Fahmida Riyaz: Inheraf Ki Awaz

The history of Urdu literature has seen very few women who left a lasting mark with their distinct voices and startled society with their powerful ideas. In the past, women would often enter the world of Urdu literature with hesitation and fear. Today, the situation is no longer what it was fifty years ago. Observing, understanding, and commenting on social issues and the ups and downs of life is not something everyone can do. Fahmida Riaz’s literary identity is defined by her critique of social evils and inequalities, as well as the ideas she presented in her poetry against a male-dominated society.

Fahmida Riaz fiercely criticizes the creation of Pakistan and the circumstances that followed. She offers a harsh critique of the dictatorial regime that emerged after the country's formation. She does not merely make empty claims; rather, she explores the causes and psychological roots behind the rise of dictatorial and fascist powers. In presenting the true concepts of freedom and slavery, she also provides a psychological study of the human mind. As an artist, she raises a fundamental question regarding post-independence Pakistan. In her book Adhoora Aadmi (The Incomplete Man), she writes:

Look at his condition after taking this first step toward freedom. Is he dancing with joy and pride over his achievement? No, instead, he suddenly finds himself naked. He is overwhelmed with shame and regret. He is weeping bitterly, prostrating before God, and begging for forgiveness for his sins. He seeks pardon. He is repenting, rubbing his forehead on the ground in a prostration of remorse.

(Adhoora Aadmi, Fahmida Riaz, p. 34)

Fahmida Riaz’s analytical approach compels us to accept her stance. She mentions General Ayub Khan and martial law with biting sarcasm. She also takes the common people of Pakistan to task, who appeared perfectly happy and content even after their democratic rights were snatched away. In the eyes of the public, Ayub Khan had arrived as an angel of mercy to save the nation. Fahmida writes in the same book:

The state of the national psyche was such that Ayub Khan’s physique—his tall, broad, heavy-set, and fair-skinned appearance—was presented as proof of his superiority as a human being. After the death of Pandit Nehru, when Lal Bahadur Shastri became the Prime Minister of India, his thin and frail body was often mocked in comparison to Ayub Khan’s massive frame. This was exactly how, during the military operation in Bengal, the dark skin and slender build of the Bengalis were presented as evidence of their inferiority. It was as if their physical structure justified crushing them. Viewed from this perspective, the ideal social consciousness of humanity in our neighboring country, India, is far more mature than ours, as a frail body and short stature did not prevent Shastri from becoming Prime Minister.

(Ibid., p. 64)

The way Fahmida Riaz openly integrates social and political realities into her thoughts and feelings is rarely seen not only among other female writers but even among male writers. She also complains about this. In her book Adhoora Aadmi, she writes:

The Urdu writer seems devoid of the ability to criticize their own class, and we see that their anger or protest is usually directed at certain linguistic or religious sects. They consider themselves entirely one with their class, and because they have resolved to turn a blind eye to the flaws of their own class, they also avoid looking within themselves. (Ibid., p. 95)

She further states:

This is why Urdu literature not only appears to lack social consciousness, but it also fails to untangle the knots of internal psychology. The absence of human values in Pakistani Urdu literature gives us an idea of the internal exhaustion and melancholy of the class that uses this language as its medium of expression. As a result, this class has essentially lost faith in human values and considers any existing major power to be absolute and invincible. (Ibid., p. 96)

You might have noticed that Fahmida Riaz, unlike other female poets, is not merely interested in poetry and literature; she also appears fully aware of the changes and political upheavals occurring across society. Furthermore, she does not just offer sweeping remarks on an issue. Instead, she expresses her stance after deeply and attentively reflecting on the matter, keeping all its pros and cons in mind.

In Pakistani Urdu poetry, the distinct voices of Zehra Nigah, Fahmida Riaz, and Kishwar Naheed can be recognized from afar. In the generation following Ada Jafri, these three poets hold immense significance. After them, Parveen Shakir's purely feminine voice quickly carved out a place for itself in Urdu poetry, but like a fleeting flame, this voice was silenced all too soon. Alas!

The tone of protest and dissent is clearly visible in both Fahmida Riaz’s prose and poetry. Generally, every artist holds a mirror to the evils of their society. Some have a softer tone, while others are louder, but Fahmida’s poetry breaks away from the beaten path. Her intellectual clash with the attitudes of men is frequently evident, and she consistently registers her protest. In the ups and downs of life, everyone has to go through new experiences.

What is the reality of protest and dissent, and what relationship does it have with an artist or a poet? Let us hear it in Fahmida Riaz’s own words. In the foreword to her book Meri Nazmein (My Poems, 1981), she writes:

Writers, poets, philosophers, and artists are also products of this very society. However, their way of living is slightly different. They raise the voice of protest with great passion and fervor. Those who have never raised a slogan of protest can never know how heart-rending this cry truly is. (Foreword, Meri Nazmein, Fahmida Riaz, 1981)

Fahmida Riaz does not present dissent and protest merely as external concepts; rather, she writes prose or poetry only after formally aligning the philosophy of protest with her own consciousness. Consider this excerpt from a poem:

Main jo nagin ki tarah khaak pe bal khati hoon

Sar patakti hui pathar pe jabeen ghisti hui

Apne ugle hue zehraab toh khud peeti hoon

Main toh samjhi thi yahan koi nahi, koi nahi

Par kahin door koi hashr bapa ho jaise

(Pichle Pehar)

Like a serpent writhing in the dust, striking my head and rubbing my forehead on stones, I drink my own spewed venom. I thought there was no one here, but it feels as if a doomsday has erupted somewhere far away.

