âThen how should I talk? Who on earth shall I blame? After all, itâs my manâs fault. He needed stitches on his head. His finger had to be cut off. How can anything nice come out of my mouth now?â
âDid anyone imagine that something like this would happen to Nazir? It was he who first began hitting Laltu. Just ask him yourself. Thatâs what I came to find out. Why did he have to do that?â
Reshma toned down her ire. They werenât supposed to behave like that with Maruf either. Maruf had stood by Nazir often in times of adversity, he had never turned him away. She now began weeping disconsolately. She held Marufâs hand and wailed. âWhat will become of us now, Maruf Bhai? Such a terrible thing has happened. Allah will decide on this, Maruf Bhai!â
She continued, âMy brother-in-law was saying that apparently you too raised your hand on Nazir. Of course, I didnât believe that.â
âKalim Bhai told you that?â
âYes. They asked me to file a case against you.â
Maruf was silent for a while, and then he said, âForget about your brother-in-law, attend to Nazirâs treatment first. Let him get well. Only he can say who hit him. Do you have money? Take whatever you require from me tomorrow morning.â
âTell me whose names I should say.â
âWhat names?â
âWonât you people file a case? You said youâll provide money, but wonât you ask me to file a case?â
âNo. Why should I file a case? Does anyone know who hit him? And how many people will you name?â
âMy brother-in-law said he would pay me, he said I should mention your name, Maruf Bhai.â
Maruf retorted in annoyance, âFollow whoever you believe and trust. If you think that Maruf did anything wrong, then file a case. I wonât object.â
âI know who to believe. You can go now, Maruf Bhai.â
Just as Maruf was leaving the hospital, he spotted Maulana Tahirul. Maruf did appreciate this courtesy call on his part as the imam of the locality. He greeted him as soon as he saw him. Tahirul returned the greeting and asked him, âYou here? Which side are you on exactly, Maruf Bhai? After all, your AbbaâŠâ
Inferring that the question was an innuendo, Maruf got into a rage. He glanced at Tahirul and shot back, âWhich side are you yourself on? Please think about that. Can you take any side in all such fighting, rioting and disorder?â
âDoes that befit us? I am an imam. Should I get involved in all those problems?â
âBut when a city is on fire, it spreads to a Pirâs house as well. Keep something else in mind â itâs not just imams who possess the quality of humanity. Allah didnât bestow something called a heart only in the breasts of scholars. The heart is a divine blessing of the progeny of Adam.â
âCertainly, Maruf Bhai! I could see the quality of humanity in Sadnahati!â And with that, he went in to see Nazir. Maruf stood there momentarily and then left.
A case was filed on the insistence of Kalim Mirza. Ten people were named. Meanwhile, led by Abid Sheikh, a counter case was filed, against ten people, including Kalim Mirza. On the advice of Hasan Ali, Haji Sahebâs name was excluded. Since twenty people were named in the FIR, all of them had to run to court. Salaam Miya was not afraid of the courthouse and suchlike. But now, he, too, was beginning to find out the hard way that a civil case and a criminal one were not the same. And thatâs why he was saying, âJust see, I wasnât even in the bloody village that day, yet Iâve been named?â
His remonstrations became unbearable. Kalim Miya got furious and said to him, âWhy donât you go and tell that to those who made the complaint! For now, the case is in your name. After all, everyone must pay equally towards the expenses, whatever they may be!â
Salaam Miya was anyway a bit stingy. On top of that was this headache. He kept saying, âIt never leaves you! Bloody hell, I made sure I never went anywhere near the mosque in my life, and now Iâve got a case against me because of the mosque! Let it be, at least Iâll be able to give an answer to Allah that, while I never offered prayers, for sure, Iâve suffered a case for your house, dear Allah, please forgive me.â
Everyone laughed when they heard him. Kalim Mirza too was all laughter at this jest.
