First published in
DAWN, 17 March 2002. Reproduced with permission
First published in
DAWN, 17 March 2002. Reproduced with permission
Reviewed by Naushaba Burney
While short stories continue to be translated into English from various languages including Urdu, Abbasi's collection is one of the first to be written directly in English. It is a remarkable addition to the small but growing number of contemporary fiction written in English by Pakistanis. Many of the short stories in the volume, Bitter gourd and other stories, by Talat Abbasi, deal with everyday matters and are peopled with lowly schoolteachers, poor relations and such. But the author delineates a reality so sharp that it leaves the reader impaled.
While there is plenty of variety both of subject matter and treatment in the stories, two of the three stories that exercise a vicelike grip over you, never to let go, concern gender issues between Pakistani US expatriate couples. The third is about mother love. "A bear and its trainer", about an arranged Pakistani marriage and how the bride adapts to her husband and to her new New York home and the husband's response to the freedom around him, covers a lot of ground. The woman comes alive as her individuality unfolds, slovenly and slipshod in many ways but also perceptive, meticulous and ever so human. The surprise or, should I say, shock ending of "A bear and its trainer" is found in a few more stories "The birdman" and "A piece of cake".
The second tale set in New York — where the author works for the UNFPA — is also based on marital relations and is called "Sari petticoats". This exquisite short story about an aging daughter foisted by her affluent father on a younger but dependent nephew is riveting in the range of emotions it brings to light. In five or six brief pages the author does not just encompass the history of two generations but also exposes the innards and guts of two beings that in the usual Pakistani fashion are doubly interlinked.
If I were to advise readers which stories soar above the others, it would be my opinion, coloured by my particular needs and psyche. I will therefore content myself with adding that the last story in the book, and the third set in New York, "Mirage", affected me deeply. Its total lack of sentimentality, its almost clinical approach and matter of fact style of relating the most heartrending happenings give a new meaning to a mother's suffering. This story is particularly jolting in the Pakistani milieu where writers and filmmakers indulge in tearful selfpity by the bucketful. Abbasi's elusive, almost fugitive, touch is an antidote to our cultural excesses. The dedication at the beginning of the book, "For Maryam who can enjoy these stories and for Ali who cannot" makes the "Mirage" all the more moving.
Abbasi wisely keeps her stories close to her roots and she is at her most authentic when her tales spring from her own experiences. She deserves credit for saying out loud what life has taught her. Many of the stories in this volume pack so powerful a charge that they can sprout only from her inner depths, no matter how private and painful or how beautifully transmuted. In line with our country's upper middle class lifestyle, Abbasi's stories are built around Begums, servants and children. While she handles the ayahs and jamadarnis and their poverty and yearnings deftly, you sense that she has not got under their skins to the extent that she has in stories embedded in her own life experiences. In other words, her intuition, her insight is miraculous where the focus is on upper middle class families.
There are one or two exceptions where this doesn't quite work. In "Going to Baltistan", the affluent social worker, attending endless seminars in Western capitals, a stereotype known to readers familiar with that strange composite called the NGO, remains just that: a stereotype. Even the sarcasm the lady elicits, as cushioned in her airconditioned bedroom she pours out her selfserving monologue, appears a bit overdone.
But turn to the stories about marital relationships and the truth they express delivers a blow that can knock you out. The "Mango season" in which a widow recalls her married life, and "Facing the light" where the husband with a status to maintain, wishes to be fair to his wife, shine with a diamond's hard glitter and the softness of unshed tears. In the title story, "Bitter gourd", as well as in "Granny's portion", the interaction between the rich and poor relations is minutely detailed, as is the abusive relationship between an old cook and his young wife in "Pyedog".
Abbasi has crafted a style that is so light and evanescent that it does not intrude, bogging the reader down in the author's artifice and wordspin. The reader is carried effortlessly along her crisp, contemporary and tightly controlled prose, just the right medium for her powerful yet incredibly subtle short masterpieces. It can be said of Talat Abbasi's first collection that she generates minimalist strokes of high potency, leaving the gaps to be filled by her admiring reader's imagination.