Andaleeb Wajid is a Bangalore-based writer who attempts to authentically portray India’s Muslim diaspora through novels that focus on life, food, family and relationships.
The young Indian Muslim writer Andaleeb Wajid has published five books in almost as many years. Courtesy Andaleeb Wajid
Modestly dressed in a pretty headscarf and shalwar kameez, the Bangalore-based writer Andaleeb Wajid smiles as she talks about her short but successful writing career – she has published five books in six years, most of them featuring a Muslim setting and credibly representing the community in India.
Wajid, 36, says she has been writing since she was 10. Her first book, Kite Strings, was released in August 2009 followed by Blinkers Off (August 2011), My Brother’s Wedding (May 2013) and More Than Just Biryani (January 2014). No Time For Goodbyes, released in April this year, is her latest book and the first in the Tamanna Trilogy series, books on time travel targeted at young adults. The other two will be released in September and December this year.
How did you begin writing?
I have been writing stories since I was 10. When I was in Grade 12, I was left very confused about what I would do with my life. There weren’t many options for girls from orthodox Muslim families. Then it occurred to me to take up writing as a career. I was certain that no one would stop me.
Is there a reason why many of your books have been set in a Muslim milieu?
I’m quite amused with the way Muslims are depicted in Bollywood films and on television in India. My stories attempt to show a slice of Muslim life, which is no different from anyone else’s. I wrote More Than Just Biryani only because I strongly felt that the world has labelled us as just biryani-eaters and I wanted them to be aware of the diversity in Muslim cuisine. Kite Strings discusses the issues a young girl from an orthodox Lababin Muslim [a community from Tamil Nadu] family faces. But a large number of non-Muslim fans also reached out to me, saying how much they identified with the character, which proves that some things transcend religious boundaries.
More Than Just Biryani was conceived as a recipe book. What prompted you to turn it into fiction?
My brother and I had thought of writing a culinary memoir but the idea never took off because I realised early that I could never do justice to non-fiction. Instead I wrote about three women and the role food plays in their lives. Nearly every chapter of the book has a recipe, which is woven into the story.
Have you drawn upon your personal experiences to craft stories?
Yes. Like most writers, I started off writing about what I knew best. In Kite Strings, the protagonist Mehnaz is a rebel without a cause and behaves a lot like I did as a teenager. The story is set in Vellore, Tamil Nadu, where as a child I spent several holidays with my grandparents. In More Than Just Biryani, one of the protagonists loses her father. It was the most painful chapter I have ever written.
What else is in the pipeline?
I have one more young-adult novel in my kitty, about a girl whose mother has left the family. Then there’s another about a crochet teacher and the four women who learn this beautiful craft from her and end up baring their lives to her.
• Andaleeb Wajid’s books are available on Amazon
artslife@thenational.ae
source: http://www.thenationalnews.com / The National / Home / by Priti Salian / July 05th, 2014
Young Muslim women are asserting their identity through modest fashion—the hijab, abaya and burkha—driving up sales and creating new fashion dialogues
Events singling out the Muslim community have led to young women asserting their identity through modest fashion—the hijab, abaya and burkha—driving up sales and provoking new fashion trends and questions about Muslim womanhood in India.
On a warm February afternoon, fresh roses and orchids adorn the entrance of Mushkiya, a newly opened Mumbai store which retails hijabs and abayas. Inside, there is a sparkling chandelier and a changing room with remote-controlled pink curtains—a stark contrast to the musty tailor shops and chai stalls on the noisy and narrow road in Santacruz. Groups of women in burkhas, mostly black, come in to look at the neat display of more than 500 garments. There is excited chatter about what’s pretty and pocket-friendly.
This is Mushkiya’s fourth store in the city. Later this month, they are set to open the fifth, in south Mumbai. “Then we will move to tier 2 cities in Maharashtra, like Nashik, Jalgaon and Aurangabad,” says Arif Panjwani. He owns the franchisee venture, West Trading Company, which brought the Delhi-based brand to Mumbai. Mushkiya’s founder, Zeeshan Arfeen, says he started as an online retailer selling hijabs and abayas in 2016, and quickly went on to establish nine stores in Delhi and four in Mumbai.
