"THERE LIES MY COUNTRY"

Undoing nationalisms in Fahmida Riaz's exile writings

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Today, it might be called sedition. Back in 1983, though, it was mostly your typical gathering of Bombay’s Marxist literati. Sitting at the centre of a white dias on Prithvi Theatre’s stage, the illustrious Urdu writer Ismat Chughtai was telling stories of her travels as the audience erupted in anarchic laughter every few moments. But as joyous as the occasion was, its intentions were serious. Minutes earlier, the poet Ali Sardar Jafri, who sat to Chughtai’s right, had recited poems “for every country in the Third World that was facing injustice and oppression.” At the other end of the dias was the poet and film lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri, who had recited verses about political leaders stealing the voices of ordinary people. And earlier that evening, AK Hangal, the event’s compere and an actor best known for films such as Sholay and Aaina, had introduced a choir that sang a Faiz Ahmed Faiz poem about workers rising up to claim their rights.

But this event was about none of these stars or the broad, unnamed revolution in which they all believed. It was about expressing solidarity with a particular cause and a particular person—the woman who sat hunched, on Chughtai’s left. A floral-printed sari pulled around her shoulders, the woman puffed a cigarette on stage. Throughout the evening, she opened a little book and, in a thin but commanding voice, read out poems. One about India’s Emergency under Indira Gandhi. Another about women overthrowing dictators. Another in the form of a postcard sent by political prisoners. The audience clapped and roared in admiration, even though the woman was unfamiliar to most of them. Fleeing the possibility of a death penalty, she had arrived in India from across the border only two years earlier. Her name was Fahmida Riaz. And this event, held in her honour, was called “Ek Shaam Pakistan Ke Naam”—An Evening for Pakistan.