t forget this

mat bhulānā kih shujā‘at issī ke dūsre rukh par kandah hai 5

that courage is engraved on the other side of the same (coin)(.)

so, yah ek dāʼo bhī is bāzī ke nām

But then, this is also a trick (in) this game’s

jo ham ne badī hai, zindagī se ……..

which I have been predestined (for), by life ……..

name

Life between fear and courage Intisāb (Dedication) revolves around the time of the Islamisation programme of Zia ul-Haq, the political oppression of women and leftists. The poem focuses on the game of tossing a coin into the air, proclaiming the winner depending on which side it lands on. Here, the coin’s sides are fear and courage and the coin is flipped every day anew. If by chance it falls onto the side of fear the person tossing it shall not forget that on the other side there is courage. One shall be still careful as this game is deceiving and life may turn out in another way than the person anticipated. This game may depict daily life in Pakistan at the time of Zia ul-Haq, when Fahmīdah like so many others was fearful of her life and had to muster all her courage to speak up and in the end to go into exile to India. Fahmīdah’s intisāb reflects the burden and pain of living in exile while one’s own country is at war with its people.

|| 137 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 241.

152 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

5.5

Apnā jurm s̱ ābit hai/Hamrakāb (March 1981 – December 1987) – Fifth and Sixth volume

sāvan138 — Rainy season139 ae kūʼe dildār

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20

Oh(,) street of (the) beloved

tujh par fidā ho

to you is devoted

yah mausam-e gul

this spring

yah abr yah bād

this cloud (and) this wind

yah ‘umr-e nāshād

this cheerless life

kis ko batāʼeṉ

To whom should be explained

kyūṉ ban gayā hai

why it was created

ma‘mūrah-e dil

(this) inhabited place of the heart

qaryah-e bar-bād

Destroyed village

ae koʼe dildār

Oh street of (the) beloved

hai dil kī qandīl

the candle of the heart is

ṣarṣar kī zad par

on (the) storm’s blow

kab se dharī hai

How long it has possessed it

bujhne nah pāʼe140

(It) should not extinguish

kyā tel us kā

What kind of oil is it?

kyā us kī bātī

What kind of wick is it?

āshā nir-āshā

Hope hopelessness

sāʼe hī sāʼe

Shadows(,) only shadows

kyā yās kyā ās

What despair, what expectation

sab ḥarf be-kār

Every word useless

ae koʼe dildār

Oh(,) street of (the) beloved

rānā tumhārī kāran kissī ne

Rajput prince(,) for your sake someone

kāg maḥal ke kāg uṛāʼe

uncaged (the) crows of the crow palace

|| 138 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 316f. 139 Sāvan originally refers to the fifth month of the Hindu lunar calendar, which is from July, 15 to August, 15 (cf. Oxford Hindi-English Dictionary, s.v. “सावन [sāvan]”, 1009; cf. Urdu Dictionary, Rekhta Foundation, s.v. “saavan”, accessed Aug 25, 2020, https://www. rekhta.org/urdudictionary/?lang=1&keyword=saavan). 140 The lines six to fourteen are connected in the later version of 2011. In the former version they are separated by pages (Cp. Riyāẓ, Maiṉ miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ, 409f and cp. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 316f).

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Hope blooming despite bad times Sāvan (Rainy season) talks about the strength of hope in the darkest of times. The poem starts with spring and with it its sensuality and awakening, the clouds and the wind being devoted to a lover whilst the narrator describes his/her life as cheerless. Despite the destroyed world around that person, there is one place in the heart where a candle of hope burns. Its special oil and wick give hope during some dark times, where one sees only shadows. Not being able to do something against this darkness, despair and expectation go hand in hand and crows are uncaged from the crow palace for the Rajput prince. Crows symbolising death or the souls of ancestors141 and the Rajput prince over here might symbolise Zia ulHaq or one of the members of his regime. Given that this was written at the time of Fahmīdah’s exile it is more than likely that this might be a possible topic she points at. Fahmīdah’s sāvan reflects the horrible time while Zia ul-Haq was in power in Pakistan while showing society’s hope that this time will eventually come to an end and a more liberal leader will replace him. hamrakāb142 — Fellow-rider

5

is ghaṛī ko salām!

Salām143 to this moment!

tujh se jo joṛtī hai hameṉ!

Which attached me to you!

sha‘r kī us kaṛī ko salām!

Salām to this verse of poetry!

ashk pīte hūʼe, gungunāte hūʼe

I kept on drinking tears, I kept on humming

zakhm khāte hūʼe muskurāte hūʼe

I kept on being wounded, I kept on smiling

kuch sanbhalte hūʼe laṛkhaṛāte hūʼe

sometimes I kept on holding up, I kept on stumbling

pesh pā qāfile!

continuing on foot in the caravan!

ham tire hamrakāb

I (am) your fellow-rider

Not giving up while facing hardship Hamrakāb (Fellow-rider) is another poem that contextualises the cycle of despair and hope. In the beginning, the narrator praises the exact moment while thinking in time as well as the moment when she/he met her/his partner and this verse of

|| 141 Dr Roshan Kumar Pappu, WhatsApp message to author about the symbolism of “crows” in South Asia, July 5, 2019. 142 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 339. 143 “Greeting,” “salute,” “compliment” or also “adieu” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫ﺳﻼﻡ‬ [salām]”, 708).

154 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

poetry, which only exists as the writer is alive to write it. Afterwards, Fahmīdah portrays her feelings during her journey from Pakistan to India into exile and the experience of exile in general. She imagines herself being part of a caravan where she travels on foot for days from oasis to oasis in the burning sun of the hot and sandy desert. The desert here may also stand for the Thar desert, which forms a natural border between India and Pakistan. It is mainly in Rajasthan and a smaller part is in Sindh. Her journey in this desert is a continuous cycle of despair and hope where she cries while humming, feels hurt while smiling and tries to hold up while stumbling. The poem hamrakāb mirrors Fahmīdah’s feelings while leaving her country behind and going into exile. pahlī sālgirah144 — First birthday lāl tujhe chātī pah laṭā lūṉ, sun mire man kī bāt jis din to candā sā janmā, kālī thī vah rāt ghūm gaʼī thī des kī dhartī par āṅdhī ghaṅghor log nihatte, saham gaʼe the dekh ke naṅgā zor 5

jis din tujh ko mān bharī mamtā kā dūdh pilāyā khūn cūstā vaḥshī is din shaharoṉ meṉ dar āyā jab tire māthe meṉ ne pahlā kājal ṭīk lagāyā ghar ghar par chāyā thā us din saṅgīnoṉ kā sāyah

(My) son(,)145 I may put you at my emaciated breast, listen to the language of my heart The day(,) on which the moon-like was born, the night was black The very dark cloudy hurricane whirled on the earth’s countries Helpless people, became frightened after watching (its) bare force On the day(,) when you caused to drink your mummy’s milk with filled motherly love On this day(,) the blood-sucking wild beast146 entered the cities When the first small round mark of kājal was applied on your forehead that day the shadow of bayonets had spread from house to house

|| 144 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 340f. 145 The word lāl can also just mean “darling, dear or beloved” in general (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﻻﻝ‬lāl]”, 940, 2). 146 Referring to a person.

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jab tirā mukhṛā cūm ke maiṉ ne lī thīṉ tirī balāʼeṉ 10

kūṛe khāte beṭe us din dekh rahī thīṉ

When I was kissing your lovely face, I was taking all your calamities147 that day mothers were seeing sons eating dirt

māʼeṉ hār ke jantā baiṭhī thī jab tū ne sīs uṭhāyā bilak bilak khalqat rotī thī, jis din tū muskāyā ghaṛī ghaṛī ne phaṛak phaṛak kar tere dam ko pālā kokh kā sukh kiyā sej kā sukh jab man meṉ bhaṛke javālā

Defeated people sat down(,) when you lifted your head Mankind cried wailingly, (on) the day you smiled Repeatedly(,) with great difficulty your son was brought up The maternal happiness was the happiness of the wedding night when the passion in the heart blazed up

15

toran bhūmī par jāyā hai mire jigar ke ṭukṛe dekh tujhe parcāne meṉ mātā kā qadam nah ukhṛe sālgirah par kyā tuḥfah dūṉ, har sū barse āg hāṉ yah tere agan khilone hāṉ yah mere rāg

On the terrestrial gateway my son148 has arrived Look(,) (your) mother didn’t retreat149 in coaxing you What present shall I give (you) on (your) birthday, in every direction rains of fire Yes(,) these are your fire-toys(;) yes(,) these are my stories

|| 147 The phrase balāʼeṉ lenā not only means to take all the misfortunes of another person onto oneself but also comes along with a certain gesture. This means that person A “touch[es] the sides of […] [person B]`s head with both hands and then similarly touch[es] [his/her] own head with curled fingers, signifying transfer of all woes and troubles to [him/her]self” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﺑﻼﺋﻴﮟ‬balā"eṉ]”, 193). 148 The phrase jigar kā ṭukṛā literally means “a piece of the liver” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﺟﮕﺮ‬jigar]”, 384). 149 The phrase qadam ukhaṛnā literally means “the footstep being unsteady/uncertain” (cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “ [ukhaṛnā]”, 68). However, the word qadam figuratively also means “being” and therefore the translation of mātā kā qadam nah ukhṛe can also be made as “mother’s being wasn’t discouraged” or “mother didn’t retreat” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﻗﺪﻡ‬qadam]”, 820, para. 5).

156 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

bol bol meṉ jin ke maiṉ ne dharī koʼī

I applied several sparks of fire to the words

ciṅgārī 20

phūṅk phūṅk kar karūṉ alāʼo banne kī tayyārī kaisā lāḍ are jīvan kī har kaṭhnāʼī jhel

After blowing up (the fire) I shall make a bonfire setting up as preparation What pampering(,) oh(,) experience every hardship of life

hāth nah maiṉ rokūṉgī tirā to angāroṉ se khel bāṭ ke kāṅṭe tujhe pukāreṉ, yah le mera hāth pahlā qadam uṭhā dhartī par apnī māṉ ke sāth

I will not hold onto your hand(,) so play with heated charcoals You may shout rough words, here take my hand Take the first steps on earth along with your mother

Celebration and despair – A son’s first birthday while the country’s society is oppressed by the state The poem pahlī sālgirah (First birthday) deals with the contrary feelings of personal joy whilst one’s own country and society suffers. Written in a rhyming scheme where the two lines per couplet rhyme with each other the poem narrates the story of a mother who talks to her son on his first birthday. She is torn between the joy about her son and motherhood and the country’s decline she lives in. Comparing the day of his birth with the bright and calming shining moon, she portrays the night as black. People being helpless and frightened just stand by and watch while “[t]he very dark cloudy hurricane whirled on the earth’s countries.” As a hurricane destroys nearly everything in its path, irrespective of what measurements one applies, this seems to be a metaphor for Zia ul-Haq’s military coup and his Islamisation programme that restricted women’s rights. His government also prosecuted those who demonstrated against the regime to put them in prison or worse. Further, the mother remembers various contrasting details like the day when her son drinks milk at her breast while “the blood-sucking wild beast entered the cities.” Or when she applied a “small round mark of kājal” on his forehead to ward off evil at home, while “the shadow of bayonets had spread from house to house.” At yet another time, the mother remembers kissing her son’s face to take all his calamities, whereas other mothers see their sons eating dirt, a metaphor for dying. While her son lifted his head and smiled (for the first time), others were defeated and cried. Now, after a year of bringing her son up and enjoying motherly feelings, she does not know what to gift him on his birthday, where one sees “in every direction rains of fire”. The only things she decides to give him are therefore her stories, his fire-

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toys, which contained “several sparks of fire” and “after blowing up (the fire) [she] shall make a bonfire setting up as preparation.” These lines suggest her rebellion and participation against the regime, in the form of her journal Āvāz and her ongoing support and plan to add more fuel to it. At the end of the poem, she even advises her son to gain his own experiences and burn his fingers while playing “with heated charcoals” but eventually gives in when he shouts and offers him her hand to walk along with his mother. Fahmīdah’s poem pahlī sālgirah is an account of the torn feelings between joy and desperation during the time of experiencing motherhood for a second time and Zia ul-Haq’s takeover and the accompanying oppression of freedom in Pakistan. sāzish150 — Conspiracy sāzish, maḥal-sarā kī naucī

Conspiracy, (the) harem’s concubine

tahah-khānoṉ kī tārīkī meṉ

In the darkness of the basement

nam-nākī meṉ

in tearfulness

shāhī takht ke rakhvāloṉ ne shab bhar

custodians of the royal throne kept (her) the

pālī 5

us ko raqṣ sikhāne pahunce khvājah

entire night to teach her dancing, all lords arrived clapping

sarā bajāte tālī pīlī āṅkhoṉ, pīlī bāṅheṉ, pīle jāl liʼe hāthoṉ meṉ

10

15

Pale eyes, pale arms, yellow thin and fine embroidery151 holding on hands

ākhir naucī bāhar niklī

At last(,) the concubine came outside

dekho! naucī bāhar niklī

Look! The concubine came outside

us par paṛī khilqat kī dhūp

on her fell the nature’s sunlight(.)

dekho us kā badlā rūp!!

Look, her appearance changed!!

lāl gulāl sā khil gayā mukhṛā

(Her) face glowed like red powder152

māthe lāgā lahū kā ṭīkā

Applied onto (her) forehead was a mark of blood

dauṛ uṭhī bijlī rag rag meṉ

(A current) racing (of) electricity in every vein

lahroṉ kī mastī pag pag meṉ

The frenzy of waves in every step

mil gaʼī bhīṛ bharī rāhoṉ meṉ

(She) got mixed in the overflowing crowd’s ways

ā gaʼī khilqat kī bāṅhoṉ meṉ

(She) came into the world’s arms

jhūme khetoṉ khaliyānoṉ meṉ

(She) swayed on the threshing floored surfaces

paṛ gayā mātam aivānoṉ meṉ

Mourning spread over the mansions

|| 150 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 349f. 151 Like a fine net (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﺟﺎﻝ‬jāl]”, 408). 152 The used word gulāl over here is normally a “red powder thrown about by the Hindūs in the Holī festival” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﮔﻼﻝ‬gulāl]”, 912).

158 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

20

khvājah sirāne kosā kāṭā

The lords despatched curses (towards her)

pīṭā māthā

(Did) beat the forehead in despair

shāhī takht ke rakhvāloṉ ne

the custodians of the royal throne

ghaiz̤ meṉ muṅh se jhāg uṛāʼe

In anger foam spread from the mouth(s)

dāṛhī naucī

They plucked out the beard(s)

tahah-khānoṉ kī tārīkī meṉ, nam-nākī

in the darkness of the basement, in tearfulness

meṉ 25

phir shab bhar ik sāzish socī

Again(,) throughout the night a conspiracy was planned

Corrupt and hypocritical government Sāzish (Conspiracy) condemns the Pakistani’s governmental policy of bribery and conspiracy to overthrow elected or unelected cabinets. The poem portrays conspiracy as a concubine who is kept in the darkness of the basement, hidden from the public, where the “custodians of the royal throne” or ministers keep her and teach her how to dance or to behave according to their whims. Due to the prostitute’s confinement, her eyes and arms are pale wearing a “yellow thin and fine embroidery” on her arms. Once the ministers take her out of the basement her appearance changes and she starts to glow. Instead of a red bindī (dot/drop), which used to show the marital status of a woman in South Asia, she wears “a mark of blood.” The ministers are intoxicated by looking at her and celebrate a party where everyone desires her. Due to disappointment in her, possibly the failing of the conspiracy they cobbled together in a cloak-and-dagger operation, the ministers start cursing the concubine, beat their foreheads in despair, pluck out their beards and even foam spreads from their mouths, as if they were wild beasts. However, the cycle does not end here and they plan a new conspiracy in the night hidden away from the public. Here, the comparison of conspiracy as a prostitute highlights the interchangeability of people and shows the respect of the ministers for their own country. The way they treat the prostitute, near tears in a dark basement and tossing her aside like dirt when she does not fulfil her purpose, gives a clear insight into the thinking of Pakistan’s governmental officials and is highly criticised by Fahmīdah. Sāzish expresses the poetess’s anger and disappointment about Pakistan’s ministers and their disrespect towards society.

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dillī, tirī chāʼoṉ…..153 – Delhi, your shade….. dillī! tirī chāʼoṉ baṛī qahrī

5

10

15

20

Delhi! Your shade is very furious

mirī pūrī kāyā pighal rahī

My entire body is melting

mujhe gale lagā kar galī galī

After embracing me in every lane

dhīre se kahe “tū kaun hai rī?“

asking softly “Who are you (female) friend?”

maiṉ kaun hūṉ, māṉ tirī jāʼī hūṉ

Who am I (?), I am your daughter

par bhes naʼe se āʼī hūṉ

but I have come with a new appearance

maiṉ ramtī pahuṅcī apnoṉ tak

I came wandering to (reach my) friends

par prīt parāʼī lāʼī hūṉ

but I have brought (a) foreign affection

tārīkh kī ghor guphāʼoṉ meṉ

In the dark retreats of history

shāyad pāʼe pahcān mirī

maybe my identity could be discovered

thā bīj meṉ des kā pyār ghulā

The love of the country had dissolved into the seed

pardes meṉ kyā kyā bel caṛhī

What kind of creeper grew in the foreign country

nas nas meṉ lahū to tirā hai

In every vein is indeed your blood

par āṅsū mere apne haiṉ

but the tears are my own

hoṅṭoṉ par rahī tirī bolī

On the lips lives your dialect

par nain meṉ sindh ke sapne haiṉ

but in (my) eyes are the dreams of Sindh154

man māṭī jamunā ghāṭ kī thī

(My) mind’s nature was at the river banks of Jamunā

par samajh ẕarā us kī dhaṛkan

but understand a little its heartbeat

is meṉ kārūnjhar kī siskī

In it is the sigh of the Kārūnjhar mountains155

is meṉ ho ke detā ciltan!

In it exists and gives birth to Ciltan!156

tire āngan mīṭhā kuṅvāṉ haṅse

In your courtyard bloomed sweet wells

kyā phal pāʼe, mirā man rogī

What rewards did my sick mind reap(?)

ik rīt nagar se moh mirā

My affections are with a traditional town

baste haiṉ jahāṉ pyāse jogī

where thirsty yogis reside

|| 153 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 360ff. 154 As this poem is about Delhi it is likely that the river Sindh and not the state in Pakistan is meant but if one looks at the following verse it is more possible that the poetess meant the state Sindh. 155 The Kārūnjhar mountains are in Sindh (cf. “Karoonjhar Mountains: The Gigantic Mountains in Sindh”, editorial Sindhi Dunya Jun 18, 2016, accessed Jul 2, 2018). 156 The Ciltan is also a mountain located in Baluchistan in the Quetta valley (cf. Muhammad Sami, Amir Waseem, and Sher Akbar, “Quantitative Estimation of Dust Fall and Smoke Particles in Quetta Valley”, JZUS – Journal of Zhejiang University Science B 7, no. 7 (July 2006): 542–547, accessed Jul 2, 2018, doi:10.1631/jzus.2006.B0542).

160 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

25

30

35

tirā mujh se kokh kā nātah hai

You are related to me from (the) womb

mire man kī pīṛā jān ẕarā

Please understand my soul’s pain

vah rūp dikhāʼūṉ tujhe kaise

How may I show that beautiful appearance to you

jis par sab tan-man vār diyā

upon which the entire body and soul was devoted to

kyā gīt haiṉ vah koh-yāroṉ ke

What of songs are those of mountain lords(? )

kyā ghāʼil un kī bānī hai

How wounded their melody is

kyā lāj raṅgī vah phaṭī cādar

What colouring of modesty has this torn sheet

jo thar kī tapat ne tānī hai

which was stretched in the heat of Thar157

vah ghāʼo ghāʼo tan un ke

Those bodies with bruises over bruises

par nas nas meṉ agnī, dahakī

but in every vein is fire, burning

vah bāṭ ghirī saṅgīnoṉ se

Those routes were surrounded by stone (walls)

aur jhapaṭ shikārī kuttoṉ kī

and a sudden attack of hunting-dogs

hāṉ jin ke hāth pah angāre

Yes, those with embers on their hands

maiṉ in banjāroṉ kī cerī

I am in these nomads‘ slave-girl’)

māṉ un ke āge kos kaṛe

mother(,) beyond their base is a journey full of hard-

aur sar pah kaṛaktī do-pahrī

and on the head pierces the midday heat

maiṉ bandī bāṅdhoṉ kī bāṅdī

I am a woman tied with restrictions

vah bandī-khāne toṛeṉge

(I hope) they will demolish those prisons

ships 40

45

hai jin hāthoṉ meṉ hāth diyā

among whose hands has been placed the hand

so sārī salākheṉ moṛeṉge

so that all will bend the iron bars

tū sadā-suhāgan ho māṉ rī!

You remain blessed(,) oh(,) mother!158

mujhe apnī toṛ nibhānā hai

I am faithful about my own remedy

rī dillī chū kar caran tire

Oh, Delhi, after touching your feet159

mujh ko vāpas muṛ jānā hai

I have to turn returning

Longing for Pakistan in the exile in Delhi Dillī, tirī chāʼoṉ….. (Delhi, your shade…..) stresses on India and Pakistan being united through the same culture. The female narrator exclaims that Delhi welcomes and embraces her as a daughter, despite her being from Pakistan and not || 157 The desert which encompasses the Indian and Pakistani border between Rajasthan and Sindh. 158 Fahmīdah most probably refers to “Mother India” and not her biological mother. 159 In the sense of touching the feet of a saint, priest, or elder person (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﭼﺮﻥ‬caran]”, 472, 1). This shows great respect in Hinduism and India in general.

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India. The narrator further explains that her “love of the country had dissolved into the seed” wherefore “[i]n every vein is indeed your blood” and “on the lips lives your dialect,” Hindūstānī. Also, her “mind’s nature was at the river banks of Jamunā” and understands its heartbeat as Delhi or India is related to her “from [the] womb” and her “entire body and soul” are devoted to it. The narrator even calls Delhi mother and touches her feet out of respect. At the same time, being from Pakistan, she has a foreign touch or affection and describes herself as a creeper which “grew in the foreign country” having “the dreams of Sindh” and not Rajasthan or any other Indian state in her eyes. Naturally, she longs for her home like the “sigh of the Kārūnjhar mountains” in Sindh, particularly Ciltan, which is in Balouchistan and which she is reminded of by the river banks of Jamunā. Being sad and hurt, her homesickness only increases, remembering sad songs from mountain lords. Asking “[w]hat colouring of modesty has this torn sheet/which was stretched in the heat of Thar/those bodies with bruises over bruises” one is reminded of the border between Pakistan and India and the horrible scenes after Partition. Also, the sheet being torn points to the former unity and the fact that India and Pakistan are each a part from one and the same culture. Being prosecuted by the Pakistani government for speaking her mind, the narrator retells how she had to leave her country, being one of “these nomad’s slave-girl(s)” in the desert, “tied with restrictions.” She hopes that the prison, from which she bailed herself out, will be demolished and its iron bars will bend to release all wrongfully accused. Then, after honouring mother India that she took her in, she will return home. Fahmīdah’s dillī, tirī chāʼoṉ….. recounts her love and gratitude for India and Delhi, where she lives during her exile while reflecting on the country’s past and her own family’s past. It is based on Fahmīdah’s experience of being to Delhi for the first time, retracing her ancestors’ steps and highlighting the linkage between Urdu literature and India. This poem enables the reader to find the reflection of India through the description of Delhi. In an interview, Fahmīdah also discloses that this poem was used against her during the regime of Zia ul-Haq. Photocopying the poem, spreading rumours and propaganda they pointed with fingers towards her that her writing in a glorious way about Delhi demonstrated Fahmīdah’s support for India against Pakistan.160

|| 160 Cf. Rektha Foundation, “Fahmida Riaz: Dilli teri chhanw… ,“ Audio File, accessed Aug 9, 2019, https://www.rekhta.org/nazms/dillii-tirii-chhaanv-fahmida-riaz-nazms.

162 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

rānjhe ne kahā161 — Rānjhā162 said tū to jāntī hai o hīr mirī, kyūṉ tum ne choṛī galī tirī

You know indeed, oh, my Hīr163, why your lane was abandoned

kyūṉ kān phaṛvāʼe, kyūṉ jog liyā,

Why (I) did let (people) tear my ear,164 why I be-

kyūṉ ghar saṅsār se āṅkh pherī

came an ascetic, why my eyes turned away from this world’s own people

tirī cāh se dil ko uṭhā nah sake, tire kūcah se qadam uṭhāʼe ham ne dil-dār yah qīmat pyār kī thī, vafā kī hai to mol cukāʼe, ham ne 5

khūn-e dil pilā kar pāl liʼe, tire hijr firāq ke nāg kāle ab jog kī rāheṉ anjānī, aur apne peroṉ ke chāle āṅsū gin gin kar rāt din karnā, ẕikre yād meṉ din se rāt karnā

I could not lift my heart from your longing, I went ahead at your narrow street Sweetheart(,) this was the price of love, I kept my promise(,) therefore I paid a price By feeding (my) heart’s blood, (I) nourished a black serpent of your absence (and) separation Now the unfamiliar path of solitude, and the blisters of our feet While counting the tears(,) I turn (my) night into day, in the remembrance of memories(,) I turn my day into night

āte jātoṉ se lenā paighām tirā, rāh caltoṉ ko gher tirī bāt karnā koʼī haṅs ke tukke, koʼī phabtī

10

Receiving your news from the wayfarers, talking about you while blocking the passers-by Some look (at me) laughingly, some make mock-

kisse, koʼī raḥm kare pūche ḥāl

ing remarks to someone, some showed mercy

tirā

(and) asked about your condition

begāne mileṉ yā dost yahāṉ par maḥram ṣirf khayāl tirā pal bhar nah bhulāʼeṉ muḥibb tire, ghaṛī cīkh tirī, tirī majbūrī dil cīr ke ṭūṭe tīr jaise, is t̤aur qabūlī hai yah dūrī

I may meet strangers or friends here but a confident is only your imagination I may not forget for a moment your lovers, your brief scream, your helplessness Like an arrow broke(,) after splitting the heart, like this I have accepted this separation

|| 161 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 374. 162 The translation of the Urdu name is Leander. 163 The translation of Urdu is Hero. 164 “by saying so much”.

