My Feminist ABCs: Speaking Tanveer Anjum’s rebellious language

Tanveer Anjum’s poetry challenges the boundaries of form and language, offering a bold new feminist poetic praxis.

I first encountered Tanveer Anjum in my freshman year of university, when I was just beginning to explore the rich world of Urdu poetry. 

Aside from occasionally eavesdropping on shers my grandmother would share with my mother, I had never paid much heed to the vast and complex Urdu literary tradition I grew up surrounded by; it felt like something I would never be competent enough to understand. I knew the big names, the likes of Ghalib and Faiz, but virtually nothing else.

At university, a compulsory first-year course called Jehan-e-Urdu (The World of Urdu) changed that.

I was one of those students who, despite being a literature enthusiast and aspiring writer for most of my adolescence, had never explored the wealth of Urdu literature.

When I enrolled in Jehan-e-Urdu, I was randomly assigned Tanveer Anjum as my professor. At the time, I didn’t know who she was; I had no idea I was in the presence of one of the greatest living poets of our time. 

Still, taking this introductory class with her sparked my love for Urdu poetry, and since then, I’ve been insatiable. 

I was eager to learn from her, because she knew so much about everything—history, philosophy, politics—and would seamlessly blend existentialist, Marxist and feminist ideas into her discussions of any text. 

She was incredibly encouraging when anyone spoke up, and I slowly began to access a new voice in her class – albeit, it stumbled and trembled, and still does. Her calm authority was truly admirable — she did not command a class using anger or force, instead, the clarity and conviction with which she delivered her lectures meant that you could not help but be in awe of her.

To this day, Tanveer Anjum remains one of my favorite poets, and for good reason: not only is she one of the greatest living poets of our time, she is also a powerhouse of feminist consciousness and a pioneer of the nasri nazm (prose poem), a form of poetry I am endlessly fascinated by.

Naturally, when my co-worker Aleezeh came up with the idea of “iss shair mai shaira kehti hain,” a series celebrating female voices in poetry that transcend the traditional themes of romance often associated with them, I instantly thought of her work. 

I have plunged back into the world of her poetry with a fierce desire for understanding; to think with her, through her, to dwell in her poetic consciousness.

And while a young poet like myself never truly feels ready to pay homage to her poetic elders, mobilizing that trembling voice to honour her, that same voice whose seeds were sown in her class all those years ago, is an honour. 

"Kon Hoga Meray Sarhanay" by Tanveer Anjum

Tanveer Anjum, born in 1956 in Karachi, is a prominent figure in Urdu literature. She completed her M.A. in English Literature from Karachi University before venturing into further studies at the University of Texas at Austin, where she earned a Ph.D. in Linguistics.

Her academic career spans over forty years, and she has made significant contributions to the field. Currently, Anjum teaches Urdu Literature at Habib University in Karachi. 

Throughout her career, she has been recognized for her achievements, including receiving the prestigious Aizaz-e-Fazeelat award from the President of Pakistan.

Anjum’s literary journey began in the 1970s, during a time when the prose poem movement was gaining momentum in Pakistan. Alongside her peers, she made her mark in this emerging genre, creating a distinctive voice.

Over the years, she has published seven collections of poetry. Her works include Andekhi Lehrein (1982), Safar aur Qaid mein Nazmein (1993), Toofani Barishon mein Raqsan Sitarey (1997), Zindagi Mere Pairon se Lipat Jaaegi (2010), Naye Naam ki Mohabbat (2013), Hashyon mein Rang (2016), and Frame se Bahar (2016). Additionally, she published a collection of ghazals titled Sar-o-Barg-e-Arzoo (2001).

Anjum’s influence extends beyond the boundaries of Urdu, with a compilation of her poetry in translation, Fireworks on a Windowpane (2014). In 2020, she published Nai Zabaan ke Huruf (Alphabet of a New Language), a collection that brings together poems from her previous works.

In a panel discussion at the Adab Festival in November 2022, titled 'Urdu Main Nasri Nazm (Prose Poem in Urdu)', Tanveer Anjum reflected on the early years of her poetry, including how she began writing at a young age. 

While she agrees that poetry is something one often has a natural disposition for from a young age – and she knew she could write – it wasn’t until she started university in 1974 that she truly felt like a poet. 

In school, she would often write ghazals, especially in her younger years when there was a strong emphasis on the ghazal in her early education.

In those university years, she decided that this was her calling, her eternal vocation—a sentiment that I relate to deeply. 

It was only in those years, in that environment, that she truly felt she could embrace her calling as a poet. During this time, poets like Sarwat Hussain, Azra Abbas, Fatima Hassan, and Shahida Hassan were also writing, creating a very lively environment that was conducive to her writing. 

In an interview with Aamir Faheem, she describes poetry as “divine frenzy” believing that this rapture also dictates the forms one should write in. 