Fahmida Riaz’s protest erupts from her inner self. Observe this excerpt from her poem Baakra Nazm (Virgin Poem):

Uski ubli hui aankhon mein abhi tak hai chamak

Aur siyah baal hain bheege hue khoon se ab tak

Tera farmaan yeh tha is pe koi daagh na ho

So yeh be-aib achhoota bhi tha an-dekha bhi

Be-karaan raig mein sab garm lahoo jazb hua

Dekh chadar yeh meri sabt hai is ka dhabba / Ae Khudawand-e-Kabeer

Ae Jabbaar! Mutakabbir-o-Jaleel!

Haan tere naam parhe aur kiya zibah isay

Ab koi paara-e-abr aaye, kahin saya ho

Ae Khudawand-e-Azeem

Baad-e-taskeen! Ke nafs aag bana jata hai

Qatra-e-aab! Ke jaan lab pe chali aayi hai

Her bulging eyes still hold a gleam, and her black hair is still soaked in blood. Your command was that she must be spotless, so she was flawless, untouched, and unseen. All the warm blood was absorbed by the endless sand; look at my shawl, it bears its stain, O Great Lord! O Mighty, Proud, and Glorious One! Yes, I recited Your names and slaughtered her. Now let a piece of cloud come, let there be some shade, O Supreme Lord! A soothing breeze, for my breath turns to fire; a drop of water, for my life is at the edge of my lips.

The distortion in society stems from the mindset of men. Fahmida Riaz stands against this very mindset. If a man begins to consider a woman his property, the relationship between them can never be enduring. Even to nurture the feeling of pure love and romance, it is necessary to abandon this mindset and understand a woman's genuine emotion of love. Fahmida Riaz’s poem Badan Dareeda (Torn Body) is the story of discovering this very pure emotion. She considers the confinement of women to be an act of oppression. Bringing the pain of separation closer to life is Fahmida Riaz’s brilliance. A reading of Meghdoot and Badan Dareeda gives exactly this impression. In a society where the free expression of love is a crime, Fahmida adopts an attitude of protest and dissent against it.

Look at these lines from Meghdoot:

Main ke bint-e-hijr hoon / mujh mein aisi aag hai

Main ke mere waaste / wasl bhi firaaq hai

I, who am the daughter of separation, hold such a fire within me; I, for whom even union is a form of parting.

Similarly, look at these lines from the poem Badan Dareeda:

Sarsarane do zara raat ke is resham ko

Is mein malfoof kisi ahd ki ik laash bhi hai

Kab ki woh kashmakash-e-zehn-o-zabaan khatm hui

Ik tarap baaqi thi so dushman-e-jaan khatm hui

Ab toh woh meri thakawat bhi mujhe chhor chuki

Woh dareeda badani jaan ko bhi torr chuki

Let the silk of this night rustle a little, wrapped within it is also the corpse of an era. The conflict between mind and tongue ended long ago; a single ache remained, and that enemy of life is now gone. Now even my exhaustion has abandoned me, and that torn body has broken my soul as well.

Fahmida Riaz strongly opposes the oppression and subjugation inflicted upon women in society. She also fiercely protests against confining women to the chador (veil) and the four walls of the house. This resistance is clearly reflected in most of her poetry. One such poem is titled Chador aur Char Diwari (The Veil and the Four Walls).

The image of the bold and fearless woman that emerges in Fahmida’s poetry compels us to reflect. She believes a woman should be proud of her womanhood. There is a profound sense of joy and a life-giving force in her femininity and physical being. For Fahmida Riaz, ignoring the importance of this physical reality is entirely unacceptable. She absolutely rejects the idea of a defeated woman. A woman is not only capable of dreaming of dissent and protest, but she can also actively participate in this resistance.

In Fahmida’s poem Sahil Ki Ek Sham (An Evening at the Beach), an anonymous little boy is seen on the seashore. Fahmida sees the sparks of hatred and protest within this child. Consider this excerpt from the poem:

Zaaida-e-behr ek / sahil pe sar-nigoon khara hai / itna gumnam itna tanha

Be-khanman saya ek bacha / jis ka koi ghar kahin nahi hai

Jis ki waris zameen nahi hai / sahil ki sang-dil hawa mein

Kaisa zehrab beh raha hai / yeh us zehrab ko piye ga

A child born of the sea stands alone and nameless on the shore, with no home and no land to claim him. He is destined to drink the bitter poison flowing in the cruel coastal wind.