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pardes meṉ ‘āshiq ḍhūṅḍ rahe phir milne kī tadbīr koʼī bichṛe yār ik bār milā de jo, aisā mirshad sayyid pīr koʼī

Lovers are searching tactics to meet again in a foreign country who can reunite with (my) separated lover, once(,) such a guide, master, saint

Love and heartbreak through the lens of a man Rānjhe ne kahā (Rānjhā said) portrays the story of Hīr Rānjha but from a male perspective. The original story, most famous is Waris Shah’s version, goes as follows. Dhīdo Rānjhā is the most beloved son of his father. His married brothers are jealous of him and when his father dies, he leaves his ancestral land. On his way to Jhang, he encounters several challenges and finally meets Hīr. She is the daughter of the head of the Sial clan of Jhang who employs Rānjhā as a cowherd. They both fall in love but Hīr’s uncle Kaido plots against them. Finally, the qāẓī165 of the village demands Hīr getting married and not talking to cowherds the whole day long. Hīr refuses to marry Saida of the Khera clan of Rangpūr but is forced to do so. The marriage is never consummated and Rānjhā becomes a fakir upon Hīr’s request so that he can meet her in a disguise. He meets Hīr after a year and runs away with her. They are caught by the Khera clan but a king bestows Hīr to Rānjhā. However, Hīr is poisoned by her own family after betraying them both promising that they can get married and Rānjhā dies out of shock after hearing the news of Hīr’s death.166 Fahmīdah’s retelling recounts the story from a male point of view. Rānjhā’s or Leander’s feelings about his torment not being able to visit his beloved but instead passing by her street are like a “black serpent” which he nourished by “feeding [his] heart’s blood” to it. He cries day and night while waiting to hear some news from her. Having no confidant, he feels pretty much alone in the world and others mock him or show mercy about the bad state he seems to be in. He hopes to meet her again in a foreign country so that they can be together but until then he renounces the world and its materialistic goods. In Fahmīdah’s rānjhe ne kahā the suffering and feelings after heartbreak is expressed through the eyes of a man instead of a woman. This poem, therefore, shows that also men can be sensitive towards love. || 165 A Muslim judge or magistrate (cf. Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﻗﺎﺿﻲ‬qāẓī]”, 786). 166 Cf. Dīpa Niramohī, “Heer Raanjha: Heer Waris Shah (English Translation)”, Blogspot.com, no date, accessed July 18, 2019, https://heerraanjha.blogspot.com/p/heer-ranjha.html; cf. Muhammad Afzal Shahid, “Waris Shah and His Heer”, Apna – Research Papers, Thesis, Book Chapters (s. a.): 3f, accessed Jul 18, 2019, http://apnaorg.com/research-papers/english/paper-9/page1.shtml.

164 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

tafṣīl masāfat kī167 — Details of a journey ik din jo baham hoṉge

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One day when we will be together

tujh se tire dar-māndah

with your destitute (companions)

kyā ‘arẓ guzāreṉge

What petition we will lay before

kyā ḥāl sunāʼeṉge

What story we will tell

mauhūm kashīdah hai

The embroidery168 is unreal

taṣvīr qiyāmat kī

(A) picture of commotion

shāyad nah sunā pāʼeṉ

Maybe we could never tell

tafṣīl masāfat kī

(the) details of a journey

lab bastah raheṉ shāyad

Maybe (we) remain with closed lips

yah din jo guzāre haiṉ

(about) these days which we have spent

maḥram hai koʼī kis kā

Who is whose intimate confidant

yā zakhm kī sar-goshī

or a wound’s whispering

yā pīr hamāre haiṉ

or are they our saints

āṅkhoṉ yah kiye sāyah

(Upon) these eyes was a shadow

kab dūr talak dekhā

when (we) saw far away

larzāṉ thī zamīṉ kis dam

In what way the earth was shaking

kab sū-e falak dekhā

when (we) saw towards the sky

kab dasht kī tanhāʼī

When the loneliness of the wilderness

āṅkhoṉ meṉ utar āʼī

descended into the eyes

kab vahm samā‘at thī

When the listening was an illusion

kab kho gaʼī goyāʼī

When the power of speech was lost

kis moṛ yah ḥairāṉ the

(At) which turn were they astonished

kis rāh meṉ haiṉ vīrāṉ the

At which path were they deserted

ijmāl ḥaqīqat ke

Truth’s summaries

shāyad nah raqam hoṉge

maybe (they) will not be recorded

ek din jo baham hoṉge

One day when we will be together

tak leṉge tirī ṣūrat

I169 will look at your face

|| 167 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 385f. 168 The word kashīdah has several meanings. Among them “embroidery” or “one who has suffered or felt”, but also “a clenched fist ready to strike a blow” (cf. Francis Joseph Steingass, A Comprehensive Persian-English Dictionary, Including the Arabic Words and Phrases to be Met with in Persian Literature (London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1892), s.v. “‫[ ﮐﺸﻴﺪﻩ‬kashīdah], 1035, accessed Feb 11, 2023, https://dsal.uchicago.edu/cgi-bin/app/steingass_query.py?qs=‫&ﮐﺸﻴﺪﻩ‬searchhws =yes&matchtype=exact). 169 Over here the plural form of “we” is used in Urdu, which can also be a polite way of saying “I”. As the second option is closer to the context, it has been translated as “I”.

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aur sar ko jhukā leṉge

and I will bow (my) head

mil ḍāleṉge āṅkhoṉ ko

I will rub (my) eyes

gar yād sarāb āʼe

in case the illusions were missed

gum-sum tirī caukhaṭ par

At your doorstep

ho jāʼeṉge ham shāyad

I will maybe become quiet

chū kar tire dāman ko

After touching your feet

so jāʼeṉge ham shāyad

I will maybe go to sleep

Exiled from Pakistan The poem tafṣīl masāfat kī (Details of a journey) describes Fahmīdah’s journey and her life in exile in India. Starting, the narrator discloses the uncertainty of the events that are going to be told after the state of being in exile is over. The details of the days are blurred and therefore “maybe we could never tell/details of a journey.” Due to the trauma and not knowing whom to trust, what to tell and who would believe the story the participants of this journey might “remain with closed lips.” These surreal stories might also be forgotten by those who experienced them or they might prefer not to speak about them at all, hence, “[t]ruth’s summaries/maybe (they) will not be recorded.” When the day finally comes that the narrator will be back to his/her home country and the odyssey finally comes to an end, it will be such an overwhelming feeling that he/she will “bow [the] head” and touch the country’s feet in gratitude and respect and “rub [the] eyes” to make sure it is not only an illusion. Only then the person will come to rest and sleep. Fahmīdah’s tafṣīl masāfat kī reflects the longing for home and at the same time narrates the feelings when being dislocated.

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Ādmī kī zindagī (1988—2000) — Seventh volume

ek zan-e khānah badosh170 — A female nomad tum ne dekhī hai kabhī ek zan-e

Have you ever seen a female nomad

khānah-ba-dosh jis ke khaime se pare rāt kī tārīkī

from beyond whose tent in the darkness of the night

meṉ gursinah bheṛiye ghurrāte haiṉ

hungry wolves growl(?)

dūr se ātī hai jab us kī lahū kī

When the fragrance of her blood comes from a dis-

khūshbū

|| 170 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 400f.

tance

166 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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sunsunātī haiṉ darindoṉ kī ḥissīṉ

the predators’ senses are thrilled

aur dāṅtoṉ meṉ kasak hotī hai

and in (their) teeth seems to be a pang

kih kareṉ us kā badan ṣad-pārah

to tear her body into hundred pieces

apne kheme meṉ simaṭ kar ‘aurat

(For) he drawn-together-woman in her tent

rāt āṅkhoṉ meṉ bitā detī hai

the night passes in (front of her) eyes

kabhī kartī hai alāʼo roshan

Sometimes she makes a luminous bonfire

bheṛiye dūr bhagāne ke liye

for driving the wolves away

kabhī kartī hai khayāl

Sometimes she fancies (for)

tez nokīlā jo auzār kahīṉ mil jāʼe

a sharp-pointed tool(.) If by any chance she was able

to banā le hathiyār

then she would construct a weapon

to get (it) 15

us ke kheme meṉ bhalā kyā hogā

What can be (there) in her tent

ṭūṭe phūṭe hūʼe bartan do-cār

Two or four vessels(,) broken into pieces

dil ke bahlāne ko shāyad yah

Maybe the thoughts come to amuse her heart

khayāl āte haiṉ dil ke bahlāne ko shāyad yah

She knows (that) she may maybe not see dawn

khayāl āte haiṉ sote baccoṉ pah jamāʼe naẓreṉ 20

Keeping her firm glances on the sleeping children

kān āhaṭ pah dhare baiṭhī hai

hearing a slight sound on the earth she was sitting up

hāṉ dhyān us kā jo baṭ jāʼe kabhī

Yes, if her attention was sometimes divided

gungunātī hai koʼī bisrā gīt

she would softly sing some forgotten song

kissī banjāre kā

of some travellers

Women being vulnerable due to their low standing in society Ek zan-e khānah badosh (A female nomad) portrays the daily life and fears of a gipsy woman. The setting of the poem is in the wilderness where the tent of a female gipsy stands. In the darkness of the night “hungry wolves growl” and their senses are thrilled ready to attack the woman. This may symbolise men’s overall attitude towards women, who seem to be vulnerable alone and are therefore prey for men in the way of deceit or even rape. To protect herself, the gipsy lies awake at nights, makes a bonfire to drive the wolves, id est, men or other bad persons, away and even fancies constructing a weapon with which she can defend herself from her attackers. Having nothing of real use to make such a weapon she is amused about her thoughts and instead protects her children in watching them sleep. While doing so even the slightest sound let her become alert and after being sure that there is no danger nearby, she sings a song for her children to calm them and herself at the same time.

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Fahmīdah’s ek zan-e khānah badosh gives an insight into the vulnerability of women in South Asia’s society. In an interview she explains the genesis of this poem, describing her position back in Pakistan after being in exile in India. During the reign of Benazir Bhutto and her PPP she secured a senior post for the National Book Council of Pakistan which was questioned later when Benazir Bhutto was confronted with eight allegations by a powerful party. Fahmīdah explains that they tried to defame her claiming her to be an Indian agent, which is why that party questioned Benazir Bhutto giving Fahmīdah such a senior position within the government.171 dil-o shā‘ir (ek mukālimah)172 — Heart and Poet (A dialogue)

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shā‘ir:

Poet:

kyūṉ bhaʼī,

Why comrade,

tujhe ab kyā hai hūā?

what has happened to you now?

kyūṉ ḍūbā jātā hai ae dil?

Why are you lost (in thoughts), oh heart?

kyūṉ jīnā kyā marā mushkil?

Why do you make my life difficult?

tū jin bātoṉ par rotā hai,

Words on which you cry,

khol āṅkh, naz̤ ar kar cār t̤araf,

open (your) eyes, (and) look at (all) four directions,

un kā to kissī ko dhyān nahīṉ,

Well(,) no one pays attention to them,

kyūṉ cain tujhe ek ān nahīṉ?

Why aren’t you in peace (even) for a moment?

dil:

Heart:

yah shā‘ir jo kahlāte haiṉ

Those people(,) who are called poets

jo yūṉ hī rote gāte haiṉ

who then lament causelessly

sab khalqat ke mazdūr haiṉ yah

they are all labourers of the world

jo bojhā log uṭhā nah sakeṉ

(Those) people (taking) the burden may not be able

yah apne sar le lete haiṉ

they take them onto their own heads

hāṉ shām ḍhale, ik nīm tale,

Yes(,) (when) evening faded, under a neem tree,

karte haiṉ kamar ko jab sīdhā

when they lie down (to rest)

to carry (it) 15

20

maile pallū kī khol girih,

opening the knot of the dirty hem (of the garment)

gham ḍhonewāle dhartī kā

(Those) who carry the weight of the world’s sadness

jab apnī ujrat ginte haiṉ

when they count their own wages

kyā chan chan rūpahle sake

what (kind of) chinking silver (coins) (are those)

|| 171 Cf. Rekhta Foundation, “Fahmida Riaz: Ek zan-e-KHana-ba-dosh,” Audio File, accessed Aug 9, 2019, https://www.rekhta.org/nazms/ek-zan-e-khaanaa-ba-dosh-fahmida-riaz-nazms. 172 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 409f.

168 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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un ke dāman se ḍhalte haiṉ

(which) fall from their robe

ho jātī hai dhanvān zamīṉ

The world becomes wealthy

is dhan kā dūjā joṛ nahīṉ

This secondary money has no substitute

mat samajh kih dil dīvānah hai

(it) doesn’t understand that the heart is insane

yah shāyad koʼī khizānah hai

Maybe it is some treasure

shā‘ir: (bāl noc kar)

Poet: (after scratching her head173)

ab maiṉ apnī nā-dān nahīṉ!

Now I am not (so) ignorant!

maiṉ kab tak dūṉgī sāth tirā

Until when will I put up with you

yah kahnā kuch āsāṉ nahīṉ

This advice is not something easy

din ḍūbā, badlī sab duniyā

The day ended, the whole world changed

lekin tū vahī purānā hai

but you are the same old self

maiṉ kuch bhī nah kahnā cāhtī hūṉ

I don’t want to say anything at all

ārām se rahnā cāhtī hūṉ

I want to live in peace

dil: (haṅs kar)

Heart: (after laughing)

acchā, phir tum bhī dekheṉge!

Okay, then I will also watch you!

fī'l-ḥāl to tujh meṉ ḍerā hai

For the time being I stay174 within you then

yah bāṛ tire aur mās tirā

These (are) your bones175 and your flesh

un meṉ hī mirā baserā hai

solely within them is my nest

A monologue about life The poem dil-o shā‘ir (ek mukālimah) (Heart and Poet (one dialogue)), which is written in a rhyming pattern, describes the inner conflict of writing what one thinks is right and not being appreciated for it and staying silent. The dialogue between the poet and her heart starts with the poet asking the heart why it is upset about something and torments her to write about things that are unjust and therefore must be talked about. The result is that society shuns her for speaking her mind. She scolds the heart that anyways no one pays attention to what she says so, why bother and not just live in peace. It answers that poets generally take other people’s burden and “carry the weight of the world’s sadness” whilst not being paid in money but through the knowledge that the “world becomes wealthy” by their words. The poet retorts that she is not that ignorant, || 173 In Urdu the idiom “scratching your head” is constructed with the word for “hair” (bāl) instead of “head”. 174 The used word ḍerā indicates that “the act of staying or living […] [is just; A/N] for a brief period as in a journey” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ڈﻳﺮﺍ‬ḍerā]”, 626). 175 The word bāṛ actually means “borders” but here “bones“ is more appropriate in translation.

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nevertheless, this is not an easy task to do and why does the heart pester her in saying things which she will not be rewarded for. Everything changed according to her but only the heart sings the same old tune whereas she only wants to live in peace and questions for how long she will put up with the heart. Upon hearing this the heart laughs about her foolishness and says that it, too, will consider how long to stay within the poet’s bones and flesh. Fahmīdah’s dil-o shā‘ir (ek mukālimah) demonstrates the burden of speaking against injustice as a female poet in South Asia. khākam ba-dahan176 — Excuse me for my blasphemy!177 maiṉ ‘āzim-e mae-khānah thī kal rāt kih

I was bound (for) the bar that I saw last night

dekhā ik kūcah-e pur-shor meṉ aṣḥāb-e t̤arīqat

were engaged in fisticuffs

khākam ba-dahan, pec ‘imāmoṉ ke khule

Excuse me for my blasphemy, folds of (their)

the 5

In a noisy alley religious men

the dast-o girebāṉ

fatvoṉ kī vah bauchāṛ kih t̤abqāt the larzāṉ

turbans were coming undone Such torrents of abuses of fatwas178 to the end that (all) social groups were stunned179

dastān-e mubārak meṉ thīṉ rīshān-e mu-

in sacred hands were sacred beards

bārak mū-hāʼe mubārak the faẓāʼoṉ meṉ

Sacred hair was tossed in the atmosphere

pareshāṉ

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kahte the vah bāham kih ḥarīfān-e siyah-rū

Both said that they (are) evil-faced rivals

kuffār haiṉ bad-khū

They are immoral infidels

zindīq haiṉ, mal‘ūn haiṉ bante haiṉ mu-

They are religious hypocrites, they are

salmāṉ!

damned (and) they feign to be a Muslim!

|| 176 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 412. 177 A closer literal meaning of khākam ba-dahan is “May dust be in my mouth.” For reasons of understanding this version was not used. It is a “formula of apology when saying something obviously bad, omnious or profane” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﺧﺎﮐﻢ ﺑﺪﮨﻦ‬khākam badahan]”, 537). A slightly altered version of my translation was previously published by Jamal Malik (cf. Máté, Zahra Saffia Réka Uta, “Pardon my Blasphemy!” Islam in South Asia, by Jamal Malik, Revised, Enlarged and Updated Second Edition, Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 2: South Asia, 37 (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 576, doi:10.1163/9789004422711). 178 A “legal ruling by an Islamic religious scholar” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫ﻓﺘﻮی‬ ٰ [fatvā]”, 804). Here the more common diction with “w” instead of “v” is used. 179 The word larzāṉ, which is used here, means “trembling, shivering” (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﻟﺭﺯﺍں‬larzāṉ]”, 946).

170 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

hātif ne kahā ro ke kih ae rabb-e samāvāt!

The guardian angel said after crying: “Oh, God of the heavens!”

lā-raib sarāsar haiṉ bajā donoṉ ke fatvāt

Undoubtedly the fatwas of both were entirely

khilqat hai bahut un ke ‘azāboṉ se hirāsāṉ

People are very frightened from their curses

ab un kī hoṉ amvāt!

Now let them die!

true

People suffering due to religious hypocrisy of learned scholars The poem khākam ba-dahan (Excuse me for my blasphemy!) is a critical recount about the irrational behaviour of religious men in Pakistan. Having a rhyming pattern, particularly striking is the heavy usage of Arabic and Persian words and phrases as Fahmīdah normally tends to use Hindūstānī, a kind of bridge between Hindi and Urdu. Fahmīdah, talking through a female perspective, begins with telling the reader that she is not very religious or has a different faith than Islam as she is on the way to a bar at nights. Alcohol being forbidden in Islam indicates here, that the woman talking is not an orthodox follower of Islam or even not a Muslim. In an alley on the way, the woman encounters two religious men fighting with each other. As both of their turbans unravel the picture of learned Islamic scholars in Pakistan occur. Supporting this theory is the religious exclamation of the woman “Excuse me for my blasphemy!”, which is only uttered as a form of apology when someone says something very bad. Stunning everyone on the streets they throw fatwas at each other, which are normally issued for official and serious religious topics. This shows a clear misuse of it as it is for their personal benefits. When pulling each other’s beards and hair they ridicule themselves, as such behaviour is found with childish girls. Also, throwing abuses at each other and trying to diminish the other person being “immoral infidels” and “religious hypocrites” only “feign[ing] to be a Muslim” makes them appear only more ridiculous. In the end, even the guardian angel is fed up with them and calls for God, stating that both are right in what they are saying about each other. Instead of being role models for the society they only frighten people and they should clear off. Fahmīdah places this poem at the time during Zia ul-Haq’s era and the start of his Islamisation programme. She recounts observing two groups of religious men fighting. One group wore red turbans while the others wore green ones. Green turbans are normally worn by the Barelvī school of thought and these were likely members of different Barelvī mosques. The groups declared that the fight was due to wanting more mosques but as it turns out they wanted the royalties of the houses and shops around the mosques and therefore were just greedy for money. Upon understanding this, Fahmīdah started laughing and decided to annoy these groups

Ᾱdmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) – Seventh volume | 171

in writing a satire about them.180 Fahmīdah’s khākam ba-dahan confronts religious authorities in Pakistan, who do not follow what they preach or what Islam itself tells them: Kindness, patience and understanding towards others. samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ — number three181 — Three poems about the ocean samundar:

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Ocean:

ab is ke āge pānī hai

From here onwards is water

bas pānī hai

Only water

aur tum kis takhte se lipaṭī

And embracing this (wooden) plank

bahtī jātī ho? yah to kaho

have you been floating? Well, explain (me) this(.)

‘aurat:

Woman:

kyā jāne kaise hāth lagā

I don’t know how I got

ik ḍobī kashtī kā takhtah

a plank of a sunken boat

jaise ik bād shajar kī hai

(It) is like a tree’s breeze

paivast haiṉ jis ke sine meṉ

firmly united at its chest

sūraj kī garmāʼī kiraneṉ

The sun’s rays may become warm

miṭṭī, pānī aur havā liye

reaching soil, water(,) and air

aur hāṛ mās kī āg liye

and holding the fire of bone (and) flesh

merī bāṅhoṉ ke ḥalqe meṉ

in the circle of my arms

jīvan kī ant kahānī hai

(It) is life’s final story

yah sun ke samundar haṅsne lagā

After hearing this the ocean laughed

phir dekh ke cār t̤araf bolā:

then after looking in all four directions(,) it said:

kyā jhāg aṛātī lahareṉ haiṉ

What froth wearing waves

ūpar shor havā ke jhakkaṛ haiṉ

Above a noisy wind blows

us tez kaṭīle dhāre meṉ

In this strong (and) prickly streams

jaise ik naʼī ravānī hai

(it is) like a new flux

aur is ‘aurat ko dekho to

and then look at this woman

gahre kā jisse kuch hosh nahīṉ

who doesn’t understand the depth

duniyā se curā kar le āʼī

stealing from the world she brought

kyā mīṭhā phal, kyā shākh harī

What (a) sweet fruit, what (a) green twig

le ab to mujh meṉ ān samā

Now come and sink in me

lipaṭī hūʼī apne takhte se

clinging to your own plank

|| 180 Cf. Rekhta Foundation, “Fahmida Riaz: KHakam-ba-dahan,“ Audio File, accessed Aug 9, 2019, https://www.rekhta.org/nazms/khaakam-ba-dahan-main-aazim-e-mai-khaanaa-thii-kalraat-ki-dekhaa-fahmida-riaz-nazms. 181 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 435f.

172 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

30

mānī nah kissī kī jab to ne

When you did not trust others

phir yūṉ hī sahī

then just be like this

o bhāg bharī!

Oh, fortunate one!

Only trusting oneself and therefore being left without help The poem samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ (Three poems about the ocean) is a dialogue between the ocean and a woman floating in it about her character and decisions in life. Written in a rhyming pattern Fahmīdah self-reflects upon her inability of letting go of things or behaviours that might lead her nowhere. This is expressed in the ocean asking the woman floating in its waters why she embraces a wooden plank while floating in the ocean where there is nothing but water in front of her. She replies that she does not know how she got to this point but there is still hope for instance through the sun’s rays getting warmer and being life in a plank wherefore it is worth holding onto it. After this, the ocean laughs and investigates all four directions saying that despite all the hindrances of “froth wearing waves,” “noisy wind” and “strong (and) prickly streams” she still holds onto her plank or in this case onto her beliefs in life. Not understanding the depth of her decision, she brought some new hope in the form of a “sweet fruit” and a “green twig” but still, she will sink into the ocean clinging onto her plank. The ocean concludes staying the way she is and not trusting others eventually will leave her with no one to help her. Fahmīdah’s samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ portrays the hope of a woman that only trusts herself, hence, no matter what the situation is she has to help herself and stay confident. ek bosah sho‘lah-e larzāṉ pah sabt182 — One kiss inscribed on a shaking flame dekhtī hūṉ laraztī hūʼī zindagī

5

I see quavering life

shama‘ bujhtī hūʼī

Putting out a wax candle

tez caltī havā

the wind blows strong

apne hāthoṉ kā piyālah banātī hūṉ maiṉ

I form a cup with my hands

cūmtī haiṉ mirī uṅgliyāṉ roshnī

The light kisses my fingers

āṅsūʼoṉ ke sivā

Other than tears

mere bas meṉ hai kyā

what else is in my control

hāṉ badan kī yah garmī tirī naẕr hai

Yes, this warmth of the body is presented to you

is laraztī hūʼī zindagī ke liye

For this quavering life

|| 182 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 443.

Ᾱdmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) – Seventh volume | 173

10

shama‘ bajh jāʼegī

the wax candle will be put out

shama‘ jab tak bajhe

Until the wax candle is put out

us ke hoṅṭoṉ ko bhī yād rah jāʼegī

his lips will also remember

thartharātī hūʼī lau yah bosah mirā

(on the) trembling flame this kiss of mine

Remembering a lost lover Ek bosah sho‘lah-e larzāṉ pah ṣabt (One kiss inscribed on a shaking flame) reflects on life and the remembrance of lost lovers. The poem talks about “quavering life/putting out a wax candle” and a female voice trying to protect the candle from being extinguished with the help of her hands. It seems that she wants to keep something alive like a relationship or memory as becomes evident later. It crystalises that the woman is sad for not being in control of a certain situation and presents the warmth of her body to protect the candle as until it is extinguished “his lips will also remember/(on the) trembling flame this kiss of mine”. In preserving the candle, she also preserves his memory of her and her memory of him, which leads to the conclusion that there has been a breakup of some sort. Fahmīdah’s ek bosah sho‘lah-e larzāṉ pah ṣabt, which is written in a slight rhyming pattern, describes the remaining hope for getting back together the abandoned partner has after the breakup of a relationship. ḥāshiyah183 — Border kabhī tum ne socā

Have you ever pondered on

karo ẕikr jab apnī qadroṉ kā

when you praise your greatness

aur apne “mashriq ke akhlāq” kī rif‘atoṉ kā

and the nobility of your “Eastern morals”

jahāṉ se naz̤ ar tum ko ātā rahā hai

from the place (from where) you are observ-

tamaddun parāyā nihāyat ḥaqīr

The extremely insignificant foreign civilisa-

karo jab raqm zar-fishāṉ dāstāṉ

when recording gold-scattering stories(.)

apne a‘lā ravājoṉ ke ausāf kī

Of the qualities (of) your highest traditions

to ek ḥāshiyah is meṉ tārīk choṛo

that leave a dark border in it(,)

kih leṭī hūʼī haiṉ vahāṉ bā-ḥayā mashriqī

which (is) there (where) Eastern modest

ing(.) 5

tion

‘au-rateṉ 10

jin ko cashm-e falak ne nah dekhā kabhī

women are prostrating themselves(.) Which were never seen by the eyes of the sky(.)

|| 183 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 461.

174 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

vahāṉ darj hai un ke jismoṉ pah khūdān ke hāthoṉ se

It is included there on their bodies by their own hands(.)

un kī ḥayā kī kahānī

Their story of modesty(,)

tasalsul se ab tak likhī jā rahī hai

all this time it is being written with continu-

bahut qābil-e raḥm yah dāstāṉ

This very pitiable tale

hai tumhāre tamaddun kā vah ḥāshiyah

is the border of your civilisation

kih ūjhal rahā sab kī naz̤ roṉ se ab tak

that has remained concealed from every-

ab itnā batā do

Now tell (me) this much

kih tum us se naz̤ reṉ curāʼoge kab tak?

that until when will you hide away from it?

ation(.) 15

one’s eyes until now(.)

