The Pulp Feminist

Fiza has been called a betrayal victim, drama queen and media manipulator. But she sees herself as a liberator of women

WHO WOULD have thought that Fiza would turn feminist? But that is what she seems to have cast herself as in the latest chapter of a twist-and-turn story of love, betrayal and forgiveness that millions in India can’t seem to get enough of.

Perhaps inevitably, she has begun to overshadow the man whose family lineage got her the spotlight in the first place, Chand Mohammad, former deputy Chief Minister of Haryana, son of Bhajan Lal, and the love of her life (or so publicly declared, retracted, and then partially affirmed again). Now that she has the luxuriant air of sweet victory about her, with a newly repentant Chand Mohammad having returned to her with folded hands and the look of someone struck by thunder, she is taking her time forgiving him for cravenly running back to his first wife at the first hint of family pressure (and perhaps inner stirrings). Wasn’t this the man who had sworn undying loyalty to her only days before in a blaze of media publicity that accompanied their marriage and conversion to Islam? Wasn’t this the man who had risked a political career and braved a volley of questions about polygamy and religious sanction just so that he could spend his life with her? And wasn’t this the man who couldn’t summon the nerve to go through with it all? Why was he back?

It’s the sort of thing the milling crowds want to know. It’s also the sort of rhetoric that lawyers with a dramatic bent of mind like to employ. But the role Fiza has adopted for herself is that of a fighter for “female dignity”.

She now expects the fight she has put up to serve as an inspiration for others like her, women who have been victims of a similar injustice. Not a role that seems quite in keeping with the image of her as a drama queen, given her knack of tell-all press conferences, and a reported suicide attempt after Chand went scurrying back—an attempt she denies she ever made, incidentally.

Is it a new consciousness of the space she could carve out for herself? Fiza is increasingly sounding like an activist. And it’s not without reason that women have been turning up at her doorstep to seek her advice. Having taken on a heavyweight political family, she commands an entirely new sort of respect.

Her struggle, she claims, is not about privilege or money. “It is a question of female dignity,” she says, “If an educated and well-placed woman like me has to go through this, imagine the plight of less empowered women.”

She even seems to have gone international. Reporters from Singapore have flown to Chandigarh to interview her. She has been featured in shows in Italy and Canada. She has even received a memento from her well-wishers in California. Till last week, she was preparing to leave for a two-and-a-half month shoot for a reality TV by a leading entertainment news channel in Malaysia. But the high-drama over the weekend—Chand’s televised request to be forgiven— gave the lady a reason to pause and think afresh.

Today, there’s little trace of any bitterness in her, let alone cynicism about love. She still holds love as a pious, beautiful emotion that can make life truly wonderful. And it is this belief that has led her to reclaim her identity as Chand’s wife. “I still say that he is my husband,” she affirms, “Even when my passport came, it said wife of Chand Mohammad.”

So while she has one foot firmly in the marriage, she continues to see herself as an example of someone who stood her ground. Even within traditional constructs, she has become a champion of ideals that women in feudal setups would aspire to. As she talks of her beliefs and opinions, one gets the impression that Fiza is not a person who can be easily intimidated. Taking on a political honcho, travelling without security in his constituency, carrying on the fight for her “dignity” and surviving it all can’t be done by the weak hearted. She could instead have turned into an emotional wreck. But she didn’t.

“I have a lot of faith in God,” she says, thanking the Divine for having “saved my honour”. There was some effort she, too, had to make. “When I was very disturbed, I practiced meditation and yoga and that really helped me,” she says. A big believer in karma, Fiza goes about her work without worrying about outcomes. “I am not scared of anything,” she says, “Only a person who is guilty is scared of things.”

Dressed in a pink salwar kameez, Fiza, sitting in her Mohali home near Chandigarh, has assumed a quiet air of power and control, even authority, a sense that comes from having conclusively achieved celebrityhood. What she does or says is news, and that’s empowering. She has a voice.

Gone is the demure Fiza who first burst into national attention. At that famous first press conference, she quietly sat while her husband did all the talking. Six months later, she is her own person. A star, a desi Avril Lavigne if you like, someone her ‘skater boy’ Chand simply couldn’t ignore, not with all the media brouhaha around her.

“I am now being recognised for my bold spirit,” she says, venturing, “It is possible he is unhappy with all the attention I am getting. Men tend to be possessive. Chand never liked me to do anything.” Between reading movie scripts, giving media interviews, addressing public gatherings and playing role model, Chand seems only incidental to Fiza’s life now.

“I have already sacrificed my career for him once,” she asserts, “and I will not do so again.” For a love affair that caught the public imagination for its element of political drama mixed with an earnest attempt to test boundaries within a patriachal setting, this seems a rather strange outcome. But Fiza has since developed a special relationship with fame. Pour your heart out to the world, and the world sticks by you.

Clearly, Fiza understands the making of celebrity all too well. Not once does she slam the media for probing her private life with such voyeuristic force. On the contrary, she dares the media to tell it like it is. “I used the media because I was angry,” she says, “This was the only way to expose politicians who do this to women. That was my basic motive. There is no glory in becoming famous like this. I was forced by my circumstances.”

Will Fiza enter politics? She has left her options open-ended. “If a party comes with a proposal for me, I will think about taking it up.” For now, next stop—showbiz.

About The Author

Pallavi Polanki