Notice the imagery of the flame of protest that will ignite within this child after enduring such a lonely life and drinking this poison:

Us ke sookhe hue labon par / lehron ke namak ka zaiqa hai

Bas rait lipat saki hai us se / bas lams hawa ka janta hai

Woh tum se meri hum-kinari / bujhti aankhon se dekhta hai / jaanan mera hath hath mein lo

Hai us ke labon pe aane wali / jeene se zyada talkh gaali / gaali jo raakh ban gayi hai

Is raakh mein agar koi sharar hai / shayad shola bharak hi uthe

With the taste of sea salt on his dry lips and knowing only the touch of sand and wind, he watches our embrace with fading eyes. A bitter curse is about to escape his lips—a curse turned to ash, but if a spark remains, it might just ignite into a roaring flame.

Fahmida Riaz’s brilliance lies in the fact that she never becomes so loud in her protest that it compromises her literary and poetic aesthetics. She always observes human life and society through the gaze of a bold, flesh-and-blood woman. She wants society to accept a woman with her complete physical existence and emotional depth. However, when she sees this patriarchal society treating women merely as objects of entertainment, the flame of her rebellion burns even brighter. She considers the bonds of the heart to be far beyond the rigid, pre-established rules of society.

She has a short poem titled Mere Aur Tumhare Beech (Between You and Me). Feel the impact of these lines:

Mere aur tumhare beech / is neeli chador ke siwa kuch bhi nahi

Phir yeh akela kohra mere dil par kaise utar raha hai / yeh gehra sannata kya hai

Har lamha kyun simat raha hai / jo kuch mere dil mein hai woh rasmon ke rishton se mawara hai

Rasmon ka yeh rishta deewaron se hum ko jhaank raha hai

Gehra saans nahi le sakti / main be-chain hui jaati hoon

There is nothing between us but this blue veil, yet a lonely fog descends upon my heart. What is this deep silence? My feelings transcend traditional bonds, yet the weight of societal customs stares at us through the walls, leaving me restless and unable to breathe.

In her poetry, Fahmida Riaz has lit the candles of feminine ecstasy and joy. The ability to express the true voice of the heart is the hallmark of her work. She possesses a masterful command over molding the subtleties of feeling and the delicacies of feminine emotions into words. Patthar Ki Zaban (The Language of Stone) was her first poetry collection, published in 1967. For Urdu readers of that era, reading it was nothing short of a revelation. However, there was a certain rawness in this collection, indicating an emotional turbulence typical of that age.

In her later poetry, Fahmida Riaz presented the emotions of love with a sense of rapture, awareness, and deep understanding. A distinct transformation was visible. She gave a new language to romance, love, and the relationship between men and women. It is important to note that Fahmida Riaz did not present an imaginary, idealized lover opposite the woman. When a male poet presents a beloved, there is often an ambiguity regarding gender. Fahmida Riaz completely eliminated this illusion. The beloved breathing in her poetry is a living, flesh-and-blood man who emerges as a natural character.

Consider this final excerpt from her poem Aaj Shab (Tonight):

Aaj main letoon gi tere bazuo'n mein

Yeh ijazat de ke dil ki baat keh doon

Yeh ijazat de ke main khud ko karoon tere hawale

Apna bojha torta hai jaan meri / meri bedari ka pecheeda shikanja

Zehen par har-dam kasa jata hai / aaja

Tonight, I will lie in your arms. Let me speak my heart and surrender myself to you, for the heavy, complex grip of my wakefulness constantly tightens around my mind—come to me.

Similar radiant and fragrant heartbeats of romantic intimacy can be heard in her poem Abad (Eternity). Observe:

Yeh kaisi lazzat se jism shal ho raha hai mera

Yeh kya maza hai ke jis se hai uzv uzv bojhal

Yeh kaif kya hai ke saans ruk ruk ke aa raha hai

Yeh meri aankhon mein kaise shahwat bhare andhere utar rahe hain

Lahoo ke gumbad mein koi dar hai ke wa hua hai

Yeh chhoot'ti nabz, rukti dharkan, yeh hichkiyan si

What is this pleasure that numbs my body and makes every limb heavy? What is this ecstasy that makes my breath falter, as a sensual darkness descends upon my eyes and a door opens within the dome of my blood?

The final part of this poem further unfolds the moment of ecstasy and the joy of union:

Gulab o kaafoor ki lapat tez ho gayi hai

Yeh aabnoosi badan yeh bazoo kushada seena

Mere lahoo mein simatta sayyal ek nukte pe aa gaya hai

Meri nasein aane wale lamhe ke dhyan se khinch ke reh gayi hain

Bas ab toh sarka do rukh pe chador / diye bujha do

The scent of rose and camphor intensifies around this ebony body and broad chest. The flowing blood in my veins converges to a single point in anticipation of the coming moment—now, just pull the veil over my face and put out the lamps.

