She then rose from the veranda and walked towards the kitchen, declaring in a stage whisper, ‘The boy’s wasting money! And he’s run to fetch honey! Where was the need for all that? I knew what would happen!’

It was customary for a drop of honey to be put into the mouth of the newly born baby by some virtuous, pious person. Nurul had gone out to fetch the honey. Nurul’s Ma was annoyed about that. Observing that, Riziya understood, no, there was no good news this time either!

There were a few women standing in the courtyard. Nurul signalled to them to move aside. The Imam Saheb was coming that way. Riziya felt cheered up. After all, it had been a long time since she had met Hujur. Even after all the boys and girls moved away, she took the initiative of talking to Nurul’s mother. As Maulana Tahirul emerged after reciting the azan, he was startled, and halted. He was astonished to see Riziya there, and was at a loss for words. He was a maulana, her teacher, and so he made the well-practised query, ‘Assalamu alaikum! You! How are you?’

But he couldn’t wait for Riziya’s response, because he was astonished again, and so he donned a counselling air. ‘What’s this! Aren’t you fasting? Brushing your teeth at this time? Don’t you have a neem tooth-twig?’

Riziya’s mouth was covered in foam. She spat that out at once. She smiled wryly and replied artfully, ‘So I did! What’s it to you? Allah forbid me from keeping the fast. That’s why I didn’t.’

And she turned her face away bashfully, smiling to herself at her riddle.

The cascading sway of Riziya’s dishevelled hair and the smile on her face combined to produce a feeling of unthinkable delight in Tahirul’s breast. But Riziya’s retort brought him back to his senses. A woman was forbidden to keep the fast if she was menstruating. That was natural. There was nothing Tahirul could say after Riziya’s reply. Changing the subject, he said, ‘Classes will start two days after Eid. Tell everyone. No more skiving! All right?’

‘Isn’t there a week’s leave for Eid? Do you think anyone will come two days after Eid? Maybe they’ll all go, but I won’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘Just like that! Won’t I go out a bit during the Eid holiday?’

‘Go out, meaning?’

‘What meaning! I’ll roam around here and there. Visit the fair.’

‘What do you say! You’re a woman, and you’ll roam around?’

‘Yes! What of it? Is it only you lot that can roam around?’

In the course of this conversation, a wondrous, beautiful smile was observed on their faces. There was an intoxicated quality to those smiles. Maulana Tahirul left at Nurul’s call.

Nurul’s mother was incensed to hear an unmarried girl speaking so unabashedly with the imam of the mosque. She had been standing at a distance so long, with a ghomta over her head. As soon as Tahirul left, she turned towards Riziya and said, ‘You’re an educated, girl, that’s fine. But why were you speaking like that with Maulana Saheb? Don’t you know about modesty?’

‘Why, Chachi? How did I speak?’

‘What do you mean “why”? Is it right to be coquetting with a man?’

By then, many of the women had gathered again. All of them heard the conversation. Riziya asked Nurul’s Ma, ‘Chachi, I suppose the coal-seller and the street-vendors are womenfolk? Don’t they have eyes and ears too? Are they all hijras? When everyone talks to them in just about any which way they like, doesn’t it catch your eye?’

Nurul’s Ma was already in a foul mood. It wasn’t just one or two, but as many as five girls had been born in her house. She flared up at Riziya. ‘Shut up, you wretch! Get out of here! Comes and gives lectures to me. Get out, I say!’

Riziya left the place. But a question kept going round and round in her head. Why did people decry the birth of a girl child so much? Why did their faces turn grumpy? Had the people in her house welcomed her arrival on earth in the same way? She felt dejected. But she felt a bit better for having met Tahirul. Returning home, she washed her face and entered the kitchen. She felt very pleased that Hujur had fallen terribly in love with her. Since her childhood, she had felt the paucity of genuine, unalloyed love. Not in exchange for anything, but simply out of love for her being Riziya. Someone for whom her existence was necessary. Riziya could glimpse such love in Tahirul’s eyes. Reshma Bhabi had told her, ‘He may be a Maulana Saheb, but I tell you, Rizi, he’ll never cheat you. When someone is God-fearing, Rizi, he can never do anything wrong. If Maulana Saheb wants you, give yourself over to him. Get married. You’ll have a peaceful family life, I can guarantee you that. You’ll be a Maulana Saheb’s bibi!’

Did she know how to give herself over? She wondered about Hujur’s likes and dislikes. Wouldn’t it be nice to give him a present for Eid? That should convey the message.

Salaam Miya’s son was only eleven. He called Riziya ‘Aapamoni’.He studied in Class Six. His name was Ayan Miya. Riziya tutored him. While teaching him one day, she said to him, ‘I’ll give you something, my dear, can you go and give it to Hujur?’

‘Which Hujur, Aapamoni? The Hujur in the mosque?’

‘Yes. But you mustn’t tell anyone, or else…’

‘I swear on Allah. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll go and give it to him.’

‘Not now. Only when I tell you. There’s ten days left for Eid, isn’t it? I’ll give it to you on the eve of Eid. Will you remember?’

