 

Value and Vitality in a Literary Tradition:

Female Poets and the Urdu Marsiya
by Amy Bard
Columbia University

A performers of classical Urdu mar¡iya poetry, Shµ‘a women in India and

Pakistan proclaim a set of social, religious and literary values, reinforcing
and reshaping the status of the mar¡iya genre. The mar¡iya, a form that
usually details the seventh-century C.E . martyrdom of the Prophet of
Islam’s grandson, Im≥m ƒusain, has a reputation for being more complex
and more erudite than other genres of the Shµ‘a Muslim mourning assem-
bly, the majlis (pl. maj≥lis). As authors of poetic texts, a small number of
female mar¡iya writers engage unusually assertively with the tragedy of
Karbala and with the legacy of the most famous mar¡iya poets. This paper
briefly sketches the lives and work of three twentieth-century female
mar¡iya poets who manifest a thoughtful and proud identification with a
great classical tradition of Urdu poetry.
Today, poetic genres about ƒusain’s tragedy—såz, sal≥m, mar¡iya and
nau√a—usually frame a religious sermon delivered by a ÿ≥kira in women’s
maj≥lis. Although mar¡iya in India dates from the fifteenth century, the
form is commonly said to have achieved its culmination in Lucknow,
with the lengthy narrative works of the male poets Mµr Babbar ‘Alµ Anµs
(d. ) and Sal≥mat ‘Alµ Dabµr (d. ). Nineteenth-century mar¡iyas
still enjoy popularity today and are performed in a range of styles:
chanted, spoken and augmented with dramatic gestures, or rendered
melodically. The same classical text may be recited in different ways by
different reciters in different places.
The very small number of female mar¡iya poets who exist appear to
emerge from literary Shµ‘a families, and of necessity, from environments
with long and passionate traditions of mar¡iya performance and apprecia-

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tion by women. While the works of female poets have not earned wide-
spread fame, they have certainly been valued in the circles of their families
and friends, who usually share their quite high level of literary education.
These female poets stress the pride of familial, classical poetic, and Shµ‘a
Im≥mate lineage in their poetry in ways that can augment our picture of
the Urdu mar¡iya tradition as a whole.
In this brief piece, rather than attempt to dissect minute samplings
from very lengthy mar¡iya poems, I will focus largely on the emergence of
three female poets and the reception of their works. A summary of the
Shµ‘a Muslim Mu√arram observances that provide the context for recita-
tion of mar¡iyas, however, is a necessary prelude to any discussion of the
poets B®gam Mukht≥r F≥πima Zaidµ, B®gam Shuhrat, and TaΩvµr F≥πima .
The Shµ‘a hold gender-segregated mourning assemblies throughout
the year to commemorate the deaths of the Im≥ms and the members of
the Prophet’s immediate family, but the major majlis season starts with
the beginning of the first Muslim month, Mu√arram, and continues for
about sixty-eight days. The core event remembered through these ritual
activities is the battle in which Im≥m ƒusain and his male followers were
slain by the forces of Yazµd, the Umaiyad Caliph, in Karbala ( C.E.).
Certain dimensions of the Karbala narrative, its rituals, and beliefs
about its origins lend women’s mourning assemblies a particular and
powerful sense of continuity. After ƒusain’s death, the Im≥m’s enemies
cruelly unveiled his female relatives, led them on a forced march to
Damascus, and imprisoned them, but these heroines of the mar¡iya kept
alive the memory of ƒusain’s sacrifice. ƒa¤rat Zainab, ƒusain’s sister, is
credited with the very founding of the mourning assembly that evokes
Karbala and its lessons of sacrifice. Many believers say Zainab and
Mu√ammad’s daughter F≥πima are present in today’s mourning assem-
blies, acknowledging the virtuous grief and devotion of the pious.1 The
various genres of majlis poetry, as well as the majlis sermon, feature sec-
tions on the mas≥’ib, the torments of Im≥m ƒusain and his family, which
stimulate weeping, wailing, and sobbing on the parts of both listeners and
performers.