In Fahmida Riaz’s philosophy of love, the participation of the physical body is essential. Cloaking Urdu poetry in the superficial garb of mysticism through false moral philosophizing is a form of hypocrisy and deceit. The erasure of the physical body in the companionship of a man and a woman is a metaphysical concept that Fahmida Riaz has always rejected. She considers the bridging of the gap between body and soul to be true romance and genuine, eternal love. She openly presents human nature and the human psyche in her poems. Listen to her poem Zabanon Ka Bosa (The Kiss of Tongues):

Zabanon ke ras mein yeh kaisi mehak hai

Yeh bosa ke jis se mohabbat ki sehba ki urti hai khushboo

Yeh badmast khushboo jo gehra, ghanooda nasha la rahi hai

Yeh kaisa nasha hai

What is this fragrance in the nectar of tongues? This kiss that releases the scent of love's wine, bringing forth a deep, drowsy intoxication—what kind of intoxication is this?

As the poem evolves, it takes on this hue:

Yeh bheega hua garm o tareek bosa

Amavas ki kaali barasti hui raat jaise umadti chali aa rahi ho

Kahin koi sa'at azal se rameeda

Meri rooh ke dasht mein urr rahi thi

Woh sa'at qareen tar chali aa rahi hai

Mujhe aisa lagta hai / tareekiyon ke / larazte hue pul ko

Main paar karti chali ja rahi hoon / yeh pul khatam hone ko hai

Aur ab / us ke aage / kahin roshni hai

This wet, warm, and dark kiss feels like a pouring, moonless night surging forward. A fleeting moment, wandering since eternity in the desert of my soul, is drawing closer. I feel as though I am crossing a trembling bridge of darkness, and as the bridge ends, there is light ahead.

Fahmida wishes to preserve the sanctity of feminine emotions in her poetry. From the perspective of feminine expression in Pakistan, alongside Fahmida Riaz, the names of Sara Shagufta, Kishwar Naheed, Parveen Shakir, Shahida Hasan, and Tanveer Anjum are highly significant. While Fahmida Riaz has spoken of a woman's true emotions and physical ecstasy, she has also portrayed the deeply sacred role of a woman as a mother. She has beautifully captured the experience of becoming a mother in her poem Lao, Hath Apna Lao Zara (Come, Give Me Your Hand). This experience was also famously articulated through the voice of Maryam, the heroine of Ali Sardar Jafri’s renowned poem Nai Duniya Ko Salam (Salute to the New World).

Let us look at this sacred feminine feeling in these lines, which illuminate Fahmida Riaz’s feminist sensibilities. The poem begins:

Lao hath apna lao zara

Chhoo ke mera badan

Apne bache ke dil ka dharkana suno

Naaf ke us taraf / is ki jumbish ko mehsoos karte ho tum?

Bas yahin chhor do / thori der aur is hath ko mere thande badan par yahin chhor do

Mere Isa! Mere dard ke charagar / mera har moo-e-tan

Is hatheli se taskeen paane laga

Come, give me your hand. Touch my body and feel the heartbeat of your child. Can you feel its movement just beyond my navel? Leave your hand right here on my cold body for a little while longer. My healer, my messiah, every fiber of my being finds comfort in your palm.

Further along in the poem, the pure emotion of a woman is presented like this:

Tum ne jaane mujhe kya se kya kar diya

Mere andar andhere ka aaseb tha / ya karaan ta karaan ek anmit khala

Yun hi phirti thi main / zeest ke zaiqe ko tarasti thi main

Dil mein aansoo bhare, sab pe hansti hui

Tum ne andar mera is tarah bhar diya / phoot'ti hai mere jism se roshni

You have completely transformed me. Inside me, there was a haunting darkness, an endless, unerasable void. I used to wander aimlessly, yearning for the taste of life, smiling at everyone while my heart was full of tears. But you have filled my emptiness so completely that light now bursts forth from my body.

This poem suggests that while she protests against a male-dominated society, she also acknowledges the dominance and greatness of men. A woman's greatest desire in life is to become a mother. Before motherhood, life feels tasteless. Whether a woman belongs to the East or the West, the significance of this feeling remains the same. Fahmida Riaz deeply understands this core emotion of a woman. Therefore, her creative vision reflects a genuine sincerity rather than any hypocrisy. Additionally, a natural innocence can be observed in such poems.

The image of a modern Eastern woman emerges clearly in Fahmida Riaz's poetry. She feels absolutely no hesitation in presenting the truths of life with utmost sincerity. Reading poems like Mere Hath, Bakira, Mere Aur Tumhare Beech, Abr-e-Bahar, Badan Darida, Aqleema, Zan-e-Napak, and Patthar Ki Zaban reveals both her creative vision and intellectual brilliance. It feels as though she is not merely writing poetry, but rather composing an epic of womankind for her era. This can also be seen as a response to the oppression of time and history. Although her first poetry collection, Patthar Ki Zaban, more prominently features the playful desires of a young girl, feminist elements can still be found within it.

Fahmida Riaz holds a firm and distinct identity among female poets. In her prose, whether one reads her novel Godavari or Adhoora Aadmi, the tone of her voice remains entirely unique. She views this world as a battlefield. She embraces every kind of pain and hardship with a cheerful spirit, yet always accompanied by a sense of protest. She hesitates to blindly accept shifting moral values just as they are. She understands that society has fabricated its own set of moral laws—some necessary, others completely unnecessary—which makes an attitude of protest and dissent essential for an artist.

