There were two others besides Suman sitting there. They were Muslim, they had been circumcised too. Yet Maruf thought that they were probably astonished to hear their conversation. Although, of late, Farid had been doing a little bit of reading. Maruf wondered whether anything important could be achieved with people who did not possess a clear understanding of their own culture.

Maulana Tahirul was invited for the function in the Miya household. The arrangements for lunch were excellent. They had not invited too many people. So there wasn’t much of a commotion. Many arrived carrying gifts following the Zuhr prayer. They were giving the gifts to the boy who was going to be circumcised.

Both Maruf and Tahirul were present. Suman had just arrived. He was the only non-Muslim there. There were separate arrangements for him. But he did not want to sit separately today. Maruf knew that the biryani prepared with the forbidden meat was no longer unacceptable to Suman. But Tahirul didn’t know that. So he was a bit astonished. When they sat down together to eat, Maruf asked laughingly, ‘What are you wondering, Hujur? I doubt if you’ve ever eaten as many sheekh kebabs as he has wolfed down!’

Addressing Suman with an incredulous look on his face, Tahirul asked, ‘Do they know at home?’

‘My brother knows. Ma doesn’t.’

Punning on the words ‘sheekh kebab’ and ‘shikkha bhab’, meaning educated, Maruf said in jest, ‘Just like he has sheekh kebabs in his tummy, he also has an educated air. Many of us only have the sheekh kebabs, while there’s an acute lack of education. That’s the tragedy.’

Suman laughed at the joke. After all, he had read Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Chacha Kahini (Uncle’s Tales), in which the pun had been used.

Tahirul wondered why Suman had not been invited into Islam all these days. He ought to discuss this subject with him later. They began eating.

Kalu Miya came up to them to enquire whether they were being taken care of. Rahman, too, came, and was obsequious with Maruf. His fussiness was somewhat excessive. A pandal had been erected in the courtyard for lunch. The veranda of the house lay in front of that. Tahirul spotted Fulsura there. The girl appeared to be woebegone. After all, girls took on a radiant appearance after they were married. He had of course heard from Riziya about Fulsura, that there was a lot of unpleasantness in her household. That must be true – he couldn’t see her husband around. Had he skipped the event? Tahirul turned towards Maruf and asked discreetly, ‘Did you see the new groom, I mean Fulsura’s husband?’

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘I believe they are not getting along. That’s the bitter fruit of marrying them off in a hurry, you know.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘I heard about it.’

They sat for a while after finishing their lunch, chatted about this and that. There were separate seating arrangements for the womenfolk. Tahirul glanced furtively in that direction as he spoke. Perhaps Riziya had not come here. Tahirul was aware that Fulsura was not on talking terms with her. So her absence was not unexpected. Thus he was free of the urge to see Riziya that he would otherwise have had. Kalu Miya had whispered something to Maruf, who then got up and left with him. Suman bid Tahirul farewell and took off. He said he was in a hurry. He could not afford to be late. So what was Tahirul to do all alone? He chatted for a little while with some people and then left.

The entrances to Kalu Miya’s and Salaam Miya’s houses were next to one another, and separate. As Tahirul was leaving, he spotted Suman talking to someone. Who could that be, standing in front of Salaam Miya’s door? He could see Suman, but not the person he was talking to. There was a cloth curtain at the entrance of most Muslim households. Someone was standing there, holding the curtain. As he got closer, he saw it was Riziya. Seeing him there, all of a sudden, she salaamed him somewhat surprisedly. As Suman was about to leave, Tahirul said to him, ‘You know what, you should become a Muslim, sir! That would be great!’

‘Meaning?’

‘Wasn’t Maruf saying that you’ve wolfed down lots of sheekh kebabs! That’s why.’

‘So what? I’ve been consuming that for a long time. Just ask Riziya. I’ve eaten beef in her house as well. Does one have to become a Muslim if one eats beef?’

‘I guess I didn’t say that merely because you eat beef. There are plenty of other reasons as well. Try to find educated people!’

