Some writers have the spirit of a voyeur — perhaps no one exemplified this better than Graham Greene, the British novelist, playwright and critic who delighted in his lifelong role as the outsider looking in. His characters, like him, are forever wrenched from their moorings, forever on the move in search of new places, themes and people. But everywhere they go, they remain strangers.
Author Archives: Rakhshanda Jalil
Gloria Steinem
Gloria Steinem, American feminist writer and editor, is a most uncommon woman. An untiring activist for women’s rights, a ceaseless campaigner for social justice, this poster girl of the feminist movement and the ‘It girl’ of the 1960s has mellowed into a seasoned yet influential writer and thinker. However, during a career spanning five decades she has remained steadfastly non traditional, always thinking outside the box consistently refusing to conform. Co-founder of the New York Magazine and Ms., she has been a prodigiously prolific writer and speaker, drawing attention to issues of race, sex, ethnicity, conflict and abuse in their many forms; but her prism for viewing the world has remained a feminist one. On a recent visit toNew Delhi, to deliver a lecture on Feminist Approaches to Combating Sex Trafficking and Prostitution organised by a women’s self-help group, Apne Aap, Steinem spoke to the Herald about the compulsions and contradictions of the global feminist movement today.
Q. Feminism today is a house divided. Feminists disagree on most issues that face those who are campaigning for equal rights. These disagreements occasionally seem like a generational gap but sometimes they appear as a clash between academics and activists or between liberals and radicals. What do you make of these differences?
A. That hasn’t been my experience. On the contrary, there is probably more agreement within the global women’s movements than in other global movements. For instance, women may want to give birth or limit birth, but they join forces for reproductive freedom as a human right that’s at least as important as freedom of speech. After all, women can decide when and if to give birth is the single greatest element in whether we’re healthy or not, educated or not, active outside the home or not, and how long we live. There’s also a majority-shared belief that decisions about our bodies should be made by us and not our governments.
Ending violence against females is also a common cause, whether this means ending honour killings and dowry murders and female genital mutilation and son preference or sexual assault and domestic violence and body imagery that creates eating disorders. Access to education is a widely held goal, whether this means literacy or professional schools. So is equality in the media. Also, women in elected and other public decision-making positions is a big common cause, from Congress in Washington, which is way down the world list for female representation, to Liberation Square in Cairo.
As a path to these goals and more, women gather together in small groups to discover shared experience and support each other — that’s as tried and true in the India of Self Employed Women’s Association and Apne Aap as it is in the villages along the Zambezi river or teenage activists and health care professionals and women executives in New York. We’ve learned that humans are communal creatures who need to form alternate ‘families’ for support, that someone who’s experienced something is probably more expert than the experts, that the personal is political, and that change grows from the ground up like a tree. Women often tell me they’re surprised at the similarity of struggles in dealing with male-dominant systems — even very far away.
Maybe language differences need bridging. For instance, academics may say ‘agency’ and ‘discourse’ when they just mean free will and talking. I’m always threatening to put a sign on the road to Yale or Harvard that says, “Beware! Deconstruction ahead!” But just as we ask physicians to describe our health options in words we can understand, activists can ask academics to make their work actionable; otherwise it won’t get off the page and into real life — which is also what academics want. And academics are giving us the huge gift of our history, learning from the past, less reinventing the wheel.
Q. One major point of conflict among feminists appears to be on the issue of sex trafficking and prostitution. While one group is clamouring for legalisation of sexual labour and unionisation of sex workers in India, another is against legalisation. What is your view?
A. We’ve mostly passed the polarisation into “criminalisation” versus “legalisation”. I don’t know any feminist groups that want to arrest the women or men – and certainly not the children – who perform sex acts for money which, of course, is the surrealistic and unjust punishment that still happens in most of the world. I also don’t know any feminist groups that think traffickers who buy, kidnap and deceive human beings into sex slavery shouldn’t be arrested.
To state a complex issue in an everyday way: an adult may have the right to sell her or his body, but nobody has the right to sell somebody else’s body. In the US, we’ve also learned a lot from the ten Nevada counties where prostitution is legal — as it is in, say, Germany. The women’s movement had to march to keep the state government from denying welfare, unemployment and other benefits to women who wouldn’t take this job — because it was presented as “work like any other”. In Germany, too, legalisation turned the government into a procurer — until there were massive objections. Traffickers also use legalised areas to “break in” new captives with drugs, beatings, the Stockholm Syndrome. In the US, the average age of entry into prostitution is 13; just a little older than inIndia. Our girls are less likely to have been “sold” because of poverty but between 70 per cent and 90 per cent of prostituted females have been sexually abused as children and, so, often have come to believe they have no other value.
In Amsterdam where legalisation was pioneered, the mayor reports that there is no way to keep out organised crime. Demand for prostitution creates trafficking and many now regret it. Legalisation is what the traffickers want. They put a lot of corrupting cash into lobbying for it, and also hide behind such titles as “peer AIDS educators” or “facilitated migration”. Inside the women’s movement, I’ve noticed that household workers are the most worried by efforts to legalise prostitution — because they feel the most vulnerable if it’s “a job like any other”. In South Africa, I met village women who compared prostitution to selling organs in order to survive but then changed their minds after many body invasions a day.
