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Flak and Censor: Ismat Chughtai's 'Lihaaf,' The Story on Trial

Article · July 2017

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 Flak and Censor:
Ismat Chughtai’s ‘Lihaaf’,
The Story on Trial
Shaifta Ayub

Urdu literature is no stranger to literary controversies. The 20th century

witnessed a self-consciously progressive writing in Urdu literature. Highly
influenced by the socio-political, economic and cultural flux that affected the lives
of whole humanity, these Urdu literary stalwarts wrote with a specific aim of
promoting modernity, socialism and gender consciousness, especially among
women. The changing socio-cultural environment inspired some young writers to
transform the mindset prevalent in the society by developing a non-conformist
outlook towards issues of family, patriarchy, sex, and man-woman relationship. A
ground breaking radical work, Angarey (Live Coals),1 written in 1932, perfectly
captured the zeitgeist of the Progressive Writer’s Movement (PWM). It was co-
authored by a group of four young, qualified intellectuals who belonged to the
wealthy social-class i.e. Sajjad Zaheer, Ahmed Ali, Mahmuduzzafar and Dr. Rashid
Jahan. Angarey comprised ten works (nine short stories and a play), five of which
have been written by Sajjad Zaheer, two by Ahmed Ali, one by Mahmuduzzafar
and two works of fiction by Dr. Rashid Jahan, including a drama styled in the shape
of a dialogue.2 Written with an aim of cognitive revolution, the collection of stories
were characterised by ‘scathing satire, caustic humor and hard-hitting taunts that
are aimed at questioning the efficacy of age-old traditional beliefs and shaking the
Muslim middle-class populace out of its complacency, in a language that is direct
and devoid of any ostentation’ (Rizvi 2007: 98). Since the stories mounted a strong
critique on the hypocritical morals and mores of the community, they were severely
censured resulting in an anti-Angarey campaign that accused the authors of being
‘intoxicated by English education and brainwashed into attacking Islam and its
tenets’ (Gopal 2005: 16). Though not that aesthetically rich, the book became a
38 IACLALS 2017

landmark in Urdu literature. Not only was the book denounced, the authors also
were threatened with deadly consequences. Given the literary controversy and
the politically volatile atmosphere that it led to, the British government banned the
book on March 15, 1933 under section 295A of the Indian Penal Code. The section
empowered the government to ban all the books having a ‘deliberate and malicious
intention of outraging the religious feeling of any class of His Majesty’s subjects’
(Shingavi 2014: n. pag.). The police destroyed all the copies but five, two of which
were sent to British Library’s Oriental and India Office Collections. Priyamvada
Gopal quotes from Mahmuduzzafar’s letter that he wrote to the editor of The
Leader where he explains the ‘civilizing mission’ undertaken by Angarey authors,
The authors of this book do not wish to make an apology for it. They leave it to float
or sink of itself... . They have chosen the particular field of Islam not because they
bear it any ‘special’ malice, but because, being born into that particular society, they
felt themselves better qualified to speak for that alone. They were more sure of their
ground there. (qtd. in Gopal 2005: 16)