Who knows what went through Riziya’s mind as she overheard their conversation, but she laughed and jokingly said, ‘Hujur, Suman Da doesn’t just eat beef, he doesn’t spare any part of the animal. He eats it all. That’s the kind of greedy monster he is!’

But Tahirul was not really pleased by Riziya’s laughter. It seemed terribly unbecoming and artificial. He said something awfully discomforting to her. There was a bit of anger in that, a bit of jealousy. ‘Aren’t you a Muslim girl, Riziya? Should you be standing at the door like this? It doesn’t befit you. What did you learn from me?

Go inside!’

Suman said no more, and left with an embarrassed look on his face. But Riziya was dumbfounded at Tahirul’s comment. She felt humiliated. She was an independent-minded girl. She had never imagined that someone would scold her like this. Tahirul’s rebuke seemed to suggest that he had a right over her. But what right did Tahirul possess over her? Did he at all have any right to tell her who she could talk to, or when? She respected Suman Da a lot! She felt offended at being told off so sharply in his presence. She said angrily, ‘What do you mean to say? Am I obliged to listen to you?’

‘Aren’t you obliged?’

‘By what right?’

Tahirul could well tell her about his rights. After all, he didn’t consider anyone else other than Riziya as his own. Wouldn’t she be his wife in the coming days? But he did not mention that apparently illegitimate right. Instead, he asked her something else. ‘Am I not your teacher? Besides, I’m also the imam of Sadnahati. Am I an imam only for the menfolk because I lead the prayers at the mosque? I can guide everyone, you know. Won’t I comment if you’re bantering with someone?’

‘Suman Da too is my teacher. He has been teaching me for longer than you have. So if I can talk to you, why not with him too?’

‘Does that mean you will chat with a Hindu man? You are not behind curtains. Why are you arguing with me? Go inside! Impertinent girl!’

Riziya said no more. But the look on her face said it all. Tahirul had never seen such fire in anyone’s eyes before. She was still holding on to the pretty curtain with a flowery design at the entrance. Before Riziya went inside, she inserted a finger in a hole in the cotton curtain and tore it angrily.

Tahirul was shocked. He observed her going inside through the torn curtain. She had torn it badly. The entire interior of the house was left uncurtained now.

thirty-eight

A pall of gloom seemed to hang over Sadnahati today. It was the first time all the shops in the village remained closed. The workmen in many factories had shut down their machines. They had not come to work. The ostagars, who owned the garment factories, didn’t coax them to come to work either. The headmaster of the primary school had declared a holiday of his own accord. Who was the donor of the land on which the school stood? He was the one who had left the world and departed forever.

The people of Sadnahati had never before witnessed such an atmosphere of bereavement following someone’s death. A kind of stillness and silence pervaded the village. No one had instructed anyone to shut down the shops. They had shut them voluntarily and spontaneously. Everyone felt reverentially mournful. Any kind of teasing or jest today appeared ignominious.

He passed away at the time of the Fajr prayer at dawn. The death of Haji Burhanuddin seemed to have united the entire village as one. It had instantly erased all their differences of religion, faith, politics and sect. Because the demise of this man signalled the end of an era in Sadnahati. He was the most elderly murubbi of the village. He had witnessed the partition of the country, he had seen riots organized by particular leaders, he had witnessed the flag of Pakistan being hoisted only once. The police had arrived then, and said that this was not Pakistan, it was India. He had also witnessed the flag being taken down peacefully. He was a boy then. But he remembered everything clearly. Many people had heard stories of those times from him. He had also said that the Dada Hujur of Furfura had come to their house to conduct special prayers. This Haji Saheb’s father, Haji Rahimuddin, believed that his son came into this world thanks to the Hujur’s special blessings. Haji Rahimuddin was a freedom fighter, and a devout follower of the Hujur.

Haji Saheb had departed today. He had been the mutawalli of the mosque and had initiated its refurbishment. And then he had left, with the work still incomplete. After all, everyone had to depart. But why would an aged man’s death leave everyone so stunned? Even those who were once opposed to him were shouting and trying to control the crowd. Some stray conversations amidst the mournful uproar of people in that crowd served to explain the real reason for the accomplishments over Haji Saheb’s long life.

