A complicated story of social parallels with a theme running through other stories, “Chhui Muee” graphs through our cultural tendency to keep an upper-class pregnant woman on pedestalIsmat Apa Ke Naam brings together three of Ismat Chughtai's short stories in their original and unabridged forms. The short stories, “Chhui Muee,” “Mughal Baccha,” and “Gharwali,” are different from each other, yet are tied with the thread of Chugtai's bold yet effortless portrayal of Muslim women in the subcontinent. “Chhui Muee,” performed by Heeba Shah, began the wonder that only got fulfilment through subsequent performances. Unlike Naseeruddin Shah and Ratna Pathak, Heeba Shah (Shah's daughter from his first marriage) is not a known face in popular mainstream Hindi cinemas and drama serials (at least I have not seen her before on TV), and I was trying to figure out the sources of her magical performance. A complicated story of social parallels with a theme running through other stories, “Chhui Muee” graphs through our cultural tendency to keep an upper-class pregnant woman on pedestal. As parallels are important, the pampered, pregnant bhabiji in a train is contrasted by an unnamed woman, who, out of wedlock, gave birth to a baby in a moving train, puncturing Bhabiji's over-cautious and over-protected status of genteel upper class pregnant women. Heeba Shah's Urdu -- I can strongly guess -- did complete justice to the original writing. Her role-playing from a pampered Bhabi to a down-to-earth street woman to a new born to an old woman on train gave the play the strongest feature of a minimalist stage performance. I was slow in grasping the story, but not Heeba's performance. Her impeccable performance impressed me so much that, like a “memory recollected in tranquillity” I started to grasp the full meaning of the performance later on, at my home, with flashes of her movements and voices coming to my mind. The stage's momentary darkness to reset the minimalist props was a welcome recess to devour the magic. The second story, “Mughal Baccha,” took the magic to a different level. Ratna Pathak is one of the powerful actresses of Indian films and TV serials. To fully appreciate the level of her powerfulness, one needs to see her on stage -- perhaps as a narrator of Gori Bi and Kala Miah. The story of masculine chivalry and ego, where everyone loses and nobody wins, takes us back to the collective emotion of Mughal pride. Ratna was the heart of the show, and after the second part, I felt to explore her more, through her works and acting. If our understanding of magic realism is partly shaped by the traditional practices of story-telling in collective settings by community elders, Ratna has performed the magic realism on stage. She was the “dadima” of this unconventional baggage of stories. I was glad that Naseeruddin Shah acted in the final story. Had he been in the beginning, or at the middle of the play, many would have missed the excellent performances of Heeba and Ratna, for Shah's name symbolises the central attraction of the show. “Gharwali” was the longest of the stories, and Shah's androgynous performances made both Mirza Shaheb and Lazzo alive on stage. Marriage cements patriarchy -- the story couches this bold message with wit and humour that often turns a bit dark. Shah's charisma made the full-packed audience spellbound. I am sure people who watched the show will refer to this rarest opportunity of seeing him “live” whenever Shah will be mentioned in any discussion. The night was not only magical, but also revealing. I have not only re-discovered Ratna Pathak, most importantly, I have also discovered the works of Ismat Chughtai. Already I have read the translation of her most controversial work, Lihaaf (The Quilt). I regret that I have not read her work before, but I am glad that I have discovered her in the best of forms -- through Ismat Apa Ke Naam.
Dr Rifat Mahbub teaches at the Department of English and Humanities, BRAC University.
