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Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq

by Dr, Ramlal Agarwal
(Jalna, Maharashtra, India)

Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq - Translated by Deepa Bhasthi



Banu Mushtaq, hardly known beyond her circle of activists and the Bandaya Sahitya movement in Karnataka, has suddenly caught the attention of the literary world by winning the International Booker 2025. She deserves the recognition because she delves deeper into the darkest world of poor Muslim women, who are the worst victims of male chauvinism, insensitivity, and skulduggery of their folk. The TLS reviewer called them the wretched of the world. They are overburdened with a shocking number of children and little money to feed them, and open to the shock of being abandoned at the caprice of their husbands without any provisions for their large families. Banu unveils their problems, story after story, and each one of them comes as a stab in the gut.
The first story in the collection, Stone Slabs for Shaista Mahal, is different in tone and texture from the stories that follow it.

Iftikhar lived in a spacious house with a lush garden, a guava tree on either side of the footpath, and iron ropes tying a swing to its thick branches. Jasmine creepers and various rose plants bloomed around them. He is happily married to Shaista, the father of six children, and is awaiting the birth of their seventh. He invites Mujahid, whom he met a few days ago, along with his wife, Zeenat. When Jeenal and Mujahid arrive at their house, Shaista welcomes them, and Zeenat quickly becomes friends with her. Iftikhar calls them out to the garden and fetches a basketful of jasmine. Shaista shares them with Zeenat, who then shares them with Arifa, the eldest daughter standing nearby. Shaista tells Zeenat that Arifa had to drop out of school because her father thought girls did not require an education, and since then, she has been looking after her younger siblings and managing household chores. Iftikhar sits beside Shaista on the swing and says, “Look, Zeenat Bhabhi, I planted this guava tree for Shaista. Every plant and flower here is a favourite of hers. I grew this Anab-e-Shahi grape creeper for her. If I were an emperor, I would have built a palace to put even the Taj Mahal to shame and call it Shaista Mahal." Mujahid joins them and cynically contradicts Iftikhar. In this conversation, Shaista sides with Mujahid, stating, “My grandmother used to say that when a wife dies, it is an injury for the husband. Do you, Zeenat, know that if the elbow gets injured, the pain is intense for a moment; it's unbearable, but it lasts only a few seconds, and afterwards, one does not feel anything? There is no wound, no blood, no scar, no pain." Immediately, Iftikhar held Shaista's hand and said, "Every cell in my body is alive because of the strength of your name, every heartbeat of mine is because of your energy and vigour." It was getting dark, and the guests departed.

Soon, Shahi Shaista gives birth to her seventh child, but a month later, she dies. Unaware of her death, Mujahid and Zeenat collect gifts for the new baby and its mother and arrive at Iftikhar's residence. They do not receive the usual enthusiastic welcome they were accustomed to. They see a woman dressed like Shaista, but she is not Shaista. Iftikhar steps forward and says, "She is my wife. I married because my children needed to be looked after." Zeenat is taken aback. She responds, "It’s okay, but don’t repeat the words to his new wife that you said to Shaista. The children, led by Arifa, gather around her before she leaves the posh house.

The story is a poignant comment not only on the fragility of happiness but also on the ironies and deceptive nature of human existence.

Another story, Black Cobras, is about the insensitivity, prejudice, greed, and selfishness of some male characters towards their women, all in the name of religion.

It is about a mutawalli, in charge of Black people properly, and the welfare of poor and needy Muslims. He has seven children in ten years. His youngest child is seriously ill, but that does not bother him. His wife pleaded that she be allowed to undergo an operation, but he says that, being a mutawalli, he cannot break the diktat of his religion. Yakub, a friend of the mutawalli, calls on him. Yakub had abandoned his wife, Aashraf because she gave birth to three daughters but no son, and he married again. Aashraf's youngest daughter, Munni, was ill and needed medical treatment, but she could not afford it. When she tells this to Zulekha, the lady with whom she worked as a maid, she advises her to approach the mutawalli and the panchayat. After her persistent efforts, a meeting of the council is called, and the mutawalli has to attend it.

Yakub is not worried about it because, according to Sharia, a Muslim can marry four women. Zulekha tells Aashraf that Sharia permits a Muslim to have four wives but only under specific conditions, but Yakub knows nothing about them, nor does the mutawalli. Ashraf is not concerned about them. All she wants is a little help for the treatment of her child. The mutawalli and Yakub start the meeting. On the way, Yakub takes him to a hotel where both eat and drink leisurely. Aashraf, with her daughters and relatives, kept wailing for them to arrive. When they do, Aashraf says she has no issue with Yakub regarding his second marriage. She is only asking for help for the medical treatment of her daughter Munni.

Yakub became furious at the request, stating that the woman had been pestering him for some time and that his second marriage was following the guidelines of Sharia. He lists the names of women who, after being abandoned by their husbands, do not pester them, yet this woman has made his life difficult. He glared at Aashraf, rushing towards her and kicking her with all his strength.

Aashraff fell, and Munni was thrown away, striking a stone slab. She was already very weak and suffering, and the impact of her fall cost her life. The women in the vicinity were enraged by the incident, expressing their anger in powerless curses and insults directed at the mutawalli.
Another story, Rain Fire, also revolves around a mutawalli. His wife, Arifa, has borne seven children for him, leaving her completely exhausted from household chores and resembling an elderly woman. She urges her husband to allow her to separate, but he responds that, as a mutawalli, he cannot consent because Islam does not permit it. It restricts Muslims from giving up on their families. As the one in charge of Black property, he dreams of building a shopping mall on it, instead of using it to help poor and needy Muslim families. As a mutawalli, many poor Muslim women approach him with their problems. His sister comes to him asking for her share of the property, and he becomes furious. Another sister stands at his entrance, pleading for him to advocate for her son's job at an institution; his words carry weight. There are other petitions he handles with empty promises or by shifting the blame onto the petitioners. Dawood, his right-hand man, arrives with news that the police cremated Nisar at a Hindu smashan. He expresses regret, lamenting that Islam is being destroyed and that there is no respect left for Muslims.

The mutawalli I remembered that Nisar was a painter and he had given him two hundred rupees for painting the Masjid during Ramzan. Nisar absconded with the money. When he was caught, he was tied to a tree and profusely beaten. Later, Nisar fell into a pond and died. The police cremated him in a smashan. Mutawalli started blaming the police. He says that if they had come to the Masjid and told us that a body of one of ours was found, we would have brought it here in an instant and given it a proper burial.
The hypocrisy, the complacency, and the deceit of the mutawalli are nothing if not shocking.

Banu’s stories are about real-life situations, told in a straightforward manner and simple language. They shed light on the miserable misuse of religion. She does not hold religion as the reason d'être for their wretchedness, but the lack of proper understanding of its tenets. They are disturbing not only to the Muslims but to the whole of humanity.

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