‘He was an awfully nice man, dear! What do you say, Masud Bhai?’

‘Yes, of course. Did he ever say no when someone was in distress or calamity? Even his enemies wouldn’t be able to say that. May Allah grant him a place in heaven.’

‘Just see! A hundred people in Sadnahati have performed Haj. But from the time I was a child, we knew only him to be Haji Saheb. Isn’t that right?’

Everyone in the tangle of people agreed with him. It was true indeed. Even today, it was only him that everyone referred to as Haji Saheb. Addressing everyone, Asmat Chacha said, ‘I had heard that Haji Saheb was a disciple of Boro Hujur, the eldest son of the Furfura Hujur. Is that true?’

One man seemed astonished at Asmat Chacha’s ignorance. He began narrating exaggeratedly not only Haji Saheb’s but also his father’s history. He added that the contribution of this family to Sadnahati was only due to the blessings of the great Pir.

‘That’s right. How many people know that Haji Saheb’s Abba was a special disciple of none other than Dada Hujur of Furfura, who had initiated him. Dada Hujur laid his blessed feet on Sadnahati twice. On both occasions, it was at Haji Saheb’s house.’

‘Was it only twice? I heard it was thrice! Almost all of the five sons of Hujur have visited Sadnahati. Why, it was only the other day that Chhoto Hujur came here for a lecture. Whenever they visited the village, they stayed in Haji Saheb’s house.’

‘What do you mean “the other day”?’

‘It must be at least forty years ago. The years are going by like running water, dear! I can still see him vividly in front of me. The people of Sadnahati belong to the Furfura silsila. No one strayed from the silsila so long as Haji Saheb was alive.’

‘Yes. But he had the means to transmit spiritual power even though no one knew it, dear Chacha! Haji Saheb was a very devout man! But he never let anyone know about or discern that. Something I heard about him left me stunned. We failed to recognize the man, Chacha!’

People liked creating a mystery, and they were quick to begin looking for a solution. Everyone was eager to hear more from the man. What was that secret matter that could leave one stunned! Reverence and love for spiritually elevated people multiplied on its own in the Muslim community. Sadnahati was a village with a growing Muslim-majority population. Pirtantra had taken root there a very long time ago. Perhaps the silsila did not have as powerful a hold over the people as it did earlier, but the people of Sadnahati used to wish for such an enlightened one in their own village. There were majars of Pirs in many nearby villages, which they visited. For that matter, there were dargahs of Borokhan Pir, or Manik Pir, the exact dates of whose existence were unknown. But despite being such Pir-loving folk, the soil of Sadnahati was devoid of a Pir. Many of the people nursed an inner regret in this regard. Such a large village, and yet no Pir, no majar! Without a dargah! A majar which people from many villages would come to visit! That was why they were eager to clear the mystery conveyed by the man. ‘What was that? Can you please explain?’

The speaker was silent for a few moments, and then he began to speak very slowly. ‘Haji Saheb spoke about his demise three days before he died! Just think about it! His granddaughter-in-law, Jasmin, is witness to that. She’s been weeping since morning, saying that. He apparently said to her that he would draw the curtains on Friday at Fajr time. Just imagine! Can anyone say that unless he is completely devout?’

After he said that, another village-dweller bore witness to the number of times that he himself had seen Haji Saheb going to offer prayers in the wee hours of the night. Although he had been unwell and laid up in bed at home for a long time. ‘Just think about it! Isn’t it extraordinary!’

Everyone expressed astonishment at what they said. It made them very thoughtful. At once a sense of glorious elation arose within the treasure houses of their minds. Sometimes word of mouth became the most trustworthy mass media. Within just a couple of hours after this revelation, most of the people of Sadnahati came running to the Haji’s house. It didn’t take long for word of the mystery of Haji Saheb’s secret spirituality to spread across the village. After a while, the report took on the form of absolute truth. Within just an hour of it being disseminated extensively, Haji Burhanuddin attained Pir-dom.