“As targeted assaults on women and Muslims increase, the marginalised can be empowered through stories that must be told in traditional and innovative ways.”
Humra Quraishi
Women’s Day has come and gone! Women are surviving how they were! Promises of their well-being, safety, and sound upkeep were confined to the stale political speeches of the rulers of the day. Nothing concrete can be expected to take place in a situation where reported cases of targeted assaults and attacks against them are on the rise.
I don’t attend Women’s Day functions for no specific reason except for the basic fact that, despite all the hyped propaganda the condition of our women hasn’t improved in recent years.
But last Friday, I did attend one of the discussions, focusing on women, hosted by Om Books International. Hosted by Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri, editor-in-chief, the interactive session with three eminent writers – Aruna Chakravarti, Harshali Singh and Nandini Sen – revolved around the art of storytelling.
I was drawn to the very concept—the art of storytelling. Here, I’d like to focus on the fact that perhaps the only viable option that can bring about some level of relief to women is to tell and upload their stories in whichever form they can. Those who cannot write their stories should try to relay them in the vocal mode of Dastangoi. Yes, why not? It’s our traditional and age-old style of relaying stories.
Let language or regional barriers not come in the way. In this day and age of translations and translators, there are several options to help bridge gaps and boundaries. Above all, human emotions remain unchanging, whether you are here or there.
Last Friday afternoon, as I moderated the session, I asked the panelists to comment on this reality that bothers me: why is it that though each one of us has hundreds of stories to offload, only a handful manage to do so, with the rest carrying all their untold tales with them till their dying day. Why?
There’s another connected factor, or call it an offshoot, contrary to the myth that storytelling or writing could be easygoing, it isn’t. It’s tough. But stories ought to be told. They should be told a hundred times, relayed from one generation to the next. One ought to be prepared that storytelling could be emotionally draining and involves much effort and time, but it’s all worth it…. I would go to the extent of saying that storytelling should be encouraged right at the school and college levels. It is essential for emotional upkeep and survival in these turbulent times, when the going gets tough.
TOUGH IT GETS EACH SINGLE DAY
Last week’s visual shots of a Delhi Police sub-inspector kicking and slapping namazis offering Friday afternoon prayers on the road outside a mosque in the Inderlok locality of the capital city appalled me. Though, as I have been writing all along, nothing shocks one in these times, those shots were much too horrifying. It went to relay how very third-class and rotten we have become. How the system has failed us. Disasters are taking place; atrocities are heaped every single day.
I recall that, as a child, I would often accompany my Abba to the local mosque for the Friday prayers. I would either sit back in the fiat or loiter around the outskirts of the mosque till the prayers were over, as in the traditional setups of Uttar Pradesh, girls and women were not permitted inside mosques. No one bothered, heaped questions, slapped, or kicked around. Nah, nothing like today, when the Muslim community can be targeted under the various alibis. Many times, no alibis are required.
Also, it got me thinking that if all these violent, communally charged attacks are taking place out there in the open in the national capital, then what must be happening inside jails and prisons, where the inmates are completely at the mercy of the jail staff? There are no mobiles and cameras to expose the targeted assaults.
And with the latest news reports of the implementation of the CAA, apprehensions are growing. They bring into focus the violence and anarchy unleashed on the protestors over four winters back. If you recall, as the 2020 winter had peaked, so did protests by individuals and the general masses and the violence unleashed by the State machinery. Two specific instances stood out.
The news report of Hugh Tomlinson and Saurabh Sharma, published in The Times (UK) dated January 10, 2020, stated, “The crowd scattered and word spread up the street in panic: ‘Police, police.’ While the protestors scrambled to flee over the rooftops of the block in old Lucknow, dozens of officers burst in below, raining blows on women and children. The Muslim families cowered from their attackers. ‘Take off her veil, check if she’s a man,’ one officer yelled, pointing to Salma Hussain, 29, who wept as she recalled the humiliation. The women were groped and officers commented on their breasts as they beat them. ‘One man put a gun to my head’, said Tabassum Raza, 26. He said: ‘Tell me where the men are hiding or I’ll shoot you.’”
In yet another incident, Lucknow-based activist Sadaf Jafar detailed how a particular male police officer in Lucknow’s Hazratgan police station pulled her by her hair, kicked and punched her in the abdomen, and went on doing so till she started bleeding – blood soaking the clothes on her, blood trickling down … Of course, not to overlook the “Go to Pakistan” communal- dripping taunts thrown at her by the so-called protectors of the masses…
As I’ve mentioned apprehensions are growing. Worries surmount in these times when an average citizen of this country is going through a severe crisis in terms of
even providing adequate food to his family. With that, malnourished hungry, and food-deprived are hundreds and thousands of our fellow citizens. If CAA is implemented it will only bring about disaster in terms of the very basic survival of
hundreds of hundreds amongst us. Disadvantaged communities will be targeted.
Compounding the grim ground realities.
Ending this week’s column by this verse of Akbar Hussain Akbar Allahabadi from Khushwant Singh’s – Celebrating the best of Urdu poetry (Penguin books):
‘The Name of God/
My rivals have lodged complaints against me in police stations for /
the crime/
That Akbar continues to take the
name of God in the present age/
and time.’
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