Lihaaf by ismat chughtai in urdu pdf


 

Read Book Lihaf by Ismat Chughtai on Rekhta Urdu books library. Navigate to next page by clicking on the book or click the arrows for previous and next page. Discover ideas about Short Stories. URDU ADAB: "SHUGHAL"; a Beautiful Short Story by Manto. Find images and videos about urdu, urdu quotes and urdu novels on We Heart It - the app to get lost in what you love. the author Ismat Chughtai's FO life and also on the history of Urdu literature and The narrator of 'Lihaaf' is a child and Chughtai succeeds in portraying the.

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Lihaaf By Ismat Chughtai In Urdu Pdf

writing to making her a famous and immensely popular literary heroine very early on in life. —Editor. Lihaaf [The Quilt]. Ismat Chughtai. Translated from Urdu by. Lihaf-Hindi, Chughtai, Ismat - Download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online. Urdu short story/afsana by Ismat Chughtai. PDF | On Jul 7, , Shaifta Ayoub and others published Flak and Censor: Among Urdu women writers, Dr. Rashid Jahan, Ismat Chughtai, Khadija Mastur.

The extremely vulnerable and submissive image of Indian women, portrayed by Mayo, is now a part of collective memory in which its meaning has been 68 Anamika Priyadarshini retroactively fixed Sinha, Chughtai was possibly the first woman writer of modern India O who wrote about a homosexual relationship. Women were the centre of her stories. She wrote about their intellect, skills, dreams, desires, psyche and also about their bodies and sexuality. However, these issues were dealt with by the male interpreters of women. Chughtai, was constantly daring to raise these secluded issues in her writings. She wanted to tell a story. I sent the story to the journal, Adab-e Latif Fine Literature. The editor made some comments and published it right away.

I wrote the story at night and read it to my sister-in-law the next day. I sent the story to the journal, Adab-e Latif Fine Literature. The editor made some comments and published it right away.

About the same time, Shahid Ahmed Dehlavi included the story in a col- lection of my stories that he was about to publish. Chughtai, Chughtai always remembered Manto as a person who stood by her M in her difficult times.

O C I was confessing my crime. Manto was the only person who was enraged by this cow- ardly behavior on my part. I was against myself. But he supported me. Branches were soon established all over the country by groups of socialist and Marxist writers. The PWA aimed to protest against imperialism and the sex-class- caste based power structure of the country by promoting the unheard voices of women, Dalits,6 and many other groups whose voices were either muted or manipulated. Until the last quarter of twentieth century, the political Left, along with academia, continued to maintain silence on the issue of homosexuality in India.

Indian culture and literature both testifies the acceptance of homosexuality in India and therefore the issue is not a Western imposition for the country. Nevertheless, the Indian Left M and academia had not begun to incorporate the subject of homosexuality in the O curriculum or in the political discussion.

It can be safely argued that though the C subtle stories about homoerotic relations were being written by male writers of India, the Left and the PWA of colonial India were not clear about their stand on R the issue of homosexuality. It might have also been difficult for Indian Marxists to find any clear Marxist T standpoint on the issue of homosexuality as neither Marx nor Lenin talk about O homosexuality.

N Homosexuality cannot reproduce labour and this fact might have been recognised as the most clear Marxist standpoint by the Indian Marxist of that era. This dependency, which is still prevalent, diminishes the space and scope for the construction of new and contextual interpretations of Marxism. Social Change, 44, 1 These violently abusive letters were directed to Chughtai, her husband Shahid Latif and also to their two month old daughter Seema: I was shaken to the core by the horrifying tone of these letters.

Sitting down cordially after much contention and SE bickering has always remained a habit with me. Though the charge was unexpected, it did not scare her at all.

Lihaaf Summary by Ismat Chughtai

In fact, she was fearlessly making fun of everything in front of the M police officer who came with the court order Chughtai, She even M refused to sign the court order which would have led her behind the prison bars. She often remembered the day when she had to go to the Police station for a bail: T O After we came home Shahid and Mohsin [a friend] fought bitterly with me. And N Shahid kept fighting all night.

