History and Redemption

(Refelctions on "My Mother's Diary as Archive" and Dr. Taymiya's talk)

I tightly cling to my Dadi’s necklace, a bright gold pendant inscribed with the Ayat-ul-Kursi. I unapologetically wear it even when I am dressed in hoodies or clothes which do not compliment it at all, and make it appear as an anomalous golden chunk. Nevertheless, I wear it because it helps me create an inextricable bond with her- a bond of connectivity, a bond of relationality, a bond of longevity, a bond transcending life itself. It convinces me that she is present even through her absence, aligns me with her, and orientates me in this world. Just the act of wearing a necklace does something so significant. It acts as the redemption of loss- the loss which is so beautiful that it absolutely needs redemption.

Taymiya Zaman wants to redeem such a loss by exploring histories of both “the Jinnahs and the not-Jinnahs.” She asserts that some names live one, such as those associated with “achievements like a country,” while some names disappear, such as those of mothers “who sustain the lives around them.” It becomes a question of what “makes for a better story,” which unwaveringly makes us question if those forgotten names are not worthy of remembrance, and through remembrance redemption. Perhaps, this is the purpose of history- redemption. History does not always have to revolve around wars, empires, and men. It can also be about redeeming history which does not necessarily constitute as history. Taymiya does this by archiving her mother’s diary, and in doing so she redeems a past which only exists within her mother- it does not become a part of written words, laws or signed agreements. It is manifested through her mother’s reflections and experiences. For example, she redeems her Nani by realizing that she was not just “a wise matriarch, an excellent cook, and a dutiful wife,” as in the words of the men of the family, but she was also an extremely intelligent woman, who was denied an education and ultimately yearned for her daughters to gain what she had failed to. She is redeeming a Nani who alongside being a family-oriented woman, was also highly ambitious, resourceful and independent-minded, a Nani we would never have encountered if it was not for this diary.

She also redeems Riffat (her mother) whose girlhood was dominated by feminist thinking. Riffat says that the woman in her family is “like wax, molded by her husband.” She notices how girls tend to become more conscious about their appearance when boys start exhibiting an interest in them. She realizes how they feel pressures of looking good, and thrust themselves into a merciless cycle of self-scrutiny.  She also pities brides, who are displayed as animals in zoos. However, the present-day Riffat is very different. She denies this feminist girlhood and fights against Taymya for attempting to preserve it. However, for Taymya the diary is not just a fragment of the past, it is a more “trustworthy” rendition of the past. It redeems a Riffat who was so keenly observant, increasingly aware, and highly resistant of the world around her. It redeems a Riffat who is so dynamic that it would hurt to just lose her.

Riffat argues that she is no Jinnah- in other words she is not important, so there is no need to archive her diary and record her life. However, history is not just about Jinnah’s creation of Pakistan, it is about small acts and gestures such as Nana living in the house infused with Nani’s memories, it is about Taymiya wearing her Nani’s Meenakri bangles, it is about Riffat ceaselessly questioning why the world suffers. Sometimes, history does not remain confined to books and laws, it becomes a living, breathing act embodied through us, whether it is me wearing Dadi’s necklace, or Taymya ardently refusing to relinquish her mother’s diary. Sometimes, history is more personal- it becomes what anchors us. Sometimes, we have to lose this history to realize that we have gone missing as well. Sometimes, what we have lost is so endearing and heartening, that we are just not ready for it to become a loss. Sometimes, it is about retrieving that loss, and making it an eternal part of us. What is history then if it is not an act of redemption?