A Fierce Champion of Justice

Empowerment has become an empty word now, used for vague causes, or to carry out self-aggrandizing agendas. 'Female empowerment' has especially been applied so broadly (whether to describe omnipresent seminars targeted for women, or as an adjective to describe pretty much everything a woman chooses to do - starting from eating at a restaurant to choosing a particular shade of lipstick) that it has become a catch-all phrase, traversing far from its original purpose of providing "autonomy and strength" to marginalised groups. Yet, when talking about the life of revolutionary poet, writer, activist, feminist, Sufia Kamal, no other seems to fit as perfectly as 'empowering'. 

While almost every woman in the country will cite her as their 'ideal', without necessarily knowing or having much idea about her immense contributions and sacrifices for the emancipation of women and marginalised groups, Sufia Kamal's life – one of constant struggles and obstacles – has, to use a glib phrase, been truly inspiring. Born on June 20, 1911, to a nawab family in Barisal, Sufia's mother had to move to her conservative parents' house with her two children after her father left home in search of the divine, never to return. Despite the presence of an expansive library and a 'progressive' attitude that encouraged schooling and reading, the girls of the family were denied formal education. While she was enrolled in a maktab as a child, after a short while, even that was discontinued as she was considered "to have grown up." 

With her curious, uninhibited penchant for learning, Sufia, thanks to the encouragement of her mother, brother and uncle, began to gulp down every bit of knowledge that came her way. Her mother taught her to read and write Bengali, and thus began her journey into the world of non-formal, unorganised education. Even as a child with limited resources and a tight leash on her dreams and aspirations, Sufia was determined to be a writer. Books of writers like Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, Sara Taiful and Motahera Banu, which she would sneak under her bed, possibly helped fortify the resolve. In her own words: "I used to get information about the outside world from my uncle. After our prayers at night, all my aunts and I used to sit around him and he would read aloud excerpts from Bengali novels. He also knew Sanskrit quite well. He used to render in Bengali translation the stories from Sanskrit classics like Agni Vamsa, Meghdut, Rajtarangini etc. I was a little child at that time, but I still carry in my heart the pleasant sound of his reading." 

It's interesting how closely her life resembled that of her idol, Rokeya Shakhawat Hossain. While still a child, she was married off to her cousin Syed Nihal Hossain. As fate would have it, her husband encouraged her to be involved in various literary and social activities, and she was finally 'allowed' to step out of the boundaries of her home to engage in social work, albeit in veil. During the anti-cooperation movement against the British Empire, Sufia wholeheartedly wove threads on a charka as a show of support to the call by Mahatma Gandhi. She began her literary career with the short story Sainik Badhu which was published in a literary journal. However, her aspirations were forcibly held back when a member of her family discovered her writings. Mofidul Hoque, cultural activist and founder trustee and Member Secretary of the Liberation War Museum, writes, "Seeing Sufia's writing in print, her uncle became furious as it violated the norms of Muslim aristocracy and took Sufia back to Shaistabad. Such was the beginning of Sufia Kamal's literary career." This intimidation was short-lived, however, as when her husband moved to Kolkata for higher education, he took his partner with him, thereby giving her the opportunity to flourish and be regarded as an upcoming writer in her own right. That's where she was introduced to the rebel poet Kazi Nazrul Islam (who eventually took on the mantle of her mentor), and Mohammad Nasiruddin, the editor of Saogat, with whom she had a long, fruitful professional relationship. 

After the sudden death of her husband in 1932, Sufia took the difficult decision of bringing up her six-year old daughter on her own, choosing to live in Kolkata instead of returning to Barisal to a life of dependence and patriarchal suppression. If it's complicated being a single mother in this age, imagine how much more difficult it would have been for a woman to work for a livelihood and bring up her daughter at a time when outside jobs for women were confined to domestic work, midwifery or prostitution. Fortunately, despite the lack of a formal education, she got the job as a school teacher with the Calcutta Corporation, which while providing her the much needed employment, also turned her into a pariah within her family. She was firm in her resolution but the pain of being rejected by her family was reflected in her writings: "Those who used to kiss me with love/ Now no longer want to see my dark face." 

Finally, her first collection of short stories Keyar Kanta was published in 1937, which was followed by a book of poems, Saanjer Maya. And it was during this juncture of her life, where despite her success as a writer when she was overwhelmed with depression and ill-health, that she met and married Kamaluddin Khan, her partner for life who further inspired her to pursue her literary and social activism. After the Partition of 1946, Sufia Kamal and her family moved to East Pakistan, and eventually took charge of the Peace Committee, which worked with the victims of communal riots and helped their rehabilitation, when its founder Leela Roy had to shift base to the newly partitioned India.

Her activism during the Liberation War is well-known. Despite her conservative upbringing behind the purdah, she unhesitatingly spoke up against the injustice of the Pakistani regime, so much so that she staunchly rebuked then military dictator Ayub Khan when he openly abused the Bengali community in front of her. Tamanna Khan writes in her "A Voice of Conscience" (published in The Star Weekend Magazine, July 1, 2011), "At a meeting, with artistes and intellectuals of Dhaka, Ayub insulted the Bengalis as "haiwan" (beasts). Sufia lost no time in retorting back, "Tab to aap bhi janaab haiwanon ki badshah hotey hain" (Then, sir, you are the leader of the beasts)."

While she was under house arrest for most of the duration of the Liberation War, she helped the persecuted in every way that she could, ignoring the heavy risks she had undertaken by going against the regime. She was so well-respected both nationally and globally that the Pakistani administration was inundated with demands to prove that she was well and had not been executed by them. They were thus forced to air a 90-second interview of her, where she essentially assured well-wishers that she was "not dead," without allowing her to show her face or answer any other question. 

After the Liberation War, she quietly continued to bring about change through her writings and welfare work. Criticisms and accusations did not dither her from her commitments to truth and her fight for the oppressed. At a time when women, notwithstanding their talents or skills, were indiscriminately and firmly restrained within the four walls of the so-called zenana, Sufia Kamal showed the courage to pave her own path, thereby making way for thousands of women to follow in her wake. If we are to truly pay homage to this incredible woman, the least we can do is honour her ideals and her dream of seeing a world that treats its people equally, irrespective of their race, language, status or gender.

The writer is a member of the editorial team.