In 1868, the then government of North-West Provinces—modern Uttar Pradesh—instituted a book award. Among the criteria was: ‘Books suitable for the women of India will be specially acceptable, and well-rewarded.’ In 1870, the award went to The Bride’s Mirror (Mirat- ul- ‘Arus), a work which is, purportedly, the first novel in Urdu. At any rate, it was a bestseller even by modern standards, going into several editions and selling over 1,00,000 copies. Its author, Nazir Ahmad, came from a distinguished family of maulvis from Bijnor and Delhi. Accomplished in both Persian and Arabic, he worked as an inspector of schools, held the post of deputy collector and translated the Indian Penal Code into Urdu.
The Bride’s Mirror was penned at a time when the glory days, and courtly ways, of Mughal rule had ended. To the Muslims, the new milieu posed several challenges: Their circumstances had become more humble; entry into public service required the passing of tests; elections were introduced for posts in the district and municipal boards; besides forming the backbone of a new business class, Hindus were beginning to assert themselves in society and politics.
These changes created a certain anxiety among Muslims. One of their concerns was to find ways of preserving respectability, ‘sharafat’, in an environment where lineage no longer mattered. For Nazir Ahmad, an advocate for women’s education, the way to revitalise sharafat was through reforms that enabled Muslim families to adapt to the changing times. Education and good conduct are thus the main themes of the book, which tells the stories of two siblings—Akbari (the great one) and Asghari (the younger one).
Thanks to the pampering of an overbearing grandmother, Akbari, the elder sister, is far from great. Uneducated, spoilt, irresponsible, disrespectful and temperamental, she earns the sobriquet ‘mizajdar bahu’ in her marital home. As her husband Aquil has a paying job, she raises the demand of a separate household—to which he gives in. Following this catastrophe, his mother is reluctant to go ahead with the alliance of her younger son Kamil with Mizajdar’s sister, but Aquil persuades her that Asghari is ‘one girl out of a thousand’. Her assets—she is educated, talented, proficient in household management, of good deportment, has poise and gentleness—win her the nickname ‘tamizdar bahu.’ The rest of the story is devoted to Asghari’s efforts to keep the family together and advance its well-being in every manner possible. She uses her refinement to foster good relationships all around; organises the household accounts; exposes the systematic thievery of Azmat, a longstanding servant; encourages her husband to get a job and starts a finishing school for the girls of the mohalla where they are trained in needlework, dyeing cloth, account keeping—what we now call Home Science.
The Bride’s Mirror was clearly didactic in purpose. However it has an enduring appeal. For the modern reader it remains a worthwhile read, not just for the excellent translation by G E Ward (in 1912), but also for the cameo-like clarity of the world it depicts, the lively dialogues, the dynamism of its characters and the inherent drama of family life unique to the subcontinent. It is a world that we can still recognise as ours.