1
In addition to my consultants, Shµ‘as interviewed by Vernon Schubel and
David Pinault also cited this belief. See Vernon Schubel, Religious Performance in
Contemporary Islam: Shi‘i Devotional Rituals in South Asia (Columbia: University
of South Carolina Press, ), p. , and David Pinault, The Shiites (New York:
St. Martin's Press, ), p. .
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Of the three mar¡iya women poets discussed here, B®gam F≥πima Zaidµ
resided in the area closest to the Lucknow center of classical mar¡iya. Born
in Panipat in , she hailed from a respected family of Shµ‘a ulema and
literary figures. She was a great-grandaughter of Urdu critic and poet
Maul≥n≥ [Alπ≥f ƒusain] ƒalµ; her aunt, ƒalµ’s granddaughter, ¿≥li√a ‘Abid
ƒusain, produced works of literary commentary and criticism, and played
a prominent role in organizing Shµ‘a women’s maj≥lis in the Delhi enclave
of Okhla. Although F≥πima was never enrolled in school, she benefitted
from a cultivated atmosphere both in her natal family and after she mar-
ried. Her admirers find her mar¡iyas especially remarkable because she
lacked any sort of regular mentoring by a poetry teacher, an ust≥d .
B®gam Zaidµ only started producing poems in any number once she
moved to Aligarh after the death of her husband. At this point, at about
thirty-five years of age, she had five young daughters. Known for her
unswerving piety under difficult circumstances, she began writing relig-
ious poems of various sorts, as well as commemorative poems for family
events. A collection of her poetry, ≤amanist≥n-e ‘Aqµdat,2 contains na‘ts,
manqabats, sal≥ms and rub≥‘µs, as well as mar¡iyas. It was largely her popu-
larity as a reciter of the mar¡iyas of Mµr Anµs that led B®gam Zaidµ to start
composing mar¡iyas herself. She recited in the dramatic, declamatory ta√tu
’l-laf  style that is now far more common among men than among
women, a tradition that her daughters Z≥hida and S≥jida maintain to
some extent. They say, however, that although their mother’s recitation
style is their model, it is quite impossible to equal the piety that added
indescribable intensity to B®gam Zaidµ’s renderings.
In March , I recorded S≥jida Zaidµ’s recitation in ta√tu ’l-laf  of
this two-verse sample from a -verse mar¡iya by F≥πima , along with a
number of other verses from the poem’s various sections. This mar¡iya
depicts the horrific scene of battlefield slaughter and enemy jubilation
that greeted Im≥m ƒusain’s survivors immediately after his death.
The Saiyid’s corpse on the burning
sand, h≥’®, h≥’®, h≥’®!
They’ve wounded his entire body, h≥’®,
h≥’®, h≥’®!
How can such regret and trouble be
borne? h≥’®, h≥’®, h≥’®!

2
Lucknow: A√b≥b Publishers, .
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The arms of the Prophet’s family, and

bonds, h≥’®, h≥’®, h≥’®!
Sajj≥d’s neck heavily chained, alas!
A plaint higher than the heavens, alas!

The corpses of the martyrs were

shroudless in the wasteland:
Akbar’s flower-like body, wounded
with daggers
The silver-bodied ‘Aun and
Mu√ammad, unburied
‘Abb≥s, and Q≥sim, son of ƒasan
The flowers of the Prophet’s garden,
scattered over the battlefield
All these, the comforts of F≥πima ’s soul,
ransomed.3
As it would require an hour or more to recite a full-length classical-
style mar¡iya , reciters select particular verses from a complete mar¡iya
depending on the particular martyr being honored, their own favorite
segments, the tune they select if not reciting in ta√tu ’l-laf , their audi-
ence’s attention span, and time pressures. Typically, women recite some-
where between eight and twenty-five verses of a mar¡iya in a majlis.
B®gam Zaidµ is remembered to have recited her own poetic works in a
relatively soft-spoken, unornamented way, while she was best known for
dramatically reciting Anµs’s poems, especially verses describing the morn-
ing of the battle, the departure for the battlefield, the praise of the sword,
and the martyrdom of each hero. The woman poet’s descendants, how-
ever, stress the idea that the appeal of her own mar¡iyas emerges in recita-
tion far more than on the printed page. They give the example of a male
passersby who once heard B®gam Zaidµ reciting one of her mar¡iyas in a
majlis, and mistook it for the work of Anµs. While not venturing to com-
pare her work to that of Anµs in sophistication, her daughters noted that
since he was the single mar¡iya poet she viewed as a worthy model, there is
something of his stamp on her work.
Our second woman poet, B®gam Shuhrat of Hyderabad Deccan, was
roughly a generation younger than F≥πima Zaidµ. Today, B®gam Shuhrat’s