Exposing the pseudo-modest Muslim spaces and the hypocrisies behind the veil,
these stories aimed at social reconstruction and mental enlightenment.
Mahmuduzzafar’s bold statement proved catalytic for the formation of the League
of the Progressive Writers, which led to the 1936 formation of the All India
Progressive Writers’ Association (AIPWA). Angarey fostered an environment of
interrogation and questioning of ‘us’ or ‘our’ identities, which was reflected in a
body of literature in the decades to come. AIPWA advocated that its followers
would ‘while claiming to be inheritors of the best traditions of Indian civilisation,
criticise ruthlessly, in all its political, economic and cultural aspects, the spirit of
reaction in (their) country; and (would) foster through interpretative and creative
works– everything that will lead (their) country to the new life for which it is
striving’ (Coppola 1988: 11). Socially critical novels which Europe saw in 19th
century bloomed in Urdu fiction only in the 20th century. A few of such novels that
reflected on the evils prevalent in those times aimed at awakening the reader from
their complacency to work towards bringing about some essential reforms in society.
Two exemplary novels written by Abdul Haleem Sharar (1860-1926) include Badr-
un-Nisa ki Musibat (The Tragedy of the Bride) and Agha Sadiq ki Shadi (The
Wedding of Agha Sadiq), scathingly comment on the tragic consequences that
result from mismatched marriages and observance of purdah. Likewise, Nazir Ahmad
(1831-1912) advocated girls’ education in the novels, Taubat-al-Nasuh (1874)
translated by M. Kempson as The Repentence of Nussooh: The Tale of a Muslim
Family a Hundred Years Ago (1884), and Mirat-ul-Uroos (1869) translated by G. E.
Ward as The Bride’s Mirror: A Tale of Life in Delhi a Hundred Years Ago (1903).3
Among Urdu women writers, Dr. Rashid Jahan, Ismat Chughtai, Khadija Mastur
and Hajira Masroor were influential in furthering the ideals of Progressive Writer’s
Movement (PWM) through their writing. Dr. Rashid Jahan being the only woman
contributor to the Angarey collection, was no less controversial than her male
Ismat Chughtai’s ‘Lihaaf ’ 39

counterparts. Labelled as the Urdu Literature’s First Angry Young Woman, Rashid
Jahan was castigated and targeted in anti-Angarey campaigns. The religious zealots
were unable to accept the fact that a Muslim woman should rebel against them and
write candidly about the woman’s body and the oppression she had to endure.
Mocked as ‘Angareywali’ (The Fiery Woman), she was threatened with having her
‘nose cut off’ and ‘acid thrown on her face’ (Gopal 2005: 32). Ismat Chughtai
described the furore that Angarey caused in her college in her memoir, Kagazi hai
Pairahan (Attired in Paper) where a zealous cleric, Shahid Ahrarvi turned his
attention to the Girls’ College in Aligarh and demanded that the ‘whorehouse’ be
shutdown and ‘published obscene cartoons of Rasheeda Apa and other writers’
(Chughtai 2012: 151). Rashid Jahan instilled the courage in all women writers to
speak about women’s bodies, sex and modernity. As Ali Sardar Jafri remarked in his
memoriam of Rashid Jahan that her stories were a ‘direct protest against the male
sex, particularly the Indian husband, (and this did) a great deal to provoke the
males and concentrated their ire against the authoress’ (qtd. in Coppola 1988: 32).
The fracas and furore over Angarey was followed only a few years later by
another literary ‘scandal’. The controversy arose with the publication of Ismat
Chughtai’s short story, ‘Lihaaf’ (The Quilt), which was published in an Urdu literary
journal titled Adab-e-Lateef in 1942.4 It was hailed by critics as a bold example of
radical feminist politics. Ismat Chughtai, the ‘Lady Chenghez Khan’,5 was no less
rebellious and non-conformist in her writings than Dr. Rashid Jahan. Chughtai’s
pen sheared the purdah behind which the hypocritical world of middle class Muslim
women resounded with gossip and scandal, desires and urges, jealousies and
tensions, customs and traditions, oppression and little rebellions. She interrogated
the patriarchal set-up of Indian society, exposing its double standards with the aim
of subverting it. Gender was a constitutive element in her writing where ‘themes
with a more familiar connection to the “woman question”– education, domesticity,
and familial politics – came to intersect with questions of citizenship, political
responsibility, labour, sexuality, class, caste, religion and ethics’ (Batra 2010: 28).
Capturing the real face of society, not only did Chughtai present men as oppressors
but also showed how women can be equally oppressive, internalising patriarchal
mores and values, even when they are problematic for them.
Ismat Chughtai’s female characters were not mere nameless adjuncts of the
‘household machinery’. They asserted their independence and shook to the core
the time-honoured customs and values. Her women characters appear to equal the
strength of a Kali6 or Tiamat.7 Characters like Rani in ‘Til’, Rukhsana in ‘Amar Bel’,
Shamman in Terhi Lakeer, Raffo Baaji from ‘Bhool Bhullaiyan’, Begum Jaan from
‘Lihaaf’ – were all apparently normal human beings exhibiting no signs of
psychological or physical imbalance. Chughtai’s woman was a complete woman,
searching for an opportunity to break out of her inhibitions and lead her life on her
own terms. This is amply demonstrated in her characters like Neera from the
eponymous story who was a prostitute; Raffo Baaji, the heroine of the story
‘Bhool Bhullaiyan’ who was sexually involved before marriage and Gainda from
40 IACLALS 2017

