Atuji, an old governess, is conversing with Mahmuda
Begam, Mahmuda's mother, Bari Begum, and her close friend, Miriam Zamani.
Mahmuda Begam: Atuji! Welcome!
Atuji: Bless you my dear! May your husband have a long life!
Who is that with you?
Mahmuda Begam: Come now, Atuji! You don't know? She is like
my sister!
Atuji: Who is it? Miriam Zamani?
Miriam Zamani: Honored one! At your service!
Atuji: Blessings upon you, my dear! May you have many
sons, and may they and your husband have long lives! What brings you
here today?
Miriam Zamani: I have just come for a visit.
Atuji: Well, come and sit down! Tell me, how is your health?
Miriam Zamani: Thank God, I am well.
Atuji: How are the children?
Miriam Zamani: They all pray for your good health.
Atuji: Do you hear from Mirza Sahib?/1/
Miriam Zamani: Oh yes, every ten to fifteen days.
Atuji: Have you sent Ahmad Mirza/2/
to school yet?
Miriam Zamani: Yes, he has been going to school for some time.
Atuji: Goodness! May God keep him! How old is he now?
Miriam Zamani: At the beginning of the next month he will
begin his eighth year.
Atuji: Bless you, my dear! May you always be satisfied with
your children! Has he already started learning the Persian and
Urdu alphabets? Surely he must have by now.
Miriam Zamani: Heavens no! At his age? He hasn't even finished
the Qa'ida-e-Bagdadi,/3/
let alone the Persian and the Urdu alphabets!
Atuji: But why is that?
Miriam Zamani: Well, you know how these Mullas teach.
Atuji: Yes, indeed I do. It is a dreadful state of affairs! But
tell me, Begum, didn't you ever learn anything?
Miriam Zamani: If I had learned anything, I would have said
so.
Atuji: Oh misery! What has happened to the daughters of respectable
households!/4/
Why have they given up learning to read and write? How come ignorance
is spreading like a shadow in so many homes?
Mahmuda Begam, let us consider seriously why it is
that in our country, Hindu and Muslim households that consider themselves
respectable have always, from time immemorial, educated their sons,
whether they educated their daughters or not. They may have been poor
or rich, but they did their best to insure that their sons had a modicum
of education. But now! I don't know what this world is coming to! These
days, I notice that out of hundreds of children only a few are qualified
for anything, and the rest are stupid as stupid can be! It may be true
that now there are more children going to government schools, but even
there, they don't learn much of anything.
No one asks: "Why don't these children all learn
the same amount, or why don't they develop better habits or better character?" And
even if someone does ask these questions, others respond, "Well
it is just a question of fate. The lucky ones learn; the unlucky ones
don't." Now, any fool knows that. I too would assert a hundred
times over that the affairs of the world are governed by fate. But
one should realize that it is not enough simply to rely on fate. If
someone sits down to learn and doesn't work, what can he accomplish? If
one is thirsty and doesn't drink, can his thirst go away by itself? Or
if one is hungry and doesn't eat, can his stomach fill by itself? Tell
me, am I making sense or not?
Mahmuda Begam: Honored one! Who could disagree with what you
say?
Atuji: Indeed? Then how come our children are not developing
proper character? Bari Begum, have you not heard what I have been saying?
Bari Begam: Yes, Atuji, I have heard every word.
Atuji: Then do you understand the point of the whole discussion?
Bari Begam: Yes, Atuji, but I simply want to add that each
person has his own destiny and that not all children are alike. Some
are so sensitive that they remember everything you say to them, while
others are so shameless that no matter how often you scold them, it
makes no impression. In the same way, some have good brains and others
do not. Some are playful, others hardworking. This is just the way God
made them, and one has no say in the matter.
Atuji: Yes, of course, but may I ask whether this is the case
only in our country, or is it the same in all times and places? In
other countries you find that men and women, young and old, all know
how to read and write. They are like bookworms, consuming knowledge. Yet,
in such countries, have they all been born identical? Or are there not
children who are also playful, willful or naughty? My dear, show some
fear of God! Make some sense! You may think I am old and senile, but
if you ask me, this is what I will tell you: God is taking revenge for
our daughters. Fathers and mothers are willing to educate their sons
because they think that they will get a share of their earnings, but
they think it is a waste to educate their daughters. They educate the
boys so that they can profit from them in the future. God, however,
is displeased by this, so he makes the sons worse than the daughters. Thus
the daughters remain illiterate, and the sons too are totally ignorant.
