Book Review: God Particle and Other Poems

Book Review

God Particle and Other Poems Urdu original by: Karamat Ali “Karamat” Translated by: Elizabeth Kurian “Mona” Educational Publishing House, New Delhi, 2021 ISBN: 978-93-91238-51-3 pp 112 | ₹ 200 / $ 15

Reviewed by: Semeen Ali

On reading this fascinating collection of poems, the first impressions that as a reader one gets, remind one of the famous words by French poet Paul Éluard who was also one of the founders of the Surrealist Movement and observed, “There is another world and it is in this one.” And it beautifully sums up the collection that promises to transpose an individual reading these poems to another world created by Karamat Ali ‘Karamat’.

Semeen Ali

His poems reflect the world that he sees through his eyes and ponders over it as he walks through the garden called life. His poems are philosophically inclined and one can savour the words with ease and pause to reflect on them. His writings have a strain of Sufism instilled in them and make one rise above the unpredictable nature of life as one wades through a vast ocean of the world. He ponders over ‘What is life?’ and ‘Are we the puppets in a world that wants us to dance to its tune as long as we are alive?’ The opening poem titled ‘Toy’ (p 27 – Urdu original: Khilona) poses that question to us. The poet stands in front of his audience seeking answers to questions that he has amassed over the years of walking on the face of earth and shares his wisdom of what all knowledge he has gained because of it. It is believed that those who laugh a lot hide the deepest pain within them and that emotion echoes throughout this book. The poet searches for the Truth but what is it? What constitutes as reality and what in the end turns out to be an illusion? The answer is to be found in the pages of this splendid book of poems. The poems have been picked from two of his Urdu anthologies titled Shaakhe Sanobar and Gulkada Subahoshaam by translator Elizabeth Kurian ‘Mona’ who writes poems in English as well as in Urdu. In her note, she explains in a charming manner how it is not possible to translate each word written in Urdu into the English language as the target language falls short of the ability to contain the hyperboles that the original language makes use of. She talks about how she has had to trans-create the poems. And this brings one to an important commentary on just how much of work is involved while translating a text and transporting it with all its essence into another language. One has to keep in mind that the original flavour, if not the voice, is retained and maintained; and does not get lost in the realm of a new language that houses its own sense of identity and carries a set of cultural connotations and values that at times do not have the space to accommodate the ingredients that the original language brings with itself. Elizabeth has translated ghazals as well for this book and has done it beautifully so that the bridge between the original and the host language is a seamless one and not jarred.

Karamat Ali’s works dwell on the metamorphosis of an individual. It dwells on one of the tenets of life which talks about the melding of the self with the One and at times with the world that envelopes one. The poems have a musical quality to them and one can see the rhythmic patterns as the book progresses.

Now, where is the dancer? Where are her anklets?

Where are the flower clusters? Where is their fragrance?
(Ruins, p 29 – Urdu title: Khandhar)

There is a preoccupation with the ephemeral quality of the cosmos. The imposing idea that the world was made out of destruction, and will destroy itself to create anew – and how the poet never wishes to be a part of the world that thrives on mortality. He accepts his fate as a mortal being and how one day he will merge with the very elements of the world that created every limb of his body and fibre of his soul. He celebrates the life that he has on this earth and illuminates the idea of how one is the helmsman of one’s own boat. He holds on to his writing instruments so that he can chronicle his life, and how he sees/witnesses the world. He is willing to part with everything else that he possesses but cannot make do without that one sole possession that breathes life into the experiences and memories that he holds within.

One of the thought-provoking poems is ‘White ants’ (p 49 – Urdu original: Deemak). It talks about the white ants that do not care about the status of humans or the value of the possessions that one has. They destroy all the things that come in their way irrespective of all the ideas that one holds dear and measures one’s value with. The core idea behind this poem is to show the perishability of the self as well as of the material possessions that one holds on to, not realising that when one finally takes leave from this world, one leaves empty handed. 