the eponymous story who was shown getting pregnant because of her innocence
and natural impulses.
Given her bold and outrageous stories, Chughtai was not only socially
ostracised but also tried in court for obscenity. After being charged with obscenity
for ‘Lihaaf’ by the British government, Ismat unapologetically chose to contest it
in court. Fortunately, unlike Angarey which remained banned for several decades,
‘Lihaaf’ won its case in the Lahore high court. Chughtai openly lampooned the
worn-out social conventions and values of middle class Muslim household in her
writing. In an article titled ‘Progressive Literature and I’, she remarks,
Ever since I began writing, I considered my elders my real enemies. I was determined
to free myself from their clutches. I tried to break all the restrictions I had suffered
within the four walls of the house. I projected a female character in my stories who
refused to live by old values, that is, false ideals of shame and honour, one who was
not prepared to sacrifice her life for the sake of a mere show of so-called respectability
of her family or “khandaan.” (Paul 2000: 129–30)

Although ‘Lihaaf’ did not portray explicit lesbian relationship, it was severely
criticised for the depiction of relationship between Begum Jaan and her maid,
Rabbo with sexual overtones. An innocent child, unconscious of the inhibitions
imposed by the society, narrates the story. The controversy hinged on what the
child saw and heard while staying with her aunt:
I woke up at night and was scared. It was pitch dark and Begum Jaan’s quilt was
shaking vigorously, as though an elephant was struggling inside.
‘Begum Jaan...’ I could barely form the words out of fear. The elephant stopped
shaking, and the quilt came down… .
But the following night I woke up again and heard Begum Jaan and Rabbo arguing in
subdued tones. I could not hear what the upshot of the tiff was, but I heard Rabbo
crying. Then came the slurping sound of a cat licking a plate... . I was scared and went
back to sleep. (Chughtai 2001: 17–18)

Chughtai’s treatment of female sexuality and lesbianism, however subtle, was

unprecedented in modern Indian literature. The characters of the story belonged
to the modest enclosed space of the zenana. Zenana refers to the enclosed, confined
quarters in a Muslim household, which has little interaction with the outside world.
Chughtai sexualised the zenana by subtly hinting at homoerotic desires and showed
how women negotiate with their sexual desires within that space. In a patriarchal
set up, it was forbidden to delineate women’s sexual desires but Chughtai believed
that ‘experiences can never be obscene if they are based on authentic realities of
life’.8 Giving a blow to the patriarchal ideology, Chughtai proved that zenana is no
sanctum sanctorum of the house and was equally vulnerable to sexual deviations.
Begum Jaan’s character foregrounds the tension between modernity and
traditionalism. No doubt, ‘Lihaaf’ brought notoriety to Chughtai but it also propelled
Ismat Chughtai’s ‘Lihaaf ’ 41

