Book & Author
Dr Shaista Suhrawardy Ikramullah: From Purdah to Parliament
By Dr Ahmed S. Khan
Chicago, IL
“It was imperative that the peoples of the world should recognize the existence of a code of civilized behavior which would apply not only in international relations, but also in domestic affairs.”
“All we ask for is that there should be an independent plebiscite under the auspices of the United Nations and that this question be decided once and for all…”
— Begum Shaista Suhrawardy Ikramullah
Begum Shaista Suhrawardy Ikramullah aka Shaista Akhtar Banu Suhrawardy (July 22, 1915: Calcutta, British India – December 11, 2000: Karachi, Pakistan) was a very accomplished Pakistani woman — she excelled as a politician, an author, a diplomat, a member of the parliament, and a delegate to the United Nations. She was the only daughter of Lt Col Dr Hassan Suhrawardy. Her mother was the granddaughter of Nawab Abdul Latif, a distinguished social worker, and a prominent educator. Suhrawardy was a prominent name in politics. Her cousin Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy was the Premier of Bengal.
After receiving her BA Honors from University of Calcutta, she went to England and became the first Muslim woman to receive a PhD from University of London. She received this honor during an era when women in the West were struggling to acquire equal rights. During her stay in England (1937-40) she met her future husband, Muhammad Ikramullah, a prominent officer of the Indian Civil Service, who was posted in London at that time. The couple married later and had four children: Inam Ikramullah, Salma Sobhan, Naz Ashraf, and Sarvath (who became the princess of Jordan). After her return from England — and during her husband’s posting in Delhi — she met Quaid-i-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah who motivated her to get involved in politics. The couple joined the All-India Muslim League, and later she played a key role in helping Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah to establish the Muslim Women Student’s Federation.
She was one of the two female representatives at the first Constituent Assembly of Pakistan in 1947; she served as Pakistan’s Ambassador to Morocco (1964-67); and as a delegate to the United Nations on a number of occasions and was a member of the committee that drafted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) and the Convention Against Genocide.
She was a prolific writer and used to write for Tehzeeb-e-Niswan and Ismat, the leading Urdu magazines for women. Her prominent works include Koshish-e-Natamaam (1950: Short stories), Letters to Neena (1951:Book) and Beyond the Veil (1953: Book), Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy —A Biography (1991), Common Heritage (1997: co-author), Mirat ul Uroos (English translation), and Dillee Key Khawaa’teen Key Kahawaa’taiN aur Maahawa’ray (2005: published posthumously). Many of her works have been translated into other languages. In 2002, the Government of Pakistan posthumously bestowed upon her the highest civil award, Nishan-i-Imtiaz.
From Purdah to Parliament (1963) is her autobiography; it presents a simple but absorbing account of the life and times of Begum Shaista Ikramullah covering the last days of British Raj and its aftermath. It is a fascinating story of a woman — who was brought up in the customary tradition of purdah — and later became the first woman of her family and generation to come out of purdah and enter the domains of politics, diplomacy, parliament and international relations. The author has meticulously described the details of social, economic and political changes that occurred in society viz a viz the British Raj.
In the foreword of the book, Khawaja Nazimuddin, the Second Governor-General of Pakistan and the President of the Muslim League, writes: “I consider it a privilege to write the foreword to the book of Begum Shaista Ikramullah. Very close relations have existed between our two families for the last four generations. The grandfather of Begum Ikramullah, Maulana Obaidullah Al-Obaidi Suhrawardy, who was the Principal of the Madrassa Alia is one of the great Schahero of Dhaka, was a personal friend of my great-grandfather, Nawab Sir Abdul Ghani; and my maternal grandfather, Nawab Sir Ahsanullah. Her maternal grandfather, Nawab Syud Muhammad was also a great friend of my family. He belonged to one of the old aristocratic families of Dhaka. He was a brilliant conversationalist and wit, and an Urdu writer and author of great repute. His essays in the well-known journal, the Oudh Punch, had the same satirical humor as Akbar Alahabadi's poems. Sir Hassan Suhrawardy, father of Begum lkramullah, materially helped me in the start of my public career. Begum Ikramullah, in spite of the official position of her husband, was a comrade in the struggle for the achievement of Pakistan. The book, From Purdah to Parliament, is an extremely interesting account of a Muslim lady brought up under old Islamic traditions and culture, acquiring modern education at the same time, and gradually emerging as a modern, educated woman taking not only a prominent part in the social life of pre-Partition India, but starting with political propaganda at social parties and finishing up as a member of the Constituent Assembly of Pakistan…I remember the author as a young girl in school who was allowed to appear before me at her father's house because of the relationship between the families and because of her extreme youth. I have thus, really seen her coming out from Purdah to Parliament.”