Questioning the mindset of a South Asian man with a limited view for his own country Fahmīdah’s poem ḥāshiyah (Border) criticises the arrogance and feeling of superiority of a South Asian man towards Industrialised countries. The poem has a slight rhyming pattern while more Persian and Arabic words appear in the text. Right from the beginning, the narrator asks a South Asian man who feels superior to Western civilisations to reflect on his own life and the oppressing behaviours towards women within his society. Given that this poem is written between 1988 and 2000 and Fahmīdah’s difficulty with Nawaz Sharif’s government and his revival of religiosity where women must abide by the Islamic dress code, it seems likely that this poem criticises Nawaz Sharif himself. Fahmīdah invites the man in the poem to ponder on “the qualities [of] your highest traditions/that leave a dark border in it” and therefore excludes others and the overall “nobility of your ‘Eastern morals’/from the place (from where) you are observing.” This man portrays industrialised countries as “extremely insignificant foreign civilisation[s]” whilst depicting the own country’s history as full of glory and telling “gold-scattering stories” about it. The traditions of his country, however, include “Eastern modest women […] prostrating themselves/[w]hich were never seen by the eyes of the sky” while the women’s modesty “is included there on their bodies by their own hands.” Here, a picture emerges about Muslim women, hidden away in pardah, prostrating themselves in front of men, therefore doing everything for them without questioning their low position and the imperious behaviour of those men. The narrator further describes that “[t]heir story of modesty(,)/all this time it is being written with continuation”, which means that no one questions this social construct. It being the “border of your civilisation/that has remained concealed from everyone’s eyes until now” symbolises the behaviour of this man and his aversion to be

Ᾱdmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) – Seventh volume | 175

progressive or change anything about traditions which oppress women. The narrator finally demands to know “until when will you hide away from it?” and not face up to society’s shortcomings and make a change. Fahmīdah’s ḥāshiyah challenges Nawaz Sharif to rethink his concepts of modesty and women in South Asian society before ranting about Western countries. inqilābī ‘aurat184 — Revolutionary woman ran-bhūmī meṉ laṛte laṛte bīte kitne sāl

How many years have passed fighting on the

ik din jal meṉ chāyā dekhī ciṭṭe ho gaʼe

One day she saw (her) reflection in the wa-

battle-field bāl pāpaṛ jaisī hūʼīṉ haḍḍiyāṉ, hilne lage haiṉ dāṅt jagah jagah jhurriyoṉ se bhar gaʼī sāre tan kī khāl 5

dekh ke apnā ḥāl hūʼā phir us ko bahut malāl are maiṉ buṛhiyā ho jāʼūṉgī, āyā nah thā khayāl!

10

ter(,) (her) hair has become white the bones became like pāpaṛ185, the teeth are shaking Everywhere the skin of the whole body has become full with wrinkles After seeing her own condition(,) she was very melancholic Oh! I will become an old woman, this thought hadn’t occurred (to me)!

us ne socā

She thought

gar phir se mil jāʼe javānī

If (I) might obtain (my) youth again

jis ko lakhte haiṉ dīvānī

which appears to be mad

aur mastānī

and driven into frenzy

(jis meṉ us ne inqilāb lāne kī ṭhānī)

(in which she was resolute to bring a revolu-

vahī javānī

That same youth

ab kī bār nahīṉ dūṉgī koʼī qurbānī

This time I will not give any sacrifice

bas lā-ḥaul paṛhūṉgī aur nahīṉ dūṉgī

I will not relinquish (an idea) and I will not

tion)

koʼī qurbānī 15

give any sacrifice

dil ne kahā

The heart told

kis soc meṉ hai ‘ae pāgal buṛhiyā

In which thought are (you) absorbed(.) ‘Oh(,) crazy old woman

kahān javānī![‘]

Where is (your) youth![‘]

|| 184 Cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 464f. 185 “[A] very thin [and] crisp bread made of any pulse or rice” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﭘﺎﭘﮍ‬pāpaṛ]”, 242).

176 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

y‘anī us ko guzre ab tak kāfī ‘arṣah bīt cukā hai 20

Because enough time has elapsed since it passed

yah khayāl bhī der se āyā

this thought also came late

bas ab ghar jā

Enough(!) Now go home(.)

buṛhiyā ne kab us kī mānī

When did the old woman accept it(?)

(ḥālānkah ab vah hai nānī)

(Although now she is a (maternal) grand-

phir ek naʼī jang jo tane cal niklī vah

again (for fighting) a new battle, she left in a

(z̤ āhir hai, ab aur vah kar bhī kyā saktī thī)

(It is clear, what else was she able to do now)

āsmān par jhil-mil tāre āṅkh-micaulī khel

In the skies the twinkling stars were playing

mother) pompous manner 25

rahe the rāt ke panchī bol rahe the

hide and seek The night’s birds were chirping

aur kahte the

and they used to say

yah shāyad is kī ‘ādat hai

maybe this is her habit

yā shāyad is kī fit̤rat hai!

or maybe this is her nature!

A rebel that turned old reflects on her life Inqilābī ‘aurat (Revolutionary woman) mirrors Fahmīdah’s life while being stubborn and not giving up doing what she desires. A female voice presents this poem while the diction is preliminary Hindūstānī and the lines rhyme with each other. It starts with Fahmīdah realising her age through “(her) reflection in the water(,) [where] (her) hair has become white/the bones became like pāpaṛ, the teeth are shaking/ [and] everywhere the skin of the whole body has become full with wrinkles”. She was so consumed in her battle, fighting for what she believes in that she was unaware of time passing by. Becoming melancholic she fancies with the idea of being young again and ponders whether she would do anything differently in her life. Realising too late that she would not “relinquish (an idea) and […] will not give any sacrifice,” she scolds herself for being foolish at this age. But it seems that she never accepted giving up a battle and despite being old now and a grandmother, she still fights for what she believes in and constantly leaves “in a pompous manner” to reach her goals as “this is [just] her habit/or maybe this is her nature.” Fahmīdah’s inqilābī ‘aurat gives a comical and honest account of her stubbornness regarding matter she is convinced about.

Intikhāb-e kalam (2015)/ Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Eighth volume | 177

5.7

Intikhāb-e kalām (2015)/Tum Kabīr … (2017) — Eighth volume

ta‘zītī qarār-dādeṉ186 — Condolence resolutions yāro! bas itnā karam karnā

5

After death don’t do this injustice to me

mujhe koʼī sanad nah ‘it̤ā karnā dīn-dārī kī

Don’t award me some testimonial of religiosity

mat kahnā josh-e khit̤ābat meṉ

Don’t deliver ebullient speeches(:)

dar-āṣl yah ‘aurat momin thī

In fact, this woman was a true believer

mat uṭhnā sābit karne ko mulk-o millat se

Don’t start proving (my) loyalty to country

vafā-dārī mat koshish karnā apnā leṉ ḥikām kamaz-kam na‘sh mirī

and nation Don’t try to make the authorities to accept at least my corpse

yārāṉ, yārāṉ

Friends, friends

kam-z̤ arfoṉ ke dushnām to haiṉ i‘zāz

my titles are then the abuses of narrow-

mire 10

Friends! Just do (me) this favour

pas-e marg nah mujh pah sitam karnā

minded (people)

minbar tak khvāh vah ā nah sakeṉ

Whether they may not accompany (me) to the

kuch kam to nahīṉ dilbar mere

my beloveds aren’t few

hai sir-e ḥaqīqat jāṉ meṉ nihāṉ

The secret’s truth lies hidden in the essence

aur khāk-o ṣabā hamrāz mire

and dust and zephyr are my confidants

minbar187

of (me)

15

to haiṉ nah un kī kar jānā

Also don’t disgrace them

khūshnūdī-e muḥtasibāṉ ke liye

for the happiness of the keepers of public

mīt se nah ma‘āfī mangvānā

Don’t make my friends apologise

morals dam-sāz mire

My companions

takfīn mirī gir ho nah sake

(if) they don’t allow putting the shroud on my

mat ghabrānā

don’t become agitated

jangal meṉ lāsh ko choṛānā

Leave (my) corpse in the jungle

yah khayāl hai kitnā sukūṉ afzā

This thought is so calming

jangal ke darinde ā leṉge

The jungle’s predators will carry away

dead body 20

|| 186 Cf. Farukhī, Intikhāb-e kalām, 45f. Published before in the volume Hamrakāb (cf. Riyāẓ, Sab la‘l-o guhar, 392f). 187 A kind of speaking desk in a mosque, where religious sermons are being delivered during Friday prayers.

178 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

25

ban jānce mire khayāloṉ ko

my ideas examined by the forest

vah hāṛ mire aur mās mirā

those bones of mine and my flesh

aur mīrā la‘l-e bad-khishāṉ dil

and my heart (like) the rubies of Badakhshān188

sab kuch khūsh ho kar khā leṉge

They will all eat happily

vah ser shakm

Those satiated (beasts)

honṭoṉ pah zabāneṉ phireṉge

On the lips the tongues will circulate189

aur un kī be-a‘ṣiyāṉ āṅkhoṉ meṉ

and in their sinless eyes will sparkle

camakegī 30

tum shāyad jis ko kahah nah sako

which you can’t probably express

vah sucāʼī

The truth

yah lāsh hai aisī hastī kī

This is the corpse of such an entity

jo apnī kahnī kih guzrī

which presented her own remark

tā ‘amar nah har gaz pachtāʼī

while she didn’t repent any part190 of her lifetime

Wishes for her funeral and flashbacks of her life The poem ta‘zītī qarār-dādeṉ (Condolence resolutions), which was originally written during the era of Zia ul-Haq and Fahmīdah’s exile, presents her wishes regarding her burial. It is likely to have been reprinted due to her advanced age and illness in 2015 which led to her death in late 2018. Written in Hindūstānī with the lines rhyming, the female narrator asks for her not being praised as a saint after death in giving “some testimonial of religiosity,” delivering “ebullient speeches” or trying to prove her “loyalty to country and nation.” Instead, she prefers her friends telling the truth about her anti-religious and rebellious nature against her country. Stating her titles being “the abuses of narrow-minded (people)” is enough appraisal for what she has achieved and her well-wishers shall not disgrace her soul “for the happiness of the keepers of public morals.” She also has enough true friends who will come to her funeral and she does not need any false ones. In the case of the government not allowing her to bury her body, this might have been the case during Fahmīdah’s exile in India as several lawsuits were pending against her in Pakistan, she requests for her corpse to be left to the jungle. There, she will be part of the normal cycle of nature and “the jungle’s predators will carry away/my ideas || 188 “Badaḫshān refers to ancient Yemen which was famous for its red rubies.” (Huzaifa Pandit, personal conversation, October 11, 2018). 189 Or “they will lick their lips.” 190 The word gaz means “yard” as a form of measurement (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﮔﺰ‬gaz]”, 910f). For a better understanding “part” was used instead of “yard.”

Intikhāb-e kalam (2015)/ Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Eighth volume | 179

examined by the forest/those bones of mine and my flesh” before they will “all eat happily.” In the animals’ eyes, the truth about her will be visible, namely that she did not regret anything in her life. Fahmīdah’s ta‘zītī qarār-dādeṉ is a detailed account of her rebellious personality and her last wishes after death. tum kabīr … (excerpt)191 — You Kabīr …

5

10

15

āh maiṉ majbūr ik insān hūṉ

Ah, I am a helpless human being

hai ḥarārat se uṭhā jis kā khamīr

who has become sour from anger

sar kashīdah hai jo sho‘le kī t̤araḥ

The mind is disturbed as if on fire

yūṉ to vah masrūr-o mast

Generally(,) it is cheerful and careless

khāk par bich jāʼe pānī kī misāl

A similitude of tears spread out on the dust

hāṉ, magar apnī gharaẓ ke vāst̤e

Yes, but for its own selfishness

ek ḥadd tak ‘ijz kar saktā hai vah

that can be submission to an extent

jis ke ba‘d ātā hai ik aisā maqām

after which comes a sort of halt

qābil-e tarjīḥ hai us ke liye dīvāngī

Lunacy is preferable for him

mujh se kahtā hai kabīr

says Kabīr to me

yah nahīṉ manzil hamārī

This is not our destination

yah nahīṉ

Not this

ae mire bhītar ke jādū

Oh, the magic within me

ae mire andar kī khūshbū

Oh, my inner fragrance

jo andhere maiṉ dikhā detī thī mujh ko

which used to show me the way in the dark

rāstah dab gaʼī hai, chup gaʼī hai tū kahāṉ!

(Where) are you buried, where are you hidden!

giṛgiṛātī hūṉ paṛī hūṉ khāk par

I beseech(,) I have fallen down on the grave

hai mirī auqāt tujh par āshkār

My condition is revealed to You

jo paṛā hai mujh pah gham itnī sakat

I don’t have this much strength in me (for) the

mujh meṉ nah thī 20

dekh māyūsī mirī dekh merā iẓt̤irāb

Look at my agitation

hāth haiṉ khālī mire

My hands are empty

hai kahāṉ merā kabīr

Where is my Kabīr?

naqsh jis kā dhīre dhīre miṭ rahā hai

Whose picture is very slowly being erased on

khāk meṉ 25

grief(,) which has befallen me Look at my despair

vah hai merī ṭūṭī phūṭī zindagī bhar kī matā‘ karab se duharī hūʼī jātī hūṉ maiṉ

|| 191 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 11–13.

the grave That is the complete possession of my brokento-pieces-life I become twofold with agony

180 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

ā madad ko merī ā

Come to my help(,) come

ae hujūm-e shar meṉ ghalt̤āṉ khair kī

Oh(,) tiny sunbeam of goodness absorbed in

nannhī kiran

the mob of wickedness

tū kahāṉ se ā gaʼī hai? kyā tirā asrār hai?

Where have you come from? What are your se-

tere parto se munavvar thī kabīr kī jabīṉ

From your layers Kabīr’s forehead was illumi-

crets? 30

nated cūmtī thī jis ko maiṉ

whom I used to kiss

cūmtī thī terā ḥusn

I used to kiss your beauty

kaun hai aur kyā hai tū mujh ko nahīṉ

Who You are and what You are I don’t fully

pūrā patā tū nahīṉ takhlīq merī 35

mujh meṉ az khūd ā gayā

It came to me naturally

kyā hai tū samrah hazāroṉ sāl kī tahzīb

Are You the result of thousands of years’ civi-

kā aur is qarnoṉ se jārī zīst kā?

40

45

lization and existence continuing from these aeons?

ḥāṣil-e insāniyat

Product of humanity

āh yah insāniyat, tārīkh ke yah jānvar

Ah, this humanity, these fools of history

jin kī bānchoṉ se ṭapaktā hai lahū

from whose wishes drips blood

nūr terā is kashāfat se chanā?

Was Your light strained from this impurity?

dhīre dhīre

Slowly slowly

raftah raftah

Step by step

irtiqāʼ dar irtiqāʼ

Under gradual development

qalb-e insāṉ meṉ kiyā tū ne z̤ ahūr

You manifested in the heart of mankind

jadal meṉ aẓdād kī muẓmar tirā asrār

Are Your secrets concealed hostilities in

hai?

fights?

kyā yahī hai tere jalve kī adā?

Is this Your style of splendours?

ae kahah tū “kuch bhī nahīṉ”

Oh(,) You say “nothing at all”

ae kahah “be-ta‘dād” aur “qabl az

Oh(,) (You) say “without measure” and “be-

shumār” 50

know You aren’t my creation

yond calculation”

tujh ko logoṉ ne kahā

People said to You

jis meṉ ham kuch bhī baṛhā sakte, ghaṭā

in which we cannot magnify, (or) decrease an-

sakte nahīṉ tujh ko sannāṭā kahā jis meṉ hū[ʼ]ā khūd marta‘ish

ything at all to you (is) called a rumbling noise(,) which trembled itself192

|| 192 This part most likely refers to Moses in the Christian and Hebrew Bible and the Qur’an, when he sees a burning bush (in the Qur’an it is not mentioned what exactly is burning, just that there

Intikhāb-e kalam (2015)/ Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Eighth volume | 181

muṅh meṉ dum apnī dabāʼe sāṅp meṉ dekhā tujhe 55

Suppressing (my) own tail in (my) mouth(,) (I) saw You in the serpent193

nesh-e ‘aqrab meṉ kyā tujh ko shanākht

Are You recognised in the scorpion’s sting?

aur kabhī machlī meṉ dekhā mu‘jizah

And sometimes in the fish You see a miracle194

ae taḥayyur āfrīṉ sar bastah rāz

Oh(,) Creator of wonder(s) (and) hidden se-

tujh se kuch kam to nahīṉ ḥairāṉ kan

Indeed, anything from You (is) rarely not sur-

jo t‘āqab terā insāṉ ne kiyā

which Your human beings pursued

irtiqāʼ dar irtiqāʼ!

under gradual development!

ae mukammal tīragī se banne vālī

Oh(,) light being created from complete dark-

cret(s) prising

60

roshnī kyūṉ naz̤ ar ātī nahīṉ ab kyūṉ naz̤ ar ātī nahīṉ

65

now(?)

dekh mere tīrah bāt̤in kā dhū[ʼ]āṉ

Look at my dark inner self’s smoke

jis ke hoṅtoṉ par tabsam

on whose lips (is) a smile

jis kā cahrah pur sukūṉ

Whose face full of peace

mere rīgastāṉ kī mūrat

The idol of my desert

‘aks thā jis meṉ tirā

in which was Your reflection

maharbāṉ ho maharbāṉ

Be kind(,) be kind

ae kahah tū hai ẕahn meṉ mere ta-

Oh(,) say You are in my mind the power of im-

khayyul kī sakat 70

ness Why doesn’t it appear(,) why doesn’t it appear

agination

jis se tū paidā hū[ʼ]ā

from which You were born

ae mere dil meṉ irāde kī namūd

Oh(,) in my heart the intention’s visibleness

ae mire gum-gashtah rāz

Oh, my lost secret

nām haiṉ tere hazār

You have thousand names

ae mere ḥaṣe ke nām

Oh(,) the name of my Sharer

ae mire Allāh mujh par raḥm kar!

Oh(,) my Allāh have mercy on me!

|| is a fire in the desert) and God speaks to him through it to make him a Prophet and tells Moses to free the Israelites from the Pharao in Egypt (cf. Sūrah 20, Verse 10–14 and 24). 193 This part most likely refers to the biblical and qur’anic story of Moses, who was told by God to throw down his staff and which turned into a snake and back. This was to demonstrate God’s power and existence, which Moses was to present at the Pharao of Egypt (cf. Sūrah 20, Verse 17– 24). 194 This miracle is “performed by a prophet, […] by a saint, or [a] righteous man not claiming to be a prophet” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﻣﻌﺠﺰﻩ‬mu‘jizah]”, 1048).

182 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

Her son’s accidental death and finding faith anew through it The originally 13 pages long poem tum kabīr … (You Kabīr …) is presented here with three pages. Through the poem, Fahmīdah processes the loss of her son Kabīr and finds faith in religion anew. The poem has a slight rhyming pattern at the end of each line and heavily draws on Persian and Arabic diction while talking in a female voice. At the beginning of the excerpt, Fahmīdah describes her internal state due to her son’s death. Being helpless, “sour from anger” and her mind being on fire it is quite opposite to her usual “cheerful and careless” self. In a way, she gives up and submits herself to a higher being which then gives her a certain peace and she remembers phrases that Kabīr used to say to her. In trying to find a way out of her grief or the darkness as she puts it, she searches for the “magic” and “inner fragrance” within her and eventually falls on her son’s grave where his picture “is slowly slowly being erased” like in her memory. She beseeches God or a higher being to look at her revealed condition of “despair” and “agitation” as her “hands are empty” and her son is no more, to come and help her. She does not fully understand that Kabīr is gone and asks for where he is but at the same time, she somewhat knows that he died and describes her life as broken into pieces. It so happens, that she finds a “tiny sunbeam of goodness” which shows her the way out of the darkness and illuminates her son’s forehead. Questioning where it came from and what its secrets are she accepts that she does not fully know what it is but is certain that it is not her creation as it came to her naturally. She asks if this was “the result of thousands of years’ civilization/and existence continuing from these aeons,” a “product of humanity” “manifested in the heart of mankind.” Here, Fahmīdah clearly describes God, as religion according to her used to be an invention before realising that it was a discovery. Reflecting on the description that people use when talking about God, she apprehends that God or religion can neither be magnified nor decreased at all and that he is manifested in several symbols. Here, she highlights biblical and qur’anic stories where Moses sees a burning bush in the desert or his staff which turned into a snake and back. Starting to praise God, Fahmīdah also questions if people are also able to recognise God in the scorpion’s sting, which is deadly but part of God’s creation. Afterwards, she requests to know why this light or God does not always appear when one is without hope. Not being sure if she only imagines this superior being as a “power of imagination” in her mind, Fahmīdah finally finds peace and her “dark inner self’s smoke” displays a smile on her lips and her “face [is] full of peace.” By the end of the poem she eventually openly calls out: “oh(,) my Allāh have mercy on me!”.Fahmīdah’s tum kabīr … is an account of her grief regarding the accidental death of her son Kabīr and pictures her feelings and despair about this tragedy.

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ammī195 — Mummy jab se gaʼī ho maiṉ āṅgan meṉ

5

10

15

20

25

30

Since the time you are gone(,) I am(,) in the courtyard

baiṭhī roz takā kartī hūṉ

sitting (and) I look daily

āṅgan meṉ jo bel caṛhī hai

in the courtyard(,) the creeper(,) which was flourishing

patte meṉ kaṭtā hai pattah

a leaf is cut off from the leaves

rāt kissī pal cīr ke ḍanṭhal

some moment at night after the stalk cut open

naʼī nikal ātī hai koṅpal

a new shoot came out

pūrā pattā ban jātā hai

an entire leaf is formed

parcam sā khiltā jātā hai

it blooms like a flag

ik dūje ke madd-e muqābil

another opponent

sīl-e zamāṉ ke yah do pal haiṉ

these are the two moments of the season’s disposition

par yah pattah nahīṉ jāntā

But this leaf doesn’t know

mushkil thā, kitnā mushkil thā

it was difficult, how much difficult it was

pyār bharā vah hāth chuṛānā

letting go of that hand full of love

apnī ḍagar par khūd cal paṛnā

setting out on one’s own path

dūr se muṛ kar hāth hilānā

while turning back from far (it is) waving the hand

āh yah pattah nahīṉ jāntā

Ah(,) this leaf doesn’t know

pī kar tere dūdh kī dhāreṉ

after drinking your streams of milk

ham donoṉ the madd-e muqābil

we both were opponents

khiṅcī hūṉ jaise do talvāreṉ

as if two swords have been withdrawn

tum se maiṉ uljhā kartī thī

I used to be involved in quarrels with you

kitnā maiṉ tum se ḍartī thī!

how much I used to be afraid of you!

bahut baṛī tum devī jaisī

as if you were (a) very great goddess

apnī jāʼe namāz pah baiṭhī

sitting on your praying carpet

caranoṉ meṉ sar dharūṉ tumhāre

I may place my head at your feet

jaise ijāzat mujhe nahīṉ thī

as if I had no permission

ekdam khatm hu[ʼ]ā ṭakrāʼo

All at once the clash came to an end

ruk gaʼeṉ tum kuch kahte kahte

you stopped suddenly (while) saying something

aur ab khatm nahīṉ ho pāte

and now it could not end

dil ke āṅsū bahte bahte

the heart’s tears flow (and) flow

yah honī dil samajh nah pāʼe

The heart couldn’t understand this fate

terī qabr nahīṉ pahcānne

does not recognise your grave

|| 195 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 25–27.

184 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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40

45

50

55

60

dekh nah pāʼe maut kā cahrah

couldn’t see the face of death

nahīṉ ho tum yah kabhī nah māne

you are not there(,) it doesn’t accept this ever

kissī sura‘t se tumheṉ bhulāyā

With what speed you were forgotten

vaqt ko pal kī nahīṉ hai furṣat

time doesn’t have a moment of leisure

miṭṭī ke malbe meṉ dabā dī

(you were) buried under the soil’s debris

sab ne mil kar terī ṣūrat

everyone united (in) your face

dūr andhere aur bārish meṉ

Far away in the darkness and rain

qabr tumhārī bhīg rahī hai

your grave is getting wet

āṅkhoṉ mūṅd ke ḍhūṅḍ rahī hūṉ

I am searching blindly

kahāṉ hai tū, kis nagar gaʼī hai

Where are you, which town have you gone to?

aur maiṉ bhī maṣrūf bahut hūṉ

And I am also very busy

jaisī thī ab bhī vaisī hūṉ

I am still the same that I was

tire ba‘d par kaun yah jāne

after you however(,) who here knows

andar bahar se kaisī hūṉ

how I am from inside and outside

andhe pan meṉ rāh dikhāʼe

In the darkness shows a path

bahre kānoṉ meṉ kuch bole

in the midst of turning deaf ears (it) says something

pāgal pan ko mat sikhlāʼe

(it) does not teach madness

rūḥ ke sāre zakhm ṭaṭole

(it) fumbles (for) all the wounds of the soul

mujh se baṛh kar mujh ko samjhe

(it) understands me better than myself

mere bhed mujhī se khole

divulges my secrets to me only

kyā maiṉ tum se rukhṣat cāhūṉ?