her to the road to fame as the groundbreaking feminist writer of modern Urdu
fiction.
Chughtai was bold enough to write about a woman’s body giving vent to her
suppressed sexuality. Not only did she give free expression to Begum Jaan’s
sexual frustrations, but also found her liberation in Rabbo’s company, making that
a means of self-realisation and self-actualisation for her. The same-sex politics in
‘Lihaaf’ broke the silence about the sexual needs of a woman by openly delineating
her subversive desires and aspirations. Struggling in the new modern space,
Chughtai laid a claim on her right to talk about the female body and asserted her
right to discuss the pleasure and fulfilment that the female body seeks.
The daughter of reform, Chughtai wrote ‘Lihaaf’ as a pasquinade of marriage9
as an economic enterprise where women were treated as objects and subservient
creatures. In the story, Begum Jaan is married to the rich Nawab, ‘who was of “ripe
years” because he was very virtuous’ (Chughtai 2001: 13). Chughtai often portrayed
in her stories marriages where women were disposable, dispensable, to be used
and discarded. Likewise, Begum Jaan was no more than a commodity for the
Nawab who ‘tucked her away in the house with his other possessions and promptly
forgot her’ (Chughtai 2001: 14). The Nawab’s social honour and piety rested on the
fact that no one had ever seen a nautch girl or prostitute in his house and he had
performed hajj. The Nawab’s indifference towards women made him a righteous
person. Nonetheless, the Nawab’s interest in ‘young, fair and slender-waisted’
boys, which implicitly has homosexual overtones, was taken for granted. The
Nawab continued his homosexual activities by using a pedagogical subterfuge
whereas the frail, beautiful Begum Jaan ‘wasted away in anguished loneliness’
(Chughtai 2001: 14). Undoubtedly, it was the Nawab who had homosexual
tendencies as the Begum Jaan, in her sexual desperation, resorted to all means to
divert his attention towards her: ‘amulets, talismans, black magic and other ways
of retaining the love of the straying husband’ (Chughtai 2001: 14). Unsatisfied and
heartbroken, Begum Jaan turned to reading ‘romantic novels’ and ‘sentimental
verse’ but found no relief. The yearning for love gave her sleepless nights. She
cursed her existence. But Rabbo’s company filled the void in her life and ‘rescued
her from the fall’ (Chughtai 2001: 15). She began to find pleasure in her massages,
in her recipes and in her touch: ‘Soon her thin body began to fill out. Her cheeks
began to glow, and she blossomed’ (Chughtai 2001: 15). Begum Jaan became an
epitome of modernism transcending all barriers to seek sexual fulfilment in another
woman, Rabbo. Begum Jaan refused to succumb to patriarchal norms and found
solace in a new gendered consciousness. Chughtai was least interested in
endorsing lesbianism. The story is rather an honest attempt at exposing the pseudo-
decent pretensions of Muslim households. It lays bare the afflicted lives of women
within the sacred space (zenana) of the house.
Exposing the decadent morality of middle class Muslims, Ismat used her lived
experience and characters from her own surroundings in the story to unravel the
world behind the veil as she herself said, the story of ‘Lihaaf’ was based on the
42 IACLALS 2017

actual life of Nawab Swale Khan of Aligarh, who was a homosexual. In one of the
chapters of her autobiography, ‘In the Name of Those Married Women’, Chughtai
says,
When I wrote ‘Lihaaf,’ there was a veritable explosion. I was torn to shreds in the
literary arena.… I have been branded an obscene writer. No one bothered about what
I had written before or after ‘Lihaaf.’ I was put down as a purveyor of sex. (Chughtai
2012: 39-40)
She believed that literature is closely linked to life and a writer is nothing if not a
custodian of life. She puts down everything with objectivity in her stories, as her
characters do not speak her language but their own idiom. The characters of
Chughtai spoke the language spoken by men and women living in the courtyards
and vestibules of Aligarh, Badaun, Agra, Bulandshahar and Itah.
Chughtai did not write ‘Lihaaf’, with an idea of supporting lesbianism or
homosexuality. She explained her motivation for writing the story to an older writer
M. Aslam,10 that she had no idea that it was sinful to write on the subject with
which, ‘Lihaaf’ is concerned. She maintained that if such tendencies existed in the
society she was well within her rights to write about them: ‘[N]or had I read in any
book that such a “disease” . . . such “aberrations” should not be written about’
(Chughtai 2012: 30). Against all filters, Chughtai said that her mind acted like an
ordinary camera recording the reality as it was. Her pen became powerless in her
hand because her mind overwhelmed it. Embedded in ‘Lihaaf’, the idea of
homosexuality was not directly referred to at all. In fact, Chughtai used the word
‘habit’ while describing the Nawab’s fascination for young boys. Likewise, in one
of the chapters of her autobiography, ‘The Golden Spittoon’, Chughtai described
the Nawab’s sons, who were twins, namely, Munne Mian and Pyare Mian, enrolled
with her brother, Shameem at the Aligarh Muslim University. While describing
their demeanor, Chughtai found them odd and effeminate. Nowhere had she
designated them as sexually deviant while describing their unusual habits: ‘[t]he
twin princes were rather odd. They were not interested in women. They liked
dressing up and wearing make-up. . . wore georgette kurtas with a fine embroidery
work of zardozi and silk pyjamas and shoes with inlay work’ (Chughtai 2012: 174–
75).
Chughtai recounted her own reaction when she came to know that she was
charged with obscenity by the Crown and a trial against her was held in the Lahore
court. She could not stop laughing when the police came up at her door with the
summons from the Lahore court, ‘As I read the heading – “Ismat Chughtai vs The
Crown” – I broke into laughter. “Good God, what complaint does the exalted king
have against me to file the suit?” ’ (Chughtai 2012: 22). India has a disturbing trend
of censorship imposed by the mob given the cultural, religious and racial diversities
found here. An idea that may appeal to one community can invite the wrath of
another community. There is a ‘true democratisation of censorship’ where, even if
the government stands for free expression, the books are banned/censored if they
Ismat Chughtai’s ‘Lihaaf ’ 43

