And saying so, he cast his eyes on the eager public, as if looking for an answer. The musulli replied in a single voice, ‘Bar-haq! Bar-haq! Absolutely true!’
Tahirul surmised that the ordinary folk were on his side. It gave him a fillip. Turning to look directly at Farid, he asked, ‘Bhai, do you know the final two surahs of the Holy Koran?’
‘Yes, Sir, I do. Surah Falaq and Surah Naas.’
‘You’re right. All right, tell me, what are the contexts of these two surahs? What was the situation in which the two surahs were revealed?’
Farid was silent now. Tahirul realized that he had toppled a knight in this game of chess. He looked towards another youth and asked him, ‘Do you know?’
‘Yes. They were revealed when black magic was done to the Holy Prophet (PBUH) with a few strands of his hair.’
Tahirul nodded with a mysterious smile on his face. He said, ‘Indeed, you know it well. So a person can be thrown into danger through use of magic. But again, the message of the Holy Koran can be employed to thwart that magic, isn’t it? The amulets that I provide are actually the Koran. An ayat of the Koran. Why would that be improper?’
The musulli cheerfully looked at one another. Asmat Saheb, who was known for his fierce temper, kept shouting, ‘Did you hear that? Did all of you hear that? These boys who were born yesterday have come to find fault with our Maulana Saheb! Those who try to find fault with the imam can no longer come to this mosque to pray! What do you say?’
Many expressed their agreement.
‘They shouldn’t! Never! You sing a litany of complaints against the one you sit behind to pray! How can that be?’
In the midst of all that shouting, a question addressed in a grave voice wafted from the very back of the crowd. ‘Imam Saheb, does your explanation match with what you had said in your Friday lecture?’
When everyone turned around to look, they spotted Maruf’s face. There was silence at once. Tahirul stirred when he saw him. He said, ‘What do you want to say, Maruf Bhai? Why are you at the back? Please come in front.’
And as he said so, he signalled to someone to vacate his place. Given the circumstances, he was a bit more attentive towards Maruf, and that did not go unnoticed by many. Realizing that himself, Tahirul felt somewhat at a loss. He felt a bit ashamed inwardly for his weakness. People may well have thought that the Imam Saheb had accorded importance to Maruf, but Maruf continued speaking from where he was. ‘You had said there was nothing wrong with earning money from providing amulets and doing jhar-phunk. But why did you conveniently forget about the matter of earning money itself? Perhaps it’s the documentary evidence about that from the shariat that they are asking about.’
Tahirul got infuriated. But he tried to keep the gentle smile on his face. He said, ‘Maruf Saheb, if one wants to know the shariat, one needs to be a scholar. Let alone scholarship, one can’t master even the most elementary things by reading a few slim books. Nothing is really learnt. And even if it is, it isn’t complete.’
‘You are wrong once again! There’s no need to be a scholar in order to know the shariat. After all, it’s by learning about the shariat that one becomes a scholar. Does one need to be a scholar first before knowing the shariat? What kind of argument is that? And please listen, if there’s only a single surah printed in a slim book, would you accept that part as being the Koran? Or would you not? Is it true that it’s only in thick books that one finds the shariat and nowhere else? You’re writing the message of the Koran, putting it into an amulet and asking people to wear it around their necks or waists – isn’t that the Koran?’
‘Yes, Sir, that’s what I told them. The amulet is after all a part of the Koran.’
‘Then tell me, isn’t the Koran being affronted? Doesn’t anyone enter the bathroom and toilet with that Koran? Would you be able to sit in the toilet holding the whole Holy Koran to your chest? Even a single sentence of the Koran demands the same respect as the Koran. Isn’t it?’
Most of the mosque’s musulli now agreed with what Maruf contended. But no one spoke directly on their behalf.
It was like the wind was steadily shifting from Tahirul’s sail towards Maruf’s. Realizing that, Tahirul decided on another approach. He made a direct attack. ‘Maruf Saheb, do I have to learn the shariat from you? After studying for so many years, we could never fathom the ocean of Islamic knowledge, and even after attaining a Momtajul Mohoddeshin, there’s so much that remains to be known! And yet, although he’s from the general stream, he’s teaching an imam about the shariat! This is exactly the sign of the end of days. Can you imagine?’