Bari Begam: Atuji! You have said what is in my heart! I
vow that for as long as I live, I will see to it that my grandsons and
granddaughters both become worthy. The boys' parents may choose to educate
them or not, but so far as the girls are concerned, I will do everything
in my power to see that they don't remain illiterate.
Atuji: Bari Begam! You have taken my jest too much to heart!
It is really true that God is taking revenge for our daughters? He is
merciful and compassionate, but if He had to get involved in such details,
why did He bother to create the world? When men killed their daughters,
He didn't strike them down, so why should He intervene in such a minor
matter? To be sure, there is a risk that on the day of judgment, God
will ask parents: "Why have you deprived your daughters of knowledge?
Why haven't you considered them as precious as your sons? Why didn't
you instruct them in the way of the faith and warn them about the good
and evil ways of the world? We haven't created girls to be raised as
pets in their parents' homes, and then to go to their husbands' homes,
there to pass their lives as slave girls; to leave the world as ignorant
as when they arrived in it, neither recognizing God nor understanding
His truth. Rather, we created them so that they too, like the men, could
use their minds and benefit humanity, so that they could understand
good and evil in this world and be prepared for the hereafter."
A woman should be able to recognize the rights and
duties of both young and old. She should be able to raise her children
properly, be an understanding companion to her husband, and be capable
of bringing order into a disorderly household. She should bring honor
to her parents' name in the home into which she marries. She should
become dearer to her in-laws than their own children. The husband should
be the master and she the mistress of the household. She should be the
source of the light of knowledge within the walls of the house. Books
should be her closest companions; paper, pen, and ink her dearest friends.
It is a shame that the woman, who has to look after
everyone else's rights, has not been accorded her own rights by the
world at large. As long as she remains unmarried in her parents' home,
she eats whatever she is given to eat, wears whatever she is given to
wear, sits wherever she is told to sit, sleeps wherever she is told
to sleep. She kneads the flour, cooks the bread, grinds the spices,
puts pots on the fire, spins thread, gins cotton, minds her brothers
and sisters, serves her parents. In sum, she never shirks any duty nor
abhors any job. Then, when she marries and goes to her in-laws', there
she encounters even more problems! Today, her mother-in-law is angry;
tomorrow her sister-in-law is annoyed. The younger brother's wife never
talks pleasantly; the elder brother's wife makes a fuss about everything.
The husband's manner is intolerable; the children make her life miserable.
One has sore eyes; another has chest pains; a third has a cough. She
carries one on her shoulder, another in her arms; the third grabs her
around the waist. Thousands of problems arise of which she must never
complain, and in this way, willy-nilly, she spends her life.
The world has decreed that her lot be as follows:
Starting with the day she was born, the entire family either expressed
hope for a boy, or else, when they heard that a girl had been born,
expressed sorrow. Her mother and father were sorry, sisters and brothers
were too. Aunts, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, others who came
to visit—whoever heard the news—put on a long face. Even
those who pretended to be happy were not really. No one was happy for
miles around. But when when she got to be a year or a year and a half
old and started to talk and have endearing ways, she began to attract
people, and her mother and father and other relations loved her, but
even then not as much as they did the sons. If a son's name were mentioned
in anger, then Allah's pardon was invoked and he was called lovingly,
but the daughter was called all sorts of abusive names. When she grew
a little older and was able to understand directions and to distinguish
between good and bad, and was thus capable of being trained by her parents,
they only fulfilled their minimum obligations toward her. They taught
her how to cook so they wouldn't have to hire a maid servant. They taught
her how to sew so that they wouldn't have to give their sewing to a
tailor. From her sixth day feast to her bismillah,/5/
and from her engagement until after her marriage, whatever satisfaction
they derived from her was for their own convenience. Whatever they gave
her as a dowry was to impress the world. To teach her to read and write
was for her own good in this world and the hereafter, so her parents
did not bother. They thought, first of all, that it would do them no
good, and secondly, if she were studying, who would do the housework?
