Riziya’s room was very neat and tidy. He couldn’t figure out whether the incense sticks were for Shab-e-Barat, or were an everyday affair. A fragrance pervaded the room. As soon as his eyes fell on the female clothing on the clothes stand, he had to look away. There were a few shelves of books next to that. Besides the books of his class, there were also a few storybooks and novels. Tahirul’s eyes studied them all. It occurred to him that he had never met a girl with such good taste before. Riziya returned in a short while. She had brought a tablecloth. She spread that and put down the plates on it. After that, she began serving the halwa-ruti to Tahirul. He put a small piece of ruti with some halwa in it into his mouth, but he couldn’t swallow it. It got stuck in his throat. He was perspiring abnormally. He stood up. His inner fear had still not waned. He said somewhat fearfully, ‘Achchha, so I’ll take leave, Riziya.’

‘Why? Please have this bit. Mama will be back.’

‘No. I can tell him later. Actually, it was just like…’

‘Just like what? Achchha, but Mama has nothing to do with the mosque. What did you need to discuss with him?’

‘I can’t tell you that. I’ll leave now.’

Riziya didn’t say any more. She only nodded. She stood making way for Tahirul. Observing his pale face, Riziya was amused. She asked in riddle fashion, ‘Shall I tell Mama why you came? Will that be proper? But I know why you came!’ And as she said that, she laughed softly.

Tahirul began to feel suffocated now. He had no idea what to say in reply. He swallowed and said, ‘No. I can understand. Do you know the reason for my visit? But I wouldn’t know what to say to your Mama. That’s what I’m wondering about.’

Riziya pretended to be thinking for a moment. And then she said, ‘You can go. Don’t worry. I will handle it. But tell me something: why did you call my Mama “Mama”? You referred to him as “Chacha” earlier! Isn’t it?’

Tahirul left the room. As he went past the kitchen, Riziya followed out of courtesy. Taking the opportunity, Tahirul merely asked, ‘You said you know everything. Do you really know?’

Riziya admonished him for his trickery. She said smilingly, ‘Hujur, be careful while you cross the street. The road is not so easy. It goes up and down, so you should be careful. There’s no punishment for being careful!’

It was clear to Tahirul that there was a deeper meaning within what she said. Without any further delay, he began walking towards the mosque.

Riziya’s best friend was her Reshma Bhabi. When Nazir was at the Ostagar household, Riziya sometimes went over to chat with Reshma. They sat in the kitchen, or sometimes sat on the roof terrace in the evening and savoured tamarind pickle. Fulsura too joined them. This was the time Riziya enjoyed the most. She forgot all about her studies and was rapt in pure joy. They sang Hindi film songs, talked about movies. The evening was spent in laughter and gaiety. And Reshma made her two unmarried sisters-in-law roll in laughter with tales laced with sexual innuendo. But today Riziya seemed to be somewhat listless. Observing her disinterest in the erotic jokes and jibes, Reshma asked her, ‘What’s happened to you? Why are you so quiet?’

‘It’s nothing, Bhabi. Just like that. I’m not in the mood.’

‘Were you up until late last night praying?’

‘No.’

Reshma didn’t say any more. Turning to Fulsura, she said, ‘I prepared halwa with dal and semolina yesterday. Like to have some? Shall I bring it?’

When Reshma left, Fulsura Bubu asked Riziya, ‘What’s happened to you? If you’re feeling sad, tell me.’

‘It’s nothing, Fulsura Bubu. I was remembering Ma.’

Reshma brought bowls of halwa and gave it to them. She took a spoonful from her own bowl, and as she ate, she said, ‘Try it and see. Tell me how you like it! I learnt it at my parents’ house. Does anyone make halwa with dal in Sadnahati?’

They ate in silence. Riziya said, ‘Do you know, Bhabi, even I prepared halwa yesterday. It was the first time. Hujur had come. I served it to him, but he didn’t have it. Maybe it wasn’t nice.’

As soon as Reshma heard that, she glanced at Fulsura. They had perhaps found a subject to jest about. Making her eyes wide, Reshma asked, ‘Hey Rizi, why were you serving halwa to the Maulana Saheb? What’s up?’

Fulsura was always envious of her. She asked, ‘You invited Hujur, and I didn’t know? What’s up?’

‘He had come for blessings. Not to eat.’

Fulsura laughed and said, ‘Why are you getting angry? Shall I tell you something? Bhabi, you hear me out as well. I think Hujur likes Rizi. I can figure that out even though I’m stupid. He has her on his mind. If she’s late, he keeps asking about her. And Rizi too—’

Riziya didn’t let her finish. She protested fiercely. ‘What rubbish are you saying, Fulsura Bubu! Didn’t it get stuck in your mouth? Tell me, what will people think if they hear you?’