Hijabs, abayas and burkhas have never been as ubiquitous in the national consciousness as they have been in the last three months, with images of Muslim women in Delhi’s Shaheen Bagh splashed across various media. Mushkiya, in fact, has a Shaheen Bagh connection. Its first store in the heart of Shaheen Bagh has remained shut for 14 weeks now, ever since the area transformed into the epicentre of the anti-Citizenship (Amendment) Act (CAA) protests in the Capital, inspiring similar protests in Mumbai, Bengaluru and Kolkata. From Shaheen Bagh to the viral videos of young hijab-clad students of Jamia Millia Islamia standing up to the police, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the hijab has emerged as a symbol of dissent. It’s a far cry from the muscle-flexing, bandana-wearing Rosie the Riveter, an American pop culture icon created during World War II to implore women to take up jobs and help make arms and ammunition for the war. The hijab-clad woman is a tour de force who creates spaces to fight for equal rights. And most importantly, she is real.
Muneeba Nadeem’s modest fashion collection at the Lakmé Fashion Week’s Summer/Resort 2019 (Photo: Aniruddha Chowdhury)
THE BURKHA BUSINESS
As a symbol of religious personal identity, the hijab and burkha have gone through highs and lows. However, in the past few years, young Muslim women have embraced and adapted the garments in innovative ways, ensuring the hijab’s entry into the world of runway and Instagram fashion.
In February 2019, fashion designer Muneeba Nadeem, 23, then a third-year student at the International Institute of Fashion Design, Kanpur, debuted at the Lakmé Fashion Week’s INIFD Launchpad, with a collection that focused on hijabs for working women. It was the first time the hijab appeared on the runway of a “mainstream” fashion event in India. Kanpur-based Nadeem says over the phone that she wanted to drive home a point—modest clothing can translate into power dressing too and is deserving of greater recognition.
Modest fashion is an umbrella term that comprises full-length garments, from long-sleeved blouses and floor-sweeping dresses to outerwear, and refers to modes of dressing that conceal the wearer’s body shape and limit skin exposure. Nadeem wants to establish her business in Kanpur before venturing into a bigger city, though she does sell on Instagram. The budding designer owes her success to her father, who encouraged her to establish her business before thinking of marriage. Now, she plans to work on her spring/summer 2021 collection to participate in the Lotus India Fashion Week and the Dubai Fashion Week.
In India, despite a slowing economy, the modest fashion industry is witnessing a revolution of sorts. Instagram is teeming with independent apparel brands and hijab-centric labels, such as Little Black Hijab (@shoplbh; 81,700 followers), Hazel Hijabs (@hazelhijabs; 18,000 followers) and That Adorbs Hijab (@that.adorbs.hijab; 17,400 followers).
Fatima Mohammed (left) and Farheen Naqi of Little Black Hijab (Photo: Aniruddha Chowdhury)
When Little Black Hijab (LBH) launched, co-owners Farheen Naqi and Fatima Mohammed maintained higher price points, around ₹750 for everyday options, because there was no competition, but they had to reduce rates to around ₹499, as new brands proliferated. “Now, at least 10 new Instagram shops crop up every day,” says Naqi. LBH opened shop on Instagram in 2016 because Naqi couldn’t find quality hijabs in India.
Brands like Delhi’s Mushkiya, Mumbai’s LBH, Chennai’s Islamic Shop and London-based Islamic Design House (IDH)—all opened for business in India around the same time, in 2015-16. Their target audience includes women across a wide spectrum of preferences and age groups—from die-hard Kartik Aaryan fans to those who spend weekends watching reruns of Fleabag on Amazon Prime.
Brand stories
According to Salaam Gateway, a Dubai-based media platform that tracks the global Islamic economy, “India’s 170 million Muslims spent an estimated $11 billion (around ₹80,860 crore) on clothing in 2015 and this is expected to grow at a CAGR of 13% to reach $20 billion by 2020.” It has identified factors such as population increase, urbanization, and a younger, more brand-conscious demographic, for the growth of modest fashion in India. Style inspiration powered by social media platforms has also contributed to this. Junayd Miah, co-founder of IDH, is most optimistic about retail opportunities in tier 2 cities. “Globally, the modest fashion industry is set to expand,” claims Miah over the phone from London. “In India, it is ready to explode now.”
THE GLOBAL RISE OF MODEST FASHION
“When a community is put in the spotlight and its people feel marginalized, they turn inwards to explore their identity,” Miah says. In the 9/11 aftermath, which saw ordinary Muslims the world over targeted for their identity, the younger generation, across Europe and the US, began to grapple with questions of religious identity and ask themselves what it meant to be Muslim. But this was also an experimental, fashion-forward generation that wanted to explore new trends and styles while remaining within the tenets of modest dressing laid down by their faith.