3
Ibid., pp. –.
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family maintains its own distinctive majlis customs in the ∂r≥nµ Galµ and
Pur≥nµ ƒav®lµ areas of the old city of Hyderabad. The family often
invokes its links to a ƒaidar≥b≥dµ poetic tradition characterized by a
singular “simplicity” and reverence for the message, rather than the form,
of the mar¡iya text. Several of Shuhrat’s relatives contrast this quality of
humility with what they typify as Lak^navµ poetic flamboyance and a ten-
dency of Lucknow reciters and writers to promote themselves rather than
the loftiness of ƒusain’s sacrifice.4 Still, mar¡iyas produced in Hyderabad
since the mid-nineteenth century have almost invariably adopted conven-
tions in poetic meter and verse form that the Lucknow poets Anµs and
Dabµr popularized.
Shuhrat’s poems nonetheless emerged in an environment that stressed
predominantly Persian lineage, regional links to the oldest Urdu mar¡iya
tradition in South Asia, and pride in a ƒaidar≥b≥dµ recitation style that
renders the text more clearly than the melismatic Lucknow style. Her
background, not surprisingly, resembles that of B®gam Zaidµ, and indeed
that of most female mar¡iya poets, in some notable respects. The most
prominent literary figure among B®gam Shuhrat’s ancestors was Ashar, a
ƒaidar≥b≥dµ mar¡iya poet; Shuhrat’s sister Riy≥¤at also wrote mar¡iyas, and
Shuhrat’s daughter Riy≥¤ F≥πima is a literary scholar who specializes in
mar¡iya. Like B®gam Zaidµ, Shuhrat had a reputation for remarkable piety,
and maintained a tradition of declamatory ta√tu ’l-laf  recitation that her
daughters try to uphold.
Shuhrat’s mar¡iyas, like F≥πima Zaidµ’s, employ the form and tradi-
tional meters adopted in nineteenth-century Lucknow, but listeners can
compare her mar¡iyas with a wider range of standards than B®gam Zaidµ’s
readers would tend to use when evaluating her poems. This is because
while Mµr Anµs is as much of a model poet in Hyderabad as in Lucknow,
local poets such as Ashar and ‘Alµ Ja‘far also enjoy great favor in Hydera-
bad. ƒaidar≥b≥dµ mar¡iya aficionados compare and contrast these local
luminaries with Anµs as a matter of course.
Shuhrat’s mar¡iya about the child Sakµna portrays the young girl’s
interactions with her female relatives in prison before she dies, and above
all elaborates the intense love between Sakµna and her father, Im≥m
ƒusain . In this case, majlis tradition at the most local level affected
Shuhrat’s choice of mar¡iya subject: Shuhrat’s family has long sponsored a

4
Saiyid Murta¤≥ M∑savµ , personal communication,  June ; Riy≥¤
F≥πima,  May and  June .
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cherished three-day series of maj≥lis from the nineteenth to the twenty-