"Khwaab" by Tanveer Anjum

The nasri nazm, for her, is the poetry of our time. And it chose her as its subject. 

Yet, traditionalists remain resistant to new forms of poetry, often viewing the rise of nasri nazms a result of writers being unable to write in received forms due to a lack of skill in mastering wazn (rhythm) and beher (meter). Some even consider the form to be deviant or inferior. 

However, this perspective is entirely untrue. Tanveer Anjum has been a trailblazer in challenging this view. According to her, the truths of our current, modern social, psychological, and philosophical situation are most effectively relayed through this form.

Her poetry is suited to this mixture of personal and social reflection, that always comes with remarkable wit and emotional depth.

The nasri nazm is a distinct genre that is often misunderstood, especially because it can appear similar to the azad nazm in its free verse structure. While both share certain characteristics, they are fundamentally different in their approach and style.

Though Anjum has written in a variety of forms, including the ghazal, as seen in her collection Sar-o-Barg-e-Arzoo, it was the nasri nazm that became her signature style. 

She speaks about her writing process as erratic; there are times when inspiration floods her, and she is able to write two entire collections in the short span of six months, but there are also dry spells where no poems come for years. This ebb and flow is vital to the creative process. 

At the behest of the muse, Urdu poetry is indebted to her contributions to both form and genre. 

Syeda Dua Zehra, one of Tanveer Anjum’s brightest students, and a devotee of the poetic arts, reflects on time spent with the poet:

“My experience with [her] has always been very unique. I always wanted to have exposure to poets who were writing contemporary poetry, who know all those concepts that are beyond just love and failure in relationships. So i always wanted to explore that. The first class I took with Tanveer Anjum was Jehan-e-Urdu, I was enrolled in her section and it was an online class.

Eventhough it was an online class I loved it; the way she taught and explained things, and the way we studied poets like Kishwar Naheed and Fehmida Riaz with [her], that was I think a very unique experience because seeing Tanveer Anjum as an independent women writing poetry, being published, being respected around the globe, and at the same time being so humble, so down to earth and caring, so graceful – it was incredible. I look up to her, and some time in the near future I want to be like her.”

The male voice has long dominated Urdu poetry, and for Anjum, feminist rebellion goes hand in hand with liberation from traditional ways of thinking through poetry. 

In the rooms of her poems, she innovates new poetic structures. She explores liberation at the level of form and language, she explores this liberation, with the title of her collected works Nai Zabaan ke Huroof, serving as a prime example. The sentiment here is very deconstructionist, challenging conventional diction and suggesting a “new language” that she is dreaming in. 

This language also allows space for bodies and ways of being that have typically been excluded from poetry, particularly in the context of female voices. 

Many of her poems feature female speakers, with male characters occasionally appearing in supporting roles. The characters in her poems are vividly drawn, full of life, and grounded in their everyday realities. 

There is notably a distinct feminist consciousness in her poetry. However, her approach is not overtly loud, flashy, or slogan-driven; she delivers a mundane, yet unflinching sense of the world in her poems, one that allows her feminist themes to emerge naturally from the context of her narrative. 

"Neelofar aur Mai" by Tanveer Anjum

Her work has featured profound reflections on marginalized groups in America in a way that few Pakistani poets have. She went to the United States in 1985 and stayed until 1991, a time when it was uncommon for young women, especially from Pakistan, to pursue higher education, particularly a Ph.D. 

These are characters navigating real, often complex situations and as result she explores her own interiority by touching on social and societal issues, offering extraordinary reflections on their ordinary realities. 

Her poems read like lessons lived-in—far from grand abstractions and lofty ideas but deeply philosophical and contemplative in nature. 

The last line of a Tanveer Anjum poem is often the most crucial. 

She keeps her readers suspended until that final moment, where the resolution is delivered in one subtle, yet rigorous, blow. This technique is characteristic of her work, where the slow culmination of the poem’s narrative climaxes at the very end with quiet, dangerous clarity. 

"Shukar Guzar Auraton Ka Tarana" by Tanveer Anjum

The brilliance of her poetic voice is that it entices you with its apparent simplicity, but is far from straightforward —her verses are patient when unveiling their razor-sharp magic, growing more complex with each read. 

As to what her poetry and praxis means to young women today, Dua Zehra quite aptly puts it into words:

“This one time we organized a poetry circle for Breast Cancer Awareness month [and] she came and we were very embarrassed because there were not a lot of people, just us the team and a few of our friends, but she did not make us feel embarrassed at all. And we were thinking, such a famous poet, she came after hours, after 6:30, just because we, the students, invited her. That will forever remain close to my heart.

She is a good poet, sure – she is amazing. But more than that she is an amazing human being. Her poetry is inspiring of course, but as a woman, as a leader, she sets such an example for us. I’ve always looked up to her.”

Epigraph of Tanveer Anjum’s first collection Andekhi Lehrein (1982)