FACTS can be more frightening than fiction. If you do not believe this, read the book under review. It is a collection of articles on the plight of Sindhi women, particularly those from the rural areas, by poet and women’s rights activist Attiya Dawood. Born in a hamlet of Naushehro Feroze district, she has witnessed the sufferings of these women very closely. This background helps her relate to the agony of her rural counterparts and lends her to write with empathy and poignancy. This is something unusual for the formal writings of some feminists. Besides, Attiya Dawood’s poetic expression creates a world, which to some extent, reminds the reader of the magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marques.
The book begins with an analysis of some Sindhi proverbs, folk songs and children’s games, which promote the mistaken notion of the inferiority of the girl child. Then, it goes on to deplore the stereotyping of women as “domestic servants” by the textbooks of primary schools, written by none other than prominent liberal writers of Sindh. Two articles describe, in moving details, exorcism sessions, held to free supposedly-possessed women of djinns, and the process of purgation of suppressed emotions during dhamal. The following articles deal with barbaric domestic violence, including karo-kari killings, which have become a way of life in rural Sindh.
Another write-up laments the death of two girls, aged 12 and 13, after being raped by an Arab prince in Thar desert, and the stony silence of their parents and neighbours. It is supplemented with a piece on the confinement of a Bengali woman, bought from Karachi, at a police lock-up, and that of three local women on the charges of abetting a 14-year-old girl’s murder by their menfolk, who were released on bail. Yet another essay deplores the exploitation of the craftswomen who excel in the embroidery of the desert by the urban dealers and the local middlemen. The most revealing article in this series exposes the health hazards Thari women face on account of the heavy dresses they wear, and their traditional jewellery — the plastic bangles which cover their arms and the rings pierced into their ears and nose.
Another piece shows how minor children of Tharparkar are inducted into labour in the carpet industry to pay the debts incurred by their grandparents to meet the expenses of wedding ceremonies of the children’s parents.
The third section of the book begins with the contribution of women towards Sindhi poetry, from Markhan Shaikh of the 12th century to the modern feminist poets, and the reason behind the failure of the women to emerge as major poets in the language. It also deals with the miseries of wives of poets and intellectuals, who raise a storm about women’s rights over a cup of tea, prepared by the host’s wife, who is confined to the women’s quarter of the house. The other articles deal with the discriminatory attitude of the male leaders and activists of political groups towards their women members and the murder of a poetess allegedly by a nationalist leader who had earlier seduced her into abandoning her husband and children.
The book ends on a note of optimism with two pieces on the positive attitude of men towards women, which suggest that amidst rampant woman abuse, Sindhi society is also undergoing a slow-paced change in this respect. Some of the controversial issues raised in the book, such as the ritual of unthni (female camel) in a Peeri order, need thorough research.
The fact is that the plight of Sindhi women is so shocking that what Attiya Dawood writes is no exaggeration. But as it is shocking, one hopes that this book will create more awareness about how the other half lives in Sindh.
Sindh ki Aurat: Sapnay say Sach tak (Collection of Urdu essays)