In The Begums of Peshawar, Najma Yusufi brings to life the story of four Durrani daughters, who belong to the last Afghani family, sharing their experiences and their ideas about kismet, writes Aakash Aggarwal
There is something special about looking at old photos. Sometimes when you look at your parents’ wedding album, you don’t only admire their youthful beauty, you not only snigger at the absurdly dressed relatives but you also feel that you are there. Najma Yusufi takes you on a similar ride as she transports you to Peshawar, Lahore, England and Africa, in her story that revolves around the Afghan Durranis settled in Peshawar. The last ruling Afghani royal family, that she herself is a descendant of from her mother’s side, is seen scattered and devoid of its former glory as it occupies the last relic of its legacy — a corner house of Munda Beri in a Pakistani city.
The heroines of her story are the four Durrani daughters: The sincere and dutiful Bibigul (modelled on her own mother Afsar ‘Bibigul’ Durrani); the narcissistic and practical Maagul; the book-lover intelligent Chan; and the overshadowed and ‘dark’ Firasat. But it is also about their mother, Hidayatullah Durrani and their servant girl Bano who along with her mother Amma, serves in the Durrani household.
The novel might be a work of fiction but it draws heavily from the author’s own life. By her own admission, the author forayed into writing only after her mother’s death in 2001 and decided to tell the story of the Durranis. Her own experiences of having been a lecturer and having lived in Britain and Africa apart from Asia, are used to portray the life of the heroines. Hence, the fictional characters, places and events bear a ‘real’ avatar in an almost historical account of a royal family that is both admired and mocked by others. What stands out for me and what can perhaps be attributed to the author’s experience as a filmmaker is the almost ‘cinematic’ experience that the novel offers. Reading about someone’s life — from teenage years to death — can be quite taxing. However, one must give full credit to the author who keeps the reader engaged as the narrative moves back and forth from one heroine to another. Divided across five parts, the novel spans five decades as the author describes in detail the family’s traditions, customers, wedding celebrations, birth of children, life of servants and the men’s lounge where infamous dancing girls perform at night. The epicenter of the narrative is of course the “Big House” the ancestral Durrani house that represents the last bit of their royal past. We meet the heroines who are very different from each other and are busy reading English books, applying the latest make-up, getting excited about buying beautiful clothes and then embracing totally different lives after marriage. The lack of independence in a world where men make all the rules shines throughout. However, instead of standing up to a patriarchal society, the women learn to live with their ‘kismet’ and blame their sorry excuse for marital relationships on their mother who they feel did not ‘train’ them adequately for a married life.
With so much focus on female heroines, their weddings and prospective grooms, I could not help but compare the novel to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Apart from the obvious cultural differences, what is different here is that the story is not of one Elizabeth Bennet. The story is almost equal for the four Durrani daughters with the added layer of Bano’s story.
Except Bibigul whose husband Mehmood leaves for England after impregnating his newly married wife, the life of the other three sisters seems to have begun well albeit momentarily. Maagul and her husband Rashid build a separate home after initial problems and there is a lot of description of the former’s shiny bangles, bright lipstick and overall beauty. Chan and her husband Dr Shafi have a rather strange beginning where an almost mysterious character, Naseem, who is a distant cousin of Dr. Shafi and works like a servant being hell-bent on disrupting their wedding night as she hides under their bed! And Firasat, who was forever made fun due to her dark complexion and is completely relegated to the background in the presence of her sisters having found a loving and caring husband in Altaf.
As a reader, you are transported into the middle of Muslim households where new characters are being introduced till the very end. But where the novel varies majorly from Pride and Prejudice is in its description of men. Where Jane Austen describes men as the “hunted” commodity in a world of husband-hunters where marriage is their only future and men come with price-tags, Najma Yusufi’s male characters are MCPs (Male Chauvinist Pigs) with very few exceptions.
Bibigul, who was left behind by Mehmood, moves to England and Africa, almost like a maid servant. She suffers due to the ill temper of her husband whom she had once loved, her daughter Ayesha is abused by her father and the youngest one, foul-mouthed Zara is not strong enough to take care of her mother and sister alone. Chan is sent back to her parents’ house and lives a life of ignominy and taunts even as she starts working independently as a teacher while her husband flies off to London and marries the strange Naseem and has more children with him giving her the life that Chan deserved. In a relationship described by monthly ‘moneygrams’, their son Sami seems to be wasting away his youth in hatred. Maagul, who is perhaps the most interesting and desperate in her need for upward mobility, finds out that her husband is a whore-monger like most men in the novel and is selling off lands discreetly to meet the expenses of his vain wife. Firasat’s life becomes almost like Najma’s in Secret Superstar where she is married to a radical who is hell bent on enforcing his version of the religious scripture. When their son Ibhi finally stands up to his father who is against his daughter-in-law working as a doctor, the moment is cathartic and your heart goes out for Firasat. And then there is Bano, the servant girl, who knows nothing except the four walls of the Durrani House. She is packed off like some toy to Maagul’s in-laws where she is first ill-treated and then raped by Maagul’s friend Yasmeen’s husband. Already separated from her family and friends as she is made to move with Maagul, she is forced to run away to Karachi and start a new life. When you finish this novel, you are not happy as you want more. The Begums of Peshawar is very readable and relatable. It is one of those that you will remember.
The reviewer is a communications professional
