Zainab Khatoon

The lot of Muslim women in Jharkhand, and more particularly in Ranchi, has undergone dramatic changes over the past few decades. Twenty years ago, few Muslim women ventured out on the streets alone; and when they did, they would go out in veils. They had little or no access to literacy and education as most of them were brought up with the sole aim of raising families, doing household work and conform to the dictates of men.

Even out of those dire circumstances emerged dour stories of courage and conviction. Take the case of Zainab Khatoon, who runs a make-shift shop in one of the bylanes of Hindpirhi, a Muslim-dominated area in Ranchi. Poverty and family squabbles deprived her of her rightful share of the family property; her husband was unemployed and she herself had no education to speak of. But she dared to hit the pavements and sell groundnuts, braving both ridicule and the vagaries of nature. Her years of hard work has paid off. She now has a modest, make-shift shop in which she has graduated to selling biscuits, pan masala and chocolates.

Her shop is popular among the households, partly because it remains opens right from 7 am till late in the night. She has engaged a private tutor for her only daughter, who is about to be married.

Technology, television and the media have contributed to a brave new world for Muslim women, traditionally bound in the four walls of their home. A large number of Muslim girls now can be seen in school uniform and the educated Muslim women have ideas of their own.

Zubeida, a computer graduate, heads a computer institute which had been launched by her husband, while he looks after his other businesses.

Although married for well over a year, she is yet to start a family. She is also continuing with higher studies.

Similarly, Farzana has risen to the position of a branch manager in a nationalised bank. “ I feel no inhibition while working with my male colleagues, who have been very helpful.”

Not too long ago, Muslim women would see off their husbands to work and cook meals for them. Today many of them leave home along with their husbands, lunch boxes in hand. Mehrun, who has just hit 40 springs, teaches in a DAV school and is dropped to the bus-stop everyday by her husband. “My husband does not deem it a dishonour to look after our sons while I leave for work first thing in the morning.”

Recalls Hadeeba Hasan (70), “I was born to a poor and conservative family. Financial constraints along with the purdah system prevented me from getting proper education. But my marriage to Haji Imam Ali changed all that. Encouraged by my husband, I sent all my children to the local village school. My elder son topped in the university examination and took it upon himself to make sure that his brothers and sisters received education. Today my daughters and even daughters-in-law are all working women.”

It appears nothing short of a silent revolution. Winds of change are blowing away class barriers. A part-time maid, Noorjehan, recalls, “I spent my childhood working as a domestic help because my parents could afford neither food nor education for me. But I will not allow that to happen to my children.” She works like a woman possessed, in several households, just to make sure that her four-year-old son and six-year-old daughter get proper education.

Naureen, in her late thirties now, broke into the male bastion by starting a gift shop on the Main Road in Ranchi. Twenty years ago, it would have been unthinkable. “ Despite having a graduation degree from Aligarh Muslim University, I could not get a satisfactory job. But I did not lose hope. With a little money and lots of support from my husband and in-laws, I managed to start this shop.” She has grown and prospered with the shop.

Many of her relatives taunted her for venturing into an unconventional arena. But she has had the last laugh.

Shaheen, a young widow, also presents a profile in courage. After her husband’s untimely and tragic death, she did not wallow in self-pity but decided to take on life headlong. She took over the studio that her husband left behind, another unconventional area where Muslim women could not be imagined venturing earlier.

Aspirations of the younger generation are reflected in what 20-year-old Tezeen, a customer care executive in a multinational company, has to say. “I do not want to be like my grandmother or mother and spend my life in purdah.” The mothers actually have been rather supportive.

Mother of 18-year-old Shabnam sent her daughter to Bangalore to study fashion designing and carve out a career for herself. Nilofer, who has done her post-graduation, runs a successful school but is preparing to appear for her civil services examination.

Sanam, wife of a bank officer, has been a home-maker but is taking stock of her priorities and would like to break free. The stereotype of the Muslim woman now appears comical, with an increasing number of Muslim women quoting from the Hadith, which says, “ You can go as far as China in search of knowledge.”