Come back, you
crazy women,
the world is a
wonderful place!

Khairunissa Jafari was born on August 17, 1947. She was appointed as a lecturer in psychology in Sindh University in 1970.  She started writing short stories since 1974. With her first six or seven stories she created a sensation in the Sindhi literary circles. They were much appreciated by literary critics and readers. She wrote around  nine stories. These include: “From the Haveli to the Hostel” which deals with restrictions leading to frustrations among women. “Peerah Jo Parlao” deals with student politics. “Which Brand, Which Cigarette?” touches the psychological theme in which women are reduced to playthings. The male protagonist of the story describes the women in his life as brands of a cigarette. Another story, “1967, 1968, 1969” is about the love relationship between a woman and a man who are also close friends of each other. “Takhleeq Jo Maut” is about a character who lacks a proper style of living. He leads a peculiar life and makes people irritated. The narrator of the story is the character’s niece who dislikes him but feels s ad on his accidental death.

In addition to her stories, Khairunissa Jafari wrote introductions and prefaces to a number of books by other writers. These are full of a creative verve. In the introduction to a volume of short stories by Nazeer Naz, she wrote:

 “Her stories too picture various aspects of women’s lives and their life-stories, which could not fit into any frame, and which remained hanging on the walls of their homes and those which could not fit even there, were cut by the scissors of society and lost their individual features. A woman may belong to this Sindhi society but why should she think that hanging on the wall is the only thing allowed to her by fate?”

 Khairunissa’s personal life was [problem-ridden. She did not have a successful married life. Her daughter Saima was the world for her and she brought up her daughter with affection and devotion. 

By Attiya Dawood

I established a personal relationship with Khairunissa Jafarey when I read her short story for the first time. I read her stories many times and I still re-read them but whenever I read them, I cannot restrain my tears. I find it hard to believe that the very person whom I knew so well and who had a soft, humorous edge to everything she said so that she kept us amused all the time, is no more.   It is hard for me to write on her, just as it was hard to write about Sara Shagufta. The ways of living of the two women writers were far part from each other but each time I met Khairunissa, I would think of Sara because from her eyes too, her wounded soul, her pain and the people’s hypocrisy would become evident.  I very much like talking to Khairunissa’s old friends about her. Abdul Qadir Junejo, Rana Shafiq, Tanveer Junejo and other writers were old friends and I enjoy talking to them about her life and work. When I met her, she was preparing to bid farewell to life. Every Eid-day, Abro and I go to Hyderabad and each time we would pay her a visit. As she talked of saying good-bye to her life, we would try and entice her with nice things like a child.  We would play as life’s advocate, counting all the blessings of life. Abro suggested that we all go to hear the raag at Bhit Shah and listen to the tanboora of the faqirs. At the end of each conversation, her unshakable opinion was that life is nonsense! I would tell her that the people surrounding you are not the world. Our world is very beautiful and it is so because of the wonderful people in it. She would insist on arguing and ask us to give her some names. We would quote the names of our friends. Once in such a discussion, we gave the name of Dr Haroon and we mentioned that he was a psychiatrist and that she should see him. She replied that she had heard that he is a very busy person and it is difficult to take an appointment with him. Once she came to Karachi and visited us. When she got up to go, she told us that she had kept the rickshaw waiting since it maybe difficult to get a rickshaw near our house and that she had paid the rickshaw driver in advance. I told her that after having been paid, why should the rickshaw-wala be waiting for her? When we went out, the rickshaw was actually waiting for her. Immediately I pointed out that there are good people in the world. She heard our argument but said that this time you win, but on some other occasion, I would give you a counter-argument.

The first time I saw her, I had gone to Hyderabad with Nafisa Shah. Nafisa was planning to interview her. I was nursing my daughter at that time and I had left her at home since we had to come back in any case. But we were entranced by her delightful conversation. I asked her how much had today’s woman been able to earn her right to live? She replied that looking at the two of you, the answer would be 100 per cent.  Since you have come here to interview me and now you would go back to Karachi alone by bus! We looked at our watch and nearly screamed when we saw that it was past 10o’clock.  We went back immediately. There were very few people in the bus and were rather afraid but we could not help laughing at what Khairunissa was saying.

I told her that I am bold because of my circle of friends. I have this choice that I would not meet those whom I dislike. But if I had been in your place, my condition would not have been much different from yours. If the people whom we have to meet have no connection with creativity or intelligence and all the time, try and observe the curves of the chest or the lips. Abro told her about me that I had once gone through the same process. One writer wrote abusive letters to me, I would get up in the night and scream in terror, ready to renounce literature and activism.

Khairunissa came to Karachi and met Dr Haroon. She was asked to come again and was reminded again by telephone. But on the appointed day, she did not turn up and there was call from the clinic that the doctor was waiting for us. I was told that she had left home and I concluded that she would reach here in 15-20 minutes. But it was three hours before the phone rang and Khairunissa told me that she was calling from Hyderabad. I asked her the reason. She said very innocently that as she was coming to my home, she saw the Hyderabad bus and it had one seat empty. One hardly ever gets a seat in a ready bus like this!”

Once Abro and I had gone to Hyderabad when we heard that she has had a heart-attack .She was in the ICU and we could only go one by one. She saw me and asked if Abro had come also. I told her that he was waiting outside. She told me that I should stop coming to meet her since she did not want to see us. I was upset on hearing this and asked her if we had made some mistake.  She replied that we gave her the temptation to live once again even though she was ready to die.  I could barely control my tears and caught hold of her hand and asked her that she should not think of dying since the world was a good place. I saw a tiny teardrop in her eyes. I waved goodbye to her and went outside so that I could ask Abro to go in. She was discharged later and went home to Jamshoro but she was had made up her mind. Soon she really left the world. She won her argument over us.  Come my friends, let us try and convince Sara and Khairunissa once gain, that even if they do not want to come back let us take a look and see if there is any other soul like them, let us tray and stop that should and convince those people that the world is a good place and people are wonderful.

Translated by Asif Farrukhi