Modest fashion is conservative, but it doesn’t have to be boring. The diversity available in the market is astounding—from asymmetrical hemlines and animal prints to sequinned tops and Billie Eilish-approved electric green. There are denim abayas in different washes and ones with sportswear-inspired accents like stripes and pockets. Burkhas are no longer shapeless and baggy: A-line cuts are common, rhinestone detailing has become popular, and colourful headscarves accessorize the garment. Our favourite in the course of researching this feature, is a Mondrian-inspired pattern by Mushkiya.
Style inspiration? Deepika Padukone in a hooded bodysuit by Balmain that she wore to the Mirchi Awards last month. (Photo: Instagram@deepikapadukone)
Modest fashion also encompasses other faiths, such as orthodox Jews and Christians. A 2019 article in The New York Times, headlined “The Co-opting Of Modest Fashion”, expanded its definition, pointing to “the cultural shifts that followed the #MeToo movement, as many women rejected the male gaze”. It put the spotlight on personal choice independent of religious beliefs and highlighted the fact that modest fashion has transformed into an alternative mode of dressing. Case in point, the hooded, full-sleeved, A-line silk lamé Ralph Lauren gown studded with 168,000 Swarovski crystals worn by American singer and rapper Janelle Monáe on the Oscars red carpet this year. Last month, Deepika Padukone attended the Mirchi Awards in Mumbai in a black bodysuit by Balmain with black sky-high stilettos and black blazer. The hood had soft drapes like a hijab scarf. What was it if not a nod to “an alternate mode of dressing”?
MY HIJAB, MY CHOICE
The question of choice was brought into the limelight most recently during a social media altercation between Khatija Rahman, singer and daughter of music director A.R. Rahman, and Bangladeshi writer Taslima Nasreen. On 11 February, the latter tweeted that she feels “suffocated” by Khatija’s burkha. Khatija took to Instagram to assert her choice, saying, “I’m proud and empowered for what I stand for.” Rahman’s argument was that a woman is free to wear what she wants.
Hijabs and burkhas tend to evoke extreme reactions: While the Taliban regime in Afghanistan would whip women without burkha, on the other end of the spectrum, Denmark last year banned this garment in certain public spaces.
“The stereotype of the burkha being oppressive doesn’t exist for the one wearing it. It is perceived as oppressive by the ‘other’,” says Bengaluru-based novelist Andaleeb Wajid. “When I was younger and attended book launches in five-star hotels, I didn’t want to wear a burkha, because of this notion of ‘what will people think’,” says Wajid, 42, who started wearing it in her teens because most women in her family did. Even now, when Wajid attends literary events, people start a conversation with her in Hindi rather than English—though she is the author of over 24 English language books. “Just because I am wearing a burkha, it doesn’t mean I only speak Urdu,” says Wajid. She likes to pair them in muted colours with printed or coloured hijabs for a “pop of colour”. “I feel I look really nice.”
Clearly, more and more women are experimenting with modest fashion in India. It is no longer a binary: a girl in a black burkha or one without. A spectrum has come into play, and style influencers are adding to it in creative ways.
In Mumbai, Nabeeha Fakih, a 25-year-old dentist, documents her hijab-centric outfits on Instagram for her 53,500 followers. For her wedding, she styled the hijab in a manner that partly showed her hair. She got trolled but she takes it in her stride. “I just feel that what is right for me may not be right for you,” she says.
She says a girl should understand the purpose of wearing a hijab—which is to behave in a modest manner—based on what works for her. “I feel when you wear the hijab, focus on your intentions and understand why you are wearing it,” she explains. On YouTube, she posts hijab tutorials for her 21,000-plus followers. “I can’t style my hair, so I style my hijabs,” she says. She receives messages from girls who took to the hijab after watching the videos.
Twenty-one-year-old Anah Shaikh (featured on the cover), a hijabi influencer (@_hadha.ana_) with a following of 65,800 on Instagram and 63,000 on TikTok, started wearing the hijab in her early teens. When she turned 19, she started her Instagram page to document hijab-centric personal style outfits. Now, she is one of the leading names in the hijab influencer universe in India and has collaborated with global brands such as Daniel Wellington, Beep Global and Sugar Bear Hair.
Sana Sayyad is a student and part-time modest fashion content creator on Instagram. (Photo courtesy: Sana Sayyad)
“I wanted to attract Muslims and especially non-Muslims via Instagram,” says 20-year-old style influencer Sana Sayyad (@sanasayyadx). She has been posting personal style updates on the platform since 2018 and within a year, there were paid collaborations with Indian modest fashion and beauty brands like Modest Essentials, Thread For Your Head and Iba Cosmetics, a Peta-certified halal make-up label.