As the poet observes, even the “I” is not permanent (Truth, p 28 – Urdu original: Haq). The markers of one’s identity that one holds on to and lives by for a lifetime have but to dissolve in the end. The book dwells on the hollowness of life and the emptiness that one constantly tries to fill by relying on others or through material acquisitions. The beautiful jugalbandi between the poet and the translator makes this book a beautiful addition to turn to for answers in one’s search for the self.

Its memories come to trouble me

I hope it comes close to me

And then it embraces me.

         What is it? My lover?

         No friend, it’s my childhood!

(Riddles, p 108 – Urdu title: Kahmakarniyaan)

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Setu October 2021

She Goes to War: Women Militants of India | Rashmi Saksena

Book Review

She Goes to War: Women Militants of India | Non-Fiction/Reportage | Rashmi Saksena | Speaking Tiger, New Delhi 2018 | ISBN 978-93-87693-44-9 | Pp 224 | ₹ 499

Reviewed by: Semeen Ali

Breaking Silences

When I came across this book, what piqued my interest was the title. Traditionally the idea of war has been a gendered construct – the focus has been on men. Their valour, strength and this domain has always been considered a male zone.  And women have been seen as victims or the ones who suffer the consequences of a war. In the current milieu and what has been observed for the past few decades is that the idea of women being victims is slowly getting replaced, and as the first line of the introduction states, “Women have become an integral part of the insurgencies across the world, playing a crucial role in both covert and overt operations.” The book weaves together women militants involved in insurgencies in Kashmir, Chhattisgarh, Nagaland, Assam and Manipur and gives an insight into the warfare that women battle outside and within. The thorough research that has gone into the writing of this book as well as the personal interactions with these women that have found a place in these pages, helps a reader understand what goes behind making these women turn to the roles they take up; and the whys and the hows are all lined up to be heard.

Semeen Ali

The book’s first chapter is based on Kashmir and maybe as a reader one is curious to know about and wants to read about first. The coexistence of beauty and horror cannot find a better example than in Kashmir. The setting for this chapter is the 1990s – Kashmiri women were no longer confined to their homes and were stepping out into the streets, protesting and demanding azadi. Till the early 90s, the role of women was limited in the azadi movement but the break in that tradition came with Ruhi (the names of all the women in this book have been changed as they were willing to share their stories on this condition.) The account that follows is a horrifying one. In her conversation with the author, Ruhi says, “Aap ne phirse zakham khol diye...” Such wounds cannot be healed even by time. They stay imprinted and can easily start bleeding again. Ruhi, wishing to be a full time soldier was easily persuaded to fight for the “caus” and crossed the LOC that runs between India and Pakistan. “There was such a madness for freedom that I believed that just by my taking up the gun we would achieve it.” What followed was a nightmare that Ruhi has been unable to forget. Exploited and taken advantage of, Ruhi returned home in 1991. Her story started discouraging women from taking up arms. The patriarchal mindset that women could only be used as facilitators and cannot take up guns prevailed. Many started providing information to the security forces to avenge the abuse they had suffered at the hands of the militants. By mid-nineties, women were being recognized as providing logistical support to the militants. The author informs us that no Islamic militant outfit is known to date to have a women cadre. The belief that runs strong is that guns are not for them to have. The militants and the separatist leaders argue in favour of keeping women away from any tasks that will expose their body. While there is an adherence to the social norms set out for the Kashmiri women, the following chapter sheds light on women militants in Chhattisgarh who have a different story to tell.

These women come from a tribal social milieu that gave them freedom and choices. One of the stories finding its place in the book is about Tulsi who had spent fourteen eventful years with the Naxals. On the day she was leaving the Naxals to return to her normal life, she instructed her comrade to arrange for a sari and bangles, “Don't forget to get some bangles, all normal girls wear bangles.” She recalls an incident in 2008 where she took a group of policemen by surprise. She had been assigned to open fire first. Women participating in Naxal militant action at that time was a novelty for security men. Laying down arms or surrendering are the only two exits for Chhattisgarh’s women militants. It provides them with a promise of a new family - to have a kutumb (family). There have been mass surrenders by Naxalwadi women since 2010. But what echoes throughout the chapter is another reminder for these women when they take up arms: “A hand wielding a gun has no place for bangles. If there is place it is only for self-confidence.”

