Tomato Ketchup is a moving poem, written by Parveen
Shakir who is widely considered to be the greatest Urdu female poet.
Shakir's best
known works highlight fresh and uninhibited confessions of love, vulnerability
and sexual tension. However, her later poetry challenged several
constructs - of women poets’ persona and treatment, of working women’s little
private hells in her country and difficult political and social subjects
[1].
Tomato Ketchup
is cynical in parts and loudly political as well. In effect, it brings out the
ugliness of the literary scene when it comes to the objectification of female
poets [2]. According to journalist, writer, and
public policy practitioner Raza Rumi, the
poem Tomato Ketchup is written most probably in the memory of Sara Shagufta
(the modernist Pakistani poet who committed suicide in the footsteps of Sylvia
Plath) [3].
Sara
Shagufta was born in Gujranwala, in 1955. She wrote poetry only fleetingly as a
teenager, going through the motions of schooling and willingly being prepared
by her parents to one day become a good housewife. When she first got
married in 1972 at the age of 17 she tried her best to become the ‘good wife.’
But her insightful personality and intelligence somehow offended her husband.
The marriage didn’t last and she moved on to marry a second time, this time on
her own accord. But when the couple’s child died at birth, the husband (albeit
silently) blamed Sara.
The
emotional volcano in her had been simmering for far too long. She stormed out
of the marriage and began to use the lava that poured out as ink with which she
began to write some of the most controversial and intense poetry.
She
rapidly fell in and out of love, marrying twice more but storming out of these
marriages as well. Though her poems were mostly about misunderstood women and a
longing to be loved and understood despite her turbulent emotional state and
individualism. Shagufta’s fourth marriage too crumbled, she finally ran out of
the emotional and intellectual corners that she had constructed for herself to
retreat back into. Then on the night of March 1984, she committed suicide by
swallowing poison. She was only 29.
Parveen
Shakir wrote this special poem, ‘Tomato Ketchup," supposedly on the trials and
tribulations of Sara Shagufta. Shakir too died young in
a car crash [4].
Sharing the audio version of this poem and the poem in Hindi and it's english translation:
टोमैटो कैचप ~ परवीन शाकिर
हमारे यहाँ
शे'र कहने वाली औरत का शुमार
अजायबात में होता है
हर मर्द ख़ुद को उसका मुख़ातिब समझता है
और चूँकि हक़ीक़त में ऐसा नहीं होता
इसलिए उसका दुश्मन हो जाता है !
सारा ने इन मानों में
दुश्मन कम बनाये,
इसलिए की वो वज़ाहतें देने में
यक़ीन नहीं रखती थी।
वो अदीब की जोरू बनने से क़ब्ल ही
सब की भाभी बन चुकी थी।
एक से एक गये गुज़रे
लिखने वालों का दावा था
की वो उसके साथ सो चुकी है।
सुब्ह से शाम तक
शह्र भर के बेरोज़गार अदीब
उस पर भिनभिनाते रहते।
जो काम काज से लगे हुए थे वो भी
सड़ी बुसी फ़ाइलों
और बोसीदा बीवियों से ऊब कर
इधर ही आते
(बिजली के बिल , बच्चे की फ़ीस
और बीवी की दवा से
बेनियाज़ हो कर,
इसलिए की ये मसाइल
छोटे लोगों के सोचने के हैं)।
सारा दिन सारी शाम
और रात के कुछ हिस्से तक
अदब और फ़लसफ़े पर
धुआँधार गुफ़्तगू होती।
भूख लगती तो चन्दा-वन्दा करके
नुक्कड़ के होटल से रोटी छोले आ जाते।
अज़ीम दानिश्वर
उससे चाय की
फ़रमाइश करते हुए कहते
तुम पाकिस्तान की अमृता प्रीतम हो,
बेवक़ूफ़ लड़की
सच समझ लेती।
शायद इसलिए भी
कि उसके नानो-नफ़्क़ा के
ज़िम्मेदार तो उसे हमेशा
"काफ़्का" की कॉफ़ी पिलाते
और "नरोदा" के बिस्किट खिलाते।
इस रॉल में लिथड़े हुए कॉम्प्लिमेंट
के बहाने
उसे रोटी तो मिलती रही,
लेकिन कब तक।
एक न एक दिन तो
उसे भेड़ियों के चंगुल से
निकलना ही था।
सारा ने जंगल ही छोड़ दिया !
जब तक वो ज़िंदा रही
अदब के रसिया उसे भम्भोरते रहे,
उनकी महफ़िलों में उसका नाम
अब भी लज़ीज़ समझा जाता है,
बस ये की अब वो
उस पर दाँत नहीं गाड़ सकते।
मारने के बाद उन्होंने उसे
टोमैटो कैचप का दर्जा दे दिया है !
~ परवीन शाकिर
Translation of "Tomato Ketchup" by Parveen Shakir
In our country,
A woman who writes poetry,
Is eyed as an odd fish.
Every man presumes
That in her poems
He is the issue addressed!
And since it is not so,
He becomes her foe.
In this sense,
Sara didn´t make many enemies.
She didn´t believe in giving explanations.
Before she could become the wife of a poor writer,
She had already become
The sister-in-law of the whole town.
Even the lowliest of them
Claimed to have slept with her!
All day long,
Jobless intellectuals of the city
Buzzed around her.
Even those who had jobs,
Would leave their stinking files and worn out wives
To come to her,
Leaving behind the electricity bill,
And the children´s school fees and wife´s medicine.
(For these are the concerns
Of lesser mortals).
Morning through late night,
Heated discussions would take place
On literature, philosophy and current affairs.
When hunger knocked in at their empty stomachs,
Bread and boiled pulse
Would be bought collectively.
Great thinkers,
Would then demand tea
Declaring her the Amrita Preetam of Pakistan.
Sara, the gullible,
Would be very pleased with herself.
Perhaps, there were some reasons for it.
Those who were responsible for supporting her,
Always fed her on "Kafka" coffee
And "Neruda" biscuits.
Because of saliva-soaked compliments,
At least, she could have one meal,
Everyday!
But for how long?
She had to free herself
From the clutches of wolves.
Sara preferred to leave the jungle itself.
As long as she lived,
The connoisseurs of Art
Kept nibbling her.
In their circle,
She is still considered delicious,
But with a difference:
They no longer can take a bite of her!
After her death,
She has been elevated
To the status of Tomato Ketchup!
-Translated by Baidar Bakht and Leslie Lavigne[5]
Ref:
[1]. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18398126-after-parveen-shakir
[2]. http://ebookkarl.com/content/find-free-after-parveen-shakir-stunning-ebook
[3]. https://razarumi.wordpress.com/2006/09/20/on-pakistani-women-poets-and-my-friends-predicament/
[4]. http://www.dawn.com/news/767605/crazy-diamonds-iii
[5]. http://deevaan.blogspot.in/2004/06/translation-of-urdu-poem-by-parveen_02.html