IDH has tapped into the burgeoning community of fashion enthusiasts in Kozhikode with events like Modesty Meet-ups and Hijab Styling workshops at its store. Its Instagram page @idh_india has highlights from these events. For Modesty Meet-ups, the brand involves hijab-wearing women from creative professions like photography who share their journey with modest fashion as they explore why they dress the way they do.
LBH offers quick tutorial videos on Instagram for styling the hijab, with hijabi influencers that generate anywhere from 10,000-100,000 views. “It’s almost like a small digital magazine to offer inspiration on how to wear it. It is not like we are pushing girls to buy. It’s more about fun styling,” says Naqi. It involves exploring drapes and experimenting with accessories such as baseball caps, winter beanies, sunglasses and earrings. All the videos are in sync with global hijab trends. They even offer content categories like back-to-college and 9-5. They have yet to receive sourcing requests from a prominent brand “but in the Muslim world we are quite mainstream”, says Naqi.
BREAKING THE SILOS
In recent years, more and more style-conscious Indian Muslim women can be seen sporting the Khaleeji hijab, a style of wearing a headscarf over a large bun that gives the head and neck an elegant silhouette. Originating in Kuwait, the Khaleeji is among the most popular hijab styles across the world today, with hundreds of YouTube tutorials guiding women on how to drape it. Wearing the hijab in a no-fuss manner with fewer pins and drapes is another favoured style.
In LBH’s office, I come across an assortment of hijab accessories: Stretchable caps, cotton blend and lace, which are worn underneath the hijab to tuck in hair and keep the scarf in place, hair volumizers and hijab pins, including no-snag and magnet versions (the latter will even secure a heavy Kanjeevaram sari). Essentially, they are a pair of strong magnets decorated with studs or pearls which are placed on either side of a fabric to keep it in place and double up as a brooch with zero damage. “Magnetic pins are so effective that you can wear the hijab, ride a bike and it will not move an inch,” says Naqi.
A shopper at Mushkiya, a modest fashion store (Photo: Aniruddha Chowdhury)
At a pop-up exhibition last year, non-Muslim women were quick to buy these too. “Thirty per cent of our buyers are non-Muslims,” says Panjwani of Mushkiya. Two aspects of these products appeal to women who are not their target customers: attractive pricing and variety. LBH, for instance, retails office-appropriate three-piece and two-piece coordinated sets and long jackets. It also offers bridal options with Lucknawi hand embroidery. Georgette-blend long jackets with floral prints can be found at Mushkiya’s online and offline stores too, while IDH sells jumpsuits, long button-down dresses and modest swimsuits with a head cover.
Mushkiya’s store in Santacruz is labelled as “premium”, but the clothes are surprisingly affordable. The hijabs are priced between ₹120-700, while abayas cost ₹990-12,000. The hub for abayas, burkhas and hijabs in Mumbai, however, is Mohammed Ali Road, where they are sold on the street as well as in retail stores. Hijabs here can be bought for ₹120-250. LBH’s quasi-formal coordinated-sets with matching trousers and tops range from ₹1,000-2,000, lower than Amazon’s prices for similar garments. IDH offers spiffy mid-length buttoned dresses with asymmetrical hemlines priced at ₹1,500-2,600. These are marked down during sales—the attractive pricing brings in non-Muslim customers too.
BOLLYWOOD AND THE BURKHA
In recent Bollywood movies such as Secret Superstar and Lipstick Under My Burkha, women are shown to have a complex relationship with the hijab and burkha. While the burkha is often shown as a convenient way to maintain freedom—a sort of urban camouflage—it can also become a symbol of all that is oppressive. In Secret Superstar, the protagonist is forbidden by her father to sing publicly; towards the end of the movie, she removes her face cover. In Lipstick Under My Burkha, one of the two Muslim protagonists uses the burkha to shoplift.
Most girls in hijab that Lounge spoke to believe that the only “real” representation in Bollywood of a young Muslim girl who dresses modestly and wears the hijab is portrayed by Alia Bhatt’s character, Safeena, in Gully Boy. The movie was styled by Poornamrita Singh, who researched for several months to style the feisty Safeena. Her team visited multiple colleges in Mumbai and took photographs of girls in hijabs, with their consent. Singh learnt about the various drapes and accessories to develop a mood board. Then she sourced basic jeans and T-shirts from brands like Uniqlo, kurtis and hijabs from street shops and created Safeena’s look.