May I seek your permission to leave?

dil meṉ aisī cāh nahīṉ hai

In the heart there isn’t such a wish

tum se dūr mujhe le jāʼe

(that) takes me far away from you

aisī koʼī rāh nahīṉ hai

There is no such way

andhā hai janne kā rishtah

Blinded is the relationship of birth

jis pah nichāvar hai bīnāʼī

the sight(,) which is sacrificed upon

maiṉ ne kitāboṉ meṉ to nah pāʼī

I didn’t obtain that through books

thī tire lams meṉ jo dānāʼī

(the) wisdom(,) which was in your sense of touch

ab maiṉ ek guzartā lamḥah

Now I may acquire a passing moment

aur tumhārī baṛhtī āʼūṉ

and your prosperity

ḥarf yahīṉ sab rah jāʼeṉ

all stigma may remain exactly here

jab maiṉ tire pahlū meṉ samāʼūṉ

when I am lost by your side

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Longing for the difficult, yet loving relationship with her mother The poem ammī (Mummy) revolves around Fahmīdah’s relationship with her mother, which was not always easy and yet she misses her mother after her death. The poem uses Hindūstānī diction, has a clear rhyming pattern and is narrated through the voice of a woman. Sitting in the courtyard this woman or Fahmīdah observes nature’s cycle of death and birth while watching leaves being cut off and new shoots sprouting out of the stalk. It reminds her of herself and picturing her person as a leaf she outlines the relationship with her mother. Fahmīdah represents the severance process as difficult as she had to let go of “that hand full of love” and go her own way. Their relationship seems to have been marbled with disagreements about various things which somewhat made them “opponents.” It involved “quarrels” but at the same time, she used to be afraid of her mother and admire her as a “very great goddess,” whom she would ask for forgiveness while placing her head at her mother’s feet. A symbol of great respect in South Asia. Having obtained the wisdom about life and love from her mother “which was in [her] sense of touch” and not through all her books, she now, years later realises what she has lost when her mother died suddenly. Fahmīdah is unable to comprehend that her mother is gone and “does not recognise [her] grave” while all memories of her and the sound of her voice fade away with great speed. She then becomes conscious of the fact that only her mother knew her “from inside and outside” and therefore she does not want to leave her. Lost in memories of her mother’s prosperity she slowly finds a path of acceptance and calmness. Fahmīdah’s ammī reflects daughters’ complicated relationships with their mothers and highlights the realisation of goodness in it after one’s mother dies. is sāvan meṉ196 — In this rainy season kis ko khabar hai is sāvan meṉ kyā kyā bādal chāʼe haiṉ ‘ālam thā tārīk saḥar se aise bhī din āʼe haiṉ tark-e junūṉ kā ‘ahd hai tāzah, coṭ harī hai, dil nāzuk āp kā kuch maẕkūr nah thā aur āṅkh meṉ āṅsū āʼe haiṉ

|| 196 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 49.

Who knows in this rainy season what (type of) clouds have engulfed The world was dark since dawn(,) such days have also passed The vow of the abandonment of lunacy is refreshed, the wound is fresh, fragile heart You weren’t mentioned anywhere but (still) in the eye(s) have come tears

186 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

5

phūl kā rang bahār kī ḥiddat āp jaise deṉ mālik haiṉ

The flower’s colours (with the) impetuosity of spring(,) whomever you may give (them) (,) you are the owner

ham to navāḥ-e caman tak yūṉ hī dīd kī khāt̤ar āʼe haiṉ khol diyā dar tum ne qafas kā kahah kar “āzād kiyā” khūb! tumhāre bāndhe goyāyoṉ bhī chuṭne pāʼe haiṉ sab thā fareb-e naz̤ ar hamārā, sab taqṣīr hamārī hai 10

āp ne kuch dam ham ko diyā kyā, āp bahut sharmāʼe haiṉ muft nahīṉ pāʼī rusvāʼī rang qabā kā dekh ẕara ṣirf hū[ʼ]ā hai khūn jigar kā tab kuch nām dharāʼe haiṉ fikr-e sukhan kyā karte haiṉ ham, yād kā tirī bahānah hai nām nah lab tak lā sakne ne itne sha‘r kahāʼe haiṉ

I only came to the vicinity of the garden(,) just to be entangled in the pleasure of the sight You unlocked the door of the cage after telling “You are free” Great! Your bound talks have also been able to escape (like this) Everything was our illusion, everything is our fault When did you give us some time, you were very ashamed I didn’t get this disgrace for free(,) look a bit at the colour of prestige197 Only (when) the heart was murdered(,) then I earned some name What thoughts of poetry I accomplish, it is an excuse for your remembrance As (your) name cannot be taken onto the lips(,) I had to tell so many poems

Reluctance and worry about a new government with an old leader Is sāvan meṉ (In this rainy season) is a critique of a new government which appoints a leader that was involved in women’s oppression in the past. Narrated by a female voice, this poem contains a lot of Arabic and Persian words and phrases and nearly all lines rhyme with each other. The female narrator starts by wondering what “(type of) clouds have engulfed” in the current rainy season as there have also been days where “[t]he world was dark since dawn”. As there is only || 197 In Urdu the word is qabā, which means “a dress of state, rank, office, or the like” (UrduPoint Roman Urdu to English Dictionary, s.v. “Quba”, accessed Feb 14, 2019, https://www.urdupoint. com/dictionary/roman-urdu-to-english/quba-roman-urdu-meaning-in-english/76216.html). To understand the sentence the word “prestige” was used (Saman Nayal, personal conversation, December 12, 2018).

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one rainy season or monsoon each year, one or several years have passed and the question is how this year will be or what it will bring. Will it bring only dark clouds where it rains throughout the whole day without breaks in between or will there be a lot of sun with showers interrupting here and there. The woman further talks about a “vow of the abandonment of lunacy” which is refreshed and a fresh wound that brings tears into her eyes despite someone not being mentioned. It is very likely that the person, whose name was not mentioned, is Nawaz Sharif, who became Prime Minister in the year 2013 and was in office until 2017. Following Zia ul-Haq’s line of government, he ruled from 1990 to 1993 and again from 1997 to 1999 when he tried to introduce the Shariat Bill, which took away several of women’s rights following Zia’s Islamisation. After his appointment as Prime Minister in June 2013, he talked about liberalism and changed his political strategies, wanting to be more progressive and more Western, or ‘vowed to abandon his former lunacy’.198 Fahmīdah being uncertain whether to believe him or not is reminded of his former times in office when she was treated as persona non grata. The narrator of the poem further describes flowers carrying the colours of spring, but “whomever you may give (them) (,) you are the owner,” spring indicating a new beginning but as the bearer is the owner, he must also stick to the promises he gives and actions he does. She will only watch and wait with hope. Here, she reminds Nawaz Sharif that he used to tell he is free while being in prison, long before getting released, and that his “bound talks have also been able to escape (like this).” Fahmīdah mockingly points out that nothing was his fault and he was “very ashamed” for how he acted and it was only the society’s illusion and their fault for not giving him more time to stick to his promises. She goes on highlighting that she “didn’t get this disgrace for free” and “only (when) the heart was murdered(,) then I earned some name”. Hereby Fahmīdah underlines that only after rebelling and speaking out against injustice, leading her into exile, she earned herself a name but for what price as she was seen as a spy under his governmental rule in the 1990s. Finally stating, his “name cannot be taken onto the lips(,) [she] had to tell so many poems”. Fahmīdah’s is sāvan meṉ can, therefore, be seen as a reminder about Nawaz Sharif’s former politics while hoping that there will be a change during his time in office from 2013 onwards.

|| 198 Akif Naeem, personal conversation, July 12, 2019.

188 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

ḥarīfoṉ se199 — About rivals jahāṉ ek jangal ugā hai

Wherever a jungle has grown

bahut der se ek ‘aurat vahāṉ ghās par

there(,) from a very long time a woman is walking

cal rahī hai

on the grass

kabhī muskurātī, kabhī gungunātī

Sometimes (she) smiles, sometimes (she) hums

kabhī ashk-e garm āstīṉ meṉ chupātī

Sometimes (she) hides the hot tears with the

pahar khūd-kalāmī meṉ aksar gunvātī

She mostly spends (her) time in soliloquy

kabhī uṅgliyoṉ se havā meṉ parinde

Sometimes after drawing birds with (her) fingers

sleeve 5

banā kar uṛātī yah kyūṉ ā gaʼī hai?

10

in the air(,) she let’s them fly Why has she come here?

yah kyā cāhtī hai?

What does she want here?

hamārī ḥaddoṉ meṉ khalal ḍāltī hai!

Within our boundaries she interferes!

agar us par ḥamlah kareṉ har t̤araf se

But if we make an attack on her from every direc-

to lā-raib maghlūb kar leṉge us ko

then certainly after defeating her she will accept it

vah apne khayālāt meṉ gharq hai

(that) she is drowned in her own ideas

aur isse ghālib āne kī furṣat nahīṉ hai

and she has no opportunity of overcoming this

agar us ke cahre pah ḍāleṉ kharāsheṉ

If we cast scratches on her face

taṛap kar yaqīnan bahāʼegī āṅsū

(then) after writhing(,) she will definitely pour

magar bhūl jāʼegī pal bhar meṉ sab

but she will forget everything instantly

tion

15

forth tears kuch kih nākhūn us ke

because her fingernails

banāte haiṉ kuch naqsh ik raqṣ karte

create some impressions on a dancing tree’s

shajar ke tane par unheṉ āp ke khashmagīṉ rukh tak āne kī furṣat nahīṉ hai

trunk (and) they don’t have the time of coming near to your angry faces

Men oppressing women due to fear of being out of power Fahmīdah’s poem ḥarīfoṉ se (About rivals) sketches a picture of men’s dominating wish regarding women’s lives. It shows a slight rhyming pattern and is written in Hindūstānī. The narrator begins with delineating the general light-heartedness of women, who are like children, smiling, humming, spending time in soliloquy and

|| 199 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 79.

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“drawing birds with [their] fingers in the air” to let them fly. Only sometimes when they are hurt and want to hide their feelings they will hide “the hot tears with the sleeve.” When the woman in the poem encounters men, the men’s general reaction is fear of her taking their power and domain away from them, which is why the men are upset and question her reason of being near them. They accuse her of interfering within their boundaries and to stay in power work out a plot against her. In attacking her “from every direction” they are certain that she will comply after being defeated. Here, Fahmīdah hints at oral abuses men haul at women to oppress them until they get used to these abuses and follow everything men tell them to do. In making women believe that they are constantly wrong and will achieve nothing, fighting against them, men establish that they alone are in power. The narrator portrays this as men plotting against this intruding woman until “she is drowned in her own ideas/and she has no opportunity of overcoming this.” The men further conspire against her in casting “scratches on her face,” which will let her “pour forth tears” after “writhing” but eventually “she will forget everything instantly.” In these lines, Fahmīdah portrays men as immature girls who must scratch other’s faces to make them comply to whatever they want, in other words, to oppress women further. The reason, according to the poem, why men think that they can do this to women is that they believe women to live in their own world’s, creating “impressions on a dancing tree’s trunk” with their fingernails and therefore being unable to fight or strike back. Fahmīdah’s ḥarīfoṉ se gives an insight into men’s patriarchal thinking and their inability to see women as equal human beings. It is also an allegation against such men. īmān200 — Faith

5

cānd ke jaisā baṛhtā ghaṭtā

Like the moon enlarges and declines

jhil-mil jāl bichāne vālā

One, (that) is spreading out a sparkling net

svar yah jaisā tez aur maddham

Like the sun (is) sharp and dim

rekhā rang sujhāne vālā

(that) shows a line of colours

parchāʼeṉ sā āge pīche

Like the shadow in front and behind

lekin hāth nah āne vālā

But it isn’t reachable (by hand)

yah kyā hai aur yah kaisā hai?

What is this and how is this?

jab is kī saugand uṭhāʼūṉ

If I swore an oath by this

yah miṭṭī meṉ mil jātā hai

it will be ruined to dust

|| 200 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 80.

190 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

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15

jis pal us kā dhyāṉ nahīṉ ho

That moment, when there is no contemplation

yah agnī sā ug ātā hai

it raises like a fire

yah mera īmān

This is my faith

nahīṉ hai nayā koʼī vardāṉ

It is not a new blessing

is z̤ ālim ke sāth

With this oppressor

purānī hai apnī pahcān

my (own) acquaintance is old

dukh meṉ dhīre bandhāne vālā

One (that) establishes patience in sorrow

sukh meṉ nīr bahāne vālā

One (that) pours tears in happiness(.)

kis par mohit kis kā shaidā

By whom does it get infatuated(?) Whose lover (is this?)

mere saṅg hū[ʼ]ā thā paiṅdā

It was born with me(.)

A description of faith that was always present but hidden The poem īmān (Faith) sketches a picture of Fahmīdah’s faith, which has always been present within her. Having a slight rhyming pattern, the poem’s language leans more into Hindi. The narrator, who is most likely female, describes her faith with metaphors from the nature and the cycle of nature in antagonisms. The enlarging and declining moon, the stars as a “sparkling net,” the “sharp and dim” sun with “a line of colours” and the shadow “in front and behind” are all descriptive for the nature of her faith, all visible but not “reachable (by hand).” Not exactly knowing what and how it is, she is only certain that “when there is no contemplation/it raises like a fire,” which means it comes when one does not think about it and is, therefore, a natural occurrence. The narrator further points out that it is not “a new blessing” but “was born with [her], establishing “patience in sorrow” and pouring “tears in happiness.” Fahmīdah’s īmān outlines a picture of her faith, an understanding of nature and its mysticism. sāṅvlā bāṅkā pūrab kā — (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ)201 — Swarthy dandy of the East (Going from Delhi to Bihar on a train) jabīṉ par hai qashqe kī dhār

5

On the forehead is the line of a qashqah202

khincī hai do dhārī talvār

A double-edged sword was drawn out

culbule ang, camakte nain

Lively body, shining eyes

sāṅvlā rang, kahāṉ phir cain

Swarthy complexion, where in that case (is) peace

‘azīz-o nāzuk hai yah maqām

(So) precious and delicate is this situation

|| 201 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 117. 202 A qashqah is a “secretarial mark made by the Hindūs on the forehead with sandal [paste]” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﻗﺸﻘﻪ‬qashqa]”, 791).

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paṛā hai khat̤re meṉ islām

Islam is in danger

sāṅvlā bānkā pūrab kā

Swarthy dandy of the East

meṅḍh par kajrī gātā hai

on the parapet he sings a kajrī203

shaikh ab kyā samjhātā hai

Shaikh(,)204 what are you making me understand now?

Infatuation Sāṅvlā bāṅka pūrab kā – (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ) (Swarthy dandy of the East (Going from Delhi to Bihar on a train)) illustrates the infatuation of a woman. The poem, written in Hindi with the lines rhyming, is narrated by a female voice. Sitting on a train from Delhi to Bihar the woman, a Muslim, gets infatuated seeing an Eastern South Asian man, who is a Hindu. He being full of life is attracting to her and so she describes the way he looks. “On the forehead is the line of a qashqah,” he has a “lively body, shining eyes,” his skin colour is a “swarthy” and he sings a kajrī “on the parapet.” Not knowing what to do, either to give in to the infatuation or restraining herself, she portrays the situation as if “a double-edged sword was drawn out.” In the end, she calls upon an Imam in her thoughts, asking him “what are you making me understand now?” as she is unsure how to behave in such a situation and what these feeling tell about herself as if to ask if she was a sinner. Fahmīdah’s sāṅvlā bāṅka pūrab kā – (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ) reflects women’s desire of men by physical attraction and seems to be an older aforehand unpublished poem as it is situated in India, which Fahmīdah vastly explored during her time in exile. nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye)205 — Verdict (for the Women’s Movement)206 āvāz

Voice

ghūm rahī hai zamīn

The ground is revolving

ghūm rahā āsmān

The sky is whirling

mere ghar ke rāste

The roads of my home

|| 203 This is “a kind of song sung in rainy season in some parts of northern India“ (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﮐﺠﺮی‬kajrī]”, 847). 204 A religious and learned Muslim scholar. 205 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 121–125. This poem has been written in form of a play and might have been intended for stage performance. 206 A slightly altered and shortened version of my translation was previously published by Jamal Malik (cf. Máté, Zahra Saffia Réka Uta, “Verdict (for the Women’s Movement),” Islam in South Asia, by Jamal Malik, Revised, Enlarged and Updated Second Edition, Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 2: South Asia, 37 (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 576–578, doi:10.1163/9789004422711).

192 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

5

mujh pah palaṭne lage

they turned upside down on me

āsmān aur zamīn mujh pah jhapaṭne lage

The sky and earth swooped at me

rāt hai yā din hai yah

(Is) it night or day(?)

cīkh rahī hai havā

The wind is screeching

gūṅjte haiṉ dūr tak qahqahe vaḥshat

Until far resound the guffaws filled with fear

bhare 10

mardānah āvāzeṉ

Today she can’t be protected

khūb akelī milī

She was found all alone

yūṉ to hamārī naz̤ ar us pah kaʼī din se

In this case our glances were upon her for

thī yād nahīṉ us kā bhāʼī ham se jhagaṛtā hai roz 15

kaisā akaṛtā hai roz

several days Don’t (you) remember(,) her brother quarrels with us daily(.) How arrogant he is daily

intiqām us se leṉ!

We shall take some revenge on him!

āj masal deṉ use

Today we shall crush her

phir nah kabhī uṭh sake aisā kucal deṉ

We shall trample her such (that) she then

use 20

Male voices

āj nah bac pāʼegī

maybe may not recover

noc lo us kā badan

Claw her body(!)

phāṛ do us kī qamīṣ

Tear her shirt(!)

khūb calātī hai pīr, bāṅhah pakaṛ le ẕarā

She screams a lot, but just take hold of her

cīkh rahī hai abhī, ek t̤amāṅcah lagā

Now she is screaming, give her a slap

khūn se muṅh bhar gayā

the mouth was filled with blood

ab nah yah bolegī kuch

Now she will not say anything

arms

25

30

khūb ẕarā jī bhareṉ

We shall satiate (our) desire excellently

tū bhī mire ba‘d ā

You come after me

shām hūʼī ṣubaḥ se

Since morning it became evening

ham nahīṉ lekin thake

but we weren’t tired

yād karegī kabhī kaise javānmard the

Maybe she will remember how manly we were

ek ke ba‘d ek aur, ho gaʼī be-hosh yah

One after the other, she has become unconscious

phaink do jhāṛī ke pās

Throw her away near the bush

bhāg calo ab kahīṉ

“Let’s run away somewhere!”

āvāz

Voice

yah kaun hai jo zamīṉ ke ūpar ghasiṭ

Who is this(,) who is dragging (herself) on

rahā hai

the ground(?)

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35

yah kaun kuch cīthṛoṉ se tan ko chupā rahā hai

Who is (this, who) is covering her body with some rags(?)

yah nīm ‘uryāṉ badan hai kis kā

Whose half-naked body is this(,)

jo rāh-gīroṉ kī tez naz̤ roṉ meṉ ā rahā hai

which is meeting the piercing glances of

kih khūn aur āṅsūʼoṉ meṉ lithṛā hū[ʼ]ā

as this face was besmeared with blood and

passers-by yah cahrah 40

tears

koʼī kahānī sunā rahā hai

Somebody is telling a story

khudāʼe bar tar tujhe to har bāt kī kha-

Most superior God, indeed you have

bar hai kissī galī meṉ vah ghar bhī hogā jo us kā ghar hai

knowledge about every matter In some alley would also be that house, which is her home

bāp

Father

jab yah ḥāl banāyā apnā, lauṭ ke phir

When (you) made this condition of yours,

kyūṉ āʼī hai? nām chāl ke cūrā hai par, ‘izzat sab kī ganvāʼī hai

then why have you returned? After bringing disgrace on your family’s name (and) crushing it to powder, (you) have thrown away all (our) honour

45

tujh ko māṉ ne janam diyā kyūṉ, thā kambakht ko ham se bīr toṛoṉ us kī haḍḍī paslī. āj nahīṉ hai us kī khair nīcī kardī mūṅch hamārī, terā ham se kyā nātā? darvāze ke andar mat ā, jahāṉ se āʼī vāpas jā mat kahah mujh ko bābā, bābā, kheṅc nah lūṉ maiṉ tirī zabāṉ

50

is dahlīz talak kyūṉ pahuncī, rāste meṉ paṛtā thā kuṅvāṉ

Why did your mother give birth to you, the evil one had an enmity with us You shall break her bones. Today she has no good fortune (You) made our moustaches hang down,207 how are you (even) related to us? Don’t come through the door, go back to where you came from Don’t call me [“]Daddy, Daddy[”], I may (just) not pull your tongue (out) Why did you even reach this threshold, there was a well on the way

haṅsī bharī āvāzeṉ

Voices filled with laughter

ā ja, pās hamāre ā jā, khare kareṉge tere

Come, come near to us, we will get a good

dām gorā ciṭṭā badan hai tera, ā saktā hai ab bhī kām

price for you208 Your fair-skinned body, can even now come into use

|| 207 Idiomatic phrase for “ruining someone’s reputation in front of everyone.” 208 In the sense of “we will sell you and receive good money for you in return.”

194 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

paṛosī aur muḥalle dār

Neighbour(s) and residents of the same colony

55

kuch tum ne sunā, tum ne dekhā?

Did you hear anything, did you see (any-

kyā is laṛkī ke sāth hūʼā?

What happened to this girl?

ham ‘izzat dār gharāne haiṉ

We are respectable families

ham beṭī bahū ke rakhvāle

We (are) the protectors of (our) daughters

yah khūd hī vahān gaʼī hogī

She must have gone there all by herself

aise hī us ke lacchan the

such was her habit

lagtī thī bilkul matvālī

She used to appear totally drunk/carefree

bāṅhoṉ meṉ pahantī thī cūṛā

On her arms she used to wear a bracelet

thing)?

and daughters-in-law 60

65

kānoṉ meṉ jhamaktī thī bālī

In her ears used to glitter a small earring

yah jis par cal kar jātī hai

On what209 she walks and goes

is rāh se bac ke guzarnā tum

Beware(!) Avoid this way

tum bhī bad-nam nah ho jāʼo

(That) even you don’t get a bad name

ab us se bāt nah karnā tum

Now do not speak to her

muḥalle kā cauhdrī [sic!] (caudhrī)

Officer in charge of the ward

jurm kar ke āʼī hai yah, ab khulā inṣāf

She has committed a sin, now it’s (time for)

hai 70

ḥukm durroṉ kā hai, yah apnī rivāyat ṣāf hai muft meṉ ilzām mardoṉ par dhareṉ kyūṉ ‘aurateṉ khūd yah uksātī haiṉ un ko, vah bicāre kyā kareṉ dekh lo tum hoṅṭ us ke, aisā sīnah, yah

open justice It is a verdict of lashes, this tradition of ours is exact Why shall women put the blame on men without reason(?) They provoke them themselves, what shall those poor creatures do(?) Look at her lips, such a bosom, this waist

kamar uf gunah kī yah ṣalāʼe ‘ām, be-bas hai bashar 75

maiṉ ne ‘arabī kī kitāboṉ meṉ paṛhā hai

Alas, this filthy open invitation to all, mankind is helpless I have attentively read in Arabic books(.)

ghaur se das haiṉ gar shahvat ke ḥiṣṣe, haiṉ faqat̤ do mard ke āṭh ḥiṣṣe shahvat-e jinsī ke haiṉ ‘aurat ke pās || 209 Also read as “where.”

There are ten parts of (sexual) lust, only two of them belong to man women have eight parts of sexual lust

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kundah-e nār-e jahannam, be-ḥisāb-o be-qiyās ab muḥalle meṉ nahīṉ us kā ṭhikānah dūsrā 80

hāṉ jo mere ghar meṉ jhāṛo de to yah us kī raẓā

A wooden door knob of hell-fire, countless and inconceivable Now in the neighbourhood there is no other place to stay at for her Yes, if she sweeps my house clean, (then) it is her will

āvāz

Voice

ab nah zamiṉ hai koʼī, aur nah koʼī

Now there is no earth, and no sky

āsmān ek tirī jān hai, ek yah andhā kuṅvāṉ

There is (only) one life of yours, this one dark

uṛ rahī hai dūr dūr ṣirf lahū raṅg dhūl

Far far away is flying only blood coloured dust

bol kuṅveṉ kyā ise tū hī karegā qabūl?

Speak (oh) well, will you accept her?

kuṅvāṉ haṅstā hai

The well laughs

ā, merī bāṅhoṉ meṉ samā jā, kareṉge

Come, be held in my arms, after being taken

well 85

mil kar nāz-o niyāz

into the arms we will engage in a loving couple’s mutual relations

mere andhyāre meṉ chupe haiṉ is samāj ke sāre rāz kaun yahāṉ kis kā beṭā hai, kis kā dhan kis hāth lagā 90

gharq hai mere kāle jal meṉ janam karam kā har khātā mere sāṅp aur bicchū mil kar tirā badan khā jāʼeṉge ghūl-e gadhoṉ ke tirī haḍḍiyāṉ cunne maiṅḍh pah āʼeṉge terī javāṉ āṅkhoṉ meṉ bujh jāʼegī jīvan kī jotī

95

In my darkness are hidden the entire secrets of this society Who is whose son here, who acquired whose money Lost in my black water every birth (and) deed’s full account My snake and scorpion will eat your body together Simple demons will come for picking up the gleanings on your bones In your young eyes the light of life will be extinguished

coṅc mār kar le jāʼeṉge terī putlī ke motī

After pecking they will take your eyeballs

laṛkī cīkhtī hai

The girl screams

nahīṉṉṉṉ!!!

Noooo!!!

nahīṉ, maiṉ apnī jān nah dūṉgī tere

No, I will not give my life to your black water

kale pānī ko sāṅs bharūṉgī aur jīvūṉgī jab tak bhī jī saktī hūṉ

I will draw a deep breath and I will live until I can

196 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

patthar phoṛ ke peṭ bharūṉgī jab tak mujh meṉ himmat hai 100 cal saktī hūṉ un ṭāṅgoṉ se aur bāṅhoṉ meṉ t̤āqat hai yah zahrīle sāṅp aur bicchū pā nahīṉ sakte mujhe kahīṉ bahut khamushī niglī tū ne, mujh se sun le āj nahīṉ burī khabar ban kar nah rahūṉgī, āp [sic] (ab) likhūṉgī apnī khabar galī galī aur kūce kūce, mujhe batānā hai ghar ghar 105 mera koʼī gunāh nahīṉ hai, sitam hūʼā

Breaking stones into pieces I will fill up my stomach as long as I have strength I can walk with those legs and in the arms is power These spiteful snakes and scorpions cannot reach me anywhere You swallowed up a lot of silence, today hear from me(:) “No!” I will not live like bad news, I will write my own news In every lane and in every alley, I have to point out in every house It is not my fault, injustice was done to me

hai mere sāth panḍit, mullā, qāẓī, jarge, un sab kā hai us meṉ hāth maiṉ hūṉ is dhartī kī beṭī, pavan kā jhūlā jhūlūṉgī mahā sāgaroṉ ke sāḥil par āṅcal sī lahrāʼūṉgī baras paṛī khāk ke ẕarre ẕarre meṉ ḍhal jāʼūṉgī 110 khāmoshī ke kuṅveṉ, lagāyā tū ne merī jān kā mol pighalā sīsah ban kar utare haiṉ kānoṉ meṉ tere bol tirī tol bhī jhūṭī thī aur tire bol bhī jhūṭe haiṉ

The panḍit,210 the mullā,211 the qāẓī,212 the tribal jury,213 all have their hands in it I am a daughter of this earth, I will swing in the swing of the wind I will wave like a scarf on the sea-shore of the great seas I will mould myself into every particle of the raining ashes (Oh,) well of silence, you settled a price for my life Your words have landed in my ears like molten lead Your weighing was also a lie and your words are a lie, too

|| 210 “[A] title of respect to Hindūs who are learned in the Brahmanical theology” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “ [pandit]”, 273). 211 A “person learned in Islamic theology and jurisprudence” and a “teacher in a mosque” (Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ُﻣ ّﻼ‬mullā]”, 1034), who is also “a judge [as well as] the deputy of a Qāzī” (Platts, Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. 1062). Therefore, he acts as a jurist and priest (cf. Platts Dictionary of Urdū, s.v. “‫[ ﻣﻼ‬mullā]”, 1062). 212 “[A] (Muhammadan) judge or magistrate (who passes sentence in all cases of law, religious, moral, civil, and criminal)” (Ibid., s.v. “‫[ ﻗﺎﺿﻲ‬qāẓī]”, 786). He also solemnizes marriages (cf. Auksfarḍ urdū angrezī lughat, s.v. “‫[ ﻗﺎﺿﻲ‬qāẓī]”, 816f). 213 They decide upon community matters (cf. ibid., 417).