If mass surrenders have been reported from Chhattisgarh, it is unlikely to be heard of from women militants in the Nagaland insurgency. This is not even a choice to be thought of here. Men in Nagaland, as the author observed, are proud of their women militants. These women have a special respect in their society. “When you work together and face danger together it is easy to fall in love.” The book has included the human elements that help a reader understand the various emotions that go along with being a woman militant. As Avuli observes, “We are also humans. I want you to understand that we may be rebels or insurgents or even terrorists as many call us, but we are normal women.”  She gifts a shawl she had woven to the author, and says: “This is to remember me as a normal woman... a woman who sees in you another who can understand that love and fighting for a cause can go together because you fight for something you love.”

There is a tendency to bracket these women militants as coming from a certain social and economic background but Pranati from Assam breaks this perception. A school teacher and a postgraduate in Assamese language, she became a part of the political unit of ULFA. Disillusioned by the peaceful and democratic efforts by other organizations that did not yield desired results, this particular organization attracted her. She reacts when asked why she, an educated person chose a dangerous life with a banned outfit, by saying, “Are you trying to tell me that it is bad for the educated to fight for their country?” And one realizes that there comes a time in everyone’s life when one has to take a decision according to one’s thinking. That in a life’s journey there are so many things that can happen before one can reach one’s destination.

For Manu, joining NDFB (S) outfit was a place away from the drudgery of home; the humiliation of being made to feel unwanted. At the camp, she felt welcomed and made to feel a part of the family. The book attempts to record accounts of different militant women; there are no stereotypes created through these instances, rather, there is an attempt to take a look at these women from a fresh perspective and provide useful insights into how instead of dismissing these women off as only militants, one needs to look inside to see what goes on in their minds and in their hearts when they have to make such decisions – either on their own or when influenced by others.

While Manipur has a large number of women ultras, they refuse to be written about. These women have by their own strength conceived and fuelled protest movements that have been of historical significance. In one of the operations, Purnima realized: “It struck me then how women want to save lives and here I am, a woman, killing people without a thought.” Why this book stands out in the present context is because of the sensitivity with which this topic has been dealt with. Thematically, this has been explored in several books but to have conversations with these women to try to understand the nuances of what it takes to be a woman in such situations/ circumstances has been well documented. The women profiled in this book, as the author points out, come out as strong and independent women who are in charge of their lives. It has been their decision to be a part of this book although several were advised by their men folk to not do so. All of these women are now focused on finding a means to put their lives together after exiting the insurgent camps. One has to remember that the mindset of women cadres is not similar to those of the men who are enlisted. The need of the hour, especially in a country like India, is to study their motivations, aspirations, the work assigned to these women as well as their longing for a life beyond a furtive one. This book opens a window into their lives and it is time we take a look.

Setu, July 2018

Semeen Ali

Semeen Ali

Semeen Ali is the author of four books of poetry – Broken Barriers (2008); Rose & Ashes (2009); Origins (2012); and Transitions (2014). While Origins was published by Poets Printery, South Africa; the others were published by Writers Workshop, Kolkata.

Her book, Rose & Ashes was nominated for the Young Writers Award at the Hyderabad Literary Festival 2011 and received the Jury Commendation Award.  And she was invited to read from her works at the Hyderabad Literary Festival, 2015.

Her poems have also featured in journals like A Hudson View Poetry Digest, Muse India and The Four Quarterly Magazine to name a few.  Her poems have featured in The Dance of the Peacock, Anthology of English poetry from India (Hidden Brooks Press, Canada, 2013). Her poems have featured in Suvarnareka, Anthology of Indian women poets (The Poetry Society of India, 2014); and Trainstorm: An Anthology of Alternate Train Poetry (Poets Printery, 2016).

She has edited an anthology of English poetry written by women poets from New Delhi called Dilli (Poets Printery, South Africa, 2014), and two special features for Muse India –   Écriture feminine (Nov- Dec,2015); and The Power and Fear of the Pen: Democracy and Freedom of Expression (Jul-Aug, 2016).