Witness a spark of dissent in Fahmida Riaz's feminist thought and feminine tone, and allow us to take our leave:

Sarab hoon main teri pyas kya bujhaungi

Is ishtiyaq se tishna zaban qareeb na la

I am but a mirage, how could I ever quench your thirst? Do not bring your thirsty tongue so close with such intense desire.

(Broadcast as a feature on the Urdu Service of All India Radio, Delhi, in 2006)

The history of Urdu literature has seen very few women who left a lasting mark with their distinct voices and startled society with their powerful ideas. In the past, women would often enter the world of Urdu literature with hesitation and fear. Today, the situation is no longer what it was fifty years ago. Observing, understanding, and commenting on social issues and the ups and downs of life is not something everyone can do. Fahmida Riaz’s literary identity is defined by her critique of social evils and inequalities, as well as the ideas she presented in her poetry against a male-dominated society.

Fahmida Riaz fiercely criticizes the creation of Pakistan and the circumstances that followed. She offers a harsh critique of the dictatorial regime that emerged after the country's formation. She does not merely make empty claims; rather, she explores the causes and psychological roots behind the rise of dictatorial and fascist powers. In presenting the true concepts of freedom and slavery, she also provides a psychological study of the human mind. As an artist, she raises a fundamental question regarding post-independence Pakistan. In her book Adhoora Aadmi (The Incomplete Man), she writes:

Look at his condition after taking this first step toward freedom. Is he dancing with joy and pride over his achievement? No, instead, he suddenly finds himself naked. He is overwhelmed with shame and regret. He is weeping bitterly, prostrating before God, and begging for forgiveness for his sins. He seeks pardon. He is repenting, rubbing his forehead on the ground in a prostration of remorse.

(Adhoora Aadmi, Fahmida Riaz, p. 34)

Fahmida Riaz’s analytical approach compels us to accept her stance. She mentions General Ayub Khan and martial law with biting sarcasm. She also takes the common people of Pakistan to task, who appeared perfectly happy and content even after their democratic rights were snatched away. In the eyes of the public, Ayub Khan had arrived as an angel of mercy to save the nation. Fahmida writes in the same book:

The state of the national psyche was such that Ayub Khan’s physique—his tall, broad, heavy-set, and fair-skinned appearance—was presented as proof of his superiority as a human being. After the death of Pandit Nehru, when Lal Bahadur Shastri became the Prime Minister of India, his thin and frail body was often mocked in comparison to Ayub Khan’s massive frame. This was exactly how, during the military operation in Bengal, the dark skin and slender build of the Bengalis were presented as evidence of their inferiority. It was as if their physical structure justified crushing them. Viewed from this perspective, the ideal social consciousness of humanity in our neighboring country, India, is far more mature than ours, as a frail body and short stature did not prevent Shastri from becoming Prime Minister.

(Ibid., p. 64)

The way Fahmida Riaz openly integrates social and political realities into her thoughts and feelings is rarely seen not only among other female writers but even among male writers. She also complains about this. In her book Adhoora Aadmi, she writes:

The Urdu writer seems devoid of the ability to criticize their own class, and we see that their anger or protest is usually directed at certain linguistic or religious sects. They consider themselves entirely one with their class, and because they have resolved to turn a blind eye to the flaws of their own class, they also avoid looking within themselves. (Ibid., p. 95)

She further states:

This is why Urdu literature not only appears to lack social consciousness, but it also fails to untangle the knots of internal psychology. The absence of human values in Pakistani Urdu literature gives us an idea of the internal exhaustion and melancholy of the class that uses this language as its medium of expression. As a result, this class has essentially lost faith in human values and considers any existing major power to be absolute and invincible. (Ibid., p. 96)

You might have noticed that Fahmida Riaz, unlike other female poets, is not merely interested in poetry and literature; she also appears fully aware of the changes and political upheavals occurring across society. Furthermore, she does not just offer sweeping remarks on an issue. Instead, she expresses her stance after deeply and attentively reflecting on the matter, keeping all its pros and cons in mind.

In Pakistani Urdu poetry, the distinct voices of Zehra Nigah, Fahmida Riaz, and Kishwar Naheed can be recognized from afar. In the generation following Ada Jafri, these three poets hold immense significance. After them, Parveen Shakir's purely feminine voice quickly carved out a place for itself in Urdu poetry, but like a fleeting flame, this voice was silenced all too soon. Alas!

The tone of protest and dissent is clearly visible in both Fahmida Riaz’s prose and poetry. Generally, every artist holds a mirror to the evils of their society. Some have a softer tone, while others are louder, but Fahmida’s poetry breaks away from the beaten path. Her intellectual clash with the attitudes of men is frequently evident, and she consistently registers her protest. In the ups and downs of life, everyone has to go through new experiences.