We almost came to the point of divorce [. This news was a great relief for them. They were not alone anymore. Chughtai had also decided to fight instead of submitting. In her memoirs of the Lahore trial, Chughtai completes the story of the first day of trial, including her discussion with her lawyer, in eight short sentences. The description of beautiful Lahore easily surpasses the boring court procedures.

The next date of trial was set for November Once again, Chughtai was accompanied by the publisher and his calligrapher. Aslam M was persuading Chughtai to accept her fault and apologise to the court, which M was absolutely unacceptable for Chughtai: If indeed I have committed a crime and R it is proven that I have; only punishment will appease my conscience. I was not saying FO this sarcastically, I really meant it.

Chughtai either avoided these offers jok- ingly or firmly refused. The story was re-read minutely and finally one objectionable sentence was found! The word ashiq, like bosom, was identified as a commonly Social Change, 44, 1 The judge himself called Chughtai to his chambers to talk to her. Chughtai often remembered her conversation with the judge: SE Judge: Writing was her tool of resist- M ance and she was engaged in an endless project of unraveling the sophisticated M and civilised layers that covers the harsh, crude, difficult and sometimes ugly O realities of the world.

This silence could be interpreted in many ways. After marrying Begum Jan, he deposited her in the house with all other possessions and promptly forgot about her! The young, delicate Begum Jan began to wilt with loneli- ness. Her emaciated body suddenly began to fill out. Her cheeks became rosy; beauty, as it were, glowed through every pore! It was a special oil massage that brought about the change in Begum Jan. Excuse me, but you will not find the recipe for this oil in the most exclusive or expensive maga- zine!

This silence res- M onates with the cultural acceptance for the practice of homosexuality in India. The word homosexuality could have been problematic in that period but not M the practice. Men were migrating to cities and R living away from their wives. In practice, many of these believers of Brahmacharya16 and celibacy followed the Aristotelian idea of love that required an intellectual mind in the body of the beloved.

This desire obstructed men to recognise the bodies of non-literate women as the owners of intellectual mind. Possibilities of erotic relationship between men residing in the cities and among the Brahmacharis were strong. Some Hindi writers like Yashpal and Jainendra capture these possibilities in their fictions.

Even some young Marxist men preferred educated and intel- lectual male bodies over the veiled and uneducated female body. Some of them were bold and frank about their sexual inclinations.

What about the life of this esteemed author? Do you know of Walt Whitman and his poem To a Boy? Do you know the meaning of Lesbianism?

What punishment will you give Tennyson for writing In Memoriam because recently some researchers have brought to light his homosexual feelings and statements? Thus, some of the progressive writers were writing about homosexuality and were boldly defending the issue as well.

These defenses, however, never emerged as an important issue. Then I heard two people whispering. Oh God, who was this other person? I was really afraid. I drew the quilt over my face and fell asleep. By morning I had totally forgotten the terrifying scene enacted at night.

I have always been superstitious — night fears, sleep- walking and sleep-talking were daily occurrences in my childhood. Everyone used to say that I was possessed by evil spirits. So the incident slipped from my memory. The quilt looked perfectly innocent in the morning. But the following night I woke up again and heard Begum Jaan and Rabbu arguing in a subdued tone. I could not hear what they were saying and what was the upshot of the tiff but I heard Rabbu crying.

Then came the slurping sound of a cat licking a plate I was scared and got back to sleep. The next day Rabbu went to see her son, an irascible young man. Begum Jaan had done a lot to help him out — bought him a shop, got him a job in the village. But nothing really pleased him. He stayed with Nawab Saheb for some time, who got him new clothes and other gifts; but he ran away for no good reason and never came back, even to see Rabbu Begum Jaan was reluctant to let her go but realised that Rabbu was helpless.

She began to peer at me. Rabbu was due to return the next day Begum Jaan grew more and more irritable. She drank cup after cup of tea and her head began to ache. I again began rubbing her back which was smooth as the top of a table.

