Through Thick and Thin
By Dr Zafar M. Iqbal and Teresa V. Liddell
Chicago, IL
The process of discovering Alys Faiz was, in retrospect, rather like pulling at a loose end. The more we tugged, the more this rather amazing person emerged. It began with the poetry of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, which is so inextricably intertwined with his life, family, politics and philosophy.
How we individually were drawn to Faiz and his poetry has been detailed in Riz Rahim’s 2008 book that translated over 80 per cent of his poetry ‘In English, Faiz Ahmed Faiz.’ Central to this complex picture is his wife, Alys Faiz (née George) of Walthamstow, a northern suburb of London. This article offers just a glimpse of selected aspects of our book ‘Through Thick and Thin Alys and Faiz.’
A young Alys, committed to Indian freedom, came to Amritsar, India in 1938 to visit her older sister, Christobel, who was married to Dr M.D. Taseer, a British-trained educationist. There Alys met and eventually fell in love with Faiz, then a lecturer in Dr Taseer’s college.
They were married in October, 1941 and the ceremony was performed by Sheik Abdullah, the Lion of Kashmir, based on a contract similar to one designed by Allama Iqbal for the marriage of Christobel to M.D. Taseer.
Despite her radical and secular views (a registered communist since she was 16) but reflective of her love and commitment to Faiz, she accepted Islam and a Muslim name (Kulsoom), chosen by Faiz’s mother. The couple had two daughters, Salima and Muneeza.
Alys learnt to speak and write Urdu, interact with family and friends, and to work within a new socio-cultural system. Quite apart from their personal feelings toward each other, what brought Alys and Faiz closer in the first place was their mutual interest in the same political, ideological and progressive ideas — real ‘soul mates’ in heart and mind.
Faiz has been the subject of several biographies, Alys receives some attention as the poet’s wife, but generally not as much or as often as she independently deserves for her depth of commitment to the cause and the country. Even while in London in the 1930s, Alys was quite active in the Indian freedom movement.
While Faiz showed enormous tolerance for different viewpoints, Alys had a down-to-earth philosophy and was, according to Khwaja Masud writing in his foreword to Alys’s book, ‘Dear Heart,’ ‘a pragmatic humanist’ and ‘stridently militant’; one who drew ‘a sharp line between right and wrong’, and ‘cannot but loathe the enemies of the cause’.
Alys was not a shrinking violet, and no footnote to anyone, including Faiz. She made her views known, didn’t spare her thoughts with her friends and colleagues (even Faiz). Faiz respected their differences.
Alys was devoted to Faiz and was next to him for the rest of his life, through thick and thin. She threw herself into the subcontinent life without hesitation: she was a wife, a companion, a friend, a comrade, a member of the extended family and a mother; she was a tireless champion for the rights of women, children and of the poor and disabled.
She worked hard on human rights issues and for societal betterment; she wrote newspaper columns, ran radio help-programs (as Aapa Jan, or Elder Sister) and worked on UNESCO commissions. She also raised children, ran the household, kept the family together and tried to bring order and discipline to Faiz’s life.
She contributed immeasurably to her adopted country and culture, and to human rights, particularly to the women’s rights movement. Alys Catherine-George Faiz, born on September 22, 1914, in London, died on March 12, 2003 in Lahore. She was laid to rest at the Model Town graveyard, nearly 20 years after Faiz (November 20, 1984). Alys never left the side of Faiz in life or in death; now she rests in the depths of the Pakistani city she adopted six decades ago, lying next to Faiz.
Giving up the comforts of the Raj,
she walks in the colonial dust,
falls in love with a man
like her,
not of her kind,
stays by him through thick and thin
when others couldn’t have,
and she marches
on the same dusty paths
weaving her own with his
till she too could do
no more.
Faiz did not go quietly
and neither did Alys,
their baton passed on
to their two loved ones
and to all others with a ‘Dear Heart’,
with or without a voice…
‘Speak up’, he once wrote,
and recited recently,
the Truth lives on,
echoes around the world!
— ZMI
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