Reshma laughed as she cautioned Fulsura, ‘Hey, speak softly! Doesn’t your mouth have a licence? Ought one to talk about love and things like that so loudly? Speak softly. She pretends to be innocent!’

Riziya became even more annoyed at Reshma’s jibe. She said, ‘Bhabi, you too? I’m going away from here!’ And as she said that, she put the bowl down and sought to stand up. Reshma grabbed her arm and sat her down. She said, ‘Why are you getting angry, Rizi? If it’s true, what’s wrong with that? Is the Maulana Saheb bad to look at? He looks like a prince!’

Riziya didn’t respond to the query, she tried to free herself and get up. She was quite piqued. She looked in the direction of Fulsura and said, ‘You could have said that you’re greedy for him. The way you keep gazing at him! Why do you needlessly heap shame on someone else? Do you think I don’t understand?’

Fulsura was in a terrible fix now. What if this talk reached her Chachi’s ears! She would kick up a fuss. The two families had reunited after a long time. She apologized to Riziya. ‘Hey, listen to me, Rizi! I won’t say it any more. Please come back, here, I’m holding my ears. Don’t tell anyone, sister!’

Now Riziya laughed. She returned to the group. She sat down between the two of them. Stretching her lips in a wry smile, she asked, ‘Can you both tell me what it will be like if it’s actually true?’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning? Both of you swear on Allah! Don’t tell anyone, Bhabi! Fulsura was right!’

Reshma flared up in excitement. Fulsura’s face glowed. In her pride for having got it right, her words became weightier. Reshma exclaimed, ‘So why were you doing all that play-acting, slut? Tell me! Tell me everything! Let me hear it!’

The sun was sliding down the west as the evening advanced. The azan for the Asr prayer had sounded. And three women on the roof of Nazir’s house were all agog in this discussion of theirs. They were having such a tasty conversation after a long time. Their soirée was a real blast.

nineteen

It was as if there was no basis for Maruf to be remorseful. Irrespective of whether or not anyone knew that a hornet’s nest was being stirred, Maruf did not have the slightest idea. But the hornets did emerge. There would have been no problem if the hornets were used to frighten people. But when they began to sting as soon as they emerged, their venom didn’t affect just a single person, it made the whole village venomous. After all, Maruf was no mythic Nilkantha, who could swallow all the venom and make the village poison-free.

Another problem had arisen in Sadnahati. It was not a new problem, but this time it had taken a new form. Until even a few months ago, thirty katthas of land belonging to the Miya family were actually in the name of the mosque. That was the document on the strength of which Hasan Ali and Abid Sheikh had started a riot and tried to insult the mutawalli. That problem had suddenly flared up again. After much effort, Salaam Miya and Kalu Miya had got this plot of land registered in their own names. Of course, some people were going around openly declaring that this had been done by giving a bribe to the settlement officer. And those thirty katthas of land now legally belonged to three persons – Salaam Miya, Kalu Miya, and their cousin Jamila Begum’s heir, Riziya. Since Jamila Begum’s father had no male offspring, his nephews would inherit a share of his property. Salaam and Kalu Miya were his nephews. Under the Islamic law of inheritance, Riziya was her mother’s heir. Now her name gleamed in the new record.

The two brothers had reunited again in order to put an end to the rumours circulating in the village regarding this land. Setting aside their differences, they had embraced one another. They had secretly sought and obtained a lot of advice. They had discussed the matter with the mosque committee of the mutawalli, Haji Saheb. It was with their consent that the two brothers had acted. Salaam Miya had revealed the actual history of this land in front of Rajek Sheikh, Kalim Mirza and others.

For several generations people knew that the land belonged to the Miyas. Maruf had unearthed the document and proved that it was actually in the name of the mosque. That was when the trouble began. After the violence in the Eidgah ground, in which poor Nazir lost a part of his finger, the history of this land needed to be known. What Salaam Miya had told the mosque committee late one night at Haji Saheb’s residence was as follows.