Looking around, he continued, this time very emphatically, ‘Can you people tell me, what is the significance of keeping a beard in Islam? Is it mandatory? Or is it something discretionary but important? Can you see that symbol of the Prophet on Maruf Bhai’s face? And you mentioned money, didn’t you? Then listen, Maruf Bhai, there are many people here who have used the water and oil blessed by me and benefited from that. Their ailments were cured. If ailments were cured, then you should know that this is a means of healing. Don’t people have cough syrup when they get a cough? Doesn’t it get better after you have it? Does the person who gives you the syrup give it to you free of cost? The cough is cured with the syrup, and the aches are cured with blessed oil and amulets. Just like the syrup is Allah’s feat, so is the amulet.’
Tahirul spoke quite passionately. There was pin-drop silence in the mosque then. He then looked at Maruf piercingly and said, ‘But an amulet provided by you will not work. Do you know why? You don’t have the required practice. I do. Being a scholar is not about knowing, it is about abiding. It’s practice that’s required, do you understand? And let me tell you another thing, don’t create divisions among Muslims.’
As soon as he concluded after having spoken for a long time, Tahirul looked at the people around him. Yes, they had devoured what he said. Very well indeed. Maruf merely smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He felt compassion for Imam Saheb. But he only said, ‘Imam Saheb, whatever else you might say about me, please don’t accuse me of creating divisions. Who has trapped Muslims in the net of discord and divisions? Is it the beardless folk of the general line? I can see that it’s difficult to pull out the roots you have grown here. Very difficult. I also realize that if this task is to be done, it’s you who must do it.’
As soon as Maruf’s friend, Farid, stood up and began to say something, quite a number of murubbi folk raised an uproar and stepped into the fray. They shouted, ‘Beware! Not another word! Who on earth do you think you are? Come to the mosque if you want, or else don’t come. But there’s to be no strife!’
Maruf wanted to say something, and his Abba, Nasir Sheikh, thought that he too ought to say something. He could definitely address at least his son. And so, feigning anger, even he said, ‘Will you lot stop? Hey Maruf, please go home. Don’t quarrel inside the mosque!’
Reeling under severe humiliation, some Muslim youths left with Maruf. Tahirul utilized the opportune moment. He suddenly began reciting the Koran, with perfect pronunciation. The Koran had to be recited in order to dispel the shoytan’s, or the devil’s, kindling. The entrancing quality of the Koran recitation began to dispel the heavy cloud that seemed to be hanging over the mosque. A kindly breeze touched their breasts. Tahirul began praying with raised arms. And when that extremely long prayer ended, the mosque compound resounded with cries of ‘Amin! Amin!’
Tahirul realized that he had won over the people’s hearts. A stream of joy seemed to envelope him from head to toe. And along with that, the religion of Islam was once again protected by an illusory ceremonial cloak.
nine
People, their thinking and beliefs, and the whole social order itself somehow seemed to change over time. Various institutions came up to serve people’s own designs. Such institutions again gave rise to edicts and social bonds. These bonds were not always permanent, they kept getting severed. That happened when beliefs changed. When religious faith turned impotent, there was a downward descent in something else. Politics sometimes became pre-eminent, and religion was secondary there. Or perhaps it didn’t become secondary, rather it got entangled with politics and produced a chemical compound that aided the binding of society in a new way. And just like it bound society, it also led to its lethal and harmful breakdown. That power broke up a community into pieces. One couldn’t ever plumb the depths of the impact of that chemical compound. The power became extremely deep-rooted. There was only a transformation in the form of that indestructible power.
Gradually people were brainwashed by some new sect, some new ideology. Or by some group or party. No one living in society could be free of this impact. People were inexorably drawn towards the majority. They then got a taste of power, and power made people blind.
Sadnahati was a predominantly Muslim village. And so, the problems of this village were basically the problems of Muslims. Because of the families engaged in the garment-making business, an apparent financial base had been created. They were no longer in dire poverty. But at the same time, there was also the absence of intellectual folk in the community.
Apparently they were there at one time, that was a long time ago. But all the doctors, teachers, clerks and so on had gathered their belongings and left for East Pakistan. The two educated brothers of Haji Burhanuddin now lived in Dhaka, in Bangladesh. Sadnahati had remained devoid of educated people for sixty or seventy years. And if there were some educated people now, they seemed to carry on their lives in tortoise fashion. Social disdain had made them overly sensitive. Even the most trivial issues made them retreat into their shells. Maruf did not believe in such tortoise-like living. When he left the mosque in humiliation the other day, that could have been the end of the road for him. But he couldn’t do that. A rebellious obstinacy had lodged itself inside him. Things couldn’t continue in this way.
