Amrita Pritam, a revered novelist, poet, and essayist, stands tall in the pantheon of Indian literature. Born on this day August 31, 1919 in the erstwhile British India, her literary journey spanned over six decades, deeply influencing the cultural and intellectual landscape of India. Pritam’s extensive body of work, which comprises of poems, novels, essays, and radio plays, is distinguished by a profound sense of empathy for the marginalized, a fearless critique of orthodoxy, and an intense exploration of love and loss.
One of the most enduring aspects of Amrita Pritam’s legacy is her novel Pinjar (The Skeleton). A haunting narrative set against the backdrop of the Partition of India in 1947, Pinjar lays bare the devastating human cost of religious and political turmoil. The novel’s central character, Puro, embodies the collective suffering of countless women who were subjected to violence and displacement during this period. Pinjar is an exemplar of Pritam’s ability to weave complex socio-political narratives with deep emotional sensitivity.
As a poet, Amrita Pritam was known for her lyrical expressions and poignant reflections on love, suffering, and existential angst. Her poetry collections such as Sunehade (Messages) and Aj Aakhaan Waris Shah Nu (Today I invoke Waris Shah – “Ode to Waris Shah”) are replete with verses that resonate with the universal human condition. As an essayist, Pritam was a vocal critic of societal norms that subjugated women and stifled individual freedom. Her essays are marked by a profound understanding of human nature and a strong commitment to social justice.
Amrita Pritam remains one of the most celebrated writers in India’s literary history. Even years after her demise in 2005, her words continue to inspire and provoke thought, attesting to her enduring legacy. Pritam’s life and work serve as a beacon for aspiring writers and activists, reminding them of the transformative power of literature.
Empty Space
There were two kingdoms only:
the first of them threw out both him and me.
The second we abandoned.
Under a bare sky
I for a long time soaked in the rain of my body,
he for a long time rotted in the rain of his.
Then like a poison he drank the fondness of the years.
He held my hand with a trembling hand.
‘Come, let’s have a roof over our heads awhile.
Look, further on ahead, there
between truth and falsehood, a little empty space.’
-Amrita Pritam
Curated by Jennifer