“I wanted to ensure that the hijab didn’t stand out,” says the stylist. “… That it was as regular as wearing a pair of jeans.”
source: http://www.livemint.com / Live Mint / Home> Explore / by Jahnabee Borah / March 08th, 2020
Relatable ‘I wanted to write stories about people like you and me.’ | Photo Credit: Poornima Marh
‘My characters’ Muslimness is secondary to the story’
Andaleeb Wajid is a household name in Bengaluru, with a large oeuvre —18 novels and counting — that spans genres like Young Adult, romance, sci-fi and horror. Recently, a couple of her books have been optioned by film production houses. Wajid started off with slice-of-life stories about young Muslims but has broadened her scope with each book. Over the years, she has honed her craft well but is still writing from the heart. Excerpts from an email interview:
You are one of the most prolific published authors in the country today. What drives your pace and output?
I write constantly and consistently. After I wrote my first novel Kite Strings, I took a break, waiting for it to get published. When that happened three years later, I realised I’d been an idiot not to have been writing in that time. So I got down to writing continuously, making up for lost time!
Does contemporising your stories with its mainly Muslim milieu come easy or do you work at setting up and sustaining a specific atmosphere?
The Muslim milieu part was not deliberate at first, I was just writing stories from the lens through which I perceived the characters. But things changed along the way. If you read my earlier books like My Brother’s Wedding and the more recent ones like The Crunch Factor or Asmara’s Summer, there’s a decided shift in the way my heroines behave and think. There is lesser assimilation of what society expects and more assertiveness in the characters. This was a deliberate choice. I wanted to write stories everyone could relate to, and not just a ‘this is what happens behind closed doors in Muslim houses’ story which exoticises and otherises Muslims.
You are a publisher’s dream because you play a major part in promoting your work on social media and off it. Is this part of the job for you?
Well, I like to be involved in all the aspects of publishing because, at the end of the day, I want more peopleto read my books. I’m happy that there are new mediums available today to promote books.
It’s a combined effort — publishers have social media teams who come up with some excellent book-related creatives, and I try to push them as much as I can, on the different platforms I’m comfortable with.
The Muslimhood of your characters is kept light… is this deliberate?
Yes. My characters’ Muslimness is secondary to the story and sometimes, even incidental. Some of my recent books (It Waits, Night at the Warehouse) don’t have Muslim characters at all because I think the story comes first, everything else is secondary.
Continuing with Muslimhood, there is no mention of the problems Muslims face today in any of your books. The conflicts are all internal, not external. Would that be a conscious decision to steer clear of controversy?
To be honest, I haven’t given this much thought. I wanted to write stories about people like you and me. I’ve lived quite the cocooned and privileged life and have not faced the amount of discrimination others have faced. Maybe that has shaped my consciousness into writing narratives that are ‘normal’ rather than filled with conflict. Then, I don’t like controversies because at the end of the day, I don’t want anything to come in the way of my writing.
“I am flabbergasted when I meet with questions like, why didn’t you write this book in Urdu? How come you wear a burkha? There seems to be a big disconnect between my work and my personal appearance.” This is what you had told me years ago, in an interview for your first book, Kite Strings. Have things changed for you since then? Or have you changed?
Both. Things have changed because I think people have stopped seeing my burkha when they see me, which is what I’d wanted all along — people to focus on my work and not my appearance. I too have changed in the sense that I’m more tuned in to the world around me, especially in the current political climate. If I don’t feel comfortable wearing a burkha somewhere, I don’t. The choice is mine and it always has been, actually. I just didn’t know that with as deep a conviction as I know it now.
Tell us about the MAMI Word to Screen sessions you attended last year and this year.
MAMI Word to Screen is a great opportunity for content creators from films and web series to learn about authors and their books. Two of my books were shortlisted last year and I had to pitch them on stage, for producers and content creators. I went in with no idea of anything and came back having learned quite a bit. This year, my books were only longlisted, which meant I didn’t have to do the stage bit but could still meet producers and others who showed interest. Seema Mohapatra’s StoryLoft Productions has already optioned Asmara’s Summer and The Crunch Factor to adapt for web and feature film, and there’s been a lot of interest from platforms and production houses like Netflix, Amazon, Sony Pictures, etc. Apart from these, a few production houses like Hotstar, Jio have picked up some of my work for reading and evaluation; but of course, these things take time.
What’s up next?
As of now, there’s House of Screams, which was published by Penguin Random House last month. I have a romance novel, A Sweet Deal, which will be published by Fingerprint next year. I’ve pitched a couple of ideas to my publishers and I’m waiting for the go-ahead before I can start working on them.
The interviewer is a manuscript editor and novelist based in Bengaluru.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Books> In Conversation / by Sheila Kumar / November 10th, 2018
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