Maruf was sitting all by himself in his longed-for library room. He felt remorseful on account of the huge crisis that had befallen the village. He never wanted something like this to happen. He wanted the mosque committee to be reconstituted. It had never entered his head that Hasan Ali, Abid Sheikh and company would make an issue of this, and seek revenge for their old grievances. Just as he felt ashamed inwardly, he was also furious with Abid Sheikh for triggering off this riot. He thought that getting lathis and so on while keeping him in the dark was an act of great deception. His Abba, Nasir Sheikh, entered the room just then. As soon as he came in, he asked Maruf, âI heard a rumour that you dug up some papers regarding the mosque? And you then gave those papers to Hasan Ali? Theyâre lowly folk! They created such a nasty brawl upon the strength of those papers. And now all the blame is upon you. Youâre grown up, my boy, youâre educated. Didnât you learn to recognize people, son?â
âAbba, I truly made a huge mistake. But no one really knows anything about the papers. That Eidgah field â wasnât that donated by the Miya family?â
âThatâs what Iâve heard since my childhood. Why, what happened?â
âAnd the big plot of land beside the road that Kalu Miya and Salaam Miya enjoy? Who does that belong to?â
âThat is their own land. Actually it doesnât belong to them alone. Thatâs his cousinâs part. Sheâs dead. Doesnât her daughter live in Salaamâs house? Her name is Riziya or something, the girl who studies with our Amina. The land belongs to her mother. That is as far as I know.â
âYouâre wrong, Abba, that land belongs to the mosque. Itâs not under the Waqf. But the papers say, âSadnahati mosque for the use of Muslim folk at largeâ. And the Eidgah too is not under the Waqf. But it is in their name now. The record is in the name of Jabbar Miya.â
âJabbar Miya was Salaamâs uncle. Riziyaâs maternal grandfather.â
âSo tell me. Isnât it a problem?â
âLet it be a problem. Listen to what I came to tell you. Donât get involved in any more trouble, my boy. Your Bor Da is also angry. And thereâs no need to tell anyone else about all these matters. Please grant this request of mine as your father. I hope I donât hear again thatâŠâ
Maruf had never heard his father speaking like this. So his heart wept. What fond hopes fathers nurtured regarding their progeny when they turned adult! Maruf resolved that he would not get involved in any more problems. He was not named in the case. That he wasnât was because of Nazir and Reshmaâs graciousness. Out of respect for Maruf. He ought to be beside them.
He had a book in his hands. On Sufi mysticism. Maruf submerged himself in the book.
fourteen
âWow! What a wealthy businessman heâs become! Cars coming, cars going, what a businessman my husband is! I say, weâve gone and eaten in so many places, must we not do the same in return!â
It was early morning, and there was shouting. Hearing such a scornful idiom in the midst of the shouting, Tahirul suddenly halted. He cleared his throat and coughed a few times to announce his presence. There were the annual prayers for Iqbal Ostagarâs mother in his house today. One heard that when his Ma was alive, he never got the time to really enquire about how she was. In her final years, she lived in her daughterâs house. In order to escape from the acute mother-in-law versus daughter-in-law turmoil, she found shelter in her daughterâs father-in-lawâs house; and thatâs where the old lady died. Over the last ten years, Iqbal Ostagar had not been able to get over the grief of failing to offer her a final sip of water. Thatâs why he observed her death anniversary without fail, and very elaborately. Even if only once a year, he did it. People called that chollishar khana, or the fortieth-day repast. This function of a special meal or feast organized forty days after the burial used to be called chollisha. But now, notwithstanding the passage of time, the very name of the annual function had come to be chollisha. Some people called it kulkhani. So in that chollisha-kulkhani, there was a recitation of the Koran since morning, and arrangements had been made for a religious programme at night. Four or five hundred people were fed. Compared to last year, there were a few more items this year. Of course, there was biryani. And there was the owaj nasihat with the bigwig maulanas from other parts, complete with a pandal, flower arrangements, the sound system, lighting arrangements, etc. A full-fledged ostentatious function. In the midst of all those renowned speakers, Tahirulâs personality paled somewhat. It seemed to Tahirul that the people were behaving as though they were abandoning the village deity and embracing a dog instead because it was from a distant land! The moment such a thought occurred to Tahirul, he himself felt ashamed. He instantly stuck out the tip of his tongue, pressing it between his teeth in abashment, and repeated âTaubaâ thrice. There was a background to why such a thought had surfaced in his mind. Tahirul was the imam of the Sadnahati mosque, and so he had been invited only for the meal following the end of the recitation of the Koran, which had commenced in the morning. Another speaker from elsewhere was being brought to address the gathering. A lot of money was spent on them. Who knew better than Tahirul what kind of speakers they were.
