Essay: A tribute to Ismat Chughtai
Remembering the radical Urdu literary figure as her 31st death anniversary approaches
Though Ismat Chughtai, would never have liked to be bracketed as a “woman writer”, she was the apotheosis of one. Her close friend Manto said, “Ismat’s identity as a woman has left its deep imprint on all branches of her writing, which guides us at every step in our appreciation of her art. Her merits and inadequacies as a writer... cannot be seen in isolation from her gender.”
In the days approaching October 24, the 31st anniversary of her death, it is fitting to pay tribute to the radical Urdu literary figure whose pen was as sharp as a double-edged sword, whose writings have a universal flavour and whose characters are timeless.
While most readers continue to associate her with her short story Lihaaf (The Quilt), about a lesbian encounter in a zenana (women’s quarter) in a traditional Muslim household, her ouevre includes many other striking works. Of course, Lihaaf (1942), a landmark in Urdu literature, is rightly famous for its focus on female sexuality and its lonely young woman, who yearns for her husband’s love, continues to speak to readers 80 years after she was created. The frustrated housewife, whose Nawab husband has no time for her, finds sexual and emotional solace in the company of a homely female servant. Written in an era when “lesbianism” wasn’t publicly acknowledged, the story unfolds from the point of view of a little girl who hides under Begum Jaan’s bed and wonders what the two women are doing under a quilt that keeps moving.
Hauled to court for obscenity, Chughtai decided to fight instead of tendering an apology. Her lawyer argued that since there were no explicit references to homoeroticism in Lihaaf, the author could not be accused of obscenity. The case was dismissed.
Chughtai’s short stories reflect South Asian cultural realities. Sacred Duty is a satire on the custom of arranged marriage. A timeless story, it is perhaps even more relevant today than it was when the author wrote it half a century ago. She showed readers a world clothed in hypocrisy navigable only by force of will.
“Flowers can be made to bloom among rocks. The only condition is that one has to water the plant with one’s heart’s blood,” she wrote in her memoir.
Born in Badayun, Uttar Pradesh, the ninth of 10 children comprising six brothers and four sisters, Chughtai grew up in Jodhpur where her father was a civil servant. Her sisters were married off when Ismat was a child and her childhood was mostly spent in the company of her brothers. This possibly contributed to her forthrightness and to the spontaneous nature of her writing. One brother, Mirza Azim Beg Chughtai who was already an established writer was her first teacher and mentor.
But who was Ismat Chughtai, really? She was the gutsy young lady who told her father that she would like to go to school instead of learning to cook; the girl who wrote to the man her parents had arranged for her to marry stating that she did not wish to marry and instead wanted to continue with her education. The engagement was called off!
The continuing relevance of her work has led to a new generation of admirers. Some like Anubha Fatehpuria and the theatre group Padatik from Kolkata presented Kaagaz Ke Gubbare (inspired by the title of Chughtai’s autobiography, Kaagazi Hai Parirahan ie Garments are of Paper), which drew from the short stories Kunwari, Ek Shauhar Ke Khatir, Chhui Mui, Gharwali, Pesha and Ghoonghat. Each of these features women breaking out of their constraints through speech or behaviour including body language in articulation of their sexual desire in deprivation. Shauhar Ke Khatir is about a lone woman on a train who responds mostly with fibs to the constant questioning of three other women travellers about her marital status, children and so on. As she gets off the train at the end of the journey, she realizes how important it is for a woman to carry her husband’s name.
A true radical, Chughtai considered sex work a legitimate profession and stressed financial independence and empowerment over conformity to social and moral prescriptions. This is brought across beautifully in Pesha and in Gharwali. Lajjo, the protagonist of Gharwali is a woman of precise pleasures. The story raises many questions on the difference between a respectable man and a woman considered outside the bounds of respectability, and questions the validity of marriage.
Pesha is narrated from the perspective of a woman who views courtesans with inexplicable hatred. Priding herself of belonging to the noble profession of teaching, she practices conventional morality and believes in chastity in marriage. She is hurled into an identity crisis when a group of tawaifs move into the neighbourhood and try to forge a friendship with her. The story posits the sharp binaries of “ideal” femininity and “corrupted” womanhood as well as of “good” professions like teaching and “evil” ones like prostitution.
“Ismat Chughtai used her pen as a weapon to question male authority and hierarchical power structure in patriarchy. Most of her work deals with themes directly related to women and their status and role in Indian society. She portrays the struggle of women against oppressive social institutions of her time and her deep understanding and perception of the female psyche are clearly reflected in her writings,” writes Megha Katoria in her paper, Women and Sexuality – Gender-Class Interface in Selected Short Stories of Ismat Chughtai (The Criterion, Vol II, Issue IV, December 2011).
The gender-class interface is depicted with great boldness in “Lingering Fragrance” (Badan ki Khushboo)
Early in her career, Chughtai was associated with the Progressive Writers’ Association. Sukrita Paul Kumar and Sadiq edited an excellent collection of essays and articles on different aspects of her life and writing in Ismat: Her Life, Her Times. Considered the grand dame of Urdu fiction, Chughtai was supported in her aspiration to be a professional writer by her husband, Shahid Latif, a successful scriptwriter. She wrote the scripts for quite a few films during the 1940s and 1950s including the original story of MS Sathyu’s Garm Hawa. She acted in Shyam Benegal’s Junoon and produced her husband’s film Sone Ki Chidiya, which deals with the exploitation of a young girl by her family and then by the man she falls in love with.
A true early Indian feminist voice, her dry humour, scathing satire and acute understanding of subcontinental society has ensured that she continues to be an inspiration. Authors like Ismat Chughtai live on through their work, finally attaining that elusive immortality that every writer craves.
Shoma A Chatterji is an independent journalist. She lives in Kolkata
The views expressed are personal