first of Mu√arram to commemorate Sakµna’s death, and some of their
favorite mar¡iyas among the works of major male poets also center on
Sakµna’s sufferings. This mar¡iya, All≥h Ky≥ Muhµb Yatµmµ kµ R≥t Hai, enjoys
sufficient popularity to be recited a number of times during the
Mu√arram season, and reciters therefore use at least four different tunes to
vary it. As with any mar¡iya, reciters also vary the number and type of
verses they select from the poem from majlis to majlis. The selection
below is only a fragment of the mar¡iya, but since Shuhrat’s mar¡iyas are
much shorter than B®gam Zaidµ’s or those of most classical poets, the tone
and mood of the extract are more representative of the entire poem than
is the case when a short sample is extracted from a lengthier, more varie-
gated mar¡iya.
“Father, the world is desolate without
you
In my eyes, the whole universe is
desolate
Settlements, desolate; the breadth of the
desert, desolate
Death is better; the whole framework of
life is desolate
Call to you the one who cries day and
night, Father dear
Call to you the one who sleeps on your
breast, Father dear”
When she said this, beating her own
head and weeping loudly
The head of ƒusain appeared upon the
prison wall
He called to Sakµna, “Oh, light of my
eyes,
My heart is not at peace, even after
death
I have neither comfort in the day, nor
relief at night
Daughter, it’s for your sake that I’m so
distressed”5

5
B®gam Shuhrat , Hasht Mar≥¡µ-e Shuhrat (Hyderabad: B≥bu ’l-‘Ilm Society,
), pp. –. Translation: Amy Bard.
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This most popular of Shuhrat’s mar¡iyas shares more than verse form
and meter with nineteenth-century Lucknow mar¡iyas. At least four or five
well-known classical mar¡iyas include this poem’s key scene, in which
Im≥m ƒusain’s decapitated head appears to his daughter Sakµna in prison
when she is so miserable in her orphaned state.6 One can compare this
episode in Shuhrat’s mar¡iya with a very similar scene in a mar¡iya by
Anµs,7 and get an indication of how standard the diction and phrasing of
a stock incident are in the work of virtually any mar¡iya poet. Poets and
listeners have such familiarity with this tableau that the very similarity of
mar¡iya poets’ descriptions seems to spur listeners to remember the hun-
dreds of other times they have pictured the weeping girl in jail, and wept
themselves. Where the cumulative impact of listeners’ intimacy with
tragic episodes is so powerful, and the stylistic impact of Anµs and Dabµr
so enormous, it’s not surprising that virtually all poets who compose in
the genre would have some verses that sound very similar.
The mar¡iyas of Shuhrat and B®gam Zaidµ circulated for years orally
and in manuscript form in family circles before being published. In both
cases, these mar¡iya -writers’ daughters, now in their s or s, have
played an important role in sustaining the poets’ works through manu-
script collection and editing, the publication of mar¡iyas in simple books,
and their own recitations. Their endeavors in the cause of family literary
legacies differ little from those of some of Anµs ’s descendants still in
Lucknow except for the limited encouragement and recognition they get,
which situation probably holds true in the case of any minor Urdu poet.
The Karachi woman poet TaΩvµr F≥πima , a generation younger than
Shuhrat’s daughters, and two generations younger than F≥πima Zaidµ’s,
has taken a different route to poetic production than her predecessors,
and has a distinctive attitude about writing and recitation. 8 TaΩvµr F≥πima
takes the view that her lonely state as a female mar¡iya poet is due in part
to the fact that, “Mar¡iya is a difficult and lengthy form of expression, the