The moment he opened the gate of Iqbal Ostagarâs house, Tahirul had been stunned upon hearing such a quarrelsome proverb. It wasnât just the proverb that stunned him; the one who had delivered it was a woman. Realizing that the Imam Saheb had heard her, she drew an arm-length of ghomta over her face and rushed indoors as if for something very pressing. The person with whom she was having such a sweet conversation in the veranda was Iqbal Ostagar. Tahirul was certain that the woman herself was suspicious of her own husbandâs business activities. She must be Iqbal Ostagarâs wife. Iqbal stepped out of the veranda, greeted him, smiled fulsomely and said, âDid you just arrive, Hujur? I was talking about you with your Chachi just now. I was wondering when you would arrive!â
Tahirul smiled. He had heard with his own ears the terms of endearment with which Chachi addressed Chacha. Nonetheless, he said, âIs that so? Thatâs nice. Right, so whereâs everyone sitting?â
âYou can do the recitation in the living room. You see, the pandal decoration has not been fully completed yet. Besides, the decoration can only be completed after the evening prayer. Youâll see the splendid lighting my younger son has organized. He was really keen to get the lighting done by the famous Chandannagar experts. He told me, âI need money, Abba.â I gave him some money. And did you see the pandal beside that? Thatâs where dinner will be served at night.â
âCan I ask you something, Chachaji? Was all this extravagance really necessary? Tell me, is it right?â
âWhat do you say, Maulana Saheb? Allah has provided, and thatâs why Iâm doing it. After all, I observe my Maâs kulkhani just once a year, isnât it? And yet your Chachi gets so mad. She says Iâm a miser! Now I have to invite all my in-laws. Iâll set out very soon, let me go and invite as many in-laws in one go as I can. You heard for yourself what an earful she was giving me because I hadnât done so. Women! Is there any limit to what they say? They just blurt out whatever they feel like.â
Tahirul figured out the root cause of Chachiâs suspicions regarding her husbandâs wealth and business affairs, why Chachi was flinging that proverb so early in the morning. She was of the view that however wealthy Iqbal Ostagar was imagined to be, it wasnât really the case, because if he was, why wouldnât he be able to feed a hundred or two hundred in-laws?
Maulana Tahirul entered the living room and saw a prayer mat spread over a divan. The Holy Koran had been placed on a stand and a mic-boom stand had been placed low before that. A bunch of incense sticks inserted into a slice of a cut potato had been placed in a corner of the room. They had not been lit. They would be lit after the Imam Saheb arrived. Tahirul was all praise for Iqbal Ostagar inwardly. Nice, he thought, notwithstanding everything, when it came to incense sticks, he did not like making wasteful expenditures. A punctilious man.
Nazir Ali entered the room a little while later with refreshments. After spending quite a few days in hospital, he appeared to be a bit slack. Neither was he his usual lively self. Part of the forefinger of his right hand was missing. Observing that, Tahirul enquired, âHow are you now, friend?â
âAllah has looked after me, Hujur.â
âHmm. How is your hand?â
Nazir looked at him despairingly and said with a slight smile, âItâs just the bit above the top knuckle that the doctor cut off.â
Gazing at Nazirâs doleful face, Tahirul wondered if this was the law of the world! The lame man steps only into potholes. He asked him, âWhat about your work?â