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jvālā ban kar kholeṉge jo āṅsū āṅkh se ṭūṭe haiṉ jvālā ban kar kholeṉge jo āṅsū āṅkh se ṭūṭe haiṉ 115 jvālā ban kar kholeṉge jo āṅsū āṅkh se ṭūṭe haiṉ

If the tears burst from the eye(s)(,) they will burst like lava(.) If the tears burst from the eye(s)(,) they will burst like lava(.) If the tears burst from the eye(s)(,) they will burst like lava(.)

The society’s opinion about a raped girl in the subcontinent The play nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) (Verdict (for the Women’s Movement)) portrays what excuses are told by rapists and the society’s reaction towards a girl being raped in South Asia. The poem is written in Hindustani and has a slight rhyming pattern. It narrates the story from retelling the opinions of several characters. There is the overall narrator or voice from offstage, which is also sometimes the one from the girl itself, the voices from the men who rape her, the girl’s father’s voice, the reaction from the society like passers-by and pimps, the view from neighbours and residents of the colony the family of the raped girl resides in, the officer in charge of the ward, who is responsible for that district and finally the well on the road nearby. In the beginning, the girl’s voice from offstage describes the situation she is in. Everything turns around her, the ground, the sky and the earth and she seems to be lying on the street nearby her home. She is also confused not knowing whether it is night or day. The wind screeches and she hears “guffaws filled with fear” from the men who rape her. The focus then turns onto the men who rape the girl. In describing how and why the planned to raped her they use the most disrespectful way of addressing someone in South Asia, tū. It is normally only used for little children or very intimate friends and shows the social rank of a person in society. By using tū and not tum (formal you) or āp (very formal you) they demonstrate her position in their eyes in society. In narrating their side of the story, it becomes evident that they have waited for the girl to be “found all alone” for several days, so that “she can’t be protected.” The reason for outlining this scheme is simply their inferior feelings towards the girl’s brother and wanting to take “some revenge on him,” who “quarrels with [them] daily” and according to them behaves every day arrogant. Their plan is simple, to “crush her,” to “trample her such (that she then maybe may not recover,” to “[c]law her body [and] [t]ear her shirt” to “satiate [their] desire excellently.” To achieve this, one after another rapes her whilst praising themselves as manly as they do not grow tired and the whole day seems to pass by until they “throw her away near the bush” after she has become unconscious and eventually run away as they know what they did was wrong and they do not

198 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

want to get caught. The girl tries to fight back and screams but they “take hold of her arms” and when she does not stop screaming “give her a slap (on the face)” so that “the mouth was filled with blood” and she ultimately becomes silent. Now the scene turns to a voice from offstage, which delineates the girl’s condition after the rape. She is dragging herself on the ground and tries to cover her half-naked body with her torn clothes, which by now look like rags. Her face is “besmeared with blood and tears,” drawing attention to bystanders, who, instead of helping her, only glance at her with a reproachful look. The girl eventually manages to reach her home, only to listen to her father’s disrespectful words towards her. She has lost all respect in her father’s eyes, as he, too, speaks to her in tū. Blaming her for bringing this shameful “condition of [hers]” onto herself and therefore bringing disgrace on her “family’s name (and) crushing it to powder,” he demands to know why she has even bothered to return. He further insults her in asking why her mother gave birth to her and this must have been devil’s work. According to him she ruined the parent’s reputation in front of everyone and is not related to them any longer. He does not allow her to enter the house and instead tell her to “go back from where [she] came.” Even her pleas in calling “Daddy, Daddy” do not affect him and he threatens to pull her tongue out if she does not stop. She should have rather gone and drowned herself in the “well on the way.” The attention then turns to voices from pimps from offstage, which are filled with laughter and tell her to come to them so that they can sell her as a prostitute and get some money for her. A change of scene turns now to the neighbours and residents of the same colony or residential area in which the house of the girl’s family is situated. They seem to be male speakers only, who ask their neighbours politely if they have seen or heard anything to confirm that she really has been raped and does not invent it. They then claim to be “respectable families” that are “the protectors of (our) daughters and daughters-in-law,” thereby meaning that such a thing would not happen to their own female family members who have good morals. In comparing their own families with the raped girl, these residents then slander and blame the girl, while using the disrespectful tū-form, that she used to walk alone on the streets all the time, that she appeared to be “totally drunk” and used to dress up in wearing jewellery. Furthermore, she walks provocatively and was provoking others to rape her, so that she is the only one to blame. Stating that everyone who behaved like this would get a bad name, they forbid their family members to speak to that girl. The scene changes again and the officer in charge of the ward or the district, who believes that he knows best about religion, unreflectingly reading Islamic

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books and listening to people’s unbiased opinions. Talking about the raped girl in a disrespectful way he comments that she should be punished as if she was a sinner according to the Islamic catalogue of punishments for adultery, namely by lashes as “this tradition of ours is exact.” He further claims, women blame men all the time without reason whereas they provoke men themselves and men are only the victims by having to look at their “filthy open invitation to all” with their lips, bosoms, and waists. He seems to forget that if he was truly religious, he would not look at women in such a way and therefore contradicts himself. Apart from this, the officer boasts with having read Arabic books attentively, claiming to know that men have more lust than women and therefore it is understandable that women need to cover and veil themselves so that men do not get tempted by looking at them. And if women do not abide by it, they will go to hell. His final remark is that the raped girl is a shame and therefore is to leave the area, but if she were to get work for him to clean his house, he would not go against it as, after all, it is her will. Here, it is obvious that he tries to seize the opportunity to abuse her even further as the girl’s status is not more than that of a prostitute and in his eyes, men can do as they please with prostitutes. The voice offstage appears again and suggests the girl to kill herself in the well as this is the “respectable” way according to society. The well finally has a say and laughs. It invites the girl to drown herself in his water, which will be as if “being taken into the arms [and then] we will engage in a loving couple’s mutual relations.” Intimately talking to her, as if to a small child, it discloses that it knows all secrets of society, who are the real fathers of several children born in wedlock and who owes whom money or stole it. Drawing a picture of how its snake and scorpion will eat [her] body together Simple demons will come for picking up the gleanings on [her] bones In [her] young eyes the light of life will be extinguished After pecking they will take [her] eyeballs

as if she was a piece of meat and not a human soul, the girl screams. She fights back telling the well that she is not going to kill herself but rather gather some strength and courage to live her life. She vociferates that the well will not hide her story and instead of living “like a bad news” she will “write [her] own news”. Defending herself and what happened to her she is ready to explain every household in the area whose actual fault the rape is. The society itself is to blame including various religious and non-progressive authorities who constantly hold women accountable for men’s abuses towards women. Afterwards, she will lead a happy and cheerful life swinging “in the swing of the wind,” waving “like a scarf on the sea-shore of the great seas” and moulding herself “into

200 | 47 selected Urdu poems of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

every particle of the raining ashes.” The well’s words have not reached her the way it wanted, so she does not feel ashamed of the rape and it is a lie that there is no other way than suicide. After the girl repeating again and again that everything in her path will be destroyed if she cries as her tears “will burst like lava” the play ends. Fahmīdah’s nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) is intentionally written in the form of a stage play so that it can reach a wider audience. It accurately illustrates the social reality for South Asian women in cases of abuse if they are brought to light. tīn gumshudah sha‘ir 214 — Three lost couplets ik gunah kī ārzū ne jin ko khākistar kiyā dekh leṉge vah tirī dozakh meṉ kitnī āg hai ātish-e gul se hai sab ṣaḥn-e caman dahkā hū[ʼ]ā mujh ko ḥairat hai kih is miṭṭī meṉ itnī āg hai 5

phūnk saktī hūṉ do ‘ālam ke ḥijāb, ae ādmī lā mujhe de de tire kūze meṉ jitnī āg hai

Those(,) who were reduced to ashes by the desire of a sin will examine how much fire is there in your hell By the blaze of the flower(,) the whole garden is inflamed I am amazed that there is this much fire in the earth I can kindle ḥijābs of both the world and the after world, oh mankind Come(,) deliver to me all the fire in your clay jug

Rebelling against Islamisation Fahmīdah’s poem tīn gumshudah sha‘ir (Three lost couplets) criticises extremists who try to enforce their worldview onto others. It is filled with Persian diction and has a slight rhyming pattern. A female voice gives an account of extremists’ mindsets who repeatedly reprimand others that sinners who desire wrongful things will end in hell. But this also includes oppression of others, wherefore even extremists can end up in hell. The narrator further points out that “[b]y the blaze of the flower(,) the whole garden is inflamed”, which means that it only needs one person to infect others with his/her ideas. These ideas may be hatred, rage, or envy but also extremism in general. It || 214 Cf. Riyāẓ, Tum Kabīr, 129.

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is unclear what exactly Fahmīdah wants to highlight here, only that it is symbolised as a fire of which is plenty on earth and which astonishes her. The poem ends with an invitation to “deliver to [her] all the fire in your clay jug” so that she can “kindle ḥijābs of both the world and the afterworld.” Here, the narrator might address those extremists, who trie to enforce religion or at least their version of it onto others to deliver her their drive for their hysteria so that she is able to burn all those ḥijābs that here might stand for the Islamisation programme, which took away women’s rights and forced them to veil or cover in society. Tīn gumshudah sha‘ir reflects a personal outrage regarding social injustice against women in South Asia. It is possible that this poem was written during the era of Zia ul-Haq and appears in Fahmīdah’s last volume along with other previously unpublished poems.

6 Conclusion The eight published and researched volumes of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems as well as two published poems by Shueyb Gandapur on the progressive digital media platform Naya Daur and the leading poem of the Kulliyāt shows that Fahmīdah wrote at least 286 poems. These poems can be divided into different topics and main and sub-themes within each volume but can also be analysed based on the complete number of her poetry. As shown in figure 1 below, which compares the topics in an overall percentage of all books, the major topic Fahmīdah used to write about is feminism with 74.13% which is followed by political issues with 30.07%, social issues with 14.34% and religious topics and dedications with both 6.29%. Her least discussed topics are humanist (3.5%), masculinity (1.05%) and narrating other poems in Urdu (0.35%).

74.13% Feminist 30.07% Political

41 86

18 18

14.34% Social

10

3 1

6.29% Religion 6.29% Dedication 3.5% Humanist 1.05% Masculinity 0.35% Translation

212

Fig. 1: Topics in overall percentage and numbers of occurrence (incl. overlapping categories)

However, to understand if and how historical events and the circumstances of Fahmīdah’s life influenced her poetry it is necessary to have a look at the occurrence of the major topics within her published volumes. Figure 2 and Annexe E reveal the occurrence of feminist, political, social, and religious poems over the period of Fahmīdah’s publications which were from 1967 with the first volume to 2017 with the last one.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-006

Conclusion | 203

feminist

political

social

religion

54

40

39 30 21 17 67

5 1

5

1

20

19 15

6

4 1

6

11

10 7

77 2

2

7 4

VOL. 1 VOL. 2 VOL. 3 VOL. 4 VOL. 5 VOL. 6 VOL. 7 VOL. 8

2 1 SEP.

Fig. 2: Major topics in volumes

It is clear, that Fahmīdah mainly wrote feminist poems in the beginning. In fact, 39 poems out of 40 are feminist in Patthar kī zabān. In her second volume, when Fahmīdah resided in the UK, she also started writing more about political (six poems) and social issues (seven poems) and criticised religion (five poems) but her focus was still on feminist issues and out of 60 poems 54 can be placed into that category. After her divorce in 1972, she moved back to Pakistan and published her third volume which shows the rise of political poems up to 17, nearly the same as feminist poems with 21. Social and religious issues are represented with six and one poems each out of 35 poems in general. Here, the historical event of Zia ul-Haq’s military dictatorship which lasted from 1977 to 1988 explains the growth of political poems in Dhūp, which covers the period between 1973 and 1977.1 Also, during the Islamisation programme of Zia ul-Haq and Fahmīdah’s selfexile in India, there is a further significant rise of politically themed poems. The related volumes for this time are mainly volume four to six and parts of the seventh volume, as it covers the period from 1988 to 2000. In these three volumes, the political poems either equal or outweigh feminist poems. The fourth volume

|| 1 Cf. Annexe B and E.

204 | Conclusion

consisting of eight poems contains six sole political poems, two which overlap with feminism and only two are purely feminist. Volume 5 which embodies 13 poems contains two mainly political, five feminist/political, one feminist/social and a social one. There is also one feminist/humanist poem and three dedications. Also, the sixth volume encompassing 27 poems has seven mainly political, one political (socialist), one political (socialist/feminist), two political/social, eight feminist/political, four feminist, one feminist/humanist and feminist/masculinity poems and two dedications.2 The increasing number of poems within these three volumes, always similar or higher in number than the feminist poems are always above fifty percent of the volumes’ topics. This clearly underlines the close relationship of Fahmīdah Riyāz’s poetry and her phases of life since the better parts of Volumes 4—6 contain 75%, 53.85% and 70.37% of politically themed poems. After Fahmīdah’s return to Pakistan in December 1987, there is a slight decline of political poems and a rise of feminist, social and religious issues. This is apparent in the seventh volume and the eighth volume depicts this trend, too. Volume 8, however, is difficult to rely upon as it contains new and older unpublished poetry. Fahmīdah’s turbulent times during the changes of a more inclined Centre Left as compared to the other Centre to Right government in the 1990s explains the rise of social and feminist issues. In the seventh volume there are four mainly political poems out of 41 poems. Four political poems overlap with other categories such as socialist and social, two are feminist/political, four poems contain religious and seven poems contain social issues. 30 poems are feminist, whereas only 19 discuss mainly feminist issues.3 The last volume from 2017 shows another rise in spiritual and religious themes which surely stems from her advanced age and her critical approach towards life. The results are highly likely higher due to her son’s accidental death in 2007 and her mother’s death. Social and political issues were nevertheless important for Fahmīdah as the number of poems dealing with such topics also increases. Out of 59 poems, 40 are feminist in nature, with six overlapping political, seven social and four religious’ issues. Six poems are mainly political and 20 overlap with other topics, whereas seven poems contain religious and eleven stress on social issues overlapping with other categories. Shueyb Gandapur’s published poems after Fahmīdah’s death in November 2018 also seem to be from this period and should, therefore, be included in the analysis of the eighth volume. The two poems are humanist and feminist with masculinity in nature.4 || 2 Cf. Annexe B and E. 3 Cf. Annexe B and E. 4 Cf. Annexe B and E.

Conclusion | 205

2; 66.67% 39; 97.5%

40; 67.8%

30; 73.17% 47+7; 90% 15; 55.56% 7; 53.85% 4; 50% Vol. 1

Vol. 2

Vol. 3

Vol. 4

21; 60% Vol. 5

Vol. 6

Vol. 7

Vol. 8

Separate

Fig. 3: Percentage of feminist poems per volume

0; 0%

1; 2.5% 6; 10%

20; 33.9%

17; 48.57%

10; 24.39% 6; 75%

7; 53.85% 19; 70.37% Vol. 1

Vol. 2

Vol. 3

Vol. 4

Vol. 5

Vol. 6

Vol. 7

Vol. 8

Separate

Fig. 4: Percentage of political poems per volume

Fahmīdah’s usage of feminist and political issues throughout her life and their significance are demonstrated by the overall percentage of these topics in each

206 | Conclusion

volume. As Figure 3 and 4 show in Volume 1 and 2, feminist poems exceed political poems by far. In Volume 3 they are somewhat similar but the volume still contains slightly more feminist than political nuanced poetry. Volume 4 is far more political due to the military dictatorship as pointed out before and Volume 5 includes the same amount of feminist and political poems. Volume 6, written when Fahmīdah was in India contains 19 and therefore 70.37% of political poems compared to 15 feminist ones, equivalent to 55.56%. The last two volumes then again have triple or double the number of poems with feminist motives than political ones and the additionally found three poems, which are indicated as “Separate” are partially feminist/social or feminist/masculinity and the third being humanist, therefore we see 66.67% of feminist poems and none with a political nuance. Here, it is evident, that overall feminism always played an important role in Fahmīdah’s poetry but dependent on her experiences in life and the social and historical circumstances her focus sometimes shifted more towards political, social, and sometimes religious issues. Also, at the beginning of her career, when she was about 17 years old, she still had to broaden her oeuvre and bring it into interplay with her political activism. Annexe B also demonstrates her shift over time from “pure” feminism which mainly deals with female sexuality in the first volumes to a mixture with overall social and political issues in the later volumes. Therefore, her life and environment influenced her poetry, which in turn reflects her life. How close these two are intertwined will also be clear in the following subchapters. Fahmīdah’s conflation of feminism and other topics is a natural process as women’s socio-political rights in Pakistan, women’s equality and the fight against patriarchal structures, harassment and violence are as important as expressing female wishes and desires and their daily-life struggles as depicted in Chapter 3. In Fahmīdah’s poetry, feminism, apart from being purely feminist, mostly blends with political, social, and religious topics which mirror the aforehand influences of colonial rule, Islam, politics and family structures and the perception of women in South Asia and their fight against it. Figure 5 below, presents Fahmīdah’s intertwining of theses combinations with feminism. Out of 212 feminist poems, 126 focus mainly on female sexuality and feelings while 34 combine it with political and 25 with social issues. Only 14 of these clearly depict feminist and religious issues and one is a fusion of feminism with social and religious notions, while another fuses feminist, social and political questions. Only six are humanist and two are dedications. Interestingly, three poems portray feminism and masculinity.

Conclusion | 207

feminist/social/political

1

feminist/social/religion

1

feminist/dedication

2

feminist/masculinity

3

feminist/humanist

6

feminist/religion

14

feminist/social

25

feminist/political (inc. socialist)

34

feminist

126 0

20

40

60

80

100

120

140

Total amount of 212 feminist poems Fig. 5: Topics of feminist poems

This feminist poems’ vast range of themes can be further explored and give a better insight into which feminist notions are most vital in the Pakistani society. Based on the scope of feminist concepts of the non-Industrialised world, as constituted in Chapter 3, 22 sub-themes have been established (see Annexe A) to respond to the question of the image of subcontinental feminism as well as its delineation and motives in Fahmīdah’s poetry. Sub-themes in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry Particularly, the sub-categories “Women’s Feelings” (f4), “Critique of Politics and Society” (p1 and s1), account for the most discussed themes in Fahmīdah’s poetry and the depiction of the Pakistani urban middle-class women’s movement’s important matters regarding women’s issues in society and politics. As figure 6 shows, expressing “Women’s Feelings” is even that central, that 140 of 286 poems contain either only this theme or are partially and primarily interlaced with one of the other topics such as politics (p1 with 45 poems; p2 with 25 poems; ps1 with 10 poems), social issues (s1 with 32 poems; s2 and s4 with 11 poems each; s3 with 4 poems; fs2 with 2 poems) or on a rarer occasion religious issues (r3 with 7 poems; r1 with 6 poems; r2 with 4 poems; r4 with 3 poems). Subcontinental feminist motives, correspondingly, frequently encompass female desire and sexuality (f2 with 26 poems) and women’s rights (f5 with 6 poems) along with notions regarding mortality from a female point of view (f3 with 10 poems).

208 | Conclusion

Not astonishing due to Fahmīdah’s leaning towards the Left and the women’s movement on the subcontinent mainly stemming from a progressive leftist movement, a large portion of poems deals with criticizing politics (p1), political structures (p2) and leftist politics (ps1). Predominantly within social issues are paternalistic and social structures (s2; s4) as well as the representation of women (s3) and gender differences (fs2). Poems regarding religious issues being scarce, there is nonetheless quite a fair number of pieces that deals with criticising religious structures (r1) as well as religion (r3), Islam (r2) and spiritual beliefs (r4) such as Sufism.

26

25

32

17

11

11 10 10

4

4 3

6

3

42

45

2 1

6 6

7

140

f4; 48.95%

p1; 15.73%

s1; 11.19%

f2; 9.10%

p2; 8.74%

d1; 5.94%

s2; 3.85%

s4; 3.85%

f3; 3.50%

ps1; 3.50%

r3; 2.45%

f5; 2.10%

h1; 2.10%

r1; 2.10%

r2; 1.40%

s3; 1.40%

m1; 1.05%

r4; 1.05%

fs2; 0.7%

t1; 0.35%

Fig. 6: Numbers and percentage of sub-themes within 286 poems (cf. Annexe A)

Having selected 47 of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with more than 50% containing feminist topics as well as social and political topics with nearly 20% and about 17%, as seen in figure 7, this book exhibits a distinct picture of Fahmīdah’s poetry and therefore gives an insight into Urdu speaking middle-class minds of Pakistani women concerning their daily issues with patriarchal structures and possibilities of women’s empowerment in the social framework.

Conclusion | 209

53.19% Feminist 19.15% Feminist/Social 17.02% Feminist/Political 6.38% Feminist/Religion 2.13% Feminist/Masculinity 2.13% Feminist/Dedication

Fig. 7: Percentage of topics within selected poems (47)

15%

11% 2%

11% 10%

2%

2%

2% 2% 53%

Women's Feelings

Critique of Society

Female Desire

Critique of Politics

Women's Representation

Politics and Political Structures

Dedication

Religion

Male Point of View and Feelings

Fig. 8: Percentage of sub-themes within selected poems

As can be seen in figure 8, this book’s 47 poems represent mainly “Women’s Feelings” with 53% of the selected poetry in a likewise manner as all 286 poems do. Together with themes concerning women’s desire and their reflection on social and political patterns they are comparably high in number against dedicatory

210 | Conclusion

poetry including religious and political structures in general as well as illustrating women or male feelings. Main themes in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry These feminist poems can further be divided into five main themes which transpired while working closely with the 47 selected Urdu poems and which are the most important issues regarding feminism in Pakistani society with a focus on the Urdu-speaking middle-class. The first theme is “Female Sexuality, Female Desire and Women’s Feelings about Love and Motherhood” (short: Sexuality and Feelings) which encompasses everything about womanhood and femineity on a personal level. The second theme is “Identity and Culture” and concentrates on the identity of women on a personal level, such as their daily-life struggles, and women’s ideas about their identity within Pakistani society. The third theme “Political Issues and Women’s Rights” (short: Political Issues) focuses on women’s rights and their representation and women’s political opinions within South Asia. “Social Issues”, the fourth theme, incorporates the social standing of women in society, society’s idealistic conceptions of them and women’s social interaction against patriarchy. The last theme “Spirituality, Human Mortality and Death” (short: Spirituality and Mortality) deals with women’s notions about spirituality, religion, and human mortality.5 Scrutinising this project’s selected 47 poems “Identity and culture” is the major theme with 36% followed by “Female sexuality” with 27% and “Political issues” with 16% as shown below in Figure 9. These numbers seem to agree with the topics in overall percentage and with the topics of feminist poems if “Female Sexuality” and “Identity and Culture” are seen in combination as a personal view on feminism. Only the categories of “Spirituality and Mortality” and “Social Issues”, with 10% and 11%, are contrary to the overall percentage of Fahmīdah’s themes and her topics of feminist poems. The avoidance of formerly discussed and already translated topics and sub-themes within Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s first volumes for this project might have led to involuntarily selecting more spiritual nuanced poems than those with social issues in the last volumes. Thus, the data for “Social Issues” and “Spirituality and Mortality” might be over represented within this study and not correspond as close to the whole amount of Fahmīdah’s poetry as the other three main themes, do.

|| 5 Cf. Annexe C.

