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Of a symbolic daughter

Shahid Alam reads tales with mixed feelings
\ HE'S like Babushka, the Russian-nested doll. Within
V J the layers ofher cardinal roles in her life, the daughter ofher parents and for her parents is always there." The author of Bom Daughter, Perveen Rasheed, thus, in her own words, encapsulates the essence of her anthology of eighteen stories, an endeavour suggested by "my beloved one, the father of our daughter." And she has dedicated the book to their daughter, fitting since all the stories revolve around the woman as a daughter, wife, mother, or child, or all in some combination or the other. The men in the stories only serve as lightning rods, as it were, of the tale of the daughter to be told in her different roles from childhood to advanced age.
"The Sacrifice" contains some homespun wisdom in preparing a girl for her shoshurbari. Some of these, while sounding outrageous to not a few, continue a tradition among Bengalis going back to recorded (and, especially, oral) history: "Do you have any idea how much a family's reputation and honour depend on a daughter's own honour and other behaviours?" one of the protagonists in the story asks. "One small bad gossip about you, my daughter, will throw the family in disgrace. Not so with sons though." She continues, "A good daughter is she who never lets her in-laws wag their tongues with the khota'.. .all that she brought from her parents is her big stomach'. ”
Most of the stories deal with women's suffering, injustice, deprivation, and their rights. Some also focus on cultural misunderstandings. From her writings, one may fairly come to the conclusion that Rasheed is well versed in Punjabi, Urdu, and Hindi, besides her native Bengali. In "The Yellow Rose Bowl", the storyteller's (a young woman) mother was turned off against roses (her hitherto favourite flower) because their Haripur Hazara cook-cum-garden advisor, Momman Newoz (the story is set somewhere in the West Punjab and former Northwest Frontier Province area of Pakistan), had brought large roses that emitted a "fetid manure smell!" The reason for his indiscretion: "Begumsowb wanted mitti mini gand.” Until, sometime later, her husband clued her in: "It's certainly not your fault, my dearest. You can have all the lovely, big, sweet smelling, mishti, mishti gondho, red roses you wanted. But your ustaad Momman Newoz, he is familiar with mitti and not mishti when you instructed him."
"Khudey Khoday" is a poignant story of a father's cruelty towards his deformed daughter, a condition he had partly been responsible for bringing about. Yet, the little girl, on regaining consciousness after a severe fall, blurts out, “Bapzaaner bhaat ranti lagbey ney — | (I) need to cook rice for father — author's translation!" "A Designed Dream" takes a matter-of-fact look at an increasing phenomenon in Bangladesh: a striving for upward mobility by women in a male-dominated soci- ety, to take advantage of opportunity when it knocks, and damn the gossip-mongering along the way, all of which are portrayed in the story of a mother from a rural genteel, but not too-well-off, background, and her daughter. The author speaks her own feelings on the subject through the mother: “Why do people cry when a daughter is born to her parents?... Who said daughters are useless. Daughters are fireworks! Daughters are 'lokkhi' — bringer of wealth."
"Once Upon a Magazine..." is a tale of self-discovery of her heritage and dignity by a young Bengali girl studying in a posh English-medium school in then West Pakistan in the 1950s. One of her Urdu-speaking classmates derided her for bringing to class a copy of the well-known Bengali magazine BEGUM in which her mother's poems had been published: "This is not Bengali; this is hindi. The name is Begum — do they say Begum in hindi." To the untrained eye, Bengali and Hindi scripts might look very similar, but to her those remarks were an awakening, part of which was, "How fortunate was I to have a language with hundreds and hundreds of years of history and a world class literature." "The Claimants" is set in Ghana, and gives a succinct, yet accurate, account of the plight of transitory Bangladeshi illegal migrants trying to make it to one of the affluent European countries (in this case, Spain). One of those fortune-seekers has left behind a six-year old daughter who wants him to bring back a boro mem putul and himself, and nothing else.
“Celebrate Me" is more of an anthem for women's rights than a fictional story. One woman protests the celebration of International Woman's Day as being just a token homage to women, but not anything that brings substantive or long lasting positive outcomes for them. The author urges women to promote their own causes: "Women have to rise up by themselves with their own individual inner power and collective strength." "The Wait" is a throwback to a bygone era of Bengali Muslim aristocrats. Centered on the tale of Begum Saheba Gulrukhsaar Banoo, it relates the customs and traditions of that class, and the Begum Saheba's rebellion against it. She follows the dictates ofher heart and breaks some of the rigid tenets of those customs and traditions. She is a fascinating and very brave and impulsive character. She challenges the "strange type of purdah tradition" of those times, and refuses to "become a mechanical china doll taking lessons and whatever else including proper conversing style and words with elders of aristocrats, public appearances, public speaking in charity meetings etc. in short, making her all ready for the husband's family." In the end, as another manifestation of her free spirit, Gulrukhsaar Banoo wanted that her husband build a monument to honour the brave martyrs of the indigo uprising. "The Wait" should captivate the reader.
As should "The Princess of Edens", which deals with a young woman coming from the opposite end of the social scale from that of Gulrukhsaar Banoo. It is a first-person account of a young Bengali village girl who has landed in a Pakistani brothel to become "Bangal ka jadoo", the Shehzadi of the Garden of Edens for the habitues of that world of hookers and hustlers. She could be anyone from that dark world, and so could her own story be that of any number of her fellow citizens. She is relating her story to some one from Bangladesh — "I am a daughter from your country." She was born in a small village in Kushtia, but "(m)y parents suddenly realized the worth of my age and charm when they could not stretch their meager savings to the amount required to purchase of choice land. More land meant survival forthem." And, yet, she finds it in her heart to forgive her parents "who have long ceased to exist for me."
In one memorable passage, the Princess of Edens takes a broad swipe at researchers who study her and her like: "Every now and then, young people turn up with papers full of questions on our dhanda and related activities. They say they are doing this in relation to aeids. Some questions they ask about my sisters' activities (are) sharamnaak, rather obscene. Just because their area of service is intimate, it is for a moment like that of husband and wife. Will they ask such questions to a good wife? No, of course not. One will get slapped, scratched and slammed for such questions." "The Princess of Edens" is a disturbing account of the plight of certain women who, for no fault of their own, find themselves in places they do not want to be in. This is a good story. Not all the stories of Bom Daughter will leave a mark on the general reader's mind. But the ones that do should leave a deep imprint on his/her psyche.
SHAHID ALAM IS AN ACTOR AND EDUCATIONIST.