proud mary keep on rolling, rolling, rolling...
writers.ink keeps on rolling! It has brought out yet another anthology of short stories by women writers, edited by Niaz Zaman. The 20 stories in the volume are by both Indian and Bangladeshi authors. It contains translations and original writing in English, with the majority of the fiction afforded here being very much in the former category. Eleven contributions are by Bangladeshi women (with three, the ones by Niaz Zaman, Neeman Sobhan and Shabnam Nadiya written originally in English) and the rest (well-known writers such as Selina Hossain, Shaheen Akhtar, Rabeya Khatun, Farida Hossain, Sonia Amin, Purabi Basu, Nasreen Jahan, Makbula Manzoor) being translations from the original Bengali. The Indian writers are Volga, Bani Basu, Suchitra Bhattacharya, Gauri Deshpande, the perennial anthology favourite Mahasweta Devi, Suraiya Qasim, Pratibha Ray, Temsula Ao and KR Meera (whose stunningly homespun tale of love retrieved from the debris of the special loneliness induced by illness has been reproduced above). The vernacular languages of India are well represented in this volume, ranging from Urdu to Telegu to Oriya. Especially welcome is the inclusion of Temsula Ao, since Assamese writers tend to be under-represented in such anthologies. Ms. Ao lives and works in Shillong, writes in English, and has published a book of short stories These Hills Called Home: Stories from a War Zone (previously reviewed in this page). Among the Bangladeshi writers Shabnam Nadiya's piece titled 'Parakrousis' (which along with some stories being written by a writer not in this collection, Abeer Hoque) may signal a break with the recording of genteel bourgeoisie sensibilities that is still the hallmark of Bangladeshi women writing in English. Hanif Qureshi, who as a young man churned out the stuff, once proclaimed the iron law of English pornography of the '60s: 'No sex with pets or blacks'. So too in Bangladeshi women's English fiction no woman lights up a ciggie, forgets to put on underwear and run over a cat with her car. And absolutely no sex with pets! But things might be changing. Among the lot, Deshpande ('Insy Winsy Spider') is disappointingly didactic. Here I might mention that Volga's story 'Ayoni' hints, as does Niaz Zaman's 'Mariam and the Miser', at what may be becoming a predictable narrative conceit in certain South Asian women's writing: fond memories of listening spellbound to grandmother's, or mother's, stories that subsequently kick-start their later writing. Like a manipulative aristocrat in a Jacobean drama, or the cunning mahajan in a Bengali television soap, this conceit is in danger of becoming a narrative staple, a fearsome cliche. Bharati Mukherjee, when I met her in Dhaka, also said it, weaving theatrical arabesques in the air with her hands: "Grandmother, my grandmother and her enchanting stories..." I have to wonder: what about all those women writers who had grandmothers with stiff upper lips? The translations have been done with care, specially the ones by Radha Chakravarty and Shabnam Nadiya (she wears two hats here). Overall, this well-produced anthology of women's fiction from the two neighbouring countries is one which readers should buy and read. May writers.ink, like Proud Mary, keep on rolling, rolling, rolling on the river, big wheel keep on turning, writers.ink keep on burning... Khademul Islam is literary editor, The Daily Star. He occasionally listens to Creedence Clearwater Revival while writing book reviews.
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