After she married and fell into the clutches of strangers,
she had more troubles than she had at home. Spending even an hour in
this new home was unbearable, leaving aside the fact that she had to
spend her whole life there! No matter how greatly her mother-in-law
had been looking forward to her arrival so that her son could start
a family, nor how impatient her sisters-in-law had been to see her face,
once she arrived, all that changed. Nor was her husband all that pleased
with her. For one thing, a young lad of fourteen or fifteen could hardly
be very enthusiastic about marriage. For another, he saw that his mother
and sisters were displeased with his wife. Thirdly, he did not find
anything special about her which would make him drop other things and
be devoted to her. In short, no one cared much for this poor stranger.
As for her own children, how could they be expected to show respect
to a mother whose status in their father's house was so utterly low!
Bari Begam! These are some of the things that horrify
me when I think about them. You and I have both lived a long time and
know what life is like, but we have only a little time remaining. Now
I am mainly concerned about the generation to come; only God can look
after them.
Bari Begam: Atuji! who could disagree that education is very
important? Ask the humblest miller-woman and even she will say that
she wants her children to develop as fully as possible. But surely,
it is extremely difficult for the children of the poor to be educated,
and even more so for their daughters. Nevertheless, anyone who can afford
it will do whatever he can.
Atuji: Bari Begam! In this city there are hundreds of people
who can afford whatever they like, but even so their wives and daughters
are totally illiterate.Yes! As rich as they are! They are like a flock
of sheep. It is like this: Someone does something; another sees it and
imitates the first; his imitation encourages others, and in no time
at all the entire city is doing it. All the while, no one stops to consider
whether the thing is good or bad, or whether he can afford it or not.
Everyone follows the custom, even if it costs him all his wealth. After
all, you can see for yourself how at weddings and other festive occasions
everyone is forced to follow the custom. A rich family spends all it
can, and likewise a poor family. Have you ever seen a poor man give
his daughter away with only a cup of sherbet and a few dried dates?
Or any poor man receive another on shab-e-barat/6/
without the traditional sweets? When people follow the fashion in such
useless matters, how do you expect them to act differently in important
ones? If people in this town today begin to consider it wrong to keep
their daughters illiterate, then soon you will see daughters being educated
in every house. Even the poorest person would give his daughters the
rudiments. My dear, it all looks so difficult at the beginning, but
later it will become very easy. Once the women of the country
become educated, they will educate their children themselves.
Bari Begam: Come now, Atuji! After all, the girls will have
to be taught by their mothers, not by someone else. But how can that
be? How is the poor mother supposed to find time off from her household
chores to sit her daughter down and give her lessons? And if she does
shirk her work to teach her daughter, how effective will she be? For
children learn only under pressure, and how can a mother use pressure?
How can a mother raise a hand against her darling daughter? How can
she become like a stern ustani?/7/
In other words, whether we like it or not, the child will have to be
taught to be a governess, and that definitely leaves out the daughters
of the poor.
Atuji: What are you saying, Bari Begam? If mothers were capable
of teaching their children themselves, there would be a revolutionary
change in the country! Perhaps you have not heard the reason why there
is no illiteracy to speak of in Britain. Are the children there born
knowing how to read and write? Is it because of some faqir's/8/
blessing? Do the children, from the time they become conscious, have
an enthusiasm for learning that is self-generated? Of course not! The
reason is that, in that country, since time immemorial, the custom has
been to educate the girls. When those girls grow up, marry, and become
mothers, they begin training their children. It is a fact that in such
countries, the women and the men are all cast in the same mold. Comparisons
between boys and girls are needless; but unless the mothers are instructed,
neither the boys nor the girls will be properly brought up.
People think that teaching the alphabet and the earliest
Persian primers is not all that difficult; any old Mulla or tutor can
teach a child the rudiments. My dear! That is nonsense! In gardening,
the hardest thing is knowing how to plant the trees. If the gardener
is not artful, the plants will not grow properly. Similarly, teaching
small children is the hardest part of teaching. If the child's teacher
is not accomplished, then the child will never learn how to read and
write correctly. A child is like a newly cut, tender green branch. At
that time, it has elasticity, so whichever way you shape it, it takes
that form. If you decide that it should be straight, then you give it
to a craftsman so that he can shape and take out all the crookedness.
