[Reader-list] A library in Mumbra changes the lives of women behind the burqa

Chintan chintangirishmodi at gmail.com
Sun Nov 29 22:23:24 IST 2009


*It's a free word after all*

From
http://week.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/theWeekContent.do?BV_ID=@@@&contentType=EDITORIAL&sectionName=TheWeek%20Lifestyle&programId=1073755413&contentId=6311308

  *A library in Mumbra changes the lives of women behind the burqa

By Shriya Bubna*

Before entering the small room they shrug off their burqas at the door and
with it the weight of a cloistered routine. Rehnuma library, a square room
lined with crowded bookshelves, has come to stand for freedom. It was
started six years ago in the poor Muslim-dominated Mumbra, 35 km from the
heart of Mumbai.

“It is where we can do everything that we cannot do outside,” says
35-year-old Mumtaz Sheikh. Five years ago, Sheikh was going through a bad
marriage. The library offered her refuge. Says Sheikh, “I was afraid of
talking to people. I loved reading novels but had not been allowed to. I was
told books are a corrupting influence. But coming here, I started reading
them and it gave me confidence.”

For two years, Awaaz-e-Niswan (Voice of Women), the non-profit group that
runs the library, allowed her to make the library her home. During that time
she got her life back on track. She separated from her husband, found a job
and single-handedly raised her two children.

Away from the bustle of the street below, a silent change in outlook is
forged inside the library. Says 19-year-old Tabassum Khan, “If I had not
discovered this place—it is easy to predict the course of my life—I would
have been married by now.”

Two years ago, Tabassum, having dropped out of school, started frequenting
the library. Life expanded beyond the narrow confines of home. Inspired, she
resumed her studies. Today the  teenager has her eyes set on becoming a
lawyer and championing the cause of women’s rights.

Rehnuma fills a yawning gap—the need for a personal space for women—in this
crowded industrial neighbourhood. With a population of nearly eight lakh,
Mumbra consists of families who sought shelter here during the Mumbai riots.
As Awaaz-e-Niswan surveyed the area, it came across all the indicators of
stress—congested living spaces, low literacy levels and early marriage.

Books, it believed, could draw the women out of their shells. Rehnuma makes
it possible for women to walk confidently without the fear of disapproving
eyes for a few hours at least. Says Tabassum, “The most memorable moment for
me so far has been when all of us went up on stage without dupattas and put
up a dance for our annual show.”

But the start was slow. It took time to break down the barriers. Says Yasmin
Agha, coordinator of the library, “Initially the women who came to the
library asked only for religious books, which we did not keep.” Then when
they came, they were in a hurry to leave. “The housewives were reluctant to
sit here. They just came, borrowed books and left,” she says.

So when Rabiya Siddiqui started visiting the library two years ago, her
family was appalled. “I was told this place was meant for women without
morals. Only with great difficulty was I able to come here,” says the
19-year-old.

Today the library boasts 150 members with housewives surprisingly leading
the tally. Besides, there are scores of women who have not taken membership
but spend their afternoons ensconced in the library. Charging Rs 100 a year,
the library has a trove of 5,000 titles built up painstakingly over the
years. Books in Urdu, Hindi and English jostle for space on the shelves.

“We share our problems and use each other’s experience. I had decided to
leave home. But when I came to the library I realised that there is no point
in running, you will always be chased by problems,” recalls Rabiya, who was
under pressure from her family to get married. Instead, she decided to stay
put and pursue her dreams.

The library, true to its name of being a guide, has stepped up with literacy
classes, personality development workshops, computer skills training and
study scholarships. “The only criterion for winning a scholarship is a keen
desire to study,” says Agha. Armed with the scholarship, students are
pursuing a correspondence degree.

The students’ voices ring with purpose when they exchange fiery verses
penned by Saadat Hassan Manto, Ismat Chugtai, Amrita Pritam and Kaifi Azmi.
“The fact that despite all odds we come to the library is proof enough that
we have rebelled and won,” says Tabassum. It is this rebellious spirit that
infuses Rabia’s poetry too.  She writes,

“Jaag rahi hai saari duniya, (The whole world is awake)
Tumhe sula kar chal ki neend. (After tricking you into sleep)
Jhute sukh se khush ho tum, (You are happy with your lot of false joy)
Rakh kar girvi apni takdir.” (Not knowing you have mortgaged your destiny)
Says Rabia, “I did not know how to write well earlier. I read books here and
developed a unique style.” There is a sense of closeness with the writers
whose works they have read and discussed at monthly sessions of their
reading club. The sessions usually end up being freewheeling discussions.

The noiseless revolution has spilled over to their homes. Says 19-year-old
Safquat Sheikh, “I studied in a madrassa in my village and did not want to
think outside my world. My sister opened my mind.” Her sister discovered the
library first and then forced Safquat to join.

Tabassum says her father now does not question the presence of books in the
house but instead warns her to treat the books with respect. The goals have
been set—Rabiya and Warissa Khan want to cut a music album, Talat Sheikh
wants to teach and Tabassum wants to become a lawyer. The women scour the
newspaper pages looking for suitable job openings. And, at home, as their
parents broach the subject of marriage, the girls have found a stalling
tactic: “Let me graduate first.”

Says 24-year-old Aqila Khan, library in-charge, “An old student had said
that there are two decisions that I want to make for myself—who to marry and
what work to do.” As the noisy group puts on their burqas before they head
out, they agree, “We can now make these two decisions ourselves.”


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