She has co-edited an anthology on pre globalization poetry – 40 under 40 – An anthology of post globalisation poetry with poet Nabina Das (Poetrywala, Paperwall Media & Publishing Pvt.Ltd, 2016).

She has been on the Jury for the National Poetry Slam Competition held in Bengaluru in September, 2016 where colleges from across the country participated.

She was invited by Sahitya Academy – A Festival of Readings by Young Poets in English to read out from her works in November, 2016 at Agartala, Tripura.

She reviews books for The Book Review and guest edited an edition on Contemporary Indian Poetry (April, 2017).

She is currently pursuing her PhD from Department of English, University of Delhi. 

Email: semeen.ali@gmail.com

Authors A-Z

Angaarey:

Reception/reaction in the Urdu literary/non-literary community of Pre Independent India and the effects of the English translation in the contemporary times

By Semeen Ali

Semeen Ali

The Nizami Press of Lucknow had no idea that a book that was going to be published by them would change the course of Urdu literature for times to come. Angaarey was published in December 1932. The four young contributors for this book were – Rashid Jahan, Ahmed Ali, Sajjad Zaheer and Mahmud Zafar. This collection of short stories was banned in 1933 by the government of the United Provinces. Reason: the writers had critiqued the social and moral conventions of the time and rejected them. The book laid the basis for the establishment of the Indian Progressive Writers’ Association in London in November, 1934 and which later matured into Progressive Writers’ Association in 1936. Known as Anjuman Tarraqi Pasand Mussanafin in Urdu and Akhil Bharatiya Pragatisheel Lekhak Sangh in Hindi, they were united in their vision of using writing as a means to attack class and gender discrimination.

In modern Urdu literature, Angaarey was the first ferocious attack on society[i]. Aziz Ahmed writes - “It was a declaration of war by the youth of the middle class against the prevailing social, political and religious institutions.”[ii] Angaarey defied all the traditional norms of the society. Exposed to the Western school of thought, the writers of this book were from the middle class or upper middle class families. “They located themselves within the matrix of conflicting worldviews which included the attempt to usher in egalitarianism, liberalism and individualism against the rising tide of fascism. The vision of a classless and oppression less society, free from religious and social dogmas, gender and class oppression and political subjugation is what fired their writings.”[iii]  The writing style and the themes were inspired by writings of DH Lawrence, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf and a few Marxist writings. In this collection the themes that have been dealt with are varied and can find echoes even today. Rashid Jahan’s Dilli ki Sair looked at the oppression of women as did Mahmudzafar’s Jawaan Mardi. Jahan’s second story – Parde ke Peeche looked at how a woman was controlled by the codes of the society set down by a patriarchal system. Ahmed Ali’s Mahavato ki Raat as well as Sajjad Zaheer’s Phir Ye Hungama and Neend Nahi Aati look at a sense of loss that the characters feel. The hypocrisy of religion was critiqued in the stories Badal Nahi Aate by Ahmed Ali and Jannat ki Basharat by Sajjad Zaheer. Another story by Sajjad Zaheer titled Dulari looked at the discrimination on the basis of one’s class and gender.

Ahmed Ali wrote: “...We were filled with a zeal to change the social order and right the wrongs done to man by man… 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.”[iv] 

The public reaction to the book was that of an outrage. Medinah, published from Bijnor, wrote in its issue of 13 February 1933:

“We could not find in them anything intellectually modern except immorality, evil character and wickedness. To mock at the creator of the world, to ridicule religious beliefs and to make indecent jokes are the main characteristics of this bundle of filth. There is no regard for the greatness and majesty of God nor any respect for the sanctity and honour of prophets, nor any respect for human dignity. Instead one finds a bold and shameless display of every kind of foul language...”[v]  

There were also voices which came in support of the book. Akhtar Hussain Raipuri, a reputed scholar and critic published his fifteen page long review of the book, praising Angarey in the journal Urdu which was edited by Maulvi Abdul Haq. Professor Mohammad Mujib who taught at Jamia Millia Islamia wrote in Jamia monthly –