Conclusion | 211

11% 27%

10%

16%

36%

Sexuality and Feelings

Identity and Culture

Social Issues

Spirituality and Mortality

Political Issues

Fig. 9: Percentage of main themes of 47 selected poems

To comprehend how women are portrayed within these main themes in Fahmīdah’s poems and if feminist themes have undergone a change over time, it is essential to examine the content of the selected poems, too. Furthermore, the question arises regarding the closeness of Fahmīdah’s life and several poems which shall also supply a satisfactory answer to these questions. Fahmīdah read progressive literature and her work belongs to the same topic for dealing with day-to-day problems of life, portraying life without embellishments, fighting against political subjugation, portraying folk tales and plots in villages, and talking about female notions of sexuality and life as is irrefutable in the total sum of her poetry as well as the aforehand 47 translated poems. For instance, she talks about women’s lives in South Asia in girhastan or the notion about marriage in South Asia in ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt. Fighting against political oppression is evident in poems such as sāvan, pahlī sālgirah or is sāvan meṉ where she criticised the Islamisation process under Zia ul-Haq or Musharraf’s leadership, who both tried to diminish women’s rights in their own ways and used Islam for their own benefits. Apart from this, Islamisation as a significant topic is a major topic in Volumes four to six. Folk tales and plots in villages, on the other hand, are illustrated in the poems sassī and rānjhe ne kahā, both an interpretation of famous Pakistani folk tales. Besides that, ek zan-e khānah badosh and sāṅvlā bāṅka pūrab kā – (dillī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ) are set in the countryside. Additionally, bold description about sexuality or women’s feelings are found in muraqqaʻ or sāṅvla bāṅka pūrab kā (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek

212 | Conclusion

ṭrain meṉ) where Fahmīdah meticulously describes the body, physical appearance, and character of a woman or that of a man on a train. With time, however, the outspoken sexual descriptions lessen and the focus shifts more to feminist/political or feminist/social topics. Moreover, Fahmīdah also rejected the classical form of a ghazal and wrote, except for seven poems, only in āzād naẓm, due to the free and unembellished structure. Contrary to Johnson-Odims and Mohanty’s belief, depicted in Chapter 3, feminism in the Western and Eastern world does not necessarily focus on different topics. Fahmīdah’s poetry shows that her focus is indeed on social justice, for instance in ḥashiyah or lambe safar kī manzil, which criticise a forced code of “Eastern morals” and the view on prostitutes or in the untranslated poem plāṭ from Badan darīdah that deals with women’s rights and their discrimination in daily life and the public in Pakistan regarding land-owning. Besides, Fahmīdah tackles gender and class relations in ḥarīfoṉ se, nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) and in the untranslated poem sivil sarvanṭ from Ādmī kī zindagī. Talking about asymmetrical gender-power relations, these poems criticise social norms that favour men such as patriarchal structures and the perception of women. The poem sivil sarvanṭ, however, criticises civil servants who believe to be the elite in Pakistan oppressing the poor in the same way the British colonialists did. Gender equality not only within the society but particularly in Islam is important for Fahmīdah but not as much as general equality. Most poems which refer to this topic are primarily in her first volumes and have been translated several times. Highly popular among these are aqlīmā and vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai, both from Badan darīdah, which criticise women’s equality in Islam and the notion of them being impure. The poem ḥāshiyah, which denounces the hypocrisy of the Pakistani government regarding Eastern morals being superior to Western standards, might also cautiously, be placed among these poems. Another poem which portrays Fahmīdah’s disapproval of hypocrisy is khākam ba-dahan, where religious scholars try to obfuscate their greed for money with religion. Besides that, the creation of a revolutionary image throughout Fahmīdah’s poetry is very striking. In the first volumes this is ensured through the bold expression of sexuality, explicitly wanting a lover and a critical approach towards motherhood in poems such as khushbū, iḥtrāz, ab so jāʼo or dūjā sāyah, topics that are a taboo in Pakistan. In later volumes, there are also poems which highlight the fact of Fahmīdah’s rebellious nature. Inqilābī ʻaurat, for instance, is a self-reflection of her life as a rebel and taʻzītī qarār-dādeṉ discusses her wishes after her death, again focusing on her insubordinate temperament. Ek zan-e khānah badosh illustrates the perception of women in Pakistan as a whole and

Conclusion | 213

additionally, gives an account of Fahmīdah’s fight with a more Centre to Right government. However, Fahmīdah’s presentations of feminist themes include the main tools against oppression in South Asia, pointed out in Chapter 3.1, such as feminist language, female experience, and imagination. This is particularly true in poems such as ek rāt kī kahānī, khushbū or badan darīdah where Fahmīdah describes the female desire for sex and how it feels to offer one’s body to someone the woman does not desire. The two levels of feminism, which were highlighted in Chapter 3, are also represented in Fahmīdah’s work. The representation of women, femininity and womanhood within society at large becomes apparent in the third and fourth themes about political and social issues. The second theme, “Identity and Culture” manifests itself in both levels of feminism and is, as a result, also present in daily-life struggles, which involve family, home, sexuality, and work. The first and last themes about female sexuality and spirituality too, fall under the second level of feminism. Female sexuality, female desire and women’s feelings about love and motherhood Several poems fall under the category of the first theme. Many of them also overlap with other categories. This is particularly evident in later volumes. The selected poems from Patthar kī zabān mainly portray female sexuality and desire. Ek rāt kī kahānī, ab so jāʼo, khushbū and bārīsh revolve around female imagination of sex, female lust, and the wish for a lover, whereas all three are also closely connected to Fahmīdah’s life when she dreamed of being married to experience sexual relationships. Baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah, qat̤rah qat̤rah and ik ḥarf-e muddʻā portray the women’s inner world regarding unrequited love or the end of a relationship. Here, Fahmīdah is rather outspoken and blunt targeting taboos in Pakistan upfront, a factor that will change over time. From Badan darīdah there are mainly poems that deal with several stages of motherhood, from joy, over insecurity as a mother to the wish of wanting to protect one’s child or the realisation that a child will always be the connection to the biological father even if that relationship fails. These poems, ākās bel, is qadr taro tāzah, dūjā sāyah, lorī and amar bel, depict Fahmīdah’s life in the UK, her first experiences of pregnancy, motherhood, and the time after the failure of her first marriage. Apart from this, aliz vāṭar - laik ḍisṭrikṭ and badan darīdah recount the female view of a breakup and the hope of reparation and the offering of a body to someone a woman does not desire. Also, in Dhūp’s rāt talmalātī hai and ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt the main topics are again motherhood and the breakup of a relationship and the different notion about marriage between women and men, which

214 | Conclusion

upsets and hurts the female narrator. Again, the poems enumerate Fahmīdah’s processing of her experiences in Great Britain. Another two poems revealing Fahmīdah’s stations in life and feelings are hamrakāb and pahlī sālgirah from Hamrakāb. The experiences of living in exile, being in love with her husband while enjoying motherhood, especially with her son, her youngest child, and worrying about the his future due to the military dictatorship of Zia ul-Haq are the focus in these poems. The last two poems in this category, ek bosah shoʻlah-e larzāṉ pah sabt from Ādmī kī zindagī and sāṅvlā bāṅkā pūrab kā (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ) from Tum Kabīr … once more depict Fahmīdah’s feelings regarding some lost love and sensual attraction towards a fellow travelling dark complexioned Hindu on a train in Bihar. Identity and culture As many poems overlap with the theme “Identity and Culture” most of the researched poems can be found here. Interestingly, there is no poem from the first volume that fits into this category. From Badan darīdah, the only not overlapping poem is muraqqaʻ which delivers a bold description of the attractive body and character of a woman. The other poems ākās bel, is qadr tar-o tāzah, badan darīdah, aliz vāṭar - laik ḍisṭrikṭ and amar bel overlap with the first theme. Five poems from Dhūp can also be placed under the second theme. Āshā ḍor āṭūṭ, also belonging to the section of “Social Issues”, narrates the story of hope of Pakistani women despite the country being under a military dictatorship and their love for their country to overcome this hardship. Girhastan is the portrayal of a typical South Asian homemaker and her daily chores in the household. It also points out her imperfections not being able to do everything as wished by society. The poem qurrat-ul-ʻain, on the other hand, seems to be a dedication to the writer of the same name and praises her independence and wisdom. Gīt shows several stages of happiness in a woman’s life and finally, there is also the afore-mentioned ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt. The volume Hamrakāb is represented with six poems of a different character. Out of these hamrakāb and pahlī sālgirah are mentioned in the former main theme’s section, while the change of power in politics and conspiracy being represented by a concubine, whom everyone wants to have but also abhors and is the blamed party when something goes wrong is the topic of sāzish. The poem dillī tirī chāʼoṉ ….., on the other hand, illustrates the feeling of being home in India as a Pakistani woman. This is due to the same culture, traditions, and language. Here, Fahmīdah’s impressions of her first visit in Delhi are portrayed vividly and

Conclusion | 215

the similarities of both cultures make her feel at home and at the same time let her long for her own country. Highly interesting in this category is the poem rānjhe ne kahā, which depicts the male side of a famous love story within South Asian culture painting a picture of a love-stricken young man. Finally, there is the poem tafṣīl masāfat kī, an account of Fahmīdah’s exile and the uncertainty whether to tell her friends and Pakistani society about her astounding experiences later or not. The seventh volume is represented with six poems. Ek zan-e khānah badosh, which deals with the perception of travelling women, is closely related to Fahmīdah’s life when she was called an Indian agent after returning from exile. Also, dil-o shāʻir (ek mukālimah) focuses on the interplay of social convention regarding women in Pakistani society and women fighting for their own beliefs. The selected third poem from samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ discusses a similar topic as well as inqilābī ʻaurat, which is a self-reflection of Fahmīdah’s life as a rebel and acting upon what she believed in. Besides this, there is ḥāshiyah, a poem which highlights and disapproves of the Pakistani political and social convention of several patriarchal men who value Eastern moral codes above Western traditions. Additionally, there is the beforehand mentioned poem ek bosah shoʻlah-e larzāṉ pah sabt. From the last volume, Tum Kabīr …, four poems overlap with “Identity and Culture” and other main themes. Ammī outlines Fahmīdah’s relationship with her mother, who partially influenced her. Fahmīdah remembers details of this relationship and seems to mourn the loss of her mother immensely. Sāṅvlā bāṅkā pūrab kā (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ) was mentioned in the first theme and the other two poems give an account of patriarchal structures and the perception of women in South Asia. Ḥarīfoṉ se criticises the oppression of women by men while nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) narrates the story of a raped girl and precisely outlines society’s negative reaction towards it by portraying it from various opinions of different members of the subcontinental civilisation. Political issues and women’s rights Political issues are hardly discussed in the first volume, therefore, it is no surprise that only one poem out of the selected data partially belongs to this theme. The poem ik ḥarf-e muddʻā can also be interpreted as the objection of a political leader, that leaves the narrator to rebel in silence, hence, its appearance in this section. The pieces intisāb from Kya tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? and sāvan from Apnā jurm sābit hai, however, clearly describe Fahmīdah’s experience during the Islamisation of Zia ul-Haq and her exile. They demonstrate her inability to change

216 | Conclusion

her circumstances and the despair and anger regarding ul-Haq’s administration while longing for home. All four poems from Hamrakāb belonging to this theme, hamrakāb, pahlī sālgirah, sāzish and tafṣil masāfat kī, overlap with those mentioned before as do two of Ādmī kī zindagī’s poems: ek zan-e khānah badosh and ḥāshiyah. Also, the third poem, khākam ba-dahan, does overlap with theme five and is a critique of Islamic scholars, who are greedy for money. Originating at the time where Zia ulHaq was still in power, Fahmīdah, who observed an argument of different scholars, wanted to provoke the authorities with this poem to demonstrate how ridiculous they were to her. Two additional poems from the last volume also belong to this theme. The first one, is sāvan meṉ, is Fahmīdah’s critical approach of an old leader in the disguise of a new administration and the second one, tīn gumshudah shaʻir, is a critical piece regarding extremists in politics and a society that tries to enforce religion onto others and especially onto women. Social issues The fourth main theme, “Social Issues”, is the theme which covers the least of the data. Except for one poem from Patthar kī zabān, lambe safar kī manzil, which portrays the daily hardships of sexual workers, all others do interleave with “Identity and Culture”, or in the case of tīn gumshudah shaʻir with “Political Issues and Women’s Rights”. Lambe safar kī manzil is a critique of society and their treatment and contempt of prostitutes. In it, the daily hardship of prostitutes’ work is narrated. Two more poems from Ādmī kī zindagī, namely dil-o shāʻir (ek mukālimah) and samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ, fall under this category as do three from Tum Kabīr …: ḥarīfoṉ se, nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye) and the aforementioned tīn gumshudah shaʻir. Spirituality, human mortality, and death None of the selected poems represents the main theme of “Spirituality, Human Mortality and Death” within the first two volumes. Only in the third volume, Dhūp, appear the first two poems, the afore-mentioned gīt and jānāṉ, which questions death being only darkness and nothing else. The above-mentioned poems, khākam ba-dahan and inqilābī ʻaurat from Ādmī kī zindagī, also overlap with this theme. Hamrakāb’s and Intikhab-e kalām’s taʻzītī qarār-dādeṉ is another of the rare poems, which deals with Fahmīdah’s death and her wishes how to remember her and treat her dead body. Written during the Zia ul-Haq era, she anticipates no state burial and asks not to be overly praised as religious just to get a decent

Conclusion | 217

resting place. In another poem, tum kabīr …, she mourns her son’s death at length and interestingly mentions Allāh in the very last line of the 13-pages long piece. Apart from this, Fahmīdah describes her faith, which, according to the poem’s narrator, always dwelt within her in īmān and finally, the already mentioned poem ammī is part of the fifth main theme of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s feminist poems. Concluding remarks The preceding pages constitute one account of the main venture for women’s equality in Pakistan during the last decades. Language structures, metaphors, idioms, and speech patterns in Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poetry and her political activism conveyed in her poetry and prose deserve a much more detailed treatment than can be provided here. However, three main conclusions about her accordance with the PWM’s notion of “progressivism”, the feminist researchers’ definition of “feminism” outside the Industrialised countries and her portrayal of women within the Pakistani society have emerged that are worth repeating here. First, Fahmīdah’s topics and themes critically test traditions of the Indian subcontinent while reflecting the whole of society and using the language of the common people, which can be understood on both sides of the borders: Hindūstānī. Her poetry calls for a reflection on political and social issues and their change through insisting on the realities of life and naked facts. Illustrating these topics depending on historical conditions, Fahmīdah tries to awaken the Pakistani society from its slumber and neglect of humanity and social awareness. Hereby she even follows in the Angāre Group’s footsteps to a certain degree with their outspoken critique of society’s oppression of women, religious hypocrisy, and gender relations. Seeing Hindi and Urdu as one language and using it interchangeably, Fahmīdah’s form and technique are modern while integrating old traditions such as rhyming patterns. Second, Fahmīdah’s poetry depicts female sexuality and representation and deals with gender-related issues and the oppression of women by men and society. South Asian history and cultural structures require feminist movements to strive for sexual egalitarianism, liberation, and autonomy, which Fahmīdah’s oeuvre is a part of. Her perspective on feminism shows less focus on patriarchy per se and religion compared to her fight against social and political injustice on all levels to reform traditional structures while highlighting women’s rights. Besides, her poetry characterises women as strong, self-aware, independent, and empowered human beings to oppose society’s stereotyping of women as the fragile and virtuous sex leading towards Pakistan’s democratisation of society. The third point to be stressed is that Fahmīdah’s poetry due to her bold expressions narrating society’s reality in Pakistan’s patriarchal society hits a nerve

218 | Conclusion

of the religious authorities as did the progressive piece Angāre. Just some months after its release in 1932 the All India Shia Conference managed to get it banished via the British authorities. It is, therefore, not surprising that Fahmīdah’s and other feminists’ poems are less known in the English-speaking world. Also, writing from a native speaker’s and Urdu middle-class’s perspective, her Urdu poetry is not effortlessly understandable for non-native speakers or those, who are interested in poetry. Fahmīdah’s oeuvre talks about women’s struggle for independence, equality, the abolishment of patriarchal structures and the ability to express female sexuality openly. Moreover, it represents women’s perceptions of motherhood, heartbreak, lust but also women’s identity and spirituality. Islamic feminism, however, is not a factor in Fahmīdah’s poetry but was crucial during Zia ul-Haq’s regime and is still a current within Pakistan’s context of Islam and feminism. The encounters in Fahmīdah’s life have shaped her and her poetry, which is where she processed her life in the UK, her time in Indian exile and her struggles being a mother, who eventually lost her son. Over time Fahmīdah conveyed her feminist perception in a more subtle way and her focus also shifted to political, religious, and social topics. Naturally, spirituality played a slightly bigger role within the last stages of her life and thus, her last volume contains more poems about human mortality. Recapitulating, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s progressive poetry being a critical, logical, and artful approach in addressing important, non-daily, issues and problems. Writing for and in the diction of the common people she, therefore, adheres to the Progressive Writers’ Movement’s notion of “progressivism”. Following in the Progressive’s footsteps, she illustrates a real picture of the Pakistani Urdu speaking middle-class to improve social life, whilst educating society against racial oppression of women. Yet, Fahmīdah’s poems are not as widely read as other feminists’ poetry, since her openness to talk about taboos is in stark contrast to social behaviour in Pakistani society and the middle-class representing a small group of women than those of the lower-classes, where feminist movements and notions are often interlocked with Islam. Besides, being a highly patriarchal society due to various tribal areas, Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s female perspective still leads to resentment and her poetry is thus, underestimated.

Annexe A: Overview of topics, sub-themes, and main themes Each, poem is categorized with one or more of nine major topics such as feminist, social, humanist, political, religion, dedication, translation, masculinity or political (socialist) or five overlapping sub-topics. Poems are furthermore categorised on the 22 sub-themes of those topics and especially the “feminist”-categories, are based on the range of notions of “feminism” in non-Industrialised regions (see chapter 3). Each sub-theme is given a reference number in these tables for easy identification. For a clearer overview of those various sub-themes, five main-themes were categorised based on them. These are: Female Sexuality, Female Desire and Women’s Feelings about Love and Motherhood (short: Sexuality and Feelings), Identity and Culture, Political Issues and Women’s Rights (short: Political Issues), Social Issues as well as Spirituality, Human Mortality and Death (short: Spirituality and Mortality).

Major topics and sub-themes Topic

Sub-theme

Reference No.

dedication

–

Appraisals and obituaries for various people

d1

feminist

– – – – – – –

Daily-Life Struggles Female Desire and Sexuality Gender Difference Mortality (Female Point of View) Women’s Feelings Women’s Rights and Empowerment Written from a Female Point of View

f1 f2 fs2 f3 f4 f5 f6

humanist

–

Value and Agency of Human Beings

h1

masculinity

–

Male Point of View and Feelings

m1

political

– –

Critique of Politics Politics and Political Structures

p1 p2

Leftist Politics

ps1

political (socialist) – religion

– – – –

Critique of Religion Islam Religion Spiritual Beliefs

r1 r2 r3 r4

social

– – – – –

Critique of Society Gender Difference Paternalistic Structures Representation of Women Society and Social Structures

s1 fs2 s2 s3 s4

translation

–

Translated Pieces into Urdu

t1

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-007

220 | Annexe A: Overview of topics, sub-themes, and main themes

Combining topics and sub-themes Topic

Sub-theme

feminist/dedication

containing notions of feminist and dedication

feminist/masculinity

containing notions of feminist and masculinity

feminist/political

containing notions of feminist and political

feminist/religion

containing notions of feminist and religion

feminist/social

containing notions of feminist and social

Main themes based on and containing sub-themes Main theme

Sub-themes

Reference No.

Sexuality and Feelings

– –

Female Desire and Sexuality Women’s Feelings

f2 f4

Identity and Culture

– – – – – – –

Daily-Life Struggles Written from a Female Point of View Gender Difference Male Point of View and Feelings Paternalistic Structures Representation of Women Value and Agency of Human Beings

f1 f6 fs2 m1 s2 s3 h1

Political Issues

– – – – – – – –

Critique of Politics Politics and Political Structures Leftist Politics Women’s Feelings Women’s Rights and Empowerment Gender Difference Paternalistic Structures Representation of Women

p1 p2 ps1 f4 f5 fs2 s2 s3

Social Issues

– – – – –

Critique of Society Gender Difference Paternalistic Structures Representation of Women Society and Social Structures

s1 fs2 s2 s3 s4

Spirituality and Mortality

– – – – – –

Women’s Feelings Mortality (Female Point of View) Critique of Religion Islam Religion Spiritual Beliefs

f4 f3 r1 r2 r3 r4

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics The poems occur in order of their appearance in the mentioned volumes of poetry and are numbered accordingly. Each, poem is categorized with one or more of the nine major topics such as feminist, social, humanist, political, religion, dedication, translation, masculinity or political (socialist). As mentioned, the 22 sub-themes (see Annexe A) of those topics, are mainly based on the range of notions of “feminism” in Developing countries (see chapter 3). The column on the right, shows if they poem had already been translated in 2016, and in case previous translations had been overlooked or translations appeared after 2016, the year of the translation(s) is/are given. Partially translated poems are indicated and translated poems by the author of this book are referred to with initials.

Patthar kī zabān (1967) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

patthar kī zabān

Women’s Feelings: missing lover

feminist

yes

2

sac

Critique of Society: inventing own truth

feminist/social

yes

3

ẕarā sī bāt

Women’s Feelings: having a crush

feminist

-

4

jhijak

Critique of Society: certain imagination of girls

feminist/social

yes

5

ek rāt kī kahānī

Female Desire: sex

feminist

R. M.

6

iḥtrāz

Female Desire: one Night stand feminist

-

7

soc

Women’s Feelings: reality vs. dream/lover

feminist

-

8

mirī canbīlī kī naram khūshbū

Women’s Feelings: love, missing lover

feminist

yes

9

ab so jāʼo

Female Desire: lover

feminist

R. M.

10

khūshbū

Female Desire: sex

feminist

R. M.

11

pachtāvā

Sin and remorse

social/religion

yes

12

hāks be

Women’s Feelings: praise of a man

feminist

-

13

bārish

Female Desire: lust

feminist

R. M.

14

yādeṉ

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

15

kabhī kabhī

Women’s Feelings: love and sadness

feminist

-

16

dil dushman

Women’s Feelings: love

feminist

-

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-008

222 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Patthar kī zabān (1967) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

17

Women’s Feelings: love and being a lover

feminist

-

andeshah

18

sardiyoṉ kī ek shām

Female Desire: sex, regret

feminist

-

19

tamannā

Female Desire: captive of own feelings

feminist

-

20

zād-e rāh

Women’s Feelings: regret of love

feminist

-

21

ākhrī bār (ba-t̤arz-e mas̱ navī)

Women’s Feelings: love and heartbreak

feminist

-

22

majbūrī

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

23

vah laṛkī

Women’s Feelings: love and heartbreak, submissiveness towards former lover

feminist

-

24

bīt calī udās shām

Women’s Feelings: emptiness, heartbreak

feminist

-

25

pichle pahar tak

Women’s Feelings: emptiness, heartbreak

feminist

-

26

baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah

Women’s Feelings: breakup

feminist

R. M. yes, 2015

27

lorī

Women’s Feelings: motherhood feminist

-

28

guṛiyā

Critique of Society: women as toys

feminist/social

yes

feminist/social

R. M.

29

lambe safar kī manzil Critique of Society: prostitutes

30

cār sau haiṉ sanāṭe

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

31

jab nīnd bharī ho ānkhoṉ meṉ

Women’s Feelings: missing lover

feminist

yes

32

qat̤rah qat̤rah

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

R. M.

33

mahmān

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

34

kuch log

Women’s Feelings: remembering lover

feminist/humanist

-

35

dil kī bāt

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

36

tahniyat

Men’s feelings: successful guy with heartbreak

feminist/masculinity -

37

apne dost ke liye

Women’s Feelings: getting over heartbreak

feminist

yes

38

us kā dil to achā dil thā

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 223

Patthar kī zabān (1967) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

39

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist/political

R. M.

muddat se hai yah ʻālam dil kā

40 ik ḥarf-e muddʻā

Badan darīdah (1967–76) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

taṣvīr

Women’s Feelings: inner beautiful self

feminist

yes

2

dil sard hūʼā

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

feminist

-

3

ʻishq āvārah mizāj

Women’s Feelings: changing love, breakup

feminist

yes

4

kundan (simāb qazalbāsh ke liye)

Women’s empowerment

feminist/dedication -

5

muraqqaʻ

Description of woman

feminist

R. M. par. 2018

6

khvāb aur taʻbīreṉ

Women’s Feelings: disappointment

feminist

-

7

ae wālī-o rabb-e kaun-o Critique of Society: forcing makāṉ people to follow Islam

feminist/social

yes

8

barf bārī kī rut

Female Desire: feelings

feminist

-

9

abr-e bahār

Women’s Feelings: Mortality

feminist

-

10

mere hāth

Female Desire: masturbation

feminist

yes

11

meghadūt

Female Desire: lover

feminist

yes

12

sūrah-e yāsīn

Women’s Feelings: disappointment, death

feminist/religion

yes

13

mere aur tumhāre bīc

Women’s Feelings: loneliness feminist in relationship

yes

14

bhīgī kāli rāt kī beṭī

Women’s Feelings: uncertain- feminist ty of relationship

yes

224 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Badan darīdah (1967–76) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

15

bākirah

Critique of Society: Violating female body Critique of Politics: legal age of marriage for women

feminist/social/ political

yes

16

āḍan ke nām

Dedication to Auden (poet)

dedication

yes

17

lāʼo hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā Women’s Feelings: pregnancy feminist

18

mere lāl

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

yes

19

ākās bel

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

R. M. par. 2019

20

is qadr tar-o tāzah

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

R. M.

21

dūjā sāyah

Women’s Feelings: motherhood and broken partnership

feminist

R. M.

22

lorī

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

R. M. par. 2019

23

kab tak

Critique of Society: social stand of women and their ability to reproduce

feminist/social

yes

24

badan darīdah

Women’s Feelings: offering body to so. you don’t desire

feminist

R. M.

25

zamīn doz rail meṉ

Women’s Feelings: desires hidden from society

feminist

yes

26

āʼo

Women’s Feelings: love

feminist

yes

27

ʻishq tum jis kī tamanāʼī Women’s Feelings: thīṉ end of relationship

feminist

-

28

vaṣl ik kiran ban kar

feminist

yes

29

vah jo tum sab sā nahīn Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

30

zabānoṉ kā bosah

Female Desire: sensations of kissing a lover

feminist

yes

31

abd

Female sexuality

feminist

-

32

rajm

Critique of Religion: punishment for adultery

feminist/religion

yes

Women’s Feelings: love

yes

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 225

Badan darīdah (1967–76) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

33

aqlīmā

Critique of Religion: equal rights for women in Islam

feminist/religion

yes

34

muqābilah-e ḥusn

Critique of Society: measuring women by outer appearance

feminist/social

yes

35

vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai

Critique of Religion: status of women’s impurity

feminist/religion

yes

36

ek ʻaurat kī haṅsī

Women’s Feelings: ruler of own body

feminist

yes

37

aliz vāṭar - laik ḍisṭrikṭ

Women’s Feelings: break-up, hope of reparation

feminist

R. M.

38

amar bel

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

R. M.

39

pichle pahar

Women’s Feelings: love

feminist

-

40 āj shab

Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

41

tilāvat

Critique of Religion: criticism of Qur’an

feminist/religion

-

42

nazar-e firāq

Dedication to Firāq Gorakhpūrī

dedication

yes

43

maiṉ to miṭṭī kī mūrat hūṉ

Women’s rights Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

44 ik lamhah-e ʻirfān

Critique of Religion: Women’s feminist/religion rights in Islam

-

45

Critique of Politics: System

political (socialist)

-

46 muhājir

Critique of Society: exclusion of immigrants

political/social

yes

47

Critique of Society: land & women, women’s rights

feminist/social

-

48 bhārat nāṭiyam

Critique of Society: land & women, India as woman

political/social

-

49

23. mārc 1973

Critique of Politics: Liaquat Bagh massacre

political

partially

50

samundar aur ādmī

Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

shahar vālo suno!

plāṭ

226 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Badan darīdah (1967–76) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

51

pahlī bār

Women’s Feelings: vulnerability of first time

feminist

yes

52

sāḥil kī ek shām

Women’s Feelings: alienation in relationship

feminist

-

53

sahaj calī purvāʼī

Critique of Politics: land & women, women’s rights

feminist/political

-

Ghazals (In Badan darīdah)

No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

kabhī dhanak sī utartī thī un niga hūṉ meṉ

Women’s Feelings: missing former beloved and accepting to move on

feminist

-

2

yah pairhan jo miri rūḥ utar nā sakā

Women’s Feelings: establishing facts that former partner should move on

feminist

-

3

patthar se vaṣāl māngtī hūṉ

Women’s Feelings: being fed up with men

feminist

-

4

choṭī vaṣl-o firāq se maiṉ

Women’s Feelings: highlighting one’s own decision to end relationship

feminist

-

5

jo mujh meṉ chupā merā galā ghunnaṭ rahā hai

Women’s Feelings: confused and relieved to leave former partner

feminist

-

6

Women’s Feelings: new hope after muzhdah kah jān-e sūkhtah pāne lagī naʼī jilā breakup

feminist

-

7

yah kis ke ānnsūʼoṉ ne is naqsh ko miṭayā

Women’s Feelings: new hope after breakup

feminist

-

Dhūp (1973–77) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak and love Critique of Society

feminist/social

R. M.

āshā ḍor āṭūṭ

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 227

Dhūp (1973–77) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

2

rāt talmalātī hai

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak, motherhood

feminist

R. M.

3

jānāṉ

Women’s Feelings: mortality

feminist

R. M.

4

gīt

Beauty of a woman

feminist

partially

5

ek laṛkī se

Critique of Society: oppression of women

feminist/social

yes

6

girhastan

Critique of Society: women’s lives in South Asia

feminist/social

R. M.

7

ek kitāb

Karl Marx

political (socialist)

R. M.-B.A.

8

dhūp

Critique of Politics

political

-

9

patthar kī zabān - 2

Critique of Politics: army in Baluchistan

political

par. 2013

10

23. mārc 1974

Critique of Politics: spineless admiration towards corrupt leader

political

par. 2013

11

patlā, naukdār cānd

Critique of Politics/Islam

political/religion

-

12

akelā kamrah (Shaikh majīb Critique of Politics: Bang- political al-raḥmān ke qatil par) ladesh, military coup

13

ik pal ṭhiṭkā mere divār

Critique of Politics: Bangladesh

political

-

14

kārl mārks

Dedication to Karl Marx

dedication

-

15

dīvār

Critique of Politics

feminist/political

yes

16

bahāʼo

Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

17

muhājir

One’s own roots

social

yes

18

lorī

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist/political

yes

19

nain tere anjān

Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

20

yah jo haiṉ do nain tumhāre Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

21

qurrat-ul-ʻain

Dedication Qurrat-ul-ʻain

22

kāfir haiṉ ….!