But at least now, we know what works: decriminalising the women, men and children, offering them services and real alternatives; prosecuting the traffickers, pimps and brothel owners to the full extent of the law; and educating customers on the realities of the global sex trafficking for which they are the demand. That’s what has worked in Sweden and other Nordic countries. They are the only ones in which trafficking has decreased. This approach is also beginning to work in places like Atlanta and Chicago.
Obviously, the long term answer is creating economic alternatives. Wherever there is the most equality between women and men, there is the least prostitution and trafficking. Wherever there are strong race, class and caste hierarchies prostitution is also greater because so-called “superior” groups of women are sexually restricted and so-called “inferior” groups of women are sexually exploited. The really long term answer is Eroticising Equality — at least that’s now a slogan on T-shirts! Also, young men are more likely to understand that cooperation is pleasurable, domination is not.
Q. It’s been a long battle. Looking back, tell us briefly about the highs and lows?
A. The highs have been the successful contagions of mutual values and brave actions among diverse women — and some men, too. The lows have been seeing that majority support for issues doesn’t mean they triumph. We don’t yet have democracies. Money often trumps majorities, and religions are often patriarchal politics that can’t be criticised.
Q. In your memorable Address to the Women of America (1971) you had said: “Sex and race because they are easy and visible differences have been the primary ways of organising human beings into superior and inferior groups … ” Would you not add religion to sex and race as a way of putting people into easy and visible groups? I am asking the question specifically in the context of Islam and the way the West, in particular, views the Muslims?
A. Yes, that’s often true of religion, but I would still say sex and race – and often caste and class – are still different because they are much less likely to be changeable than are our religious beliefs or even our religious identities. There may be huge differences within one religion. Think of the difference of, say, Sufis from much of Islam, or the difference between such Christians as Quakers – who reject violence and hierarchy – and fundamentalist Christians who “beat the devil” out of children and even murder abortion doctors.
Q. In the Indian subcontinent, we have had a long history of discrimination against women and the girl child. Activists in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh have, in different ways and by different degrees, been waging a war against gender-based discrimination. Legislation, no matter how gender-sensitive, can only go so far. What are the other issues in our part of the world – apart from unequal sex – that appear urgent to you? And how best can we tackle them outside the realm of legislation?
A. I wouldn’t attempt to judge which issue is the most important for anyone else; each of us knows what hurts the most. I would just say that inequality in the family normalises inequality everywhere else, including by caste or class or race or ethnicity. Cults of gender are relatively new in human history – from 500 years to 5,000 years old depending on what part of the world you’re in – but that’s still less than five per cent of human history. They arose gradually with patriarchy and its control of reproduction and the bodies of women.
Sometimes, a reporter will ask me: aren’t you interested in anything other than the women’s movement? I always say: tell me something? In 40 years, no one has ever been able to come up with anything that wasn’t transformed by an understanding that human beings are linked, not ranked, and are also linked, not ranked, with nature.
Now that new Doomsday Weapons have coincided with hierarchical beliefs, I think we all wonder if it’s too late for us on this Space Ship Earth. But if even one generation of children were born wanted, loved, and raised without hierarchy and violence, I think we have no idea what might be possible.
Address to the Women of America
Interview: Gloria Steinem
Gloria Steinem, American feminist writer and editor, is a most uncommon woman. An untiring activist for women’s rights, a ceaseless campaigner for social justice, this poster girl of the feminist movement and the ‘It girl’ of the 1960s has mellowed into a seasoned yet influential writer and thinker. However, during a career spanning five decades she has remained steadfastly non traditional, always thinking outside the box consistently refusing to conform. Co-founder of the New York Magazine and Ms., she has been a prodigiously prolific writer and speaker, drawing attention to issues of race, sex, ethnicity, conflict and abuse in their many forms; but her prism for viewing the world has remained a feminist one. On a recent visit to New Delhi, to deliver a lecture on Feminist Approaches to Combating Sex Trafficking and Prostitution organised by a women’s self-help group, Apne Aap. Steinem spoke to the Herald about the compulsions and contradictions of the global feminist movement today.
Kunal Basu
Kunal Basu has written three novels: The Opium Clerk (2001), The Miniaturist (2003) and Racists (2006) and a collection of short stories, The Japanese Wife (2008), of which the title story was turned into a film by Aparna Sen. Basu lives in Oxford, UK and teaches at the Said Business School. In the past, he has dabbled in advertising, journalism and film-making. Born to Communist parents, Sunil Kumar Basu (a writer and publisher) and Chabi Basu (a writer and actress), books and cinema were early influences on Basu.
