Tahirul was stunned. He was not prepared to hear such a thing! Concealing his shock, he smiled like a wise man. He said, ‘Yes, I do go. I’ve been going to Kalu Miya’s place to teach for a long time. What’s the problem with that?’

‘Kalu Miya’s establishment and Salaam Miya’s establishment are separate.’

‘Who’s saying all this rubbish?’

‘I cannot tell you any names, but they were asking me whether or not I was with the Maulana Saheb all the time on the day of Shab-e-Barat. I didn’t know anything. I only told them the truth, that I was with you all day, why do they ask. They asked me what the Maulana Saheb was doing at night in Salaam Miya’s courtyard. They told me to ask you about that!’

And then, curious, he lowered his head and asked softly, ‘Had you been there, Hujur?’

Tahirul realized that a rumour had been floated. However trivial it was, he sensed that it could well lead to a lot of talk in Sadnahati. He could handle Abdul Chacha somehow, but what about the people at large? They were so zealous when it came to the Imam Saheb that everything was exaggerated tenfold. Tahirul felt a bit frightened. He said to Abdul Chacha, ‘Do you know who else spoke about this?’

‘No one. Only me and the muezzin Rahmat Bhai. Salaam Miya had asked him what the Maulana Saheb wanted to talk to him about, whether you had been to his house.’

‘No one else?’

‘No.’

Tahirul was unable to figure out whether Abdul Chacha himself was suspicious and was therefore questioning him, or whether this had really become public. In order to make light of the matter, he said, ‘Chachi had called me to give her an amulet. But she asked me not to let Salaam Chacha know. It was a secret. Do you follow me?’

Tahirul made up a lie once again. He might have to lie many times to conceal the original lie. So he wanted to dismiss the matter, as if he were driving away flies. He changed the subject and asked, ‘Where is the hafez employed for the Tarabi from?’

‘The Hafez Saheb is from 24 Parganas. Shall I call him? Do you want to meet him?’

‘No. Not now. I have to speak to the committee. Have you heard his recitations? Does he do it properly?’

‘Oh, we’ve checked all that. He does it quite well.’

Tahirul had been the imam of Sadnahati for so long, and yet their age-old tradition had remained unchanged. Those who had inducted a hafez to recite the thirty paras of the Koran were also the ones who examined him. Even though they themselves could not recite a single page from memory. Tahirul felt hurt. Didn’t it occur to them to let Hujur return, and employ the person after he interviewed and approved of him!

The new Hafez Saheb himself came to Tahirul’s room after a little while. He exchanged greetings and sat down beside Abdul Chacha, who stood up respectfully and asked, ‘Hujur, shall I bring some tea?’

Tahirul gave his consent cheerfully. He said, ‘Chacha, only tea? Bring some muri or something also.’

After Abdul Chacha left, they talked. Tahirul was much more capable than him in every respect, right from upholding the dignity of the post, to age, and knowledge. Keeping the same in mind, the Hafez Saheb said, ‘Hujur, I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Really? Who did you hear that from?’

‘From Alam Saheb. Aren’t you a member of the Imams’ Organization?’

‘Yes. And you?’

‘I am too. I’m at the Siddiquiya Hifzul Madrasa in Madhupur.’

‘Oh! Achchha, how many students are there now in the Koran memorization department?’

‘I don’t know that. I don’t teach there! I make collections. I’ve been to Sadnahati as well a few times. I have offered prayers behind you too.’

‘Collection’ was the name of a profession. The government did not care much about Muslim educational institutions. It had been the same in the past. All the madrasas in village after village ran on the donations and benevolence of Muslim folk. The institutions carried out the task of collecting these donations very diligently. Collectors were assigned to do that. The main qualification for that was the person’s voice, speech and diction. The more he could invoke the fear of the grave, and of Hell, the more the collection would be. But it wasn’t possible to know how much of that fear he himself possessed. They went from village to village in cars fitted with microphones and loudspeakers. The collections were good. The collector received a percentage of that as his remuneration. It wasn’t a bad job. There were many who were in this profession. One only had to know in advance which sect the village folk owed allegiance to – whether it was Furfura, or Tabligh, or Azangachi. Speeches were made on the mic accordingly, together with songs in praise of the Prophet (PBUH). Many educational institutions employed very poor students for this job. They went around with a billbook in hand, and a bag for rice. They had to do this if they had to continue their studies free of cost.

Tahirul asked him eagerly, ‘How much do they pay now for the collection?’

‘It used to be twenty-five. It’s thirty now. Rent and fuel for the vehicle are on the committee.’

‘Oh, so that’s quite good! Alhamdulillah! Then why these special prayers?’

‘This gives a nice amount in a lump sum. The money comes in handy for a lot of things. But otherwise, it’s Howrah district that I keep track of every year. By the wishes of Allah, I get by too.’

In a small room beside the House of Allah, two scholars in service of Allah’s religion were discussing the livelihood and earnings provided by Allah. Abdul Chacha returned. He only wanted to earn merit for himself by serving all these scholars. That’s because he was not concerned about livelihood and earnings. All he was concerned about was beheshat – heaven.

As Tahirul sipped tea, he asked, ‘Bhai, I didn’t get your name.’

‘Sorry. My name is Ansar Ali Paik.’

‘Fine. Ansar means “assistant”. Do you know what “paik” means?’

‘Yes. Lathiyal, one who fights with a staff, a soldier. That’s our surname.’

‘So it means that you are an assistant soldier. Will you assist me if required?’

‘Of course. We’ll certainly help one another.’

Both of them began laughing at that. Scholarly folk were laughing. Abdul Chacha, too, began laughing, imitating them. But because he was no scholar, his laughter was not as laden with meaning.

twenty-three

Amar nobi sarkar

kende kende jarejar

ummat ummat bole holo bekarar –

sehrir somoy holo

otho rojadar!

My Master, the Prophet,

melts in tears

His heart’s perturbed for the ummah –

It’s time for sehri

Awaken fasters!

A Ramzan ghazal was playing very loudly over the loudspeaker. As soon as the month of Ramzan arrived, the television and radio sets in most households were switched off in honour of the grandeur and magnificence of the month. But something had to be playing close to the ears of the workmen in the garment factory. They could not do anything unless they were compelled to. That was the year-long routine. But during this month of fasting, that habit changed a bit. All these ghazals were played as an alternative now. They couldn’t exactly be called ghazals, though; these were Islamic lyrics sung to the tune of Hindi songs.

Those ghazals played now in the dead of night. The objective being to awaken the fasters. ‘Sehrir somoy holo, otho rojadar!’ This task was performed by Alam Miya every year. Actually, Alam Chacha liked to sing. It was because of his singing that he had obtained the love of Sujata, and they came together. Apparently they had seriously taken singing lessons together at one time. A Hindu girl could well take singing lessons, but why was she so attracted to the songs of a Muslim boy? Music was the shoytan’s art, the fuel of hell. Alam’s father and uncle had at least tried their best to protect him from hell. They had given him a stern warning: either stop singing or leave home. Alam left home with Sujata’s hand in his. Of course, there were no more singing lessons after that. Perhaps he was saved from a certain descent to hell. But talent doesn’t relent easily. It was said that, like dysentery, talent too could not be suppressed. It wriggled out every now and then. That singing talent rushed out and took the form of this ghazal now. That was how his artistic being was expressed.