6
One of these mar¡iyas is actually entitled Jab Kh≥na-e Zind≥ m® Sh≥h-e Dµ
ka Sar ¥y≥ (when the head of the King of Faith came to the jail-house). I am
unsure who authored it.
7
For example, the mar¡iya Jab Q≥’idå kå Kh≥na-e Zind≥ m® Shab Hu’µ, in
Naiyar Mas‘∑d, ed., Bazm-e Anµs, (Lahore: Packager, Ltd.,  ), p. .
8
This paper has largely emerged from an ongoing and sporadic conversation
between myself and TaΩvµr F≥πimah , carried on partly in person, but mostly
through pieces we have written about women and the mar¡iya.
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burden of which the delicate constitution of the weaker sex cannot bear.” 9
Although many Shµ‘as of both sexes often expressed to me the belief that
only an unusually accomplished woman could ever become a mar¡iya
poet, few actually attributed the scarcity of female poets to innate female
delicacy or inadequacy.
TaΩvµr F≥πima finds herself in the predicament of being a writer who
cannot recite her poems in the forum where she insists they might be
properly appreciated, the men’s mourning assembly or majlis. As a
woman, she can only read her poems in gender-segregated women’s
maj≥lis wherein, she says, her listeners generally lack the poetic sensitivity
or training to even really follow her verse. “A mar¡iya’s virtues and flaws,”
she writes, “only appear to public notice when it is recited in a majlis,”
but although women give speeches in political contexts or on TV, “in
view of the seriousness and sanctity of a mourning assembly’s environ-
ment,” TaΩvµr F≥πima cannot recite before male majlis listeners.10 Con-
veniently, she has a male ust≥d , Sibπ-e ƒasan Anjum, who first encouraged
her to try her hand at mar¡iyas and who reads her mar¡iyas before male
audiences. Given her continual assumption that the only cultured listen-
ers are men, this arrangement has the double benefits of exhibiting her
work beyond the women’s majlis and of lending it the validation of a
known poet.
TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s published mar¡iyas also have a glossier look than
Shuhrat’s and F≥πima Zaidµ’s volumes. Shuhrat’s mar¡iyas, issued in pam-
phlet form from a minor ƒaidar≥b≥dµ press, are prefaced by a simple
religious-minded introduction, while B®gam Zaidµ’s hardcover volume has
a longer, more literary preface by MuΩπaf≥ ƒusain Ri¤vµ that lays consider-
able emphasis on how very unusual it is to come across a female mar¡iya
poet. TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s books each include a rather long series of endorse-
ments and encouragements to the young writer from well-known poets
and literary figures. Some of these statements extol her as today’s “voice of
womanhood,”11 or even “Urdu’s first female mar¡iya poet.”12
Besides the attention TaΩvµr F≥πima receives simply for being a woman

9
TaΩvµr F≥πima, “Khat∑n Mar¡iya-Nig≥r kµ Diqqat®,” Ri¡≥’µ Adab, no. 
(), pp. –.
10
Ibid.
11
Sh≥hid Naqvµ, in TaΩvµr F≥πima, Rid≥’-e ¿abr: P≥± Mar≥¡µ (Karachi: ƒalqa-e
Fikr-o-Na ar, ), p. .
12
T≥bish Dehlavµ, in ibid., p. .
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who writes mar¡iyas, the notable difference between her poetry’s presenta-
tion and that of Shuhrat’s and B®gam Zaidµ’s works lies in the label
“modern ( jadµd) mar¡iya.” One reviewer comments that TaΩvµr F≥πima is a
link in the chain of poets such as Jåsh and Jamµl Ma harµ, who reshaped
the classical mar¡iya by introducing to it “modern expression” and imbu-
ing it with “philosophy” and a “universal character.”13
Although it is difficult to determine what these approving catch-
phrases actually signify, since the reviewer fails to provide examples of
“modern expression,” “philosophy,” or “universal character,” one notices
that TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s mar¡iyas conspicuously dwell on ideal qualities such as
“insight” or “leadership.” Classical poets of both great and middling liter-
ary stature frequently linger over heart-wrenching details of the Karbala
tragedy to allude to moral lessons. TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s poems, though, tend to
question and define what leadership or insight is, and then illustrate the
concepts through events from the well-known Karbala cycle. In her
mar¡iya about Sajj≥d (ƒusain ’s only surviving son and the fourth Shµ‘a
Im≥m ), for example, she uses plot-driven scenes very sparingly. In these
scenes, Sajj≥d receives miraculous blessings and guidance when the
severed head of ƒusain speaks to him, mourns over his sister Sakµna ’s
grave in the Syrian prison, and then is finally released from captivity.
Such “incidents” often dominate recited versions of mar¡iya in women’s
maj≥lis, but the bulk of TaΩvµr’s seventy-five verse poem instead builds a
portrait of leadership, in general and in the Shµ‘a tradition of the Imam≥te,
using Sajj≥d as an example. The mar¡iya’s first line—the title by which a
poem is recognized—is “Rahbarµ πauq-o-sal≥sil m® safar kartµ hai ” (“leader-
ship makes its journey in shackle and chains”).
In addition to shifting the mar¡iya ’s thematic emphasis, TaΩvµr F≥πima
makes slight cosmetic changes to the musaddas (six-line) verse form and
rhyme scheme that F≥πima Zaidµ and Shuhrat employ quite traditionally.
Despite these alterations, and TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s unusual mode of entry to
the mar¡iya scene, the emphasis critics place on her family background has
a familiar ring. Adµb Suh®l tells us that as the granddaughter of (mar¡iya
poet) Jamµl Ma harµ, “it was in an atmosphere full of poetry and mar¡iya
recitation that TaΩvµr first opened her eyes.”14 Because of her family envi-
ronment and traditions, then, TaΩvµr F≥πima possesses what are considered
appropriate qualifications for appreciating good poetry and for writing