“Angarey is ‘angare’, glowing coals – and not merely stories- in the true sense! …Their purpose is to impact our senses in a very unique way- to burn and demolish much that exists in our society. …Stark images of poverty, helplessness, vulnerability and illiteracy present in Muslim society coexist with this. There is also a clear protest against the tyranny of the empowered classes. Our social values and predilections must not obsess us to the extent that we begin to perceive difference of opinion as disrespect of these values.  The arrogance that sees criticism as humiliation, differences as enmity, and the informal expression of thought as impertinence is the strongest enemy of sincerity and faith…”[vi]  

On March 15, 1933 the book was banned by the Government of the United Provinces under section 295A of the Indian Penal Code. Only five copies remained of the book. Two of them were sent to London while three of them were kept with Keeper of Records in New Delhi (now the National Archives of India). Such a reaction was not expected by the young writers of the book and Ahmed Ali wrote-

‘We knew the book would create a stir, but never dreamt it would bring the house down. We were condemned at public meetings and private; bourgeois families hurried to dissociate themselves from us and denied acquaintance with us, especially with Rashid Jehan and myself, and even Sajjad Zahir's mother (a dear old lady) accused me of spoiling her son. People read the book behind closed doors and in bathrooms with relish but denounced us in the open. We were lampooned and satirized, condemned editorially and in pamphlets . . . Our lives were threatened, people even lay in wait with daggers to kill us…’[vii]

In response the writers of the book issued a statement on April 5, 1933 in The Leader, a newspaper published from Allahabad which came out with an article titled: ‘In Defence of Angare. Shall We Submit to Gagging?’ as under:

…Coming to the contents of the book itself, 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 of 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. Nobody can deny the truthfulness of those portraits, and anyone who chooses to exert himself can see that they are not drawn for the sake of literary 'flair', but spring from an inner indignation against 'this sorry scheme of things.' The authors of this book do not wish to make any apology for it. They leave it to float or sink of itself. They are not afraid of the consequences of having launched it. They only wish to defend 'the right of launching it and all other vessels like it' ... they stand for the right of free criticism and free expression in all matters of the highest importance to the human race in general and the Indian people in particular. 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. They were more sure of their ground there. Whatever happens to the book or to the authors, we hope that others will not be discouraged …

It is important to note that Angaarey was written in Urdu. Mohammed Hasan’s work on post partition Urdu writing[viii] explains how ‘Urdu language did not have a religious stamp on its literature. It is after Partition that the language was looked upon as the language of the Muslims.’ He continues to explain… ‘If Progressive writing emphasized on the role of literature as an instrument of social change, the modernist writing stressed on non-commitment of literature to any ideology. It saw itself as a vehicle of meaningful identification of the self and its relationship with the outside world.’ The book was written in Urdu and had a far wider audience in Urdu as compared with publications in English. Maleiha Malik writing on the reception of Angarey by the British observes – “The British colonial authorities could have pointed out to some support for the publication within the Muslim community if they had wanted to support critical discussion of Islam and Muslim politics but instead they preferred to ban the book. Their priority was to re-establish social order rather than to safeguard the individual freedom of speech of their colonial subjects.”[ix]  

In 1987 the microfilm of the book was found preserved in the British Museum, London and Qamar Rais, the then head of the Urdu Department, Delhi University played an important role in bringing the microfilm to India. The book was published in 1995 in Urdu by Educational Publishing House, Delhi and was edited by Khalid Alvi. The collection received a phenomenal response and has run into several editions since the time it was published. It was only in the year 2014 that Angarey was transliterated in Hindi by Shakeel Siddiqui, published by Sahitya Bhandar, Allahabad. The English translations were brought out by Rupa Publications, Delhi translated by Vibha S Chauhan and Khalid Alvi and the Penguin, Delhi edition by Snehal Shingavi.

