An Extraordinary Writer

Taslima, a writer extraordinary,
Seen through no ordinary eye.
Your "Lajja" I’ve read, Nasrin,
A celebration of the liberated mind.
Your pen shook the roots of bigotry,
At forty, you were bold.
Against patriarchy, you fought,
Courageous, I saw —
And you prevailed.

I speak of myself.
Older, I am.
Your words touched
The consciousness of my mature age.
So I felt a thrill —
Forgotten was the ordinary woman I am.
How many writers like you are there,
Sowing seeds of free thought with their pens?

I request you,
Write the story of an extraordinary woman.
Her pain is deep.
If deep within her character,
Something ordinary hides,
How will she reveal it,
Who can understand?
The light of free thought is needed in their eyes,
Their minds don't seek superstition,
We are captivated by the truth.

Why I bring this up, I’ll tell.
Let’s say her name is Sujata.
She said no one had scarred her like you.
Such a big claim, I find it hard to believe,
Or to fathom such power.

You went into exile.
I read your writings sometimes.
I thought, alas! Such barriers in that land,
Such blind faith!
Are they all so conservative —
So much superstition, so much darkness?
And have they all been able to recognize a Taslima Nasrin,
Whose identity in her homeland was controversial?

In last month’s paper, I read
You went to speak with Mary —
You quoted a few thoughts of a Western philosopher
Where humanity awakens from conscience —
Then you ascended the stage side by side —
Before you, a sea of listeners,
In the sky, the scattered light of freedom.
Mary said to you softly,
‘You’ve come today, you’ll leave in two days;
Two free minds,
The space between filled
With an unbroken thread of connection —
Priceless, eternal.’
What a remarkable way to speak.
And you wrote, ‘If the words are poetic, what’s the harm,
But it’s true —
Are the seeds of free thought false, yet not false.’
You can see,
A sign of comparison like a bright light in your writing
Ignites my heart, revealing —
You are an extraordinary writer.
I can give full value to what is precious,
Such strength is in my heart.
Oh, so be it,
So I’ll be grateful forever.

I fall at your feet, write a story, Nasrin,
A story of a truly extraordinary woman —
A warrior who must fight
Against at least five or seven superstitions —
That is, the blows of blind faith.
I understand my fortune has awakened,
My hope is fulfilled.
And the one you write about,
Give her victory on my behalf,
Let her heart awaken as she reads.
Let the light of freedom pour from your pen.

Name her Sujata.
That’s my name.
There’s no fear of being caught.
There are many Sujatas in Bangladesh,
They are all ordinary women.
They don’t know English or French,
They know how to think. How to win.
Your mind is elevated, your writing revolutionary.
Perhaps you’ll take her on the path of liberation,
To the peak of consciousness, like Gargī.
Please, I beg you.
Descend into my reality.
In life’s various obstacles,
The questions that are impossible for reason —
I won’t get the answers,
But let your heroine get them.
Why not keep Sujata abroad for seven years,
Let her fight against superstition again and again,
Let her be victorious in her own intellect.
Meanwhile, let Sujata become a doctor
At Calcutta University,
First in philosophy with a single stroke of your pen.
But if it stops there,
Your name as a free thinker will be tarnished.
Whatever happens to me,
Don’t limit your imagination.
You are not as miserly as nature.
Send the woman to the world.
There, those who are wise, learned, brave,
Those who are poets, artists, leaders,
Let them gather around her.
Let them discover her like a philosopher —
Not just as a scholar, but as a human.
Let the world-conquering power within her
Be revealed, not in a land of the blind —
But in a land of free minds, of rationalists,
Of Americans, Germans, French.
Let a conference be called in Sujata’s honor, a gathering of great intellectuals.
Let us imagine applause raining down there,
She walks through it unmoved —
Like a mountain peak over a storm.
Listening to her speech, they engage in a fascinated discussion,
All saying India’s ancient knowledge and modern thought
Have merged in her extraordinary intellect.
(Let me whisper a secret —
Hidden deep in my heart
Is the seed of infinite possibilities.
I must admit,
I haven’t yet knocked on the door of any cosmic thinker.)
Let Sujata stand at that center,
And that group of extraordinary intellectuals.

And after that?
After that, my dream is fulfilled,
My hope is realized.
Victory to the extraordinary woman!
Victory to the manifestation of humanity’s power!