home
next
Introduction and Glossary
Begum Rokeya
Published by
Internationella Kojan
 i_kojan@hotmail.com
Goteborg,  Sweden

ISBN 919737071
O One evening I was lounging in an easy chair in my bedroom and thinking lazily of the condition of Indian womanhood.

  I am not sure whether I dozed off or not. But, as far as I remember, I was wide awake. I saw the moonlit sky sparkling with thousands of diamond-like stars, very distinctly.

All on a sudden a lady stood before me; how she came in, I do not know. I took her for my friend, Sister Sara.
  "Good Morning," said Sister Sara.
   I smiled inwardly as I knew it was not morning, but starry night. However, I replied to her, saying, "How do you do?"
  "I am all right, thank you," she said. "Will you please come out and have a look at our garden?"

I used to have my walks with Sister Sara, when we were at Darjeeling. Many a time did we walk hand in hand and talk light-heartedly in the botanical gardens there. I fancied Sister Sara had probably come to take me to some such garden, and I readily accepted her offer and went out with her.
I looked again at the moon through the open window, and thought there was no harm in going out at that time. The menservants outside were fast asleep just then, and I could have a pleasant walk with Sister Sara.
When walking I found to my surprise that it was a fine morning. The town was fully awake and the streets alive with bustling crowds. I was feeling very shy, thinking I was walking in the street in broad daylight, but there was not a single man visible.
Some of the passersby made jokes at me. Though I could not understand their language, yet I felt sure they were joking.
  I asked my friend, "What do they say?"
"The women say you look very mannish."
"Mannish?" said I, "What do they mean by that?"
"They mean that you are shy and timid like men," she said.
'Shy and timid like men'! It was really a joke.
I became very nervous when I found that my companion was not Sister Sara, but a stranger.
Oh, what a fool had I been to mistake this lady for my dear old friend Sister Sara.
She felt my fingers tremble in her hand, as we were walking hand in hand. "What is the matter, dear, dear?" she said affectionately.
"I feel somewhat awkward," I said, in a rather apologizing tone, "as being a purdahnshin woman I am not accustomed to walking about unveiled."
"You need not be afraid of coming across a man here. This is Ladyland, free from sin and harm. Virtue herself reigns here," she said.
By and by I was enjoying the scenery. Really it was very grand. I mistook a patch of green grass for a velvet cushion. Feeling as if I were walking on a soft carpet, I looked down and found the path covered with moss and flowers.
  "How nice it is," said I.
  "Do you like it?" asked Sister Sara.
(I continued calling her Sister Sara and she kept calling me by my name Sultana)
  "Yes, very much; but I do not like to tread on the tender and sweet flowers."
"Never mind, dear Sultana. Your treading will not harm them; they are street flowers."
"The whole place looks like a garden," said I admiringly. "You have arranged every plant so skilfully."
  "Your Calcutta could become a nicer garden than this, if only your countrymen wanted to make it so."
"They would think it useless to give so much attention to horticulture, while they have so many other things to do."
"They could not find a better excuse," said she with a smile.
  I became very curious to know where the men were. I met more than a hundred women while walking there, but not a single man.
"Where are the men?" I asked her.
"In their proper places, where they ought to be," said Sister Sara.
"Pray let me know what you mean by their proper places."
"Oh, I see my mistake, you cannot know our customs, as you were never here before," said she. "We shut our men indoors."
  "Just as we are kept in the zenana?"
"Exactly so."
"How funny," I burst into a laugh.
Sister Sara laughed too.
"But, dear Sultana, how unfair it is to shut in the harmless women and let loose the men," she said.
"Why? It is not safe for us to come out of the zenana, as we are naturally weak," said I.
"Yes, it is not safe so long as there are men about the streets, nor it is so when a wild animal enters a marketplace."
"Of course not."
"Suppose some lunatics escape from the asylum and begin to do all sorts of mischief to men, horses and other creatures; in that case what will your countrymen do?"
"They will try to capture them and put them back into their asylum," I said.
"Thank you!" said she, "And you do not think it is wise to keep sane people inside an asylum and let loose the insane?"
"Of course not!" said I, laughing lightly.
  "As a matter of fact, in your country this very thing is done!" said Sister Sara. "Men, who do or at least are capable of doing no end of mischief, are let loose and the innocent women shut up in the zenana! How can you trust those untrained men out of doors?"
"We have no hand or voice in the management of our social affairs. In India man is lord and master. He has taken to himself all powers and privileges and shut up the women in the zenana."
  "Why do you allow yourselves to be shut up?"
  "Because it cannot be helped as they are stronger than women," said I.
  "A lion is stronger than a man, but it does not enable him to dominate the human race," said Sister Sara. "You have neglected the duty you owe to yourselves, and you have lost your natural rights by shutting your eyes to your own interests."
next
"But my dear Sister Sara," said I, "if we do everything by ourselves, what will the men do then?"
  "They should not do anything," said she, "excuse me; they are fit for nothing. Only catch them and put them into the zenana."
  "But would it be very easy to catch and put them inside the four walls?" said I. "And even if this were done, would all their business, - political and commercial - also go with them into the zenana!"
  Sister Sara made no reply. She only smiled sweetly. Perhaps she thought it was useless to argue with one who was no better than a frog in a well.
By this time we reached Sister Sara's house. It was situated in a beautiful heart-shaped garden. It was a bungalow with a corrugated iron roof. It was cooler and nicer than any of our rich buildings. I cannot describe how neat and nicely furnished and how tastefully decorated it was.

We sat side by side. She brought out of the parlour a piece of embroidery work and began putting on a fresh design.

"Do you know knitting and needle work?" she asked me.
"Yes, we have nothing else to do in our zenana."
"But we do not trust our zenana members with embroidery!? she said laughing, ?as a man has not patience enough to pass thread through a needle-hole even!"
"Have you done all this work by yourself?" I asked her, pointing to the various pieces of embroidered teapoy cloths.
"Yes," she said.
home
continue