[Reader-list] Independent Fellowship Posting

[TARAN KHAN]

Sarai posting June 2004
‘Very Progressive People: Stories of Women and Movements from post-Independence Bombay’
Taran Khan 220604
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‘In Which Sultana and Shaukat Weigh In’

But first, Bombay. Every trip is different, to this “maddening, frustrating, complex,  immensely rewarding city by the sea”, as assorted blurbs on (often bad) book jackets call it. Bombay is a city of migrants. A fact I always knew, but had never touched. Sultana and Shaukat walk with me through its streets, actual and in memory; talk to me about the ‘mehbooba’ the city was for their husbands and for them, and I see the charmer, the gracious hostess so far from home, all its vast spaces asking to be conquered, filled with new ideas, music and revolutions. If Bombay were to have a city symphony, it would be, to my mind, a medley.  And one of the scores would be that composed by a very special, talented bunch of migrants out to raise hell. For whatever excellent reasons (sociology begone!) Bombay has provided the backdrop for a thousand such stories, it was here that once upon a time “something quite amazing and wonderful happened. For a while, the very cream of Urdu literary talent, the absolute best minds of our generation got together here and created such a storm”.

Sultana Jafri told me that. This is her particular talent-that of providing perspective, signposting my/our erratic forays into three sets of memories. She provides me with a narrative that combines assurance with ideological commitment and consistence. To explain. Sultana came to Bombay not as a bride or even a young woman just out of the confines of the maternal home. She came as a recent divorcee, a single mother on a transfer posting from the AIR station in Lahore. Bombay for her was an adventure, but also just another big city, also a continuation of her career- a scarce commodity, she alone amongst my three women had it this early. It was also romance. Living in her school friend Ismat Chugtai’s house near Shivaji Park, Sultana rediscovered the twin passions of her life-Ali Sardar Jafri and the Communist Party (or the Communist Cause? I hate to hem in such a free spirit) re-discovered, because she knew the poet as a Masters stuent in Lucknow University, had campaigned for him as a candidate of the Students Federation with no thought of marrying him. Her ties to Marx had also taken root then; after living in Bombay for few months she “left the government ki naukri and joined the Communist Party as a full timer, phir Sardar se shaadi bhi kar li.”  “ I also married Sardar.”  

Her narrative is important for several reasons. Much of its colour and power comes from the fact that she chose to enter the arena of Left associated social movements—she did not marry into it like the others. Second, she was a (seriously!) active member of the Party. Talking to her is slightly exhausting, and it is easy to see why her friends remember her “walking, walking, walking”. She walked all over Madanpura, a Muslim majority industrial area where she worked with the trade unions for several years, even contested an election. I can see her quite easily, selling newspapers for the Party, creating revolutionary consciousness amongst the masses of mazdoors, hauling up a young Habib Tanvir for scrounging free lunches at the commune. I get a sense that in a way she was the ideal Communist Mate- the kind Kaifi Azmi wrote about in his lines “Uth meri jaan mere saath hi chalna hai tujhe”. Her being placed in a position of authority in the commune (she was responsible for collecting dues and administration for a while)would appear to indicate this;  simultaneously the whole hearted enthusiasm with which she entered the arenas of mazdoors and rallies, elections and ‘working with the people’ shows how ready she was to push the boundaries of acceptable female behaviour even in her liberal set. What did she seem like to her relatively naïve flatmates-especially Shaukat and Zehra?   And vice versa? Sultana herself is quick to dismiss any suggestions that she may have played a mentoring style of role for these women, leave alone been an inspiration for them. In their accounts however, she is central, a source of guidance and support. My sense is that at least in those early months at the commune, in her rush to do things in the real world, Sultana discounted the domestic. This included Shaukat and Zehra. Not meaning a discounting in affection, or a disdain for their domestic ambitions. Rather, I suppose I mean that her memory of “those things” is fuzzy, treated as an unimportant but pleasant aspect of heady, work filled days. There is also a hint in the conversations of the other two that they found Sultana Apa altogether too overpowering. Again, not meaning a revulsion from her obviously sincere workload, but the conviction that they could “never” do what she did, and if that’s what it meant to be a Communist helpmate, they would rather sit this one out, thanks. It is interesting that Sultana herself repeatedly points out to me the various ways in which being wives of Communists affected her two friends-to her mind, they were good RedMates. 

Shaukat is already famous, the most celebrated of the trio. She is the only one amongst them who has written her memoirs, which I find heartening—at least one of them realizes the importance of their stories. She reads them out to me in her wonderful actor’s voice. Shaukat or Moti Apa as she is affectionately called was catapulted into the world of Walkeshwar Road communes through a whirlwind romance and a most unusual nikah at the commune itself, presided over by her father and no one else from her family. She touches lightly over the grim realities of penury that followed her fairytale marriage, but it is clear that it was a difficult period of adjustment. Her narrative is a sort of middle ground between the two extremes of Zehra and Sultana, giving importance both to the domestic and to her professional life, which was again deeply linked to the idea of being a Communist’s wife. She resolved to start working after PC Joshi told her that a comrade never sits idle. There was also the consideration of finances- Kaifis earnings as a Party full timer were just not enough. She chose to work in theatre- because she “felt she would be good at it”. She was initially was joined by Zehra in acting in IPTA plays. IPTA provided legitimacy to the women’s entry on the stage, an armour against family criticisms. Zehra gave up acting soon after getting pregnant with her first child, but Moti continued, making it her pehchan.

We did one joint session in Bombay, when Sultana went with me to Shaukat’s house in Juhu. They spoke of many things, but one exchange tickled me no end. Sultana the entirely practical, talking about her desire to give away all her things before she dies. She says “ mera to dil chahta hai apni puri almari khol dun-here, take it all away”. Shaukat stares in astonishment. But what if you feel like wearing those things later, she asks? Sultana is dismissive-marne ke baad to dena hi hai, might as well give my things to people during my lifetime. I hardly have anything left, she muses, but looking at even the small pile that is left I feel restless. Shaukat is amazed. “hain Sultana Apa, I have 5 cupboards full of clothes, and I still feel like buying some more. Mujhe to woh, kya kehte hain, hauka hai hauka”. They laugh for a long time after that, perfectly aware of their differences, perfectly at ease with them.

A few days before I leave Bombay, I watch the election results come in. Sultana is ecstatic, she calls up all her friends and talks for ages, exulting and exclaiming endlessly. Finally she turns to me and says, you see, we were right, after all. We were right to work, and to trust the people we worked for. Every time you think --they’ve finally got you, its over-- she says, staring at the pie charts on the television, it turns out there is still some dum left in our people, a bit more fight in us after all.