| It
is easy to judge a book by its cover. It’s also easy to
judge one by its title. So if a man were to come across a book
with “Contemporary Stories by Pakistani Women” as
a sub-title, it would be understandable if preconceptions of
a book laden with unbridled feminist rants flooded his mind.
If
he passed on the book, though, it would be a shame. For in this
instance, the collection of short stories assembled and edited
by Muneeza Shamsie is anything but a series of rants. And the
World Changed brings together short stories and excerpts from
previously published novels to create a compelling read. The
Pakistani writers featured here provide sophisticated tales
without sounding overwhelmingly righteous. Yes, gender issues
are at the fore, but for the most part the writers don’t
preach.
The
lead-off story, however, is both appropriate and misleading
of what is to follow. Shahrukh Husain’s ‘Rubies
for a Dog’ is a fable with an overtly ‘girl power’
message. Inspired by ‘The Tale of Azad Bakht,’ originally
written in 1803, ‘Rubies’ is less subtle and sophisticated
in its message than many of the other stories, but its strength
lies in its pure, captivating story-telling. Presented as a
classic quest for justice and redemption, Husain weaves in themes
of courage, loyalty and equality to create a relevant and inspirational
tale.
Many of the selections are much more effective in showing
how truly contemporary these women writers are, as the pieces
are daring both in content and style. Soniah Kamal’s ‘Runaway
Truck Ramp’ is a standout story for openly tackling the
quintessential Pakistani taboo subject: sex. Her approach is
both clever and candid. It’s candid for the relaxed manner
in which she delivers the details of a fling that quickly turns
ugly for a young woman because of her partner’s double
standards and his view that she is just “practice.”
The cleverness lies in how Kamal explores inbred and distasteful
attitudes towards sex, for her heroine is not a young Pakistani
woman, but a white American who hooks up with a charming Pakistani
man.
In fact, several of the writers go further in their
explorative approach of gender issues by creating stories that
present male heroes. ‘Kucha Miran Shah’ by Feryal
Ali Gauhar, ‘Staying’ by Sorayya Khan and ‘The
Arsonist’ by Bapsi Sidhwa all cast men as protagonists,
and we watch how they adapt to their changing worlds, and how
the women in their lives are affected by their changing men.
However, despite Sidhwa’s superb, tension-filled writing,
it would have been more rewarding to see something new in this
collection from the household-name, rather than an excerpt from
a 25-year-old novel.
Others use unlikely male characters to act as witnesses
to the changing times. ‘And the World Changed,’
the story from which the book borrows its title, is a penetrating
look at the divisive nature of war on a local level, focussing
on the observations of a five-year-old boy. Sabyn Javeri-Jillani
describes a time before TV came to Pakistan, when BBC radio
broadcasts drew a community together, only to later pull it
apart. And in ‘Clay Fissures,’ Nayyara Rahman creates
Pradeep Sehgal, “the adopted albino son of a Hindu merchant
and a Eurasian seamstress,” to tackle themes of identity
and home.
What is refreshing
in this collection is how the book goes beyond Partition-era
stories and those involving the marginalisation of women. The
claim of “Contemporary Stories” is proven as the
book presents women of all ages, classes, places and times,
reflecting the growing Pakistani diaspora and a rapidly changing
Pakistan, deeply in touch with the outside world. Women grow
up and women grow old. Women witness change in the world around
them, and explore their histories. And the writers’ Pakistani
roots shine through as issues of God, the paranormal and tradition
shade and enhance gender-coloured issues involving roles, worth
and power.
Clearly, though, some writing stands head and shoulders above
the others. ‘Look, But With Love’ is rich in detail
and longing. In it, Uzma Aslam Khan captures and deftly uses
one of the most unique features of Karachi, the colourful painted
buses, to create a story of discovery and dreams in a city full
of beauty and ugliness. Khan’s first line, “In Karachi,
Salaamat learned new words fast,” is as compelling as
her title, and as she draws you in, you are rewarded with full
characters and flirtations with fantastical story-telling.
The most impressive bit of prose, though, might be the shortest.
In ‘Surface of Glass,’ Kamila Shamsie shows in just
three pithy pages why she has been widely recognised as one
of Pakistan’s leading young writers. Her unique voice
and playfulness are striking as she employs a maid servant and
her abrasive relationship with the cook to explore themes of
personal usefulness and faith. “So the cook knew –
and Razia knew he knew – that cooks are for always and
ayahs are for children.” When Razia’s son is not
promoted, she blames and then confronts the cook. “He
said, oh really, well, Allah’s will, here have some keema.”
This compilation is a feast of fresh fiction and helps to remind
us that Pakistan has a wealth of strong fiction writers. Moreover,
our women writers are adept at capturing – from every
angle – the trials and events that shape us all: women,
men and children. So, And the World Changed may be by women,
but it is in no way exclusively for women. 
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