(This is a work of fiction where the writer assumes the voice of Ashar, a 19-year-old boy and records it as a diary entry. It is set amidst the Indian suffragist movement and captures how a surprising encounter with local protesters impacts Ashar and his friends.)
8th October 1933
Why am I writing in green? Well, several reasons. 1) It’s the only pen I could find, 2) It’s the League’s color, and 3) I AM VERY, VERY ANGRY and have no time to find another. Why the rage? Well...
I was in my room like I always am in the summer. I watched the leaves drop and dance from the tree outside my window. Strange how each leaf knows when to let go at the right time.
There’s a faint knock on the window. It’s Rafay. We had planned to sneak into our university, Aligarh, with some friends. On the walk there, we saw a stream of women chanting slogans. The group split into two: Four on the side of “Inke ye karne seh kya hoga?” (What will happen if they do this?); Rafay said, “the point is collective unity until they are listened to.”
The rally continued harmoniously until the police arrived and drove the women away. Fire seems incredible when a fire performer dances with a stick-on fire, twirling it in perfectly synced motions. I saw a woman break into fits of coughing from the smoke of the lit wooden sticks the armed men used. This was not a performance. Inside the wide-open spaces on the road, I found a mixture of freedom and chaos. Rain swept across a desolate landscape amidst the struggle between justice and pain. A storm was brewing, so we ran the other way.
“I know what I will stage my play on,” I spoke.
“Don’t tell me it’s this women’s activism and all that,” said Rafay.
“The ‘all that’ is what we should be fighting for. Downplaying it into the et cetera category is exactly what’s wrong. Everyone will be at the play; it’ll get noticed.”
“It’s too political. Your play will be judged on politics.”
“So, I should just watch and nod? Maybe this is my chance to help. They don’t need my help, granted, but one extra voice may just make it sound loud enough to be heard.”
“Why do I keep raising all these ‘rights’ while ranting,” they ask me. Oh, I don’t know, probably because your enslaved state is stuck in the dark ages. Playing catch-up with humanity can be challenging, especially when ill-informed “religious” leaders throw you a couple of centuries back. Even Gandhi bluntly belittles women proposing that the need for women’s activism is their “capacity for infinite love and sacrifice.” Is that all women are to them, vessels for men? Some of my friends still believe such people can run this country. Yes, run and ruin. Chaos was everywhere, with everyone’s arms in the air, trying to escape the trickling water while the armed men brought out their umbrellas.
I have been thinking about this for days. Writing and refining the play. Trying desperately to add magic to these tragedies galore. Still unsure if I’ll stage it, though. For a Rajput, bravery seems not to be my strong suit. Perhaps, for now, it will just burn within me like folklore. (498)
Bio: Mahnoor Asim is an Economics major with a minor in Psychology at LUMS.