A tale of Afghan women, music, and freedom

Music was an act of resistance for the girls in Afghanistan’s first all-women orchestra. Some managed to leave the country, but others lie low, their future uncertain, as they await clarity from the Taliban

Zohra, Afghan women’s orchestra, performs during the Hindustan Times Leadership Summit in New Delhi, in 2017. (HT Archive)

When she came to India as part of the first all-female orchestra in the history of Afghanistan, Maram Ataee was just a girl of 15. The ensemble, Zohra, named after the Persian goddess of music, was performing at the 2017 Hindustan Times Leadership Summit and had already made waves in Davos and Germany. Everywhere they went, they sparkled — these fresh-faced 30-odd girls, the youngest, just 13.

Since I was introducing the girls at the summit, I got to spend time with them as they lounged backstage in their purple scarves and black salwar-kameez. They were the ambassadors of something larger: The triumph of hope and the power of music to transform lives and rebuild a country ravaged by violence.

The Taliban banned music, but 10 years after its fall, musicology professor Ahmad Sarmast returned to Kabul from exile in Australia with the vision to reclaim his country’s musical identity by setting up the Afghanistan National Institute of Music (ANIM). Its students were the first in their families to study music. Most had never touched an instrument. Many came from the provinces and had no education. Some girls faced parental and social opposition.

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Ataee was born in Egypt where her parents were studying, and had begun playing the piano when she was five. In 2016, her father returned to Kabul to take up a government job. But, he told her: No more piano. There’s no future in music. It was a security risk. Moreover, what would people say?

For the girls, music was an act of resistance. Ataee prevailed and joined ANIM a year later. “It was the first friendly environment for me,” she said. “Many of the girls had faced opposition at home and we supported each other.”

In 2020, with no inkling of the future, Ataee and some of the older students began applying for admission to American universities. On August 10, five days before Taliban fighters entered Kabul, Ataee landed in Michigan where she is now a student. Her parents, she said, are safe in the United Arab Emirates.

There is as yet no official ban on music by the Taliban, Dr Sarmast said on the phone from Melbourne, where he is now. ANIM has not been shut down, but classes are suspended and the future is unknown. The 300-odd students and 85 faculty members are waiting at home. “I have advised my students to keep a low profile. But I am not much hopeful that we will be allowed to resume”, he said.

The early signs do not look good. The Taliban’s new rules include strict dress codes for women who can study only in gender-segregated classrooms that are taught by women, or old men. Working women have been asked to stay home. No woman figures in the new council of ministers.

Ataee is “thankful” that she “left Afghanistan in the nick of time”. But, she adds, “I had hoped one day to teach the younger girls.” That hope, like so many others, is now on hold.

Namita Bhandare writes on gender

The views expressed are personal

In the Supreme Court, representation matters

A world that comprises diverse human beings across religion, caste, gender, class, geography, ideology, cannot be governed by a singular set of upper class, dominant caste, majority religion men

The photograph also acknowledges a new generation of women who are aspirational, driven and, given the opportunity, as likely to succeed as men. We have just seen it in sport where women have returned from Tokyo with medals. (PTI)

The photograph should be framed in every law school, preserved for history books and written about in inspirational tracts for children.

It’s the one where four women judges — three freshly elevated, one of whom, BV Nagarathna is slated to become our first woman chief justice (CJI) in 2027 though only for 36 days — flank the current CJI, NV Ramana.

Given that it took 39 years to get our first woman Supreme Court (SC) judge, Fathima Beevi in 1989, and 71 years to get eight women judges, the photograph is significant.

Is it picture perfect? Far from it. While it signals the closing of the gender gap in the higher judiciary, the larger issue of diversity remains. Do we have enough representation from among the minorities? Where are the Dalits, Adivasis and LGBTQ judges? “The swearing-in of three women is unprecedented,” says Nikita Sonawane, co-founder, Criminal Justice and Police Accountability Project. “But we still have a long way to go.”

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The photograph tells us that the collegium recognises that men alone cannot continue to rule on crucial constitutional and legal matters. This is welcome course correction and it’s hard to imagine sliding back. One can only hope representation will expand in the years to come.

The photograph also acknowledges a new generation of women who are aspirational, driven and, given the opportunity, as likely to succeed as men. We have just seen it in sport where women have returned from Tokyo with medals.

In the lower judiciary, 36.45% of judges and magistrates are women. Of the candidates who qualified in 2019 for admission to the national law universities, 44% are women. Women don’t lack ambition. They lack support, from physical infrastructure (toilets and day-care facilities) to administrative (sabbaticals) in order to plug the leaking pipeline that lead so many to quit jobs mid-career as their children reach crucial board exam years and parents begin to age.

Why does representation matter? After all, the biological fact of gender doesn’t automatically qualify you as either feminist or misogynist. Male judges have made progressive observations on a range of issues from triple talaq to privacy and adultery. Women judges don’t always root for their gender — it was a woman judge who acquitted a 39-year-old man of POCSO charges because there was no “skin-to-skin” contact. Former CJI Ranjan Gogoi was absolved of sexual harassment charges by a three-member committee of peers that included two women.

A world that comprises diverse human beings across religion, caste, gender, class, geography, ideology, cannot be governed by a singular set of upper class, dominant caste, majority religion men. It’s the multitude of voices that make democracy vibrant. This needs to be reflected in all its institutions, including Parliament and the media.

The photograph signals that moment when the SC finally set right a traditional omission. And for that reason alone, it is historic.

Namita Bhandare writes on gender

The views expressed are personal

Why I’m cheering the appointment of 3 women judges to the Supreme Court

A world that comprises diverse human beings across religion, caste, gender, class, geography, ideology, cannot be governed by a singular set of upper class, dominant caste, majority religion men, I write in the Hindustan Times

The photograph should be framed in every law school, preserved for history books and written about in inspirational tracts for children.

It’s the one where four women judges — three freshly elevated, one of whom, BV Nagarathna is slated to become our first woman chief justice (CJI) in 2027 though only for 36 days — flank the current CJI, NV Ramana.

Given that it took 39 years to get our first woman Supreme Court (SC) judge, Fathima Beevi in 1989, and 71 years to get eight women judges, the photograph is significant.

Is it picture perfect? Far from it. While it signals the closing of the gender gap in the higher judiciary, the larger issue of diversity remains. Do we have enough representation from among the minorities? Where are the Dalits, Adivasis and LGBTQ judges? “The swearing-in of three women is unprecedented,” says Nikita Sonawane, co-founder, Criminal Justice and Police Accountability Project. “But we still have a long way to go.”