Written by: Mahnaz Shujrah
Posted on: May 26, 2022 | 
| 中文
(L to R) Mirza Azim Beg Chughtai, Ismat Chughtai, Rashid Jahan
A well written autobiography is an absolute treat to read. Almost like a conversation with someone from another time, another world. The history of so many years, the sentiments of so many communities captured mesmerizingly, yet simply, by words on a page.
Kaghazi Hai Pairahan (The Paper Attire) is the autobiography of a remarkable and a widely acclaimed Urdu writer Ismat Chughtai. The original memoir, published in 1994, was written in Urdu. M. Asaduddin translated the work into English, titled “A life in Words: Memoirs”, in 2013. In 2016, Kaghazi Hai Pairahan was translated as “The Paper Attire” by Noor Zaheer, the version which I came across by chance.
The title caught my attention and I started reading out of curiosity. I had heard a great deal about Ismat Chughtai and the Progressive Writers Association, but was not familiar with any of her works. My first realization was that this must have been extremely beautiful to read in Urdu. Still, I felt the translation was well done, conveying the nuances and pauses in between dialogues. Most importantly, I feel it gives access to those who may not be able to read Urdu fluently.
Ismat Chughtai’s life covers the period from 1915 to 1991, during which she experienced a number of political and personal upheavals. She was the second last of ten siblings. She spent much of her life around her siblings, mostly brothers, since her sisters were already married when she was growing up. She would recall anecdotes with Mirza Azim Beg Chughtai, her second oldest brother, whom she acknowledges as her mentor. Chughtai credits him, along with her father, for supporting her non-conformist ideas. She also praises Rashid Jahan, a leading feminist Urdu writer of the Progressive Writers Association, as an influence and inspiration for her writing.
Ismat Chughtai in her youth
What came across most vividly for me was her introspective nature. She could untangle everyday interactions and events and present a fresh perspective. The quest for education is a recurring theme in her memoir, and she goes on to describe her life as a student at Aligarh Muslim University and Isabella Thoburn College. As a girl, I found the different phases of growing up to be relatable, for example, the time when she lived on her own while teaching at Aligarh. The honesty and candidness made the text feel alive and relevant. One may not agree with everything that is said, and in the words of Ismat Chughtai herself, one needn’t believe every idea that is written. As a history enthusiast, it also paints a first-hand account of India before Partition, and I feel that I have experienced travelling by train countless times to Aligarh, Jodhpur, Lucknow, Agra and so many other cities through her memoir.
Her insights were ahead of her time and thought-provoking. In one instance she says: “In my stories I have written a great deal about women’s economic subjugation and helplessness. If a girl obeys the men in her family simply because she is economically dependent on them, then it is not obedience but deception. If a wife stays with her husband simply because he is her provider, then she’s as helpless as a prostitute. The children born of such a mother will only display helplessness and a slavish mentality. Such people would always be dependent on the munificence of developed nations. As long as the women of our country continue to suffer oppression without resistance, we will be weighed down by a sense of inferiority in political and economic spheres”.
The 2016 hardback version published by Oxford University Press is holistic; it provides a detailed introduction by the translator, Noor Zaheer, along with sketches of Ismat Chughtai by the renowned short story writer Patras Bukhari, and her friend and famous writer, Saadat Hasan Manto. The book also provides essays of Chughtai on other writers, including Manto, Asrarul Haq Majaz and Khawaja Ahmad Abbas. The autobiography itself is divided into fifteen chapters. At first the style can be a bit confusing, as she recreates entire scenes from her childhood and then jumps several years ahead all at once, described in equal depth. However, I felt this kept the text alive, engaging and closer to how real-life conversations are. Manto explains her style as, “Ismat’s tongue and pen both are very fast. Often, when she starts writing, her mind races, leaving the words panting far behind. When she speaks, words tumble over each other.”
A rare picture of Ismat Chughtai
Chughtai is very self-effacing in her writing. She focused on the events, weaving them into her writings. For instance, she talks about her trip to Lahore, where she was to be presented in court, along with Manto, on charges of obscenity for one of her short stories. This event was probably responsible for her rise to fame, but for Chughtai each story she wrote was individually inspired, rather than the result of a trend or attempt to fulfill readers’ expectations.
About Chughtai, Patras Bukhari says: “There are a few stories of Ismat that one suspects have been produced keeping the society in mind. But any attempt by her to conform to the norms of society have been a failure. Ismat must have given a serious thought to the evils that plagued the society and which upset her. Ismat’s interests lie in individuals and their affairs, their fears and excitements, their animosities, and deceptions and in those problems, that, when confronted, make the body tremble and the mind numb.”
Some of her work has been adapted into plays and films as well, immortalizing her thoughts for the coming generations. Chughtai’s view of life is reflected in Ghalib’s couplet on which she has based the title of her memoir: that life is ephemeral and fragile. This brings us to the couplet by Ghalib, which inspired the title of the book:
“naqsh fariyaadi hai kis ki shokhi-e-tahrir ka
kaghzi hai pairahan har paikar-e-taswir ka”
-Ghalib
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