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People just pat you on the head and are condescending to you, because you're a woman...

From Bapsi Sidhwa to Qaisra Shahraz, most authors who have emerged on the scene of English novel writing in Pakistan, happen to be women. And all of them have, in their own unique style, elaborated upon the problems faced by women in our society.

While Bapsi Sidhwa in The Bride (1983), Tehmina Durrani in Blasphemy (1998) and Qaisra Shahraz in The Holy Woman (2001) and Typhoon (2003), talk about the plight of women married into rural households, it is in Bina Shah's Where They Dream in Blue (2001) and Uzma Aslam Khan's Trespassing (2003), that one hears the grievances of an educated, working woman, in our urban society.

Twenty-three-year-old Nazli (in Where They Dream in Blue), works as an associate at a Karachi-based NGO. She comes to office dressed in a crumpled, cotton shalwar-kameez and casual sandals. Her skin the colour of milky coffee, her nails painted purple, she doesn't mind smoking a cigarette once in a while. Young Karim having recently arrived from America, considers her not only attractive but also intelligent and talented.

One sunny afternoon, Karim finds himself addressing Nazli, "But you have to realize that if you're going to be a real, proper professional, you're just going to have to get tough. You're just going to have to take crap from people. It's just a fact of life."

'She stared at him for a minute. "A real Professional?" She said in a voice far more acidic than the one, she had used on Rahim. Her derision reached out and lashed him, like a whip.'

'Karim bristled. He was only trying to help. "You know what I mean. You can't expect extra protection, the kid-glove treatment, just because you're a woman." He was angry too now.'

'As Nazli's face crumpled, Karim suddenly realized that he'd said the wrong thing, but he was confused. Wasn't that what women wanted? Feminists had been shouting about it for decades, he knew his history...'

'Nazli glared at Karim, blinking back sudden tears. She too was bewildered by the force of her own fury. Rizwan Rahim had brought to her mind, all the half remembered but still fully painful times, when older men - uncles, father, colleagues - had voiced their disapproval of her education, her career, the path she had chosen for herself. She had made herself as strong as anyone possibly could in the face of all the criticism, always done what she knew she wanted to do but sometimes she wanted someone in her corner, when she had finished taking on the world, at the end of the day. Karim's lack of understanding ruined the vague, unformed hope, that he might be a different man than the ones, she was always fighting against.'

Next day, when Karim tries to apologize, Nazli's face reddens as she explains, "You have no idea. No idea, how hard it is for me. I work so hard to be taken seriously. People just pat you on the head and are condescending to you, because you're a woman and when they think no one's looking, they try to touch you and whistle at you and start singing songs and scratching their c....., when you walk down the street."

One balmy night standing by the poolside at Pearl Continental, Karim witnesses how fellow women can be equally callous. '"So tell me beta, what are you doing these days?" One of the women was talking to Nazli now, a plump woman dressed from head to toe in gold. "Aunty, I'm working these days," replied Nazli.'

'"Oh, how nice." From her tone it was obvious, the woman thought it was anything but nice. "Where?"'

'"For Samandar, you've heard of it, haven't you?" This was Nazli's mother.'

"Oh yes, I think so. It's that magazine, isn't it?"

'"No, its an NGO. Water management, beach conservation," Nazli started to explain.'

'"And what are your plans?" This was a second woman, rail thin and tall, in contrast to the first...'

'"My plans, Aunty?" Nazli said warily...'

'"You know," said the first, golden-clad woman." When do you plan to settle down? A girl can't go on working forever. She's got to marry and have children."'

'"You won't be young forever," said the second.'

'Nazli's mother broke in, a trifle defensively. "Well, Nazli only just came back from England two years ago, she decided she wanted to work for a bit, before settling down." She nodded quickly at all the women...'

'The golden-clad woman said, "Of course, of course. There's nothing wrong with that. Just make sure, you don't leave it too long. There's a time for marriage you know and if you don't take up on it, you'll miss out."

"Yes after all, a woman's real job is in her home", laughed the second woman.'

In Trespassing, Uzma Aslam Khan captures a scene in a London cafe, 'It was still chilly, but the clouds had lifted. Sweaters and stockings came off. Cafes with outdoor seating bustled. Riffat rolled a cigarillo - slim kebab, between a hot, sesame-sprinkled naan and bit in. She scooped the grease, off her chin and sighed. "When we're back in Karachi, I want you to take me to all those roadside cafes, my family insists women should be protected from."'

'The upper corner of his lip twitched. For the briefest instant, a dark flint cut his sparkling amber eyes. He took a sip of lassi and said nothing, but his face closed. She wondered, if he'd looked like this that day he walked out of the door, without showing her his face.'

'She took another bite. "This is our cuisine, after all. A shame, half our population can't enjoy it like this."'

'He pushed his plate back. "You sound so immature, when you talk that way."'

"Immature?"

"Irrational, then. Its not done Riffat. You can't transport something that exists here, to another place."

'She blinked, genuinely confused. "Something? Like what?"'

"Like another system. You know perfectly well, it doesn't look good for a woman to eat in those cafes, men ogle. And if she's with a man they want to know, why he can't shield her from their lust. He looks even worse."

'She puts down her sandwich. It was slowly making sense. "Democracy, health care and education, can come from within our system?"'

"Of course."

"But when women appear in public as frequently and comfortably as men, that's an import? An evil outside influence?"

'He shrugged. "Some things will take longer."'

"Because some people want them to? Could it be the same people who speak so eloquently, of new wheels turning?"

'He raised a brow and looked around... She grabbed his hand. "No. This time you're going to answer me. You want efficiency, hygiene and a free press - but not that modernity should benefit women..."'

                                                                                            

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