Salaam Miya and Kalu Miya’s Chacha was at one time the informal mutawalli of the mosque. His name was Abdul Jabbar Miya. At that time, he had exchanged a plot of land that belonged to him for one that belonged to the mosque in order to benefit the mosque. Sadnahati’s Muslim folk needed an Eidgah ground. The twenty-five-kattha Eidgah land belonged to him. And there was a thirty-kattha plot of land near his house that was in the name of the mosque. He gave his twenty-five-kattha plot to the mosque in exchange for the thirty-kattha plot. He had apparently paid the value of the remaining five katthas. Both sides gained from this. The mosque thereby obtained land for an Eidgah close to its premises. But all this while people were under the impression that Jabbar Miya had donated the land for the Eidgah. That was a different matter. Subsequently, when it came under the purview of the Waqf Board, all the land was recorded except for the Eidgah and the thirty katthas. The village folk used the Eidgah. No one raised any questions in this regard. But for two generations, the legal transfer of ownership remained incomplete. The mutation had not been done. That was the root of the problem.

After hearing about the history of the land, all the members of the mosque committee had opined that Jabbar Miya had been the true owner of the thirty-kattha plot, and at present, it belonged to his heirs. Accordingly, in order to silence the opposition, a blueprint was prepared. The outcome of that was the recording of the land that previously belonged to the mosque in the name of the Miyas. Perhaps even this would have remained a secret if Salaam Miya and Kalu Miya had not had their own plans.

Having been able to get the land recorded in their name, they either had to construct something on the land, or sell it off. The occupancy of the land had to be proven. But despite knowing that there might be problems in that regard, they wanted to sell the land. They needed a lot of money. They owned only a very small share of the property amounting to thirty katthas. Most of it was in the name of Riziya. But Riziya had grown up under their care, so the entire property was in the hands of Salaam and Kalu Miya. And that was when people found out.

Why would the people in the opposition accept this? They questioned whether exchanging land belonging to the mosque was legitimate; whether land belonging to the mosque could be recorded in someone’s name; whether selling the land to someone else was in accordance with the shariat. They were not going to permit anyone to step on the land unless all these questions were answered.

When Maruf learnt about this complication, he blamed himself for having been unwise. Why had he brought up a problem that had lain dormant for seventy or eighty years? More importantly, now that so many people had become involved in the matter, it had gone out of control. They had politicized the issue. Maruf hated himself when he reflected upon this. In the process of attempting to bring about a small change in the mosque committee that was composed of people who were superstition-ridden and had blind faith in Pirs and so on, the situation in the village had turned into something akin to a powder keg. How would he explain to them? Which side would he argue in favour of? Hadn’t he been doing fine with his studies and his business? He had decided that he would have nothing to do with this matter any more. It was such a large settlement. No one possessed any sense of individuality. They did not heed their conscience. Everyone sang the same tune. It was like they couldn’t break free. Maruf too went round and round the same limits. Still, was it possible that the minds of some people were occupied by other thoughts? Did Maruf possess the capability to peep into other people’s minds?

Comrade Hasan Ali used to wear a short panjabi over a lungi. There was a Santiniketan-style cloth bag on his shoulder. Everyone knew that the bag contained old issues of the Party newspaper, Ganashakti, some copies of the party magazine, and other papers. There had been no change in his attire for twenty long years. There had been none in his beliefs too. He believed that religion was really the opium of the masses. He dreamt of socialism. That all power would apparently be in the hands of toiling folk one day. But he never spoke out against religion in the Muslim quarters. He followed the party’s instructions to the letter.

However, despite belonging to the same party, Abid Sheikh offered prayers on Fridays and on the day of Eid. But he did not observe the fast during the month of Ramzan. For eleven months of the year, he was fine. But come Ramzan, he would have severe gas. That’s why he did not fast. He claimed to believe in Communism, and in his imaginary world, the greatest Communist of all was our Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) – greater even than Marx and Lenin.

There were still some members of this bent in the party that was almost finished now, and many people were astonished at that. Most of the people in the mosque committee were Congress-minded. They were now supporters of the Trinamool Congress. So there was a political aspect to being the opposition in the mosque committee. They had a closed-door meeting in Abid Sheikh’s house. Hasan Ali got the meeting going. ‘Comrade chairman, comrades. You are aware of the terrible wrong that is happening in Sadnahati. Our party will not tolerate wrongdoing and injustice. As a party, we will take up the matter of the problem that has arisen in regard to the mosque’s property. What do you people say?’

A party member responded, ‘But comrade, will it be correct to take it up as a party? Besides, as a result of Kalim Mirza’s propaganda, almost everyone has accepted that the land really belongs to the Miyas. Is there any point in protesting?’

Hasan Ali was silent, he was thinking. Abid Sheikh said, ‘Besides, Haji Saheb himself is on their side. If we want to lodge a complaint in the settlement office, we need Haji Saheb’s support.’