The thrill of discovery

Rakhshanda Jalil: I believe translation is a skill acquired from long hours of constancy and industry. It rests on the cornerstone of fidelity and humility. – Herald Photo
There was a time, not very long ago, when all we had by way of translations in India were the Jatak katha, Panchatantra, Gita or Mahabharata in English. The launch of Penguin India in the mid-1980s and the publication of Bhisham Sahni’s Tamas, the seminal Partition novel translated from Hindi, opened the floodgates. Suddenly we had translations coming out of our ears, from various bhashas literature (regional literature) into English as well as into/between the vernaculars.
This was a largely unexpected and entirely fortuitous turn of events in a country that has changed Indian Writing in English (IWE) into a national obsession. While writers of IWE are inevitably feted and lionised at lit-fests, translators too are gradually emerging from the shadows. Translations now command equal space in literary magazines, just as translators too can demand equal rights: 10 per cent royalty and a book launch with canapés and cocktails to boot.
Over the past 20 years in India, translations have, stealthily but surely, made a space for themselves not only in the trade but in the public consciousness, as is evident from the numbers of translated books displayed in local bookstores, popular awards for translators as well as the relatively painless hunt for publishers. I would venture so far as to say that translations have become a cottage industry of sorts, especially the business of compiling short stories from and into various languages. Anthologies offer a smorgasbord, or a tasting menu of sorts, into the great storehouse of Indian literature and enterprising translators/editors peg their collections in many innovative ways: women’s writing, South Asian writing, Dalit writing, coming-of-age writing, regional writing, Partition writing and call-it-what-you-will writing. As is often the case when it comes to challenges, we occasionally have random, indiscriminate, patchy, a mélange of the good, bad, and indifferent translations being cobbled together with one eye on political correctness and the other on cost-effective publishing. The idea seems to be to translate freely, prolifically and indiscriminately for there is a place for everything in a market that is showing no signs of saturation. This, I believe, is a disservice to translations generally and to the task of introducing regional literatures to younger, fresher audiences in particular.
Having said that, only a handful of the burgeoning collections of short stories, especially from the bhasha literatures, ever fail my personal litmus test. Having read and reviewed scores of such translations – and edited a couple of ‘samplers’ myself – as long as I chance upon something that opens a window into a world that is new and familiar, that has the power to delight and amaze, I feel the business of anthologising and translating might be done to death but cannot be done away with. For students of literature in South Asia, as well as those from the South Asian diaspora who look upon the bhasha literatures from their part of the world as being a vital link with their cultural heritage but use English as an effective first language, translations offer the only glimpse into an otherwise closed world. So while many veterans in the business of translating, editing or reviewing rue the presence of certain authors or certain stories popping up like tired ghosts in most anthologies of ‘modern Indian fiction’ or certain authors and stories being mistaken for being ‘most representative’ simply because they are ‘most anthologised’, there is no denying that as long as a work of translation meets the needs of a wide variety of readers the purpose behind the endeavour is met.
Having burnt my fingers with technical translations many years ago, I have since stuck to literary translations. Moreover, since I steadfastly refuse to indulge in commissioned work, I enjoy the luxury of translating precisely what I want or whatever – a story, an essay, a poem, a stray fragment – catches my fancy. The pleasure of sharing a tremulous sense of wonder that a piece of literature evokes with a wider audience that is sadly bereft due to the constraints of language and script is its own reward.
A perfect example is my introduction to the world of Phanishwar Nath Renu, a Hindi writer from Bihar. The thrill of discovering something that was at once so inexplicably real, and hence so immediate, despite being grounded in a milieu that was completely alien to me, was indescribable. That thrill stayed with me as I chanced upon story after story with characters and locations steeped in Bihar — a state which, incidentally, I have never visited and am, therefore, not familiar with, yet beckoned me first as a reader and later as a translator. All the while looking for the known and the familiar, the more I read, the more this duality grew until in a strange way it resolved itself with the slowly-dawning realisation that for a good writer, character, plot and narration are mere props. The real focus is the story and in the telling. If the writer can, perchance, touch the reader at some level – be it emotional or intellectual – then the remoteness of its setting or the strangeness of its characters is of little consequence. This sense of wonder has to be shared for it to be truly pleasure-giving.
At the same time, as a translator, it is best not to suffer from delusions of grandeur. A translation has been likened to looking at the wrong side of a carpet; the colour, sheen, intricacy of the ‘right’ side is missing. The patterns, outlines, motifs and designs are all there, but they are muted and no match for the original. The translator can, at best, convey a ‘sense’ of the sights and sounds of the original, transfer the meaning from one vocabulary bank to another but must, inevitably, lose some of it in the process. He/she can mimic the rhythms and patterns of the source language, never match it cadence for cadence in the target language. Those who claim otherwise are simply deluding themselves. For, I believe translation is a skill acquired from long hours of constancy and industry. It rests on the cornerstone of fidelity and humility.
Rakhshanda Jalil has published translations of Premchand, Manto, Rashid Ahmad Siddiqui, Shahryar, Intizar Husain, Renu among several others.
The Herald is Pakistan’s premier current affairs magazine published by the Dawn Media Group every month from Karachi.