In the preface, the author recalls a personal tragedy: “It was in early 1963 when I finished writing From Purdah to Parliament. The book launching ceremony was scheduled for 22 September, but a personal tragedy prevented this. My husband's sudden death on 12 September left me completely shattered, and my intellectual and political activities came to a complete standstill, for it was his support and encouragement which had made this possible, just as it was my father's wish and the education that he had given me that had made me enter politics. With both of them gone, I felt that I could not face the strains and stresses inherent in practical life.”
Referring to the different eras she lived through, the author states: “I often feel that I have lived through three distinct eras. This may sound impossible, but the fact is that I was born before the last vestige of Mughal civilization had quite disappeared from the Indian subcontinent. My childhood was spent in the heyday of British Imperialism and the early years of my youth coincided with the period when the struggle for independence was gathering momentum. I had the privilege of getting into the arena as the struggle progressed and of witnessing the liquidation of an empire and the heralding in of a new state, a state born out of the dreams and desires of one hundred million people, welded into a nation by their spiritual need and economic necessity. These years are crammed with events and crowded with personalities. Memory cannot hold that picture for very long. I feel a great desire, an urge, to put it all down on paper, to sort things out and to see them in perspective. And, if while doing so, I can catch and convey a fraction of the color and movement of the great panorama I have been privileged to witness, I shall be very happy.”
Recalling her early life and father, the author writes: “I was born in Calcutta in my maternal grandfather's house. It was a very old-fashioned house, built in the style of Muslim houses of the nineteenth century…My father was one of those visionaries who always see ahead of their contemporaries. He was born and brought up at a time when the old-established customs were crumbling away and a new concept of life and a new mode of thought were beginning to find favor amongst his countrymen…”
The author, commenting on her early education, observes: “My brother, Hasan Masud, and I both spoke English even as very small children for we had nursery governesses from the time we were babies. We dressed like English children, my brother in shorts and shirts and what is known as `Eton suits', I in frilly muslin frocks and starched pinafores with my hair tied with ribbons….What was unusual in my case was that alongside this anglicized life the orthodox pattern continued…I also started to read the Arabic Primer with a view to learning to read the Koran at the traditional age of four years and four months. There are thirty chapters in the Koran and it took me three and a half years to finish it. This was about the usual time. One is not taught to read Urdu separately but, as the alphabet is the same, by the time one finishes the Koran one has learnt to read Urdu also. Thus, by the time I was eight, I could read both Urdu and English.”
Describing the details of Milad, the author writes: “ Apart from the ceremonies connected with specific occasions, the most popular occasion for ladies to get together was for milad…Milad is a ceremonious recitation of the story of the Birth of the Prophet (PBUH)…Like every other ceremony, milad had its own form and tradition. The room in which it was to be held was cleared of all furniture and the floors covered with durees. In the center, preferably on a raised dais, masnad would be spread for those who would be reciting the milad. Silver stands with burning incense would be placed in front of them as well as vases of roses or other sweet-smelling flowers. During the recitations of a certain portion, corresponding to the singing of Hallelujah in The Messiah, everyone would stand up and rose-water would be sprinkled and ittar sprayed on the assembly so that the air would be heavily laden with scent. The whole ceremony was charged with emotion—hence its great popularity.”
Reflecting on the creation of Pakistan and the partition riots, the author observes: “My father died in September 1946 and Pakistan was established as a sovereign independent State on 14 August 1947…The Calcutta riots were followed by still more terrible riots, lasting for a much longer period, covering a much greater area and taking the toll of many more lives. The first of these was the Bihar riot…. The very day after the Partition, Sikhs and Hindus together had started a systematic massacre of Mussulmans in East Punjab. All the villages were destroyed and men, women and children in thousands, killed. This started such a panic and terror in the hearts of people that within a few days millions were trekking their way from East Punjab into West Punjab. The riots had now spread to Delhi and terrible things were happening there. Gandhi, on hearing this, left for Delhi, to try and do there the same wonderful work he had done in Calcutta.”
Commenting on her arrival in Karachi, the author states: “I arrived in Karachi on 17 September 1947. I travelled from Calcutta to Bombay, and then to Karachi by the steamboat named Bamora. The deck class was full of Muslims emigrating from various parts of India. They were travelling in great discomfort, were overcrowded and, on strict rations. I went down more than once to see them and found their morale very high, they were full of hope and courage. There was not a single word of complaint. They were counting the hours till they could arrive in Pakistan.”