provoke a public outcry (Chandran 2010: 27). When a writer ‘transgresses’ the
limits of the acceptable, some vigilante group may demand the suppression of this
non-conformist voice. George Orwell talks about the public rejection faced by
deviant ideas in his essay, ‘The Freedom of the Press’, which was added as a
preface to a later edition of Animal Farm (2003). He says, ‘At any given moment
there is an orthodoxy, a body of ideas which it is assumed that all right-thinking
people will accept without question...Anyone who challenges the prevailing
orthodoxy finds himself silenced with surprising effectiveness’ (Orwell 2003: x).
How could have the reading public spared Ismat Chughtai for writing ‘Lihaaf’?
Some readers were so infuriated that they sent her ‘filthy letters’ which were ‘filled
with such invectives and convoluted obscenities that had they been uttered before
a corpse, it would have got up and run for cover’ (Chughtai 2012: 25). Ismat was so
afraid to check her mail as though the envelopes contained ‘snakes, scorpions and
dragons’. When Jyoti Punwani asked Chughtai if she was the only woman writer
of her times, she replied that there were many of them but they used to write nice
things like how to be a good wife, for example. Talking about the ‘Lihaaf’
controversy she said, ‘ “Lihaaf” landed me in court under a pornographic charge!
The roads would get blocked with the number of people who came to see the
woman who had written a pornographic story’ (Chughtai 2000: 61). Chughtai was
impenitent and unapologetic when accused of obscene writing. When an
interviewer asked her about her story and the charge of obscenity that was levelled
against her, she replied with characteristic nonchalance, ‘As if I care. The obscenity
is in the minds of the people who hold such views. I am an innocent person and my
pen is innocent’ (Ratan 2000: 68). Chughtai refused to toe the treaded line out of
fear of defying the old customs. She depicted the psychological contradictions of
the women whose desires and thoughts were suppressed by the culture and the
ways of life of the landed gentry.
Saadat Hasan Manto, one of the most controversial Urdu writers, was Chughtai’s
contemporary. He was also accused of writing vulgar and obscene stories. They
were sued simultaneously and they had to appear in the same court on the same day.
When police landed up at Chughtai’s home with summons in December 1944, she
flustered the inspector first by refusing to accept it. When she was told that she
might be sent to prison if she refused to accept the summons she replied fearlessly,
‘Prison? Good. I’ve a great desire to see the prison house’ (Chughtai 2012: 22). In the
first hearing, Chughtai was simply asked her name and whether she had written the
story. She ‘admitted to the crime’. The court scheduled the second hearing on
November 1946. ‘Lihaaf’ had dragged both her publisher, Shahid Ahmad Dehalvi
and the calligrapher along with her to the court. During the second hearing,
Chughtai’s lawyer threw the witnesses who had turned up to prove ‘Lihaaf’ obscene
into confusion. They lost their nerves in the face of the lawyer’s cross-examination.
They failed to prove the story obscene. The argument proceeded as follows:
After a good deal of reflection, one of them said: ‘This phrase… “collected lovers” is
obscene’.
44 IACLALS 2017

‘Which word is obscene – “collect” or “lover?”, ’ the lawyer asked.