If you do not, then after a it while it will lose its elasticity and
then it can never be straightened. If someone then tries too hard to
straighten it, it will break. In looking for a teacher for a child,
one should not only look for knowledge, but also look into his habits
and temperament. Does he teach children with enthusiasm or not? Does
he understand children? If the ustad's/9/
working habits are not good, the students' habits will be worse. If
his temperament is nasty, he will scare the students off. If the teacher
does not teach with enthusiasm, the students will never learn a thing.
If he doesn't understand children, he will use a uniform method of teaching
all of them. That is why wise men have said that teaching a child is
like caring for a sick person. Just as a doctor has to be able to diagnose
different illnesses, so a teacher has to be able to understand children's
individual temperaments. Even the rich would consider themselves fortunate
if they could find such a teacher, but if you keep looking for such
a teacher, chances are that the child will not get any education at
all, for as they say: "If you don't find nine maunds of
oil, Radha will not dance" [Radha will never dance unless her conditions
are met.]/10/
When a child reaches the age of five and goes
to a maktab,/11/
he will be lost to both the home and the outside world. On the first
day, he will be so upset by the idea of imprisonment for the whole day
that by the second day, he will develop an allergy to school. Unless
one slaps him around or kicks him a few times, he will refuse to go.
When he finally does go to school, he arrives there crying and complaining
and in such a state that the teacher will be obliged to punish him.
On the first day the boy was upset, but now he is in fear of his life!
How can he ever learn to read and write under such conditions? He becomes
obsessed by the thought of the day's end when he can go home and play
for a while. Then, when he finishes playing, he will begin worrying
about the morrow. The days pass in worry and the nights in confusion.
Bit by bit, his health will weaken and in ten days, he will wither away
to nothing. How much can a child bear? He definitely will not benefit
from such an education. If one boy out of a hundred succeeds in getting
an education in this way, what good does it do? His heart, brain, strength,
intelligence, memory—whatever he had—have been sacrificed.
What benefit can he derive from such knowledge? In other words, whether
he goes to a maktab or not, the results are the same: the child
has been ruined.
To be sure, if his mother and father are educated
and realize the value of knowledge and understand the evil consequences
of keeping their children illiterate, they will do what they can. But
if you ask me, the father cannot take on this responsibility. Where
will he get the free time from his outside preoccupations to supervise
his children morning and night? If at all, this responsibility can be
taken only by the mother—she whose curses are dearer to the child
than another's affection, she whose blows are better than another's
kisses, she who remains with him by day and who does not leave him at
night, she who gives him food to eat when he is hungry and water to
drink when he is thirsty. In the whole world he regards no one else
so dearly. If he is in pain, he calls her; if he is afraid, he thinks
of her. In short, the affection which the child has for the mother and
the mother for the child is unequaled. If the mother is sufficiently
capable and if, in addition to her God-given affection for the child,
she has not spoiled him and thus ruined him, but rather expended her
attentions in a way that does him good, then she can be like a ministering
angel to the child. He will drink in her companionship like her milk.
When he has remained in his mother's company for several years and has
become acquainted with knowledge and culture from her, and if he has
been reminded daily that knowledge is better than riches, he will profit
from the experience and slowly become habituated to doing his lessons
and to remembering things. Little by little, he will even get into the
habit of not playing all the time. Then he will be like a lamp, in which
the oil and the wick are ready, and it remains only to be lighted; or
like a house for which the foundations have been laid, and only the
main walls remain to be raised. In the way that a calligrapher puts
a grid on his paper, so that when he sits down to write, his pen will
not go astray, in the same way the child is now prepared to go to any
teacher and not become troubled or dismayed. If in my first example,
it was hard to get him to study even with threats and blows, in this
instance, he will work at a mere signal from his teacher. Whatever learning
would have taken years of stress to accomplish, will now be only a matter
of hours. The teacher's efforts will never go to waste. Anyone would
be happy to teach such a child.