Describing her appointment as a delegate to the United Nations and a phone call she received from Quaid-i-Azam, the author writes: “It was sometime in July 1948 that the Prime Minister Nawabzada Liaquat Ali Khan informed me of my appointment as a delegate to the Third Session of the UN which was being held in Paris... When the list of the delegates came out in the papers, my name was in it…The same evening I was walking in my garden when I heard the telephone ring. I went inside and picked up the phone and said nonchalantly: `Hello, who, is speaking?' `Jinnah speaking,' came the reply. It is difficult to convey to people today the awe in which we, the followers of the Quaid-i-Azam held him. For a minute I was speechless and then I found my voice and muttered something in reply. Quaid-i-Azam then said, want to see you.' `Yes Sir,' I said. `Can you come tomorrow morning at 9.30?' `Yes, certainly,' I replied. `Then I will see you tomorrow. Good-bye.'”
Recalling the demise of the Quaid-i-Azam, the author states: “I was in Manchester staying with a friend, when I saw the news of the greatest tragedy yet to befall our nation and people. In the morning paper of 11 September 1948, I read that Quaid-i-Azam had passed away. It is difficult to convey our feelings about Quaid-i-Azam, the mixture of affection, the respect and the regard—it is just not possible to give any idea of how bereft, how shattered, how completely lost we felt at the news that Quaid-i-Azam was no more. Our ship had weathered many storms but with the Quaid at the helm, but now what?”
Reflecting on the passing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the author observes: “Universal Declaration of Human Rights was passed at midnight on 10 December 1948 by forty-eight votes to nil, with eight abstentions. This Declaration was made with the hope that the people of the world had now reached a state of civilization and maturity to be able to honor it. This hope has not been fulfilled. There has been continued violence and abuse of Human Rights in every part of the world. Those who get into power by objectionable and undemocratic means, try to remain in power by crushing dissent in flagrant disregard of human rights. But still there is a Declaration of Human Rights, a Charter of human freedom, and the oppressed and their champions can at least refer to it when those who having seized the reins of power try to trample on the people. The struggle between right and wrong continues.”
Remembering the loss of Pakistan's first Prime Minister, the author writes: “Nawabzada Liaquat Ali Khan, was assassinated on 16 October 1951. It was the second great loss that befell Pakistan after the passing away of Quaid-i-Azam Mohammad All Jinnah. Liaquat Ali Khan had been Prime Minister for four and a half years. There had been ample time for the Constitution to have been completed and passed, but it had not been done.”
Expressing her delight at the time spent in Morocco, the author states: “The years in Morocco seem like a golden dream to me. I went there during a very sad period of my life but the charm of Morocco, the kindness and friendliness of its people, and the fact that there was a job to be done prevented me from sinking into apathy. Yes, I have to be grateful for the years in Morocco. I had come back from England after dealing with a myriad of problems that seemed to have cropped up in the wake of my husband's death. I had also been quite ill and had to undergo a serious operation for a thyroid condition.”
Recalling her arrival in Morocco, the author observes: “I arrived in Morocco on 15 or 16 of October after having stopped for a day in Paris… Morocco was pleased to allow me to present my credentials immediately…I entered a vast hall, at the end of which there was a dais, on which there was an ornate chair on which the King sat. I slowly proceeded towards the dais, stopping whenever indicated by the Protocol Officer for bowing low in salutation…I presented my credentials, and His Majesty very kindly directed me to sit down on the vacant chair next to him. He talked to me through an interpreter and said how pleased he was to welcome me and hoped that during my term of office the ties of friendship between our two countries would be further strengthened. He was also kind enough to say that I could approach him freely at any time.”
Describing her departure from Morocco, and the help she received from her daughter Sarvath, the author states: “Happy days pass by very quickly. Soon it was time for me to return to Pakistan…The account of my time in Morocco would be incomplete without some mention of the help and support of my youngest daughter Sarvath…The times Bitlum (Sarvath's pet name) was with me in Morocco she was of great help in running the house, managing the parties, etc.….When she paid a visit to Rabat with her husband some six or seven years later, the flower shops still remembered the friendly girl who used to buy flowers from each of them, each time, so that no one should feel left out. They were happy to see her again and it gave them much pleasure to see her in a new role as a Princess. They insisted on filling her car up with flowers, and were most offended when the accompanying Jordanian and Moroccan officials tried to pay them. That is the Morocco we remember with much warmth and affection.”
From Purdah to Parliament is a fascinating account of the life and times of Begum Shaista Suhrawardy Ikramullah. It presents a history of almost 100 years — covering the social and political aspects — of the last days of British Raj and pre- and post-partition eras of South Asia.
Her example of very dedicated services — for the cause of Muslims in British India, Pakistan, and global human rights — will forever serve as an inspiration and a model for all women who aspire to serve Pakistan and humanity!
(Dr Ahmed S. Khan - dr.a.s.khan@ieee.org - is a Fulbright Specialist Scholar - 20217-2022).