List of works by Ismat Chughtai

I rubbed gently and was happy to be of some use to her. But she wanted me to stroke it. How proud I felt! I chatted away as I continued to massage her. What do you want? A doll that sleeps or wakes up as you want? Dress it up yourself. Your mother has left some dress material. Begum Jaan lay still Oh God! You hurt my ribs. I was embarrassed. I tried to protest. How tight this sweater is!

I tried to wriggle out and Begum Jaan began to laugh loudly. To this day whenever I am reminded of her face at that moment I feel jittery. Her eyelids had drooped, her upper lip showed a black shadow and tiny beads of sweat sparkled on her lips and nose despite the cold. Her hands were cold like ice but clammy as though the skin had been stripped off.

She had put away the shawl and in the fine karga kurta her body shone like a ball of dough. The heavy gold buttons of the kurta were open and swinging to one side. It was evening and the room was getting enveloped in darkness. A strange fright overwhelmed me. She was pressing me as though I were a clay doll and the odour of her warm body made me almost throw up.

But she No. I could neither scream nor cry. After some time she stopped and lay back exhausted. She was breathing heavily and her face looked pale and dull. I thought she was going to die and rushed out of the room Thank God Rabbu returned that night.

Scared, I went to bed rather early and pulled the quilt over me.

But sleep evaded me for hours. Amma was taking so long to return from Agra! I had got so terrified of Begum Jaan that I spent the whole day in the company of maids. What could I have said to anyone? That I was afraid of Begum Jaan? Begum Jaan who was so attached to me?

(PDF) 'Lihaaf ': A Story of the Story | Anamika Priyadarshini - wm-greece.info

That day Rabbu and Begum Jaan had a tiff again. She realised that I was wandering outdoors in the cold and might die of pneumonia! Tea was set on a tripod next to her. During her body massage she sent for me repeatedly. I went in, keeping my face turned away and ran out after doing the errand. When she changed her dress I began to feel jittery.

Turning my face away from her I sipped my tea. My heart yearned in anguish for Amma. This punishment was much more severe than I deserved for fighting with my brothers. Amma always disliked my playing with boys. Now tell me, are they man-eaters that they would eat up her darling? And who are the boys?

My own brothers and their puny, little friends! She liked doing physical stuff, like boys, though she was feminine in her own way. At 12, she was asked to take up sewing but hated it and shirked it. Then she was asked to learn to cook. This she rejected immediately, asking that her brother be taught instead.

Her obstinacy resulted in her being finally sent to school, being admitted to class IV and then double-promoted to class VI. At 13, in Nabokovian fashion, she fell in love with a neighbour aged 26 who she says she found beautiful.

She confesses she was drawn to physical beauty in men when, Mint Lounge reader, will we again see such direct honesty from writers? She convinced her cousin to claim her hand, pretending to be in love with her, thus blocking the marriage her parents were pressuring her into. Such fierce independence manifested itself in her work of course. And she stood out as a writer for her freshness, and the clarity and strength of her voice.

Chughtai wrote her first piece, a drama for the magazine Saqi, in at the age of She did not know how to write a story at that point, being unfamiliar with pace and distance.

Writing conversations was easier. Her natural and uncomplicated style is what made her stories so easy to dramatize. Encouraged by the fact that she had been published, she started sending her writing to other papers.

One of the first responses she got was a letter from a magazine she had submitted a story to. The editor said her writing was blasphemous and that she had insulted the Quran, which she had not.

After her first two stories, there was outrage, which was predictable. What were they progressing from? From the highly Persianized style of writing that was prevalent for a century or more. And from the idea that only the upper classes were worthy of being written about. She was also drawn to the work of writers O. This last named writer she greatly admired and continued to read regularly for the rest of her life.

She borrowed from him the ability to take an ordinary man and ordinary event even a sneeze, as she put it and use it as material.

Chughtai clarified that she wrote the things she would hear of, not necessarily experience. She had herself had a relatively free life, as the tolerance of her family to her early obstinacy showed. She said she hated the suffocation of the women and men she wrote about.

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