13
Adµb Suh®l, in ibid., p. .
14
In TaΩvµr F≥πima, BaΩµrat (Karachi: ƒalqa-e Fikr-o-Na ar, ), p. .
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mar¡iyas. She, like B®gam Zaidµ, also experienced family tragedy at a young
age. Ra‘n≥ Iqb≥l comments that perhaps TaΩvµr F≥πima ’s loss of her parents
colors her mar¡iya, adding that “When something is written under the
influence of sorrow, it’s definitely effective. Since TaΩvµr was cut off at a
very early age from her father’s and mother’s love, she has a long-standing
acquaintance with grief.”15
Even these short sketches reveal a basic pattern of qualities that
majlis-goers and other observers attribute to female mar¡iya poets, to their
poems, and finally, to female audiences.16 Traits of piety, endurance of
hardship, and humility figure prominently in descriptions of female
mar¡iya poets. These qualities, also exemplified, of course, by the very
heroes and heroines of the mar¡iya , are not entirely absent in oral and
written anecdotes about famous male mar¡iya-writers, but they are hardly
stressed as much. Tales of poetic competition, wondrously prolific pro-
duction of mar¡iyas, and dramatic costumes and performances flesh out
traditions about the male poets in a way that has no counterpart among
female mar¡iya-writers.
Whether male or female, mar¡iya poets are likely to emerge from
religious family backgrounds and poetic lineages. Mar¡iya aficionados tend
to view family traditions of poetry preservation and the circulation of
manuscripts as bequests, dowries, and gifts as advantages for any aspiring
poet, but such customs seem especially useful for the informal training of
female poets, who usually lack formal mentor relationships with senior
poets.
What do literary commentators say about mar¡iyas written by women?
Since there are so few female poets, opportunities to gauge the reception
of their poetry are limited. Generally, those who have commented laud
the fact that women compose religious poetry at all. Although women’s
mar¡iya poetry is often substantively very similar to that of male poets,
these critics often ascribe certain “feminine” qualities to the poetry
written by women. While MuΩπaf≥ ƒusain Ri¤vµ pronounces B®gam
F≥πima Zaidµ’s poetic works to be of a “standard,” and firmly affiliated
with the tradition of classical mar¡iyas, he also especially praises the “flow,

15
In TaΩvµr F≥πima, Rid≥’-e ¿abr, p. .
16
I can supplement these three sketches with similar ones concerning the few
other female mar¡iya poets I have been able to identify, and with extensive
fieldwork in the majlis setting.
 A B • 