What is the reality of protest and dissent, and what relationship does it have with an artist or a poet? Let us hear it in Fahmida Riaz’s own words. In the foreword to her book Meri Nazmein (My Poems, 1981), she writes:

Writers, poets, philosophers, and artists are also products of this very society. However, their way of living is slightly different. They raise the voice of protest with great passion and fervor. Those who have never raised a slogan of protest can never know how heart-rending this cry truly is. (Foreword, Meri Nazmein, Fahmida Riaz, 1981)

Fahmida Riaz does not present dissent and protest merely as external concepts; rather, she writes prose or poetry only after formally aligning the philosophy of protest with her own consciousness. Consider this excerpt from a poem:

Main jo nagin ki tarah khaak pe bal khati hoon

Sar patakti hui pathar pe jabeen ghisti hui

Apne ugle hue zehraab toh khud peeti hoon

Main toh samjhi thi yahan koi nahi, koi nahi

Par kahin door koi hashr bapa ho jaise

(Pichle Pehar)

Like a serpent writhing in the dust, striking my head and rubbing my forehead on stones, I drink my own spewed venom. I thought there was no one here, but it feels as if a doomsday has erupted somewhere far away.

Fahmida Riaz’s protest erupts from her inner self. Observe this excerpt from her poem Baakra Nazm (Virgin Poem):

Uski ubli hui aankhon mein abhi tak hai chamak

Aur siyah baal hain bheege hue khoon se ab tak

Tera farmaan yeh tha is pe koi daagh na ho

So yeh be-aib achhoota bhi tha an-dekha bhi

Be-karaan raig mein sab garm lahoo jazb hua

Dekh chadar yeh meri sabt hai is ka dhabba / Ae Khudawand-e-Kabeer

Ae Jabbaar! Mutakabbir-o-Jaleel!

Haan tere naam parhe aur kiya zibah isay

Ab koi paara-e-abr aaye, kahin saya ho

Ae Khudawand-e-Azeem

Baad-e-taskeen! Ke nafs aag bana jata hai

Qatra-e-aab! Ke jaan lab pe chali aayi hai

Her bulging eyes still hold a gleam, and her black hair is still soaked in blood. Your command was that she must be spotless, so she was flawless, untouched, and unseen. All the warm blood was absorbed by the endless sand; look at my shawl, it bears its stain, O Great Lord! O Mighty, Proud, and Glorious One! Yes, I recited Your names and slaughtered her. Now let a piece of cloud come, let there be some shade, O Supreme Lord! A soothing breeze, for my breath turns to fire; a drop of water, for my life is at the edge of my lips.

The distortion in society stems from the mindset of men. Fahmida Riaz stands against this very mindset. If a man begins to consider a woman his property, the relationship between them can never be enduring. Even to nurture the feeling of pure love and romance, it is necessary to abandon this mindset and understand a woman's genuine emotion of love. Fahmida Riaz’s poem Badan Dareeda (Torn Body) is the story of discovering this very pure emotion. She considers the confinement of women to be an act of oppression. Bringing the pain of separation closer to life is Fahmida Riaz’s brilliance. A reading of Meghdoot and Badan Dareeda gives exactly this impression. In a society where the free expression of love is a crime, Fahmida adopts an attitude of protest and dissent against it.

Look at these lines from Meghdoot:

Main ke bint-e-hijr hoon / mujh mein aisi aag hai

Main ke mere waaste / wasl bhi firaaq hai

I, who am the daughter of separation, hold such a fire within me; I, for whom even union is a form of parting.

Similarly, look at these lines from the poem Badan Dareeda:

Sarsarane do zara raat ke is resham ko

Is mein malfoof kisi ahd ki ik laash bhi hai

Kab ki woh kashmakash-e-zehn-o-zabaan khatm hui

Ik tarap baaqi thi so dushman-e-jaan khatm hui

Ab toh woh meri thakawat bhi mujhe chhor chuki

Woh dareeda badani jaan ko bhi torr chuki

Let the silk of this night rustle a little, wrapped within it is also the corpse of an era. The conflict between mind and tongue ended long ago; a single ache remained, and that enemy of life is now gone. Now even my exhaustion has abandoned me, and that torn body has broken my soul as well.

Fahmida Riaz strongly opposes the oppression and subjugation inflicted upon women in society. She also fiercely protests against confining women to the chador (veil) and the four walls of the house. This resistance is clearly reflected in most of her poetry. One such poem is titled Chador aur Char Diwari (The Veil and the Four Walls).

The image of the bold and fearless woman that emerges in Fahmida’s poetry compels us to reflect. She believes a woman should be proud of her womanhood. There is a profound sense of joy and a life-giving force in her femininity and physical being. For Fahmida Riaz, ignoring the importance of this physical reality is entirely unacceptable. She absolutely rejects the idea of a defeated woman. A woman is not only capable of dreaming of dissent and protest, but she can also actively participate in this resistance.

In Fahmida’s poem Sahil Ki Ek Sham (An Evening at the Beach), an anonymous little boy is seen on the seashore. Fahmida sees the sparks of hatred and protest within this child. Consider this excerpt from the poem:

Zaaida-e-behr ek / sahil pe sar-nigoon khara hai / itna gumnam itna tanha

Be-khanman saya ek bacha / jis ka koi ghar kahin nahi hai

Jis ki waris zameen nahi hai / sahil ki sang-dil hawa mein

Kaisa zehrab beh raha hai / yeh us zehrab ko piye ga

A child born of the sea stands alone and nameless on the shore, with no home and no land to claim him. He is destined to drink the bitter poison flowing in the cruel coastal wind.