‘Lover’, replied the witness hesitantly.
‘My lord, the word “lover” has been used by great poets . . . naats, poems written in
praise of the Prophet.’
‘But it is objectionable for girls to collect lovers,’ said the witness… .
‘Censure it as much as you want. But it does not come within the purview of law,’
said the lawyer… .
‘Well, this may not be obscene. But it is reprehensible for an educated lady from a
decent family to write about it,’ the witness thundered. (Chughtai 2012: 36)

With this the case lost steam. As the court failed to find any explicit homoerotic
passage in the story, Chughtai was acquitted of all the charges. The quilt actually
worked as a cover to obscure the sexuality of men and women in a conservative
society. Even Manto was absolved from all blame as the obscenity charge against
the story ‘Bu’ could not be proved.
Interestingly, Manto and Chughtai had gained so much notoriety, that Motley,11
the Mumbai theatre group paid them a tribute by dramatising the trials they had to
face, in the play, Manto Ismat Hazir Hain. The play celebrated the courage they
showed in refusing to kowtow to the dictates of conventional morality. Vijay Nair
talks about the sense of humour and wit possessed by the two writers in his article,
‘The Satire of Obscenity’, where he reports that ‘legend has it that their witty
repartees during their respective trials managed to tickle the most conservative of
judges, allowing them to get off lightly’ (Nair 2012: n. pag.). Chughtai was a
forerunner of feminist writing. Regardless of harsh criticism, Chughtai never shied
away from depicting the suppressed sexuality, abnormal relationships, and
psychologically disturbed states. Living under the regime of censorship and
surveillance, Chughtai continued to push the boundaries of social morality through
her fiction. After the ‘Lihaaf’ storm, Chughtai was never tried for obscenity again.
Surprisingly, even after six to seven decades, these controversial writers are likely
to attract as much protest and criticism today as they did in their lifetime. Only one
thing will be different, that is, earlier writers were lucky to receive fair trials and
were absolved, but now given the contemporary Hindu fundamentalism and Islamic
extremism, it is quite possible that they will be threatened with deadly
consequences.

Notes

1 Angarey is available in two English translations. The first translation, Angarey (2014)
is published by Rupa and translated by Vibha S. Chauhan and Khalid Alvi. The second
translation, Angaaray (2014), a Penguin Books imprint, is translated by Snehal Shingavi.
2 Sajjad Zaheer’s works include ‘Neend Nahin Aati’, ‘Jannat ki Bashaarat’, ‘Garmiyon
ki ek Raat’, ‘Dulaari’ and ‘Phir ye Hangaamah’, Ahmed Ali’s include ‘Baadal Nahin
Aate’ and ‘Mahaavaton ki ek Raat’. Mahmuduzzafar contributed ‘Jawaanmardi’ and
Ismat Chughtai’s ‘Lihaaf ’ 45