During the night prayer today, Hafez Saheb erred in three places. Tahirul ignored it the first two times. After the third instance, he couldn’t remain silent. He made a lokma. This can be done while the regular prayers are in progress. Once the prayer was over, the musulli were looking askance at one another. Counting this, there had been corrections seven times. Was it because Hafez Ansar was distantly related to Kalim Mirza that he had been given the responsibility to be the imam for the night prayer? That question had now arisen. Wasn’t the chief imam capable of leading the special night prayers? Hafez Ansar was offended by that. But could one be an imam due to someone’s favour? Wouldn’t everyone’s prayers be rejected owing to the imam’s inadvertent error? The lokma had definitely to be made. After all, humans were bound to make errors. It wouldn’t do for Hafez Ansar to be angry!

It was one family’s turn to provide a meal that night. And they had packed meals for two. So both the hafez and the maulana sat down to eat. As they ate, Hafez Ansar said to Maulana Tahirul, ‘Hujur, the first twenty days of Ramzan are over. Only ten more days remain. So why are you making a lokma now? Did I do something wrong in your eyes?’

‘What are you saying? Is religion child’s play? If that hadn’t been done, perhaps no one in Sadnahati would be the wiser. But don’t we have to answer to Allah?’

Hafez Ansar knew for certain that he had no answer. He thought the maulana had some other intention. Perhaps it hadn’t been appropriate for him to say the other day that it was by oiling that he had been appointed the imam for the night prayer. One could earn as much as sixty thousand rupees in Sadnahati as an imam leading the night prayer. On the day of Eid, everyone’s hearts were as wide as a river. And all that money was raised within an hour. What was Tahirul Hujur’s motive? To divide that money? It was best to speak directly to him and settle the matter. So as Ansar sucked on a bone, he asked, ‘Hujur, may I ask you something?’

‘Let’s hear you.’

‘How much exactly do you want?’

Tahirul reacted to that disconcertedly. He wanted to get the measure of him. There was no need to speak in riddles in such matters.

As Tahirul wiped his hands after finishing his meal, he said, ‘One-third. And if you think I ought to lead the prayer the next few days in return, I’ll do that. I’ll tell the committee that you aren’t able to do it on account of ill health. I don’t mind reciting the night prayer for the remaining ten days. You can go and spend some time at home. I don’t like taking anything without putting in the work.’

‘No! Let me lead the night prayer instead. If you’re silent…’

‘No. I can’t do such a terrible thing, Bhai. After all, we are talking about the Holy Koran. How can I remain silent, tell me? You make lots and lots of mistakes. It’s a sin to be aware of that and yet remain silent.’

The next day, it was announced at the time of the Fajr prayer itself that on account of Hafez Ansar Saheb’s ill health, he had given the chief imam the responsibility to lead the night prayer. He would return on the twenty-seventh day, the day of Laylat al-Qadr. He would conduct the prayer. The last special prayer of the month.

Maulana Tahirul’s Arabic pronunciation was immaculate, and his recitation style was different. Even though it took a little longer, the musulli felt pleased to hear his Koranic recitation.

Hafez Ansar returned after only two days. Of course, he didn’t seek to reclaim his right as imam for the night prayer. He said to the musulli, ‘Since he’s doing it, let him continue. I feel a bit better now. What would I do sitting at home? And so I came back.’

There was no change in Ansar Saheb’s conduct. Like before, he spoke respectfully to Tahirul. Rather, he was trying to deepen their friendship. Tahirul was surprised to find that Hafez Ansar was all right. He was not of a crooked bent. Tahirul inwardly decided that he wouldn’t take a third of the collection but whatever Hafez Ansar felt like offering. He felt somewhat ashamed before Hafez Ansar.

The human mind had an amazing dynamism. If there were any feelings building up inside, they were expressed in various ways. If all of it remained inside, there was mental anguish. They had to be brought out then. The imam and hafez had become well acquainted within three weeks. Maulana Tahirul had referred to Ansar as an assistant soldier. He could speak his heart to him.

It was a meeting of the Bengal Imams’ Organization. The Left Front was in power in the state. The imams were demanding that a minimum dole be provided. Tahirul was an important member of this organization. There were to be several discussions in the Waqf Board in Kolkata. Papers had to be submitted. Tahirul took Hafez Ansar along. After concluding the meetings, they offered their prayers at the Tipu Sultan mosque. As they wandered along after that, they passed by Siyaram Market. Tahirul spent three thousand rupees there, buying a churidar-kameez. Hafez Ansar was an astonished but silent spectator. However, his inquisitive mind didn’t permit him to stay silent. ‘Hujur, why did you buy such an expensive thing? And who did you buy it for?’

They had to return to Sadnahati before it was time for the Maghrib prayer. They took a taxi. As they sat in the car, they chatted freely. When it came to the question of the churidar-kameez, Tahirul blurted out the truth. The matter regarding Riziya had been discussed a lot. It was natural that Ansar, who was younger than Tahirul, would be drawn to talk about love. Nonetheless, he didn’t think it was appropriate. Advising him to exercise caution, Ansar said, ‘When the mutawalli himself has taken up the responsibility, why are you complicating matters unnecessarily?’

‘Complicating matters how? It’s only after I give this that I’ll know! Don’t I need to find out whether the girls here like boys with beards and caps?’

What on earth could he counsel Hujur about? He remained silent. He only said, ‘Do I need to help?’

‘I’ll tell you when the time comes.’

twenty-six

A peaceful but dense throng of people. The midday Zuhr prayer was in progress. This silent gathering calmed the hearts and minds of the fasting folk. The sun was fierce. The electric fan whirled overhead. That somehow made everyone drowsy. The mosque was a piece of heaven on earth. So it was not unnatural to fall asleep in comfort.