Maruf continued to ponder the matter deeply. He was completely immersed in thinking about Sadnahati’s past. His sleepless nights too were spent in solitary reflection. There was a time when the entire village was under the influence of Haji Saheb’s family. Everything lay under the control of the Congress party. Haji Burhanuddin’s father, Rahimuddin, had been a freedom fighter. Their blue-blooded status continued till date. Everyone obeyed them. But in time, everything turned topsy-turvy. In 1977, before Maruf was born, the Left Front came to power in the state. The floods of 1978 followed. Thanks to the drive during the floods under the leadership of Comrade Hasan Ali, most of the people in the village were dyed in red. Poor people discovered their value systems under the shade of the Communist Party. Hasan Ali had disappeared for ten years, though. It was said that the man spent seven years in prison for robbery.
Maruf was engrossed in the history of the village. Kalim Mirza, Kalu Miya, Rajek Sheikh, among others, had been defeated by Hasan Ali, Abid Sheikh and so on. The very people who had once sat seething in the village arbitration meeting and listened to Haji Saheb speaking, and put up with Kalim Saheb’s roaring threats, had now become Panchayat members and got the opportunity to run village affairs. Once those who had been weak and impoverished got political power, they began their mental persecution. Humiliating persecution, but lacking in any bloodshed. Kalim Mirza and Kalu Miya were no longer called to participate in arbitration meetings. They were excluded from many things, but they couldn’t be taken away from the mosque. Because this mosque came under the purview of the Waqf. Haji Burhanuddin was the mutawalli of the Waqf according to government records. He had inherited that from his father, Rahimuddin. He was waqf-e-aulad. On his death, the responsibility would devolve to his son. And when he in turn died, it would devolve to his son. Constituting the managing committee of the mosque was entirely subject to their whims. In recent times, that is what was happening. Although before the mosque came under the purview of the law regarding the Waqf Board, it was Kalu Miya’s forefathers who had been responsible for the mosque. That was why Kalu Miya’s household had a permanent stature when it came to this mosque, and this village. The fact that Haji Saheb, Kalu Miya and Kalim Mirza enjoyed power in mosque affairs was a result of their prior history. That was why Hasan Ali and Abid Sheikh couldn’t grow teeth when it came to power in matters relating to the mosque.
Maruf had found quite a few young companions. They looked up to him a lot. He was keen to do something for the community, unitedly, with all of them. He began to be constantly gnawed by conscience, and felt a sense of responsibility towards the community in which he had been born and had grown up.
He had to free the community from blind faith and superstition by any means whatsoever. But how? When a sick person, afflicted with a thousand ailments, visited a doctor, the doctor was unable to figure out how, and with which one of them he could begin the treatment. Maruf’s plight was exactly like that. Illiteracy, or poverty? Or was it the religious conduct governed entirely by illusory ceremony? Which one would he struggle against? He sought to identify the most fundamental problem of the village of Sadnahati. And henceforth, he was determined to devote his attention to that problem. The mosque committee had to be changed. Once the committee was changed, a new imam would be inducted. Superstition would be eliminated from the community through the new imam. They had to plan their steps and move ahead accordingly.
Suman Nath was Maruf’s friend. His uncle, Sushil Nath, was a land surveyor and document-writer. It was evening when Maruf arrived at Suman’s house in Jogipara. Suman gave tuitions for a living. Most of the Muslim girls studied under him. Maruf’s sister, Amina, too, was one of them. He observed Riziya accompanying Amina. Suman often spoke about this girl. She visited Maruf’s house as well with Amina. She liked to read books. But Maruf wasn’t sure whether she was shy or fearful when it came to him. She had never spoken to him. Seeing him now, Riziya lowered her head. But Maruf didn’t remain there. He exchanged courtesies with Suman and entered Sushil Kaka’s room. He was chewing muri, taking nibbles of a green chilli. Maruf asked him, ‘Kaka, can you pull out a few certified land deeds?’
‘Write down the plot details on a piece of paper and leave some money.’
Seeing one plot number among those written on the slip, Sushil Kaka exclaimed, ‘But that’s the plot number of the mosque! What are you going to do with that?’
Maruf said, ‘I need it.’
When Maruf received the land deeds after a week and examined them closely, he was startled. What’s this! It was just as he had heard! The land that everyone had thought all these days belonged to the mosque was actually registered in someone else’s name in the land records! How was it possible? He was left scratching his head as he pondered over the matter. Of course, there was another plot number registered in the name of the mosque, but that had been occupied by the Miya household! What was the problem? A different kind of feeling awakened within Maruf. A game was at hand. The mystery had to be uncovered.
