The first few pages of the book engross me and I marvel at the skill that the translator needs to capture the essence and meaning of the original words. To transform poetry into prose is a daunting task – and when the original is a language like Urdu, then the task becomes well-nigh impossible. I think about the sub-titles to Hindi songs that I frequently giggle over even as I realize fully well that there’s just no equivalent match in English to convey the dreamy sentiments and heart-melting magic of an old Rafi song or others from the era.
Har shyam aakhon par tera aanchal lehraye, Har raat yaadon ki baraat le aaye; Mein saans leta hoon, teri khushboo aati hai, Ek mehka mehka sa paigaam laati hai; Mere dil ki dhadkan bhi, tere geet gaati hai
Even exceptional skill and masterful word-smithery cannot capture the heart and soul of such lyrics.
I go from enjoying the first few pages to becoming completely distracted by the translation. I start parallel-processing in my head as I’m reading – “Allah, only you can guide the raft of this household safely across.” – अल्लाह – इस घर की कश्ती को सहीसलामत पार तुम्हीं लगा सकते हो!
Then I get to wondering if it’s not too casual and irreverent to address Allah as तुम – and think back to all the Bollywood movie dialogues and songs that invoke Bhagwan and realize with a start that apparently we’ve always been addressing the Almighty in a familiar तुम way and never आप! How very odd – but I digress! These constantly running thoughts inside my head take away from the focus of following the thread in the narrative. I am not even going to ponder upon the odd phrase “Tehmina’s face turned turmeric yellow!” – but others – “The arrow had already left its bow”; “what is this passion that leaves loved ones to roast in an oven of sorrow?”“Where have these people gone and died?” (कहाँ जाके मर गये ये लोग); His lordship burned up and turned to ash!” (नवाबज़ादे जल के राख हो गये);
Then there are words like “Gali window”, “ghazals” -“an engraved lota, a paandan” etc. and I wonder how that is perceived/understood by someone not familiar with Hindi/Urdu at all. Then I get distracted again – “why don’t you just give me poison instead?” (मुझे ज़हरक्यों नहीं पिला देते); “Put your hand on my head and swear you won’t fight” (मेरे सर पेहाथ रख के क़सम खाओ के तुम लड़ोगे नहीं) STOP HEAD – I reprimand myself.
As for the story itself – I find the characters are very acrimonious for the most part:
Amma is a bitter woman and every time she opens her mouth, she makes me feel glad she’s no relative of mine! And how mean she is towards Safdar before he is sent away to study. And so sycophantic when it comes to the “white-skinned” angrezis – whether the principal at Aliya’s school or her sister-in-law that she’s so proud of flaunting – even though in name only. And so ungrateful to Aunty even though she’s taken her in to her home as only duty-bound family would/should.
Chammi – even though I should feel sorry for her I don’t – she’s extremely disruptive and acts out like a brat so often that I find it hard to know if she’s a five year old or a teenager. With a temperament so mercurial, even I am on edge wondering from one paragraph to the next whether she’s going to be a thundercloud or a sunny day. And how on earth can her own wedding have been kept a secret from her until the very last minute – for days and days? And every time she calls Aliya “Bajiya” I get distracted again – this time I think of chai & pakodas (I blame this on Bollywood – it never educated me on “bajiyas”)!
Kareeman Bua – how mean she is towards Asrar Miyan – and everyone else is guilty by the very silence they maintain. Even Aliya – runs away when she cannot stand the cruelty – but never once takes a bold stand.
Najma Aunty – openly an Anglophile with her MA English and her constant urging to everyone to give up their Urdu for English; always making demeaning remarks about everyone who is not as educated as she is (and no one – at least in her household – is). She announces her own wedding shocking her conventional family and says that she herself is her own dowry. “Well said”, I may have applauded her (and woman-power) – had she been at least a little likeable!
The men in this story are all vague and drift in and out as “activists” though I can never fully comprehend the exact nature of their struggle or what it is that they do. Abba is sent to jail (fairly early in the book) for “trying to kill” an Englishman and we never see him alive again.
Uncle is either hosting a gathering with like-minded men or is in Delhi or “away” for a few days quite frequently. He is actively involved with “Congress” just as his son Jameel is with the opposing “Muslim Leaguers” – both have a common enemy – the English – but that doesn’t stop them from the constant Hindu-Muslim tension and verbal in-fighting between each other. (Not unlike Covid that should have united the whole world in our efforts to fight it, but has somehow driven us further apart! There really is no chance for World Peace)!
When Pakistan is “created” towards the end of the book, Uncle “seemed felled by the shock”! REALLY?! “Is he that naive or just plain stupid”, I can’t help but wonder. Finally “mamoo” comes through inviting Aliya & Amma to go to Pakistan with him – but once there Amma & Aliya have to live separately as “Englishwomen didn’t even like to live with their own mothers”!
In the last few pages – everything happens swiftly – like a series of events that unfold so rapidly that it becomes almost a blur. Uncle is killed and dies a martyr. Poor ill-fated Asrar Miyan is kicked out. Shakeel – the runaway brother reappears briefly to steal (borrow?!) some money from Aliya and leave. Najma aunty wants to divorce her husband because he lied about his MA degree and can barely speak two words in English (haha)! Chammi assaults her mother-in-law (Go Chammi!) and returns to aunty and ends up marrying Jameel (who is supposed to be pining for Aliya); Safdar resurfaces and just when it feels like Aliya & he will make a match of it after all – Amma or no Amma – he speaks of material things and instantly loses Aliya’s affection, interest and respect in one fell swoop.
The courtyard – the aangan – central to the home (where Aliya spends a large part of her life) as well as the characters and the many turbulent dramas that it witnesses – really should have been a happy place – a gathering point for food, conversation, the endless paan and betel-nut cracking and a lifetime of happy experiences and memories. Instead – every single woman in the story – except maybe Aunty – make the courtyard so miserable and filled with negativity that when the book comes to (what I think) an abrupt ending, I feel relieved and drained at the same time. I am happy to be out of their miserable lives!
“God – I thank you lakh-lakh times that I am finally rid of these characters” (भगवान – तेरा लाख लाख शुक्र है कि आख़िर में इन व्यक्तियों से छुटकारा मिल गया)