 When translating a text from its original language, it is necessary to maintain the intended complexity of the story[x]. As Dr Sukrita Paul Kumar describes, “A translated text is an autonomous aesthetic entity on the one hand, and on the other, it has to achieve a certain degree of equivalence with the original.”[xi] The Hindi text of Angaarey is a transliteration and it is a sensitive cognition of the target language with all its cultural baggage therefore a lot of Urdu words which are difficult to understand have been smoothly replaced by their Hindi equivalents and do not disrupt the reading of the text whereas it is the translation of the original in English that demands a lot of attention from the translator. The Rupa version of the original text has done a commendable job in retaining the essence of the original- the anger, the frustration with the norms as well as the creation of the atmosphere that the original created has been brought out very well. According to UR Ananthamurthy, the translator becomes a collaborative author, the original text a focal point of reference.

S.P Jain in his seminal essay on Angaarey in 1988 wrote – “The possibility cannot be ruled out that if published even today in free India, Angaarey may meet the fate it did in the year 1932.”[xii] 

I conclude my paper with an unpublished nazm of Raashid Banaarsii which was written for Urdu as a language but I feel it extends to the text Angaarey –  

Bahut samhje the ham is daur ki firqa-parastii ko

Zubaan bhi aaj shaikh-o-barhaman hai ham nahin samjhe

Agar Urdu pe bhi ilzaam hai baahar see aane ka

To phir hinduustaan kis ka vatan hai ham nahiin samjhe

Chaman kaa husn too har rang kee phuuloon see hai Raashid

Koo'ii bhii phuul kyoon nang-i chaman hai ham nahiin samhje

[I understood a lot about the prejudices of this age.

Today languages too are Brahmins and Sheikhs? I don't understand.

If there are charges against Urdu, that it too is an outsider.

Then whose homeland is India? I don't understand.

The beauty of the garden comes from flowers of every colour, Rashid.

Why is any flower at all a disgrace to the garden? I don’t understand.][xiii]

End Notes:

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[i] Mahmud, Shabana. “Angare and the Founding of the Progressive Writers’ Association.” Modern Asian Studies. Volume 30, Number 2 (May 1996).

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Angarey (trans) Vibha S. Chauhan and Khalid Alvi. New Delhi: Rupa Publications India, 2014.

[iv] Ahmed Ali, ‘The Progressive Writers Movement and Creative Writers in Urdu,’ in: Marxist Influence & South Asian Literature. Ed. Carlo Coppolla (Michigan, 1974), p. 36.

[v] Mahmud, Shabana. “Angare and the Founding of the Progressive Writers’ Association.” Modern Asian Studies. Volume 30, Number 2 (May 1996).

[vi] Angarey (trans) Vibha S. Chauhan and Khalid Alvi. New Delhi: Rupa Publications India, 2014.

[vii] Quoted by Coppola, Carlo, ‘The Angare group: The Enfants Terribles of Urdu literature,’ in Annual of Urdu Studies (1981), p. 6I.

[viii] Hasan, Mohammad. “The Wounded Sensibility- Urdu Writing in the Post Partition Era.” India International Centre Quarterly. Volume 15, Number 1 (Spring 1988). Pp. 107-111.

[ix] Malik, Maleiha. “Angare ‘the burning embers’ of Muslim political resistance: Colonial and Post Colonial  Regulation of Islam in Britain.” Colonial and Post Colonial Governance of Islam - Continuities and Ruptures (eds.) Marcel Maussen, Veil Bader and Annelies Moors. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2011.

[x] Kumar, Sukrita Paul. “The Act of Translation.” Indian Literature. Volume 40, Number 3(179) (May- June, 1997) pp. 174-178.

[xi] Ibid.

[xii] Jain, S.P. “Angare: A Reappraisal: About a proscribed, trend setting anthology.” Indian Literature. Volume 30, Number 4 (July – August, 1987) pp. 101-107.

[xiii] Christopher Lee, “Hit it with a Stick and It Won't die: Urdu Language, Muslim Identity and Poetry in Varanasi, India,” Annual of Urdu Studies, Vol. 15, No. 1 (2000), pp. 377-8.

Feature: India@70
Setu, August 2017