Critique of Politics: political (socialist) Ahmadis as non-Muslims

-

feminist/dedication R. M. par. 2013

228 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Dhūp (1973–77) No. Name

Sub-theme

23

tīs janam sā gir meṉ

Critique of Politics: feminist/political restricting women, breaking a promise

Topic

yes

Translated

24

sāvan bīt gayā

Women’s Feelings: mortality

feminist

-

25

rāj siṅghāsan

Critique of Politics

feminist/political

yes

26

‘roṭī, kapṛā aur makān!‘

Appraisal of political party slogan of PPP

political (socialist)

-

27

lahū kī ek tāl hai

Human beings are nothing but a melody of circling blood

humanist

-

28

tumhāre do nainoṉ kā dhyān Female Desire: lover

feminist

-

29

ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt

Critique of Society: notion about marriage

feminist/social

R. M.

30

bahut havā meṉ uṛī, lauṭ dhartī par āʼī

Female Desire: not being alone Critique of Politics: environment

feminist/political

-

31

sat rangī dhanak kamān

Futility of human life

humanist

-

32

gīt

Women’s Feelings: happiness in life

feminist/social

R. M.

33

buṛhtī nār

Rebelling against government

feminist/political

yes

34

sindh

Critique of Politics: army in Sindh

political

-

35

jāp

Women’s Feelings: exile, unfamiliarity India

feminist/political

yes

Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

Women’s Feelings: life is a gamble

feminist

R. M.

intisāb

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 229

Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

2

(no name)

Women’s Feelings: life as a poetess

feminist

yes

3

pahlā bāb

Critique of Politics: constant personal surveillance

political

par. 2022

4

dūsrā bāb

Critique of Politics: hypocrisy and oppression by governmental officers and system

political

par. 2022

5

tīsrā bāb

Women’s Feelings: motherhood and responsibility Critique of Politics: capitalism, Islamisation

feminist/political partially

6

feminist/political cauthā bāb (Jām Sāqī ke Critique of Politics: governmaqdame meṉ gavāhī) ment’s vendetta against leftist politicians (Jām Sāqī) and mock trials, personal interrogation by secret agents

7

pāncvāṉ bāb

Critique of Politics: revolution

political

-

8

ākhrī gīt

Critique of Politics: call for revolution

political

-

Apnā jurm s̱ ābit hai/Hamrakāb (mārc 1981 – disambar 1987) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

1

intisāb

Women’s Feelings: life as a poetess

feminist/humanist -

2

khufyah mulāqāteṉ

Women’s Feelings: exile

feminist/political

yes

3

sāvan

Female Desire: lover Women’s Feelings: exile, homesickness Critique of Politics: Islamisation

feminist/political

R. M.

4

t̤iflāṉ kī to kuch taqṣīr nah thīṉ

Women’s Feelings: exile, homesickness

feminist/social

-

5

ab itnī rāt gaʼe ae dil! Women’s Feelings: exile, homesickness

feminist/political

-

6

jab nahīṉ cain

feminist/political

yes

Women’s Feelings: exile, hurt

Translated

230 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Apnā jurm s̱ ābit hai/Hamrakāb (mārc 1981 – disambar 1987) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

feminist/political

yes

Palestinian civil war

political

-

nazar-e faiẓ

Dedication to Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ

dedication

-

10

nazar-e firāq

Dedication to Firāq Gorakhpūrī

dedication

-

11

taḥsīn

Appraisal of Ḥāfiz̤ Shīrāzī (Persian poet)

dedication

-

12

pūrvā āncal

Critique of Society: Hindu/Muslim conflict

social

yes

13

mafrūr

Critique of Politics: militarised oppression

political

-

1

hamrakāb

Women’s Feelings: exile, travelling with lover

feminist

R. M.

2

pahlī sālgirah

Women’s Feelings: motherhood Critique of Politics: government

feminist/political

R. M.

3

kotvāl baiṭhā hai

Critique of Politics: oppression by government

feminist/political

yes

4

cādar aur cār dīvārī

Critique of Politics: women’s restrictions of dressing (ul-Haq)

feminist/political

yes

5

ʻālam-e barzakh

Critique of Society

feminist/political

-

6

sāzish

Critique of Politics: change of power

feminist/political

R. M.

7

ae desh mubārak ho! Revolution against oppression

political

-

8

pahlī bārish

Revolution against oppression

political

-

9

sar-e shām

Pakistan under oppression

political

-

10

khānah talāshī

Critique of Politics: harassing writers standing up against government

feminist/political

yes

11

dillī tirī chāʼoṉ …..

United India/Pakistan Women’s Feelings: feeling home

feminist/political

R. M.

12

rū-ba-rū

Women’s Feelings: revolutionary woman, change of society

feminist

-

7

baʻd meṉ jo kuch yād Women’s Feelings: exile, feeling rahā! let down by own government

8

falast̤īnī

9

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 231

Apnā jurm s̱ ābit hai/Hamrakāb (mārc 1981 – disambar 1987) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

13

ae mere lāl!

Women’s Feelings: mother talking to revolutionary son

feminist/political (socialist)

-

14

ek manz̤ ar (nazīr ʻabbāsī kī shahādat par muqaddamah)

Critique of Politics: unfair trials, custodial murder of Naz̤ īr Abbāsī

political

yes

15

bār-o-cā!

Critique of Politics: Baluchistan

political (socialist) -

16

rānjhe ne kahā

Male narration of love story

fem./masculinity

17

ayāz samūṉ jaise beṭoṉ ke nām ….

Dedication to Ayāz Samūṉ (Leftist dedication politician)

-

18

shām kā manz̤ ar

United India/Pakistan, home

political

-

19

arẓ-e falast̤īn

Presented to Yassir Arafat in Delhi, Palestinian struggle

political

-

20

vat̤an se qaidiyoṉ kā ʻīd kārḍ

Critique of Society: exile Critique of Politics: prisoners during Zia ul-Haq

political/social

-

21

ae arẓ-e vat̤an!

Critique of Politics: exile Critique of Society: government

political/social

yes

22

ae dostāṉ!

Women’s Feelings: exile, feminist/humanist critique of friends, homesickness

23

tafṣīl masāfat kī

Women’s Feelings: exile

feminist/political

R. M.

24

qatl-e saḥar

Critique of Politics: pol. suppression in Pakistan

political

-

25

giryāṉ haiṉ ʻushāq

Women’s Feelings: lovers

feminist

-

26

nauḥah (maijar isḥāq ke intiqāl par)

Obituary for Major Ishāq

dedication

-

27

taʻzītī qarārdādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir)

Woman’s Feelings: own death

feminist

yes, 2018 = taʻzītī qarārdādeṉ No. 1 (2015)

R. M.

232 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

1

intisāb

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

-

2

is shahar meṉ

Urbanisation, commercialisation

political

-

3

ek zan-e khānah badosh

Critique of Society: perception of women and of Fahmīdah

feminist/social

R. M.

4

nā-shkībāʼī nahīṉ

Women’s Feelings: talking to silent lover

feminist

-

5

āʼīnah

Critique of Politics: corruption

political

-

6

yah jo tanhāʼī

Women’s Feelings: loneliness

feminist

-

7

ik saḥar meṉ

Women’s Feelings: mortality

feminist

-

8

mujassamah

Destruction of Lenin’s statue in Moscow

political (socialist) -

9

ik machve kā jāl

Critique of capitalism

political

-

10

yah ʻishq nah thā āsāṉ

Women’s Feelings: love, includes famous verse; by Jigar Murādābādī

feminist

-

11

dil-o shāʻir (ek mukālimah)

Women’s Feelings: sticking to one’s feminist convictions

R. M.

12

dāroghah-e zindāṉ

Critique of Society: elite and oppression of poor

-

13

khākam ba-dahan Women’s Feelings: critique of Islam feminist/religion

14

sivil sarvanṭ

Critique of Society: elite (civil servants) in comparison to British colonialists, elite and poor

social

-

15

mardumak-e cashm-e man

Women’s Feelings: love, relationship

feminist

-

16

rāz

Women’s Feelings: reflection of hardship in life

feminist

-

17

ḥisāb kitāb

Women’s Feelings: relationship issues, breakup

feminist

-

18

sassī

Women’s Feelings: love, sadness, includes a verse of Shah Latif’s poetry

feminist

-

19

kyā kār-e lāʼiqah?

Women’s Feelings: love of God, meaning of life

feminist/humanist -

feminist/social

R. M.

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 233

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

20

kuch diye gham ādmī ke

Women’s Feelings: crisis

feminist

-

21

ḥabīb jālib ṣāḥab se (ek taẓmīn)

Dedication to Ḥabīb Jālib

dedication

-

22

varlḍ baink

Critique of worldly capitalism

political/social

par. 2018

23

sukhan hamāre

Women’s Feelings: reflecting herself as poetess and life

feminist

-

24

ik khazānah

Women’s Feelings: life

feminist

-

25

fāṣloṉ meṉ khvāb

Women’s Feelings: Sufism

feminist/religion

-

26

kamal

Critique of capitalism and commercialised life

political/social

-

27

bārish meṉ

Women’s Feelings: love, politics, better society

feminist/political (socialist)

-

28

samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ

Women’s Feelings: life as woman

feminist

R. M. part three

29

nā qābil-e yaqīn

Woman’s feelings: equality

feminist

-

30

zulaikhā kā khvāb

Female Desire: love, rewriting of Islamic story about Yusuf and Zulaikhā

feminist/religion

-

31

ek bosah shoʻlah-e Women’s Feelings: lost love larzāṉ pah s̱ abt

feminist

R. M.

32

lorī

Nature, God’s creation

humanist

-

33

zaujain

Female Desire: six wives in different feminist martial situations

34

kotvāl baiṭhā hai – Women’s Feelings: reflection of 2 kotvāl and former beliefs

35

ḥāshiyah

36

-

feminist/political

-

Critique of Politics: Eastern morals and its hypocrisy

feminist/political

R. M.

āvāgon

Critique of Society: elite and poor

political

-

37

inqilābī ʻaurat

Women’s Feelings: reflection of life

feminist

R. M. par. 2018

38

sabab

Women’s Feelings: mortality

feminist

-

234 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988–2000) No. Name

Sub-theme

Topic

Translated

39

Dedication Furūgh Farukhzād (Iraninan feminist writer)

dedication

-

furūgh farukhzād se

40 nīna ʻazīz

Critique of Society: women being feminist/social worthless, regarding murder of Nina Aziz

-

41

Women’s Feelings: difference between men and women, life in religious and social context

par. 2005, 2008, 2018

ādmī kī zindagī

feminist/social/ religion

Intikhāb-e kalām (2015) (Only not previously published poems occur over here, except for No. 1)

No. Name

Sub-theme

1

taʻzītī qarār- see No. 27 (1987) dādeṉ

2

naz̤ m

3

tum kabīr … Women’s Feelings: death of son

Critique of Society: patriarchal structures

Topic

Translated

see No. 27 (1987)

R. M. = taʻzītī qarārdādeṉ (ḥarf ākhir), No. 27 (1987)

feminist/social

= ḥarīfoṉ se, No. 31 (2017)

feminist/religion

= tum kabīr …, No. 1 (2017)

Tum Kabīr … (2017) No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

a

tum kabīr …

see No. 3 (2015)

see No. 3 (2015)

R. M., par.

b

aurfaʼīs ke liye naghmah Translation of Rainer Maria (kabīr ke liye) Rilke’s “Sonnets to Orpheus”; dedicated to Kabīr

translation

-

1

ammī

Women’s Feelings: relationship to own mother

feminist

R. M.

2

salām benaz̤ īr

Dedication to Benazir Bhutto dedication

-

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 235

Tum Kabīr … (2017) No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

political

-

3

īndhan (amrīkah ke ʻirāq Critique of Iraq war, remempar ḥamle ke pahle din) brance of own dead son

4

nayā bhārat

Critique of Politics: right political/social wing Indian government and similarity to Pakistan

yes, 2014, 2018, 2022

5

pokhran aur cāghai

Critique of Politics: atomic tests of India and Pakistan

political

-

6

tum se mil kar

Women’s Feelings: former lover, love, politics

feminist/political

-

7

vaqt

Women’s Feelings: human life, manage time

feminist/humanist

-

8

jalvah

Women’s Feelings: mortality feminist

-

9

an sunnī

Women’s Feelings: limited communications of people

feminist/social

-

10

shikastah

Women’s Feelings: negligence from lover

feminist

-

11

tum dikhānā cāhte the

Women’s Feelings: unsaid words

feminist/humanist

-

12

mausamoṉ ke dāʼire meṉ

Women’s Feelings: regret of not meeting, fleeting time

feminist

-

13

dikhaʼī diyā yūṉ … (taẓmīn)

Women’s Feelings: self-realisation, mysticism

feminist/religion

-

14

in dinoṉ

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak, missing lover

feminist

-

15

kis kā malāl kījīe

Women’s Feelings: mortality, self-reflection of life

feminist

-

16

is sāvan meṉ

Critique of Politics: new government, old leader

feminist/political

R. M.

17

iẓt̤arāb meṉ (taẓmīn)

Women’s Feelings: negligence of lover

feminist

-

18

āg (taẓmīn)

Women’s Feelings: hope for love, heartbreak

feminist

-

19

khvāb-o-khayāl

Women’s Feelings: unexpected fulfilment of hope

feminist

-

236 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Tum Kabīr … (2017) No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

20

tum paʼoṉ ke chāle mat dekho

Women’s Feelings: realisation past does not matter

feminist

-

21

ī-mail

Women’s Feelings: love and hope

feminist

-

22

muskurāʼo pal-vashe (mazdūr kisan pārṭī ke kārkan marḥam afẓal bangash kī beṭī palvashe ke liye)

Dedicated to Palwashe dedication/political = AUS Vol. (daughter of Worker’s and (socialist) 18, version Farmers‘ Party member Afzal has + 9 Bangash) verses (palvashe muskurāʼo – afẓal bangash kī beṭī ke liʼe)

23

naʼī ḍikshnarī

Women’s Feelings: spiritual and less materialistic

feminist/social

partially 2011, 2018

24

co so-īng hūʼī – ek mukālimah

Critique of Society: Psychological analysis of Cho Seung-Hui’s amok run

political/social

-

25

karācī

Critique of Politics: Political feminist/political violence in Karachi (Pashtun ethnic parties vs. Urdu native speakers)

26

raḥmān bābā

Dedication: Attack on Rahman baba (Pashto poet)

political/dedication -

27

josh malīḥ ābādī

Dedication to Josh Malihabadi (poet)

dedication

28

ik ghanīrā ban

Women’s Feelings: mortality feminist

-

29

sabab

Women’s Feelings: mortality feminist

-

30

lāsh se guftagū

Critique of Politics: rebellion feminist/political and consequences

-

31

ḥarīfoṉ se

see No. 2 (2015)

see No. 2 (2015)

R. M.

32

īmān

Women’s Feelings: faith, religion

feminist/religion

R. M.

33

suno sulemān! (apne navase se)

Women’s Feelings: realisation about egoistic people

feminist/social

-

-

-

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 237

Tum Kabīr … (2017) No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

34

sulemān

Women’s Feelings: Religion vs. worldly affairs

feminist/religion

-

35

qiṣṣah raimanḍ ḍaivis

Political representation: Critique foreigners in Pakistan (Raymond Davis); Rumi

political/religion

-

36

hījṛe kī sar-goshī (“hījṛe Representation of Women: History and importance of kā rajaz“ ke t̤anz ke javāb meṉ) Hijras

feminist/social

-

37

āng sān sūcī ke nām (burmā kī rahnumā kī rahāʼī par)

38

ḥaẓrat zainab (raẓ) kā Religion: Converted rel. khut̤bah shām ke darbār sermon about Zainab (d/o meṉ Hussain; grandson of Muhammad)

39

rukhṣat-e ākhir

Dedication to Aung San Suu Kyi

political/dedication -

feminist/religion

-

Politics and Political Structures: Description of Saddam Hussain’s execution

political

-

40 ṣaddām aur aḥmad ʻalī

Critique of Society: comparison of rich Saddam & poor cable operator Ahmad Ali

social

-

41

bhagat singh kī mūrat

Critique of Politics: controversy about admiration and negation over Punjabi rebel (Bhagat Singh)

political

partially

42

rauẓah-e ḥaẓrat zainab (raẓ)

Critique of Religion: religious protests Shia; Critique of Politics: Syrian war (destruction Zainab’s tomb)

political/religion

-

43

mukhāvratān

Women’s Feelings: relation- feminist ship, confidence woman has what man wants

-

Women’s Feelings: vulnerable character of women

-

44 bulāvā

feminist

238 | Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics

Tum Kabīr … (2017) No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

45

Critique of Politics: War between India and Pakistan and its money making

political

-

46 ghaddār mor

Critique of Society: bribery in politics

political/social

-

47

bhāʼī jon eliyā ke liye

Obituary for John Elia (Urdu poet and scholar)

dedication

-

48 ʻudū (zī ṭī vī dekh kar)

Women’s Feelings: remembrance of son

feminist

-

49

holī hai!

Women’s Feelings: storing love

feminist

-

50

sāṅvlā bāṅkā pūrab kā (dihllī se bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ)

Female Desire: sensual attraction

feminist

R. M.

51

rāʼif badāvī

Women’s Feelings: remembrance of son Critique of Society: silence at injustice (Raif Badawi Saudi internet activist)

feminist/political

-

52

nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye)

Critique of Society: perception of women

feminist/social

R. M.

53

baghdād par pahlī bambārī

Critique of Politics: solidarity with Iraq when it was bombed by the US

political

-

54

khabar nāmah (daur-e ẓiyā ul-ḥaq)

Critique of Politics: news as orders for the public during Zia ul-Haq

feminist/political

-

55

tīn gumshudah shaʻir

Critique of Society

feminist/social

R. M.

56

manḍap meṉ

Women’s Feelings: reflecting life; people’s reaction

feminist

-

57

fahmīdah riyāẓ (ek shāʻirah)

Women’s Feelings: reflection of work as poetess

feminist

-

aman kī āshā

Annexe B: List of Fahmīdah Riyāẓ’s poems with detailed sub-themes and topics | 239

Separate poems No. Name

Theme

Topic

Translated

1

koʼī hotā agar jo aise bhīṅc kar pyār kartā

Women’s Feelings: Love

feminist/masculinity yes (2018)

2

din ḍhale ghar mere shām aʼī hai

Love for life despite being easy

humanist

yes (2018)

3

sab shīshe, sāghir, laʻl-o guhar (leading poem in Kulliyāt)

Critique of Society: “Correct” behaviour forced upon women

feminist/social

-

Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems The poems occur in order of their appearance in the mentioned volumes of poetry. Each, poem is categorized with one or more of the nine topics or five sub-topics and the 22 sub-themes of those, especially the “feminist”-categories, are based on the notions of “feminism” in nonIndustrialised regions (see chapter 3 and Annexe A). For a clearer overview of those various sub-themes, five main-themes were categorised based on them (see Annexe A). The main themes are: Female Sexuality, Female Desire and Women’s Feelings about Love and Motherhood (short: Sexuality and Feelings), Identity and Culture, Political Issues and Women’s Rights (short: Political Issues), Social Issues as well as Spirituality, Human Mortality and Death (short: Spirituality and Mortality).

Patthar kī zabān (1967) – Volume 1 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

1

ek rāt kī kahānī

– Sexuality and Feelings Female Desire: sex

2

ab so jāʼo

– Sexuality and Feelings Female Desire: lover

feminist

3

khūshbū

– Sexuality and Feelings Female Desire: sex

feminist

4

bārish

– Sexuality and Feelings Female Desire: lust

feminist

5

baiṭhā hai mere – Sexuality and Feelings Women’s Feelings: sāmne vah breakup

feminist

6

lambe safar kī manzil

– Social Issues

7

qat̤rah qat̤rah

– Sexuality and Feelings Women’s Feelings: heartbreak

8

ik ḥarf-e muddʻā – Sexuality and Feelings Women’s Feelings: heart– Political Issues break

feminist

Critique of Society: prosti- feminist/social tutes feminist feminist/political

Badan darīdah (1967—76) – Volume 2 No. Name

Main Theme

1

muraqqaʻ

– Identity and Culture

Description of woman

feminist

2

ākās bel

– Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-009

Sub-theme

Topic

Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems | 241

Badan darīdah (1967—76) – Volume 2 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

3

is qadr tar-o tāzah

– Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

4

dūjā sāyah

– Sexuality and Feelings

Women’s Feelings: motherhood and broken partnership

feminist

5

lorī

– Sexuality and Feelings

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

6

badan darīdah – Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture

Women’s Feelings: offering body to so. you do not desire

feminist

7

aliz vāṭar - laik – Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture ḍisṭrikṭ

Women’s Feelings: breakup, hope of reparation

feminist

8

amar bel

Women’s Feelings: motherhood

feminist

– Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture

Dhūp (1973—77) – Volume 3 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

1

āshā ḍor āṭūṭ

– Social Issues – Identity and Culture

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak and love

feminist/social

2

rāt talmalātī – Sexuality and Feelings hai

Women’s Feelings: heartbreak, motherhood

feminist

3

jānāṉ

– Spirituality and Mortality Women’s Feelings: mortality

feminist

4

girhastan

– Identity and Culture

Critique of Society: women’s lives in S. Asia

feminist/social

5

qurrat-ulʻain

– Identity and Culture

Dedication to Qurrat-ulʻain

feminist/dedication

6

ek bahut hī sīdhī bāt

– Sexuality and Feelings – Identity and Culture

Critique of Society: notion about marriage

feminist/social

7

gīt

Women’s Feelings: hap– Identity and Culture – Spirituality and Mortality piness in life

feminist/social

242 | Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems

Kyā tum pūrā cānd nah dekhoge? (1980) – Volume 4 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

1

– Political Issues

Women’s Feelings: life is a gamble

feminist

intisāb

Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb (mārc 1981 – disambar 1987) – Volume 5 and 6 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

1

sāvan

– Political Issues

Female Desire: lover Women’s Feelings: exile Critique of Politics: Islamisation

feminist/political

2

hamrakāb

– Sexuality and Feelings Women’s Feelings: exile, feminist travelling with lover – Identity and Culture – Political Issues

3

pahlī sālgirah

– Sexuality and Feelings Women’s Feelings: motherhood – Identity and Culture – Political Issues Critique of Politics: government

feminist/political

4

sāzish

– Identity and Culture – Political Issues

Critique of Politics: change of power

feminist/political

5

dillī tirī chāʼoṉ …..