Rashid Jahan contributed a play entitled Parde ke Peeche (Behind the Veil) and a
story, ‘Dilli ki Sair’ (Delhi Excursion).
3 The Repentance of Nussooh: The Tale of a Muslim Family a Hundred Years Ago
(1884), was published by W.H. Allen (London) and The Bride’s Mirror: A Tale of Life
in Delhi a Hundred Years Ago (1903) was published by Frowde (London).
4 Adab-e-Lateef, one of the oldest Urdu literary magazines was launched in 1935 by an
enlightened intellectual, Barkat Ali Chaudhry in Lahore. The magazine encouraged
progressive writers by publishing their works. It turned into a constructive platform
for progressive writers who exposed social evils and imperialist designs through their
writings in its pages.
5. Qurratulain Hyder (Urdu novelist and short story writer), dubbed Chughtai as ‘Lady
Chenghez Khan’ in an eponymous article. She says, ‘Ismat was a Chughtai, an equestrian
and an archer who never missed the mark in the battle-field of Urdu Literature’ (Hyder
2000: 205). The article describes Ismat as a free thinker and reflects upon how she
performed a mercurial role in a tumultuous period of social and literary revolution.
6. Kali or Kalika is the Hindu goddess evoked in mythology as a destroyer of evil forces.
7. Tiamat is a Sumerian goddess of ocean whose waves of existence sweep away all that
comes in her way. She is considered the monstrous embodiment of primordial chaos.
8. Cited in Asaduddin (1999: 89).
9. Chughtai’s novel, The Heart Breaks Free (1993), like ‘Lihaaf’, is narrated by a
precocious young girl. The story revolves around a pale, sickly, lifeless woman Qudsia
who is the neglected first wife of a ‘progressive’ Muslim man who has returned from
England with a degree in medicine and an English wife. Qudsia, like Begum Jaan,
revolts against it, and openly declares her love for her cousin Shabir and elopes with
him. Through Qudsia, Chughtai comments on the discriminatory provisos of polygamy,
divorce and religious bindings on women. For a detailed understanding of Chughtai’s
engagement with marriage, polygamy and divorce and its parallel legislative reforms
that took place in her times, read Kanika Batra’s article, ‘The Home, the Veil and the
World: Reading Ismat Chughtai Towards a “Progressive” History of the Indian Women’s
Movement’.
10. Chughtai narrates the story of the court case regarding her story ‘Lihaaf’ in one of the
chapters, ‘In the Name of those Married Women’ of her autobiography, Kaghazi hai
Pairahan, translated by M. Asaduddin as A Life in Words: Memoirs. The chapter
contains a detailed account of her journey from Bombay to Lahore to attend the trial.
She also talks about her conversations with Saadat Hasan Manto (who was being tried
for ‘Bu’), Shahid Ahmad Dehalvi, her publisher and M. Aslam, an older writer. An
important read, the chapter helps in understanding how the case and the proceedings
proved a therapy for her.
11 The Mumbai-based theatre group, Motley, was jointly run by actors Naseeruddin
Shah and Ratna Pathak. Started by the four famed actors, Benjamin Gilani, Ratna
Pathak, Tom Alter and Naseeruddin Shah, back in 1979, the theatre group is credited
with not only keeping alive the great art of Indian theatre but also serving as a breeding
ground for new talent for Indian cinema.

References

Asaduddin, M. (1999): Ismat Chughtai [Monograph on Makers of Indian Literature Series],

New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi.
 46 IACLALS 2017

Batra, Kanika (2010): ‘The Home, The Veil, and the World: Reading Ismat Chughtai
Towards a “Progressive” History of the Indian Women’s Movement’, Feminist Review,
95(1): 27–44.
Chandran, Mini (2010): ‘The Democratisation of Censorship: Books and the Indian Public’,
Economic and Political Weekly, 45(40): 27–31.
Chughtai, Ismat (2012): A Life in Words: Memoirs, M. Asaduddin (trans.), New Delhi:
Penguin.
Chughtai, Ismat (2001): Lifting the Veil: Selected Writings of Ismat Chughtai, M. Asaduddin
(trans.), New Delhi: Penguin.
Chughtai, Ismat (2000): ‘I Could Never Love Anyone More Than Myself’, in Sukrita Paul
Kumar and Sadique (eds), Ismat: Her Life, Her Times, New Delhi: Katha, p. 61.
Coppola, Carlo (1988): Marxist Influences and South Asian Literature, Delhi: Chanakya
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Gopal, Priyamvada (2005): Literary Radicalism: Gender, Nation, and the Transition to
Independence, London: Routledge.
Hashmi, Salman (trans.), (2000): ‘Ismat’s Women’, in Sukrita Paul Kumar and Sadique
(eds), Ismat: Her Life, Her Times, New Delhi: Katha, pp. 194–202.
Nair, Vijay (2012): ‘The Satire of Obscenity’, Sampsonia Way: An Online Magazine for
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