Bari Begam, believe me when I say this, that at first
I too was of your opinion that when a child reaches the age of five,
he should not be kept at home, but sent to school if at all possible.
But then, my dear, I heard the story of Zubaida Khatun, and I realized
that whether a child went to school or not made no difference. But why
look further for an example? Just now, before you, Miriam Zamani admitted
that her child has struggled in school for three years, that the Mulla
has worn him out, and that he has not even finished the first Arabic
primer. Tell me, if you could read yourself and thus teach your own
child, do you think he would still be scribbling on a slate?
Bari Begam: Mahmuda! Do you see how Atuji is trying to change
the subject?
Mahmuda Begam: Now mother! I well understand what she
is trying to say. She is using Miriam Zamani as an example in order
to avoid telling us the story of Zubaida Khatun! But now I cannot leave
until I have heard it!
Atuji: Ah, daughter! Now you are on Bari Begam's side! I warn
you, I can tell you not one, but dozens of stories! But now the call
to prayer has sounded. The period for prayers is short, and I too want
to say them. God willing, I will tell you the story tomorrow.
Mahmuda: Oh Atuji! What's the difference if you tell us the
story now?
Atuji: Now daughter! Is this a story or only a quick mouthful? You
demand that I tell it now, but to tell it right will take several installments.
Mahmuda: Oh all right, but what time tomorrow?
Atuji: Any time you say, but evening would be better for me.
Mahmuda: Very good. But I hope you won't put us off again!
Atuji: Now, now! Does your Atu ever fib to you? Be patient,
and God willing, I will definitely tell you the story. Now run along
and say your prayers. Time waits for no one.
*on to the Second Majlis*
= = = = = = = = = = =
/1/ Miriam Zamani's
husband, who, it seems, is away on business.
/2/ Miriam Zamani's
son.
/3/ The first Arabic
primer.
/4/ Daughters of
respectable households: This entire phrase is needed to translate the
Urdu word ashrafzadiyan. Ashraf can be translated as
noble, high born, or respectable; zadiyan, daughters. Wealth
is less important in determining who is sharif (pl. ashraf) than birth and culture,
since someone who is sharif may be poor. In kinship terms,
the ashraf are descendants of foreign-born Muslim settlers in India, or
perhaps descendants of high-caste converts toIslam who successfully
established claim to a foreign connection. In cultural terms, being
sharif is a somewhat more complex concept. It implies
inward nobility as well as outward status, a sense of honor, a knowledge of
what is correct, discrimination in behavior and taste, and a tradition of
learning. All of these things are implied by Atuji in her lament over
the decline of culture and learning among ashraf families and
in her description, which follows, of proper sharif upbringing. For a
further discussion of this, see David Lelyveld, Aligarh's First
Generation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978), pp. 35-56;
and Gail Minault, "Shaikh Abdullah, Begam Abdullah and Sharif Education
for Girls at Aligarh," in Imtiaz Ahmad, ed, Modernization and
Social Change among Muslims in India (Delhi: Manohar Book Service,
1983), pp. 207-236.
/5/ Bismillah:
Literally: "In the name of God," also a ceremony celebrated
when the child is four years, four months, and four days old, when he/she
recites the first words of the Quran, and thus commences formal education.
Bismillah karna is an idiom meaning "to begin; commence."
Abdul Halim Sharar, Lucknow: The Last Phase of an Oriental Culture,
tr. by E. S. Harcourt and Fakhir Hussain (London: Elek, 1975), pp. 204,
277 n.531.
/6/ Shab-e-Barat:
Muslim festival falling on the eve of 14 Sha'ban in the lunar calendar.
It is the "night of the record" or the night when men's deeds
for the year to come are written, i.e., determined by God. Jaffur Shurreef,
Qanoon-e Islam or the Customs of the Mussalmans of India, p.
166.
/7/ ustani:
female tutor; governess.
/8/ faqir:
Muslim religious mendicant; holy man.
/9/ ustad:
male tutor; teacher; schoolmaster.
/10/ A saying that
implies that such conditions are impossible, i.e. that such teachers
are as scarce as the proverbial hen's teeth. A maund equals
about forty kilos or eighty pounds.
/11/ maktab:
Quranic school; primary school often held in a mosque or at the house
of the teacher.