Notice the imagery of the flame of protest that will ignite within this child after enduring such a lonely life and drinking this poison:

Us ke sookhe hue labon par / lehron ke namak ka zaiqa hai

Bas rait lipat saki hai us se / bas lams hawa ka janta hai

Woh tum se meri hum-kinari / bujhti aankhon se dekhta hai / jaanan mera hath hath mein lo

Hai us ke labon pe aane wali / jeene se zyada talkh gaali / gaali jo raakh ban gayi hai

Is raakh mein agar koi sharar hai / shayad shola bharak hi uthe

With the taste of sea salt on his dry lips and knowing only the touch of sand and wind, he watches our embrace with fading eyes. A bitter curse is about to escape his lips—a curse turned to ash, but if a spark remains, it might just ignite into a roaring flame.

Fahmida Riaz’s brilliance lies in the fact that she never becomes so loud in her protest that it compromises her literary and poetic aesthetics. She always observes human life and society through the gaze of a bold, flesh-and-blood woman. She wants society to accept a woman with her complete physical existence and emotional depth. However, when she sees this patriarchal society treating women merely as objects of entertainment, the flame of her rebellion burns even brighter. She considers the bonds of the heart to be far beyond the rigid, pre-established rules of society.

She has a short poem titled Mere Aur Tumhare Beech (Between You and Me). Feel the impact of these lines:

Mere aur tumhare beech / is neeli chador ke siwa kuch bhi nahi

Phir yeh akela kohra mere dil par kaise utar raha hai / yeh gehra sannata kya hai

Har lamha kyun simat raha hai / jo kuch mere dil mein hai woh rasmon ke rishton se mawara hai

Rasmon ka yeh rishta deewaron se hum ko jhaank raha hai

Gehra saans nahi le sakti / main be-chain hui jaati hoon

There is nothing between us but this blue veil, yet a lonely fog descends upon my heart. What is this deep silence? My feelings transcend traditional bonds, yet the weight of societal customs stares at us through the walls, leaving me restless and unable to breathe.

In her poetry, Fahmida Riaz has lit the candles of feminine ecstasy and joy. The ability to express the true voice of the heart is the hallmark of her work. She possesses a masterful command over molding the subtleties of feeling and the delicacies of feminine emotions into words. Patthar Ki Zaban (The Language of Stone) was her first poetry collection, published in 1967. For Urdu readers of that era, reading it was nothing short of a revelation. However, there was a certain rawness in this collection, indicating an emotional turbulence typical of that age.

In her later poetry, Fahmida Riaz presented the emotions of love with a sense of rapture, awareness, and deep understanding. A distinct transformation was visible. She gave a new language to romance, love, and the relationship between men and women. It is important to note that Fahmida Riaz did not present an imaginary, idealized lover opposite the woman. When a male poet presents a beloved, there is often an ambiguity regarding gender. Fahmida Riaz completely eliminated this illusion. The beloved breathing in her poetry is a living, flesh-and-blood man who emerges as a natural character.

Consider this final excerpt from her poem Aaj Shab (Tonight):

Aaj main letoon gi tere bazuo'n mein

Yeh ijazat de ke dil ki baat keh doon

Yeh ijazat de ke main khud ko karoon tere hawale

Apna bojha torta hai jaan meri / meri bedari ka pecheeda shikanja

Zehen par har-dam kasa jata hai / aaja

Tonight, I will lie in your arms. Let me speak my heart and surrender myself to you, for the heavy, complex grip of my wakefulness constantly tightens around my mind—come to me.

Similar radiant and fragrant heartbeats of romantic intimacy can be heard in her poem Abad (Eternity). Observe:

Yeh kaisi lazzat se jism shal ho raha hai mera

Yeh kya maza hai ke jis se hai uzv uzv bojhal

Yeh kaif kya hai ke saans ruk ruk ke aa raha hai

Yeh meri aankhon mein kaise shahwat bhare andhere utar rahe hain

Lahoo ke gumbad mein koi dar hai ke wa hua hai

Yeh chhoot'ti nabz, rukti dharkan, yeh hichkiyan si

What is this pleasure that numbs my body and makes every limb heavy? What is this ecstasy that makes my breath falter, as a sensual darkness descends upon my eyes and a door opens within the dome of my blood?

The final part of this poem further unfolds the moment of ecstasy and the joy of union:

Gulab o kaafoor ki lapat tez ho gayi hai

Yeh aabnoosi badan yeh bazoo kushada seena

Mere lahoo mein simatta sayyal ek nukte pe aa gaya hai

Meri nasein aane wale lamhe ke dhyan se khinch ke reh gayi hain

Bas ab toh sarka do rukh pe chador / diye bujha do

The scent of rose and camphor intensifies around this ebony body and broad chest. The flowing blood in my veins converges to a single point in anticipation of the coming moment—now, just pull the veil over my face and put out the lamps.

