‘Judgement on what? Speak clearly.’
‘Let’s say, the way the mosque has been run all these days. Who will provide the accounts regarding that? If you can’t, give up the responsibility.’
At first, everyone was quiet following this direct attack by Hasan Ali. After that, Haji Saheb spoke. ‘Of course there are accounts. But who are you to ask for that, Hasan?’
Abid Sheikh stood up now. With an angry glare on his face, he began speaking, addressing Haji Saheb. ‘Will you not give up the post of mutawalli?’
‘No. It’s not the villagers who gave me this authority. It was given by the government. Under the Waqf law.’
‘Did the government give it, or did your Abba leave it for you? After all, the property of the mosque was donated by ordinary people. The property didn’t belong to your Abba.’
‘The property belongs to Allah. We have been given the responsibility by the government of looking after that property.’
‘But pray tell us how long that is for?’
‘It’s hereditary.’
‘What if your son is unfit for the purpose? Even then?’
‘Let’s hear who is fit now! You? Or is it Hasan Ali? But he doesn’t even believe in religion. Yet he’s come to ask for the mosque accounts today. Tauba, tauba!’
‘Listen, everything ought to happen through democratic means. Hand over the responsibility of the mosque to the young men. The property of the people—’
Abid Sheikh couldn’t finish. Was everyone still listening to his leader-like talk? Seeing that, Kalim Mirza’s head turned itchy. He roared out, ‘Hey Abid! I tell you, sit down! Do you know who you’re talking to? You were born just yesterday, and you’re trying to be a leader now! Don’t you dare try any tricks here. The one who is the mutawalli shall remain. What the hell can you lot do? Go and do whatever you like! You think you’ve become a big leader, have you! You lost the Panchayat elections, but you’ve still not come to your senses?’
Abid’s brother, Laltu, now heckled. ‘So what if he’s become a leader? Why is that bothering you so much, Kalim Bhai? After all, the days of your leadership are over. The cane is in the hands of Rafiq Bhai now. You’re a fused tube light!’
That made a lot of people laugh. In fact, Kalim Saheb was indeed a fused tube light now. It used to light up earlier, but not any longer. That’s why the village folk had discarded him, like leaving a used lamp in a corner below the stairs. But after all, even he had brothers and kin. Nazir Ali was his close cousin. Why would he tolerate an insult to his elder cousin? He jumped up and went to the other side. ‘Hey you bastard, be careful of what you say. I’ll smash your face right now!’
And at once he landed a few blows in quick succession on Laltu. ‘Hit him! Hit the bastard! Catch the bastard!’ These words triggered a commotion in the Eidgah field. The murubbis lost all control over themselves. The place echoed with the turmoil. There was no track of who was thrashing whom. People seemed to have become like animals now. No one had any idea where bamboo poles, lathis, stones landed up from in the hands of both sides. The shouting and uproar suffused the atmosphere of Sadnahati. The sacred Eidgah field turned into a battlefield.
Both sides were bloodied. But Nazir’s injury was the more grievous. He had severe wounds in two places on his head. One of his fingers had almost been sliced off. But the riot did not remain confined to the Eidgah field. One side broke the tiles on the roof of the shed in Abid Sheikh’s yard. The opposing side arrived via another route and vandalized the shops in the Haji market. The dance of destruction continued all night. At dawn, the police arrived and halted beside the Eidgah field. There was no one anywhere. Most of the menfolk were under their sheets. The muezzin had just begun chanting. ‘Assalatu khairum minannaum…’
thirteen
Maruf was shocked. The incident had a deep impact on people’s minds. It brought about a fundamental transformation in the lives of some. And then even if someone wanted to, he couldn’t reverse that. The incident left Maruf utterly confused. He realized what a vast difference there was between life as one read about it in a book and the difficult life that existed in reality. What he wanted was not accomplished at all. Rather, he had fallen into such an acute state of embarrassment that he was remorseful now. During the fighting, Maruf’s father, Nasir Sheikh, had received a jab on his leg from a bamboo pole. He suffered from diabetes. Diabetes patients always had to be very careful about where they placed their feet.
The police did arrive. They were unable to arrest even a single man. The officer was astonished. No one could explain to him exactly why the violence took place. But since there had been bloodshed and serious injuries, a case had definitely to be filed.
Nazir had been admitted to hospital. He received stitches on his head in two places. The injury on his finger was so acute that a part of it had to be amputated. His wife, Reshma, was weeping and repenting. ‘Why did you do it? Do all those problems have anything to do with us poor folk?’
The top half of the very finger whose dexterity had made him a skilled garment-worker was no longer there. Reshma swore at everyone inwardly. Nazir himself was unable to say who had attacked him.
Rafiq Ali and Kalim Mirza visited him in the hospital in the afternoon. They assured Reshma that they would take care of all the expenses for Nazir’s treatment. Money would also be provided for their household expenses so long as he was unable to get back to work. But when the case was being written up, the names of Hasan Ali, Abid Sheikh, Laltu Sheikh, and certainly that of Maruf, had to be mentioned. They had exceeded all limits. But Reshma was shocked. Maruf Bhai? Why on earth would he hit Nazir? After all, he had good relations with him. Did party politics drag people down so low?
‘Why did Maruf Bhai thrash him?’
‘Only he would know why he thrashed him.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘He did, he too thrashed him, my dear. Everyone saw it.’
Hearing her brother-in-law, Reshma didn’t say any more. She just kept weeping. There were so many people there, but it was only her husband who was wounded and admitted to hospital. She was getting infuriated with the idiotic man. But seeing his bandaged head, her heart trembled. She sat holding her husband’s hand, nursing a great sense of anger and hurt against Maruf.
Maruf dropped in at the hospital in the evening. Reshma Begum was sitting beside Nazir. She didn’t say a word to him. As soon as Nazir saw Maruf and extended his hand towards him, Reshma exclaimed, ‘Stop! Stop it! You don’t have to shake hands now.’
Maruf was astonished. He asked Reshma, ‘What happened, Bhabi? Why are you talking to me like this?’
‘Then how should I talk? Who on earth shall I blame? After all, it’s my man’s fault. He needed stitches on his head. His finger had to be cut off. How can anything nice come out of my mouth now?’
‘Did anyone imagine that something like this would happen to Nazir? It was he who first began hitting Laltu. Just ask him yourself. That’s what I came to find out. Why did he have to do that?’
Reshma toned down her ire. They weren’t 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 Maruf’s hand and wailed. ‘What will become of us now, Maruf Bhai? Such a terrible thing has happened. Allah will decide on this, Maruf Bhai!’
She continued, ‘My brother-in-law was saying that apparently you too raised your hand on Nazir. Of course, I didn’t believe that.’
‘Kalim Bhai told you that?’
‘Yes. They asked me to file a case against you.’
Maruf was silent for a while, and then he said, ‘Forget about your brother-in-law, attend to Nazir’s 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.’
‘Tell me whose names I should say.’
‘What names?’
‘Won’t you people file a case? You said you’ll provide money, but won’t you ask me to file a case?’