– Identity and Culture

United India/Pakistan feminist/political Women’s Feelings: home

6

rānjhe ne kahā

– Identity and Culture

Male narration love story feminist/masculinity

7

tafṣīl masāfat kī

– Identity and Culture – Political Issues

Women’s Feelings: exile

feminist/political

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988—2000) – Volume 7 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

1

ek zan-e khānah badosh

– Identity and Culture – Political Issues

Critique of Society: feminist/social perception of women and of Fahmīdah

2

dil-o shāʻir (ek mukālimah)

– Identity and Culture – Social Issues

Women’s Feelings: feminist sticking to own vows

Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems | 243

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988—2000) – Volume 7 No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

3

Women’s Feelings: khākam ba-dahan – Political Issues – Spirituality and Mortality critique of Islam

4

samundar ke liye tīn naz̤ meṉ

5

ek bosah shoʻlah-e – Sexuality and Feelings larzāṉ pah sabt

6

ḥāshiyah

– Identity and Culture – Political Issues

7

inqilābī ʻaurat

– Identity and Culture Women’s Feelings: – Spirituality and Mortality self-reflection of life

– Identity and Culture – Social Issues

Topic feminist/religion

Women’s Feelings: life as woman

feminist

Women’s Feelings: lost love

feminist

Critique of Politics: Eastern morals and its hypocrisy

feminist/political

feminist

Intikhāb-e kalām (2015) – Volume 8a No. Name 1

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

taʻzītī qarār-dādeṉ – Spirituality and Mortality Woman’s Feelings: own death feminist

Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Volume 8b No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

2

tum kabīr …

– Spirituality and Mortality Women’s Feelings: death of her son

feminist/religion

3

ammī

– Spirituality and Mortality Women’s Feelings: – Identity and Culture relationship to mother

feminist

4

is sāvan meṉ

– Political Issues

Critique of Politics: new feminist/political government, old leader

5

ḥarīfoṉ se

– Identity and Culture – Social Issues

Critique of Society: patriarchal structures

6

īmān

– Spirituality and Mortality Women’s Feelings: faith, religion

7

sāṅvlā bāṅkā – Sexuality and Feelings pūrab kā (dillī se – Identity and Culture bihār jātī huʼī ek ṭrain meṉ)

feminist/social feminist/religion

Female Desire: sensual feminist/political attraction

244 | Annexe C: Main and sub-themes and topics of selected poems

Tum Kabīr … (2017) – Volume 8b No. Name

Main Theme

Sub-theme

Topic

8

nayā faiṣlah (taḥrīk-e nisvāṉ ke liye)

– Identity and Culture – Social Issues

Critique of Society: perception of women

feminist/social

tīn gumshudah shaʻir

– Political Issues – Social Issues

Critique of Society

feminist/social

Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ The poems occur alphabetically and not in the order of occurrence within their respective volumes. The titles in translation can differ, therefore, each published title in reference to the translator (both are each listed alphabetically) and the year of publication is given. Normally poems only occur once, however, due to various citations of the original title of Hamrakāb’s poem cādar aur cār dīvārī/cādar aur dīvārī, the poem is mentioned twice.

Patthar kī zabān (1967) — Volume 1 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

apne dost ke liye

For a friend For my friend

Riaz (2005) Zaidi (2005)

2

baiṭhā hai mere sāmne vah

From where I sit I can see him

Chaudry (2015)

3

guṛiyā

Plaything Doll Doll

Chaudry (2015 Jamal (1986) Riaz (2005)

4

jab nīnd bharī ho āṅkhoṉ meṉ When sleep fills the eyes

5

jhijak

6

mirī janbīlī kī naram khūshbū The soft fragrance of my jasmine

7

pachtāvā

Remorse

Habib (2003)

8

patthar kī zabān

Tongue of stone Voice of stone Tongue of stone The tongue of stone The language of a stone

Habib (2003) Jamal (1986) Riaz (2005) Verma (1989) Yaqin (2004)

9

sac

Truth

Jamal (1986)

Inhibition Reserve Hesitation

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-010

Riaz (2005) Jamal (1986) Yaqin (2004 & 2006) Yaqin (2022) - partially Naeem (2018) Riaz (2005)

246 | Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

Badan darīdah (1967—76) — Volume 2 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

(No name) 23. mārc 1973 (Lia23 March, 1973 quat Bagh massacre) (No name)

2

ʻishq, āvārah mizāj

Love, the wanderer

Anantharam (2012)

3

āʼo

Come The summoning

Alvi, Asad (2019) Riaz (2005)

4

āḍan ke nām

To Auden To Auden Auden! I endorse

Ahmad (1991) Habib (2003) Verma (1989)

5

ae vālī-o rab-e kaunO God of Heaven and Earth o makāṉ

6

ākās bel

Aerophyte

Alvi, Asad (2019) — partially

aqlīmā

Akleema Aqleema Aqleema Aqleema Aqleema Aqleema Aqleema

Ahmad (1991) Kasmi (2018) — citing Yaqin Mir and Mir (2006) Naeem (2018) Naqvi (2019) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad Yaqin (2004 & 2022)

7

Khan (2018) — partially Naqvi (2019) Riaz (2013) — partially

Ahmad (1991) Riaz (2005)

8

bākirah

Virgin

Ahmad (1991 Anantharam (2012) - citing Ahmad Habib (2003) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad Yaqin (2004 & 2022) Yaqin; Khan (2022)

9

bhīgī kālī rāt kī beṭī

Daughter of the wet, dark night

Riaz (2005)

10

ek ʻaurat kī haṅsī

The laughter of a woman

Ahmad (1991) Riaz (2005) Yaqin (2004 & 2022)

11

kab tak?

Until when How long?

Habib (2003) Riaz (2005)

lāʼo, hāth apnā lāʼo ẕarā

Come, give me your hand Give me your hand Come, bring your hand here Come, bring your hand here Bring your hand here, bring it here

Ahmad (1991) Alvi, Asad (2019) Farooqi (2010) — citing Habib Habib (2003) Naqvi (2019)

12

Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 247

Badan darīdah (1967—76) — Volume 2 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

Come, give me your hand Come, please give me your hand

Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad Yaqin (2022) — partially

13

lorī

Lullaby

Alvi, Asad (2019)

14

meghadūt

The cloud messenger The rain God

Anantharam (2012) Riaz (2005)

15

mere aur tumhāre bīc Between you and me

16

mere hāth

My hands

Riaz (2005)

17

mere lāl

My precious one

Riaz (2005)

18

muhājir

Mohajir

Jamal (1986) Yaqin (2004)

19

muqā bilah-e ḥusn

Beauty contest Vital statistics Beauty competition

Naeem (2018) Riaz (2005) Verma (1989)

20

muraqqaʻ

(No name)

Peerzada (2018) — partially

21

nazar-e firāq

For Firaq Gorakhpuri

Riaz (2005)

22

pahlī bār

First time After the first time

Anantharam (2012) Riaz (2005)

23

rajm

Stoning

Ahmad (1991) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad

24

sūrah-e yāsīn

Surah I Yaaseen Sura Ya Sin Surah-e-Yaseen Sura-e yasin Sura-i yasin Sura-e yasin

Ahmad (1991) Habib (2003) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad Yaqin (2004) Yaqin (2022) Yaqin; Khan (2022) — partially

25

taṣvīr

Image Image Portrait

Ahmad (1991) Yaqin (2004 & 2022) Khan (2021)

vah ik zan-e nāpāk hai

She is a woman impure She: Body object in blood She is a woman impure She is a woman impure She is a woman impure She is a woman impure She is a woman impure She is an impure woman

Ahmad (1991) Alvi, Asad (2019) Aslan (2011) - citing Ahmad Jamal (1986) Kasmi (2018) – citing Yaqin Riaz (2005) – citing Ahmad Yaqin (2004) Yaqin (2022)

26

Jamal (1986)

248 | Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

Badan darīdah (1967—76) — Volume 2 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

27

vaṣl ik kiran ban kar

My passion

Riaz (2005)

28

zabānoṉ kā bosah

Deep kiss The kiss of tongues Tongue’s kiss Tongue kissing The tongues that kissed

Riaz (2005) Anantharam (2012) PEN America (2011) PEN America (2011) Yaqin (2022) — partially

29

zamīn doz rail meṉ

In the underground train

Khwaja (2014)

Dhūp (1973—77) — Volume 3 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

14. mārc 1974

(No name)

Riaz (2013) — partially

2

buṛhtī nār

Girl in my arms Riaz (2005) War cry for a young woman Chaudry (2015)

3

dīvār

Wall

Yaqin (2004)

4

ek laṛkī se

To a girl To a girl From a girl

Oesterheld (2004) — partially Riaz (2005) Chaudry (2015)

5

gīt

Gīt

Anantharam (2012) — partially

6

jāp

Mantra

Riaz (2005)

7

kāfir hai ….!

(No name)

Riaz (2013) — partially

8

lorī

Lullaby

Kasmi (2018) – citing Yaqin Yaqin (2004 & 2022)

9

muhājir

Mohajir

Yaqin (2004)

10

patthar kī zabān – 2

(No name)

Riaz (2013) — partially

11

rāj siṅghāsan

The ruling throne

Yaqin (2004 & 2022)

12

tīs janam sā gir meṉ

Thirty birthdays

Riaz (2005)

Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 249

Kyā tum pūrā cānd na dekhoge? (1980) — Volume 4 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

(No name)

Won’t you see the full moon?

Yaqin (2004 & 2022) Yaqin; Khan (2022)

2

Pahlā bāb (part of pahlā bāb)

(No name) Yaqin (2022) [sometimes mentioned as “Kya Yaqin; Khan (2022) tum” [Why you]

3

siṭī korṭ meṉ (part of dūsrā bāb)

In the city court

4

„Kya tum“ (actually part of dūsrā bāb)

“Kya tum” [Why you]

5

tīsrā bāb

Will you not see the full moon? Mir and Mir (2006)

Riaz (2005) Aslan (2011) — citing Riaz (2005) Yaqin; Khan (2022)

Apnā jurm sābit hai/Hamrakāb (March 1981 — Dec 1987) — Volume 5/6 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

baʻd meṉ jo kuch yād rahā!

Recollections

Riaz (2005)

2

khufyah mulāqāteṉ

Clandestine meetings

Riaz (2005)

3

jab nahīṉ cain

The laughter of the stone

Riaz (2005)

4

pūrvā āncal

Purva Anchal

Anantharam (2012)

Hamrakāb (March 1981 — Dec 1987) — Volume 6 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

ae arẓ-e vat̤an!

O my land!

Naqvi (2019)

2a

cādar aur cār dīvārī

Four walls and a black veil Four walls and a black veil Four walls and a black veil The veil and the four walls of home The mantle and the boundary wall Four walls and a black veil

Anantharam (2012) — citing Ahmad Farooqi (2010) — citing Riaz Mir and Mir (2006) Naeem (2018) Naqvi (2019) Riaz (2005)

2b

Chadur and Diwari Chadur and Diwari cādar aur dīvārī Chadur and Diwari Four walls and the chadar

Ahmad (1991) Anantharam (2012) Riaz (2005) Shah (2019) – adapt. Ahmad

250 | Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ

Hamrakāb (March 1981 — Dec 1987) — Volume 6 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

The veil and seclusion The wall and seclusion

Yaqin (2006) — partially Yaqin (2022) — partially

3

ek manz̤ ar

On Nazeer Abbasi

Sharma; Alam (2016)

4

khānah talāshī

Search warrant

Ahmad (1991) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad

5

kotvāl baiṭhā hai

The interrogator The interrogator SHO Sahib is waiting

Ahmad (1991) Riaz (2005) — citing Ahmad Sharma; Alam (2016)

6

taʻzītī qarār dādeṉ (ḥarf-e ākhir)

Condolence resolution Condolence resolutions Condolence resolutions Condolence resolution

Alvi, Khalid (2018) Khan (2021) Naeem (2018) Riaz (2005)

Ādmī kī zindagī (1988—2000) — Volume 7 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

ādmī kī zindagī

Life and man (No name) A man’s life

Gandapur (2018) — partially Khalique in Farrukhi (2008) — partially Riaz (2005) - partially

2

inqilābī ʻaurat

Woman in/as revolution

Alvi, Asad (2018) — partially

3

varlḍ baink

World Bank

Peerzada (2018) — partially

Tum Kabīr … (2017) — Volume 8 No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

bhagat singh kī mūrat

Bhagat Singh’s Statue

Lal (2008)

2

tum bhī ham jaise nikle tum bilkul ham jaise nikle tum bilkul ham jaise nikle tum bilkul ham jaise nikle nayā bhārat tum bilkul ham jaise nikle (No name) tum bilkul ham jaise nikle

You, too, are like us You turned out to be just like us You turned out to be just like us You turned out to be just like us New India Turned out you were just like us (No name) You turned out to be just like us

Alvi, Asad (2018) HilleLe (2014) Jalil (2018) Khan (2021) Kumar (2018) Mir (2014) Peerzada (2018) — partially Rashidi (2018)

Annexe D: Already translated poems from Fahmīdah Riyāẓ | 251

Tum Kabīr … (2017) — Volume 8 No. Name

3

Translated as

Found in

nayā bhārat

The new Bharat

Yaqin (2022) — partially

naʼī ḍikshnarī

Let us create a new lexicon (No name)

Alvi, Khalid (2018) Raina in Mustafa (2011)

Separate Poems No. Name

Translated as

Found in

1

din ḍhale ghar mere shām āʼī hai

Dusk arrives at my home as the day retreats

Gandapur (2018)

2

koʼī hotā agar jo aise bhīṅc kar pyār kartā

Had there been someone who could hold him close

Gandapur (2018)

Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall) Poems are categorized according to the afore-mentioned topics, namely feminist, social, humanist, political, religion, dedication, translation, masculinity or political (socialist), which are sorted in an alphabetical order. Poems can be in one or more category, wherefore the most important overlapping categories are also shown separately such as feminist/social, feminist/political, feminist/religion, feminist/masculinity. However, since major topics can occur solely in one category, but also as overlapping topic, which are important for the overview, i. e. the tables for feminist, political, social, and political (socialist) poems, give percentages according to “sole” topics and overlapping categories. Some categories are also only available as overlapping topics. In such cases, this is indicated. These tables of topics are sorted according to their volumes (1-8) and do not contain those that are not represented within a category and are, therefore, omitted in the following tables. The total number shows the total occurrences of the topics per volume (excluding and including overlapping categories) as well as those numbers related to all published poems to get the percentage per topic based on Fahmīdah’s sum of poetry (286 poems).

Dedication Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

2

2

3

3.33%

5%

3

1

2

2.86%

5.71%

5

3

3

23.08%

23.08%

6

2

2

7.41%

7.41%

7

2

2

4.88%

4.88%

8

3

6

5.08%

10.17%

13

18

4.55%

6.29%

Total

Feminist Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

1

32

39

89%

97.5%

2

34+7

47+7

68.33%

90%

3

8

21

22.86%

60%

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-011

Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall) | 253

Feminist Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

4

2

4

25%

50%

5

-

7

-

53.85%

6

4

15

14.81%

55.56%

7

19

30

46.34%

73.17%

8

20

2+38

33.90%

67.8%

-

2

-

66.67%

126

212

44.06%

74.13%

Separate Total:

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

Feminist/political Vol. No.

1

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

1

1

2.5%

2.5%

2

1

(1 overlapping social) 2

1.67%

3.33%

3

8

8

20%

20%

4

2

2

25%

25%

5

5

5

38.46%

38.46%

6

8 (1 overlapping socialist) 9

33.33%

29.63%

7

2

2

4.88%

4.88%

8

6

6

10.17%

10.17%

32

34

11.19%

11.89%

Total:

Feminist/religion Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

2

6

6

10%

10%

7

3

(1 overlapping social) 4

7.32%

9.76%

8

5

5

8.47%

8.47%

14

15

4.90%

5.24%

Total:

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

254 | Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall)

Feminist/social Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

1

4

4

10%

10%

2

4 (1 overlapping political) 5

6.67%

8.33%

3

5

5

14.29%

14.29%

5

1

1

7.69%

7.69%

7

3 (1 overlapping religion) 4

7.32%

9.56%

8 Separate Total:

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

1+6

1+6

11.86%

11.86%

1

1

33.33%

33.33%

25

27

8.74%

9.44%

Feminist/humanist and humanist Vol. No.

Occurrence (feminist/humanist)

Occurrence (only humanist)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

1

1

-

2.5%

2.5%

3

-

2

5.71%

5.71%

5

1

-

7.7%

7.7%

6

1

-

3.7%

3.7%

7

1

1 2.44%/2.44%

4.88%

8

2

-

3.39%

3.39%

Separate

-

1

50%

50%

Total:

6

4

2.10%

1.40%

Sum:

10

3.50%

Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall) | 255

Feminist/masculinity Vol. No.

Occurrence

Percentage per volume

1

1

2.5%

6

1

3.7%

Separate

1

33.33%

Total:

3

1.05%

Political Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

1

-

1

-

2.5%

2

1

6

1.67%

10%

3

6

17

17.14%

58.57%

4

4

6

50%

75%

5

2

7

15.38%

53.85%

6

7

19

25.93%

70.37%

7

4

10

9.76%

24.39%

8

6

20

10.17%

33.9%

30

86

10.49%

30.07%

Total:

Political (socialist) Vol. No.

Occurrence

Occurrence (of overlapping categories)

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume

2

1

-

1.67%/-

1.67%

3

3

-

8.57%/-

8.57%

6

1 (1 overlapping feminist) 1

3.7%/3.7%

7.41%

7

1 (1 overlapping feminist) 1 2.44%/2.44%

4.88%

8

-

1

-/1.69%

1.69%

Total:

6

3

2.10%

1.05%

Sum:

9

3.15%

256 | Annexe E: Occurrence of topics in numbers and percentage (volumes and overall)

Religion (Only overlapping with other categories)

Vol. No.

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

Percentage per volume

1

social

1

2.5%

2

feminist

5

8.33%

3

political

1

2.86%

7

3 feminist, 1 feminist/social

4

9.76%

8

feminist + 4 feminist, 2 political

1+6

11.86%

18

6.29%

Total:

Social Vol. No.

1

Occurrence

Occurrence (including overlapping categories)

-

5

Percentage Percentage per volume in total per volume -

12.5%

2

-

7

-

11.67%

3

1

6

2.86%

17.14%

5

1

2

7.69%

15.38%

6

-

2

-

7.41%

7

1

7

2.44%

17.07%

8

1

1+10

1.69%

18.64%

Separate

-

1

-

33.33%

Total:

4

41

1.40%

14.34%

Translation Vol. No.

Occurrence

Percentage per volume

8

1

1.69%

Total:

1

0.35%

Annexe F: Occurrence of sub-themes in numbers and percentage Poems are also categorised in 22 sub-themes, which are depicted in their order in the first Annexe. Since poems can be found in one or more category, thus, the total number exceeds the number of the 286 poems. Poems that cannot be directly classified into the sub-themes are omitted in this table, namely “Daily-Life Struggles” and “Written from a Female Point of View”. The total occurrence and percentage are based on Fahmīdah’s sum of poetry (286) poems.

Sub-themes within 286 poems Sub-theme

Occurrence

Percentage in total

Appraisals and obituaries for various people

17

5.94%

Female Desire and Sexuality

26

9.10%

Mortality (Female Point of View)

10

3.50%

140

48.95%

Women’s Rights and Empowerment

6

2.10%

Value and Agency of Human Beings

6

2.10%

Male Point of View and Feelings

3

1.05%

Critique of Politics

45

15.73%

Politics and Political Structures

25

8.74%

Leftist Politics

10

3.50%

Critique of Religion

6

2.10%

Islam

4

1.40%

Religion

7

2.45%

Spiritual Beliefs

3

1.05%

Critique of Society

32

11.19%

Gender Difference

2

0.7%

Paternalistic Structures

11

3.85%

Representation of Women

4

1.40%

Society and Social Structures

11

3.85%

1

0.35%

Women’s Feelings

Translated Pieces into Urdu

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-012

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https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-013

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Riyāẓ, Fahmīdah. Alif Lailāh: Chauthī jāmā‘it ke liʼe, Mu‘āvin kitāb [Urdu: One Thousand and One Nights/The Arabian Nights: For the Fourth Grade, Additional Material]. Pahlī ishā‘at 1994ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 1994]. Sattāʼīsvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Twenty-seventh Impression]. Auksfarḍ Urdū Silsilah [Urdu: Oxford Urdu Series]. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019. Riyāẓ, Fahmīdah. Faiẓ Aḥmad Faiẓ. Pahlī ishā‘at 2009ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2009]. Dasvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Tenth Impression]. ‘Az̤ īm Pākistānī [Urdu: Famous Pakistani]. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019. Riyāẓ, Fahmīdah. Jangal meṉ bheṛiyā: 5 se 7 bars ke baccoṉ ke liʼe [Urdu: The Wolf in the Jungle: For Children from 5 to 7 Years]. Pahlī ishā‘at 2012ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2012]. Dasvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Tenth Impression]. Kitāboṉ kī kahkashān [Urdu: Galaxy of Books]. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019. Riyāẓ, Fahmīdah. Pākistān kī lok kahānīyāṉ: Pāṉcvīṉ jāmā‘it ke liʼe, Mu‘āvin kitab [Urdu: Pakistan’s Folk Tales: For the Fifth Grade, Additional Material]. Pahlī ishā‘at 1994ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 1994]. Bīsvīṉ t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Twentieth Impression]. Auksfarḍ Urdū Silsilah [Urdu: Oxford Urdu Series]. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019. Riyāẓ, Fahmīdah. Peṛ kī pahelī: 6 se 9 bars ke baccoṉ ke liʼe [Urdu: Story of a Tree: For Children from 6 to 9 Years]. Pahlī ishā‘at 2011ʼ [Urdu: First Edition in 2011]. Chaṭī t̤abā‘at [Urdu: Sixth Impression]. Kitāboṉ kī kahkashān [Urdu: Galaxy of Books]. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2019. Rūmī, Jalāl ud-Dīn. Yah khānā-e āb-o-gil: Intikhāb, Dīvān-e shams tabrīzī [Urdu and Persian: This Abode of Water and Earth: Collection of poems of Shams-e Tabrizi]. Translated by Fahmīdah Riyāẓ. Karācī: Shaharzād [Scheherzade], 2006. Saʻīd, Fauziyah. Kalaṁk: Hīrā manḍīr kī dar-pardah saqāfat [Urdu: Shame: The Hidden Culture of the Diamond Market]. Translated from English by Fahmīdah Riyāẓ. Revised Edition. Karācī: Oxford University Press, 2011. Z̤ ahīr, Sayyid Sajād, Aḥmad ‘Alī, Rashīd Jahāṉ, and Maḥmūd uz̤ -Z̤ afar. Angāre: Das mukhtaṣar kahāniyoṉ kā majmū‘ah [Urdu: Live Coals: A Collection of Ten Short Stories]. Lakhnauʼ: Niz̤ āmī pres, 1932.

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Index Angāre 3, 16, 19f., 24ff., 30ff., 37ff., 48, 217f. – Angāre Group 16, 25, 37, 48, 217 Ayub Khan 54, 71, 81, 129

Muslim 6ff., 19, 24, 26, 28, 32, 34, 36, 38ff., 53f., 58, 64, 68f., 71ff., 76f., 80, 84, 91, 99, 103, 111, 113, 163, 169f., 174, 191

Bhutto 72, 74f., 82ff., 89, 98, 111, 141, 167

Pakistan 1, 3ff., 14ff., 19, 23, 42, 44, 49ff., 57f., 65, 68ff., 80, 82ff., 89ff., 96ff., 101ff., 106f., 110, 112, 115f., 118,129, 151, 153f., 157ff., 165, 167, 170f., 178, 203f., 206, 212f., 217 poet 8, 11, 18, 28, 84, 89, 92f., 95f., 99, 104, 106, 109, 168 poetess 10, 83, 99ff., 158f. Progressive Writer’s Movement 19, 24, 51 – Progressive Writers’ Association 2f., 19f., 23ff., 27, 38, 41, 43ff., 51, 54f. PWA 18, 20, 46ff., 51, 53f. – progressivism 2, 10, 12, 16, 19ff., 23f., 42, 47, 217f. – PWM 1, 3f., 7, 23, 25, 42, 44ff., 48, 50f., 53ff., 217

Fahmīdah Riyāẓ 1ff., 5ff., 14ff., 18, 54f., 60, 63ff., 68, 73, 78, 80, 83f., 87f., 90ff., 96, 103f., 106, 108, 114ff., 118, 202, 207f., 210, 217f. – Fahmida Riaz 1f., 8f., 14, 80ff., 88, 90ff., 105ff., 111ff., 161, 167, 171 – Fahmīdah 1ff., 18, 54f., 58, 60, 63ff., 68, 73, 77f., 80, 82ff., 87ff., 95ff., 101ff., 110ff., 120, 122, 125, 127ff., 131ff., 140f., 144, 146ff., 151, 153f., 157f., 160f., 163, 165, 167, 169f., 172ff., 178, 182, 185, 187ff., 200, 202ff., 210ff. feminism 1f., 4ff., 10ff., 15f., 55ff., 64, 66, 68f., 71, 76, 78, 80, 104, 202, 204, 206f., 210, 212f., 217f. – feminist 1f., 4f., 7, 10ff., 15f., 19, 27, 54f., 57, 59, 62ff., 66ff., 74, 76, 87, 97, 104, 107, 112, 118, 146f., 202ff., 210ff., 217f. – Islamic feminism 6f., 68f., 75, 218 Hindi 2, 14, 20, 44f., 47, 51, 79, 84, 90, 95, 97, 100, 107, 139, 152, 170, 190f., 217 – Hindī 27, 84, 123 Hindūstānī 2, 45, 161, 170, 176, 178, 185, 188, 217 – Hindustani 9, 45, 197 India 2ff., 9, 16, 19ff., 24ff., 37f., 41ff., 62, 66f., 70f., 76, 78, 80, 82ff., 87, 89ff., 94, 98ff., 106, 110ff., 114, 116, 130, 151, 154, 160f., 165, 167, 178, 191, 203, 206, 214, 218 Islam 1, 6f., 16, 25, 27, 31, 39ff., 52, 56, 64, 66, 68ff., 77, 99, 101, 107, 113, 169ff., 191, 206, 208, 211f., 218

South Asia 1, 8ff., 13, 15f., 18ff., 25, 43, 46, 56, 60ff., 72, 74, 76, 84f., 95, 99, 103f., 106f., 111, 113, 115, 117, 119f., 122f., 125, 127, 131, 143, 145, 147, 153, 158, 167, 169, 174f., 185, 191, 197, 200f., 206, 210f., 213ff., 217 – Indian subcontinent 2, 4, 10, 16, 18, 55, 63ff., 76, 217 subcontinent 3, 6f., 16, 18, 21, 27, 42, 45, 47, 49, 55, 66, 69, 76, 197, 208 Urdu 1ff., 7, 9ff., 14ff., 18ff., 22ff., 30, 33ff., 41ff., 49ff., 53ff., 64, 76ff., 80ff., 90ff., 112ff., 116ff., 130, 145, 147, 152, 161f., 164, 168, 170, 186, 202, 208, 210, 217f. – Urdu literature 2, 10f., 18f., 24, 41f., 64, 81, 107, 114, 161 – Urdu poetry 2, 4, 10f., 14, 16, 18, 42, 49, 51, 54f., 78, 97, 100, 103f., 106, 218 Urdu literature 18f., 24, 41f. women 1, 3ff., 10f., 14ff., 18, 26, 29f., 34ff., 40, 42, 48, 54ff., 63ff., 76ff., 80, 84, 87,

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110741094-014

274 | Index

89, 91, 95, 97f., 100ff., 109, 111, 115, 119f., 122f., 128, 131, 136f., 143, 146ff., 151, 156, 166f., 173ff., 186, 188f., 191, 194, 199ff., 206ff.

Zia ul-Haq 7, 54, 69f., 72f., 82, 99, 102, 105, 110, 112f., 116, 151, 153, 156f., 161, 170, 178, 187, 201, 203, 211, 214ff., 218