Saturday 14 September 2013

The Silence of the Women


One similarity that kept cropping up in the stories about women that we have read, is the emphasis on their silence. In Hatak, Sougandhi is surrounded by a “haulnak sannatta”, Sahb-e-Karamat ends with “Phatan khamosh rahi”, and in Bismillah Saeed complains, “Aap tou koi baat hi nahin karti” and notices her "khamosh ankhen". For me what was interesting was the clear distinction between the domestic silence and the silence of the prostitute. Though a marginalised figure the prostitute’s silence is punctuated with moments of levity, and instances where she can talk to her friends (indicating she has some form of company), she gives and takes advice and in Kali Shalwar even has the courage to insult her customers due to the barrier of language. In this regard these prostitutes have a voice, given to them in part due to their presence in a brothel. In contrast, the woman of the house, the sharif woman, is completely voiceless. In Sahb-e-Karamat, Jeena only speaks when addressed, and is unable to voice any of her discomforts (a contrast to Sougandhi’s ballistic outburst). The only emotion she shows is when she cries upon meeting her mother. A similar kind of silence is seen in Bismillah, where prostitution is domesticated almost. There is a removal of the brothel (the domain of the prostitute) and instead Bismillah is set up as a respectable character, where Zaheer refers to her as his wife. Here again the silence is one where the woman is left unable to talk, in her domestication the art of conversation is taken away, and she is reduced to her body alone (Bismillah’s sad eyes, Jeena’s youthful body) in a way more perverse than the prostitutes. 

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