In Fahmida Riaz’s philosophy of love, the participation of the physical body is essential. Cloaking Urdu poetry in the superficial garb of mysticism through false moral philosophizing is a form of hypocrisy and deceit. The erasure of the physical body in the companionship of a man and a woman is a metaphysical concept that Fahmida Riaz has always rejected. She considers the bridging of the gap between body and soul to be true romance and genuine, eternal love. She openly presents human nature and the human psyche in her poems. Listen to her poem Zabanon Ka Bosa (The Kiss of Tongues):

Zabanon ke ras mein yeh kaisi mehak hai

Yeh bosa ke jis se mohabbat ki sehba ki urti hai khushboo

Yeh badmast khushboo jo gehra, ghanooda nasha la rahi hai

Yeh kaisa nasha hai

What is this fragrance in the nectar of tongues? This kiss that releases the scent of love's wine, bringing forth a deep, drowsy intoxication—what kind of intoxication is this?

As the poem evolves, it takes on this hue:

Yeh bheega hua garm o tareek bosa

Amavas ki kaali barasti hui raat jaise umadti chali aa rahi ho

Kahin koi sa'at azal se rameeda

Meri rooh ke dasht mein urr rahi thi

Woh sa'at qareen tar chali aa rahi hai

Mujhe aisa lagta hai / tareekiyon ke / larazte hue pul ko

Main paar karti chali ja rahi hoon / yeh pul khatam hone ko hai

Aur ab / us ke aage / kahin roshni hai

This wet, warm, and dark kiss feels like a pouring, moonless night surging forward. A fleeting moment, wandering since eternity in the desert of my soul, is drawing closer. I feel as though I am crossing a trembling bridge of darkness, and as the bridge ends, there is light ahead.

Fahmida wishes to preserve the sanctity of feminine emotions in her poetry. From the perspective of feminine expression in Pakistan, alongside Fahmida Riaz, the names of Sara Shagufta, Kishwar Naheed, Parveen Shakir, Shahida Hasan, and Tanveer Anjum are highly significant. While Fahmida Riaz has spoken of a woman's true emotions and physical ecstasy, she has also portrayed the deeply sacred role of a woman as a mother. She has beautifully captured the experience of becoming a mother in her poem Lao, Hath Apna Lao Zara (Come, Give Me Your Hand). This experience was also famously articulated through the voice of Maryam, the heroine of Ali Sardar Jafri’s renowned poem Nai Duniya Ko Salam (Salute to the New World).

Let us look at this sacred feminine feeling in these lines, which illuminate Fahmida Riaz’s feminist sensibilities. The poem begins:

Lao hath apna lao zara

Chhoo ke mera badan

Apne bache ke dil ka dharkana suno

Naaf ke us taraf / is ki jumbish ko mehsoos karte ho tum?

Bas yahin chhor do / thori der aur is hath ko mere thande badan par yahin chhor do

Mere Isa! Mere dard ke charagar / mera har moo-e-tan

Is hatheli se taskeen paane laga

Come, give me your hand. Touch my body and feel the heartbeat of your child. Can you feel its movement just beyond my navel? Leave your hand right here on my cold body for a little while longer. My healer, my messiah, every fiber of my being finds comfort in your palm.

Further along in the poem, the pure emotion of a woman is presented like this:

Tum ne jaane mujhe kya se kya kar diya

Mere andar andhere ka aaseb tha / ya karaan ta karaan ek anmit khala

Yun hi phirti thi main / zeest ke zaiqe ko tarasti thi main

Dil mein aansoo bhare, sab pe hansti hui

Tum ne andar mera is tarah bhar diya / phoot'ti hai mere jism se roshni

You have completely transformed me. Inside me, there was a haunting darkness, an endless, unerasable void. I used to wander aimlessly, yearning for the taste of life, smiling at everyone while my heart was full of tears. But you have filled my emptiness so completely that light now bursts forth from my body.

This poem suggests that while she protests against a male-dominated society, she also acknowledges the dominance and greatness of men. A woman's greatest desire in life is to become a mother. Before motherhood, life feels tasteless. Whether a woman belongs to the East or the West, the significance of this feeling remains the same. Fahmida Riaz deeply understands this core emotion of a woman. Therefore, her creative vision reflects a genuine sincerity rather than any hypocrisy. Additionally, a natural innocence can be observed in such poems.

The image of a modern Eastern woman emerges clearly in Fahmida Riaz's poetry. She feels absolutely no hesitation in presenting the truths of life with utmost sincerity. Reading poems like Mere Hath, Bakira, Mere Aur Tumhare Beech, Abr-e-Bahar, Badan Darida, Aqleema, Zan-e-Napak, and Patthar Ki Zaban reveals both her creative vision and intellectual brilliance. It feels as though she is not merely writing poetry, but rather composing an epic of womankind for her era. This can also be seen as a response to the oppression of time and history. Although her first poetry collection, Patthar Ki Zaban, more prominently features the playful desires of a young girl, feminist elements can still be found within it.