sweetness, and rectitude” of her mar¡iyas.17 Similarly, TaΩvµr F≥πima , whom

critics appreciate on some level for her “modern,” seemingly political,
poetic bent, also earns praise for the “thematic appeal, the soft tone of
dialogues and descriptions, the beauty of metaphors and similies,” in her
mar¡iyas.18 This is not to say that critics might not ever praise such
qualities in the mar¡iyas of male poets, but to point up how this trend in
commentary compounds the marked absence of terms such as “epic
scope,” “tragic sense,” or “revolutionary sensibility,” when female poets
are under discussion. Those phrases are tediously common in assessments
of even unremarkable male poets.
Literary critics, as well as male and female majlis-goers, frequently
invoke the notion that the whole corpus of mar¡iyas popular in the
women’s maj≥lis are degraded versions of the great classical mar¡iya tradi-
tion. In actuality, however, the women’s maj≥lis defy the stereotype that
mar¡iya texts written or recited by Urdu-speaking women diverge from
the classical tradition more than any other set of performed mar¡iyas.
To understand the extent to which this stereotype is erroneous, not
only must we compare poets’ works with one another in performance as
well as on the page, but we must fully appreciate how the same text
undergoes one transformation when it moves from the page to the
declamatory format of the solo reciter’s pulpit, and another when selec-
tions from it are chanted by a group. Many reciters today would, in per-
formance, truncate Mµr Anµs ’s mar¡iyas to about twenty-five verses,
making the poems, in effect, the same length as those published by B®gam
Shuhrat. Moreover, those selected verses of Anµs would likely be charac-
terized by the sorts of action scenes, dialogues between characters, exhor-
tations to listeners, and lament so dominant in Shuhrat’s mar¡iyas. That is,
quite often reciters would excise in performance the stylized scenery,
elaborate imagery, or complex metaphors that feature in Anµs’s mar¡iyas
and distinguish them so plainly from those of a poet such as B®gam
Shuhrat when presented in printed form.
TaΩvµr F≥πima might well dismiss this notion of female performers and
audiences collaborating with a malleable mar¡iya text to create a perform-
ance at once unique and consistent with classical models. Although the
mar¡iyas of B®gams Shuhrat and F≥πima Zaidµ have been kept alive within
small family maj≥lis, whatever their critical reception, TaΩvµr F≥πima insists

17
In B®gam F≥πima Zaidµ, ≤amanist≥n-e ‘Aqµdat , p. “kh.”
18
T≥bish Dehlavµ, in TaΩvµr F≥πima, Rid≥’-e ¿abr, p. .
 • T A  U S

that the gender segregation of the majlis, although culturally appropriate,

actually distances women from quality literary interaction. Most women,
are, in her words, “completely deficient in understanding how the mar¡iya
should be performed on the pulpit, in adhering to the norms of listening,
and in appreciating vocal inflections and modulations.” “There’s a whole
crowd present,” she adds, “but one completely unacquainted with poetic
taste.”19 Certainly, the popular idea of women as poetically unsophisti-
cated, which she shares with many Shµ‘a men and women, has something
to do with the limited number of women who even attempt to write
mar¡iyas.
Although there are just a handful of female mar¡iya poets, their emer-
gence is suggestive of the status of mar¡iya in contemporary Shi‘a cultural
life. Today, there are still neighborhoods in Lucknow and Hyderabad
where many people not only know marvelously long selections of classical
mar¡iya by heart, but also relate stories about mar¡iya poets and mar¡iya
competitions as though nineteenth-century mar¡iya poets still lived in the
locality. For many Urdu genres, this sort of supplementary oral culture,
which probably helped B®gams Zaidµ and Shuhrat become poets without
any structured ust≥d- sh≥gird relationship, has disappeared. One wonders
what kind of precedent these women poets set for a world in which virtu-
ally no young Urdu poet has an ust≥d in the traditional sense.
TaΩvµr F≥πima , representing the new generation, is a young poetess in
a world where the mar¡iya’s role in the majlis is less and less central, where
the youngest generation of reciters in Lucknow read out their majlis
poems from books in devanagarµ or romanized transliteration because they
don’t know the Urdu script, and where she feels she must circumvent
gender barriers to get her poetry to a broad audience. Even so, TaΩvµr
F≥πima , the “modern mar¡iya poet,” pointedly invokes family and classical
poetic lineage in her verse. The following invocatory sample from her
most recent collection serves as a final illustration of the enduring
authority of the classical tradition.

Why shouldn’t TaΩvµr be suited to this

eloquent form of expression?
After all, I’m proud to say, my
grandfather is Ma harµ

19
See her “Kh≥t∑n Mar¡iya-Nig≥r kµ Diqqat®,” pp. –.
 A B • 

It’s due to this lineage that I’ve acquired

the taste for mar¡iya
His mar¡iyas provided guidance at every
step
And it is my particular prayer to the
Almighty
That continuity not be broken with the
school of Anµs and Dabµr20
Ë

20
Rid≥’-e ¿abr, p. .