“My stories are about families,” writes Tabassum, adding that this is largely an outcome of her own situation-a woman trapped in a traditional house. Yet, much like other erotic works, such as Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928) and Fanny Hill (1749), which were seen as pornographic and banned in their time, the stories in Sin are less about sex and more about the human condition. Sin: Stories by Wajida Tabassum, translated by Reema Abbasi Hachette, 240 pages, ₹384
“It is ironic,” writes Abbasi in the foreword to the collection, “that Wajida’s relatives and distant kin, who were familiar with the bold and unconventional writing of other women writers, had a rabid view of her own work and used Ismat’s writing-despite her fame and stature-as a jibe to knock Wajida’s progress.” She wasn’t nearly as famous though and lived in penury for most her life,largely reviled, facing mobs and death threats. The Amravati-born writer is often compared to Ismat Chughtai, given her realistic female characters and frank exploration of female sexuality. Not surprisingly, her work ruffled feathers during her writing years, from the 1950s to the late 1980s. The stories, deeply erotic and graphic in detail, offer a ringside view of bedrooms and bordellos. Sin, which includes this essay, is a collection of some of Tabassum’s boldest Urdu short stories, translated into English for the first time by Pakistani journalist Reema Abbasi. “They carried me out of a murky hole to a meadow.”
Her first stories, published mid-20th century, when she was in her early 20s and met with derision from immediate family, “were my saviours”, she writes. In her essay ‘Meri Kahaani’, or ‘My Story’, written when she was only 24, Wajida Tabassum talks about her cloistered, impoverished childhood and teens, when food and clothes were scarce, and books forbidden.