Raqib arrived suddenly in the midst of their conversation. He was carrying a large cooking pot. Although he had espied the two of them conversing in secret, he pretended not to have seen anything; he skirted them and went away. Riziya didn’t stay for a moment longer, she left. When Raqib returned, he saw Imam Saheb trying to put on the wet panjabi. He said to Tahirul, ‘Hujur, you could have stayed here a little while longer. Is it dry? Shall I get it ironed?’
‘No. That’s not necessary. It’s time for Zuhr, so…’
‘Oh! Then you should go! You’re the imam of the mosque, so you devote most of your time to the mosque.’
If it had been some other time, Tahirul would have said something to him. Although it seemed to be a simple statement, it was actually an innuendo. This Raqib Miya was one of the principal organizers of the variety entertainment programme at Eid time. He nursed a suppressed rage because Tahirul had stopped that. Tahirul sensed that. That’s why he left without saying anything. It was time for Zuhr.
Marriage involved a very important agreement. A new family was established through this. Of course, a Muslim marriage is not a permanent, lifelong, unbreakable bond like a Hindu one. Under unavoidable circumstances, one could also exit from the agreement if necessary, subject to certain religious stipulations. Innumerable erroneous customs are prevalent in the Muslim community. Among those are the various accessories related to marriage. Under Indian law, a Muslim marriage is registered under Muslim personal law. A kabinnama is prepared. There is a register that is as thick as that of the fabled Chitragupta of the Hindus. Everything is noted down in that. The amount of the mehr is also written. The signatures of the bride and groom, the guardians, and most of all, the witnesses, are all there. Once the signatures of the bride and groom, and those of two adult male witnesses are made in the register, the marital bond is considered to have been established. But the Muslim masses are not satisfied with that. They bring along a maulana as well. They perform the ijab-kabul (proposal and consent) anew. There are prayers and blessings, and the marriage is concluded with a long monajaat. One doesn’t know how much the marital bond is strengthened thereby, but for his services in performing the marriage, the maulana receives a salami or honorarium.
They knew that the ijab-kabul had already been completed on paper. The Kazi Saheb had come a little earlier and got them married. That was sufficient. But no one had the courage to disregard the prevalent customs and rituals. As if, irrespective of anything else, a marriage was not complete without the imam or maulana from the mosque. Of course, delivering a khotba pertinent to the occasion was sunnat, akin to the Prophet’s own custom.
Lots of people were present in the gathering during Fulsura’s marriage. Suman and Maruf were there too. Hindus were also usually invited for Muslim marriages in Sadnahati. Chicken biryani was prepared specially for them. Suman had seen the Hindu ceremony conducted, with the circumambulation seven times around fire as witness. It wasn’t that he hadn’t attended a marriage in a Muslim household earlier. But of late, he had become a bit more curious. Once the monajaat concluded, sweetmeats were supposed to be served to those present. A person had started distributing Medina dates. Just then, the gentleman who was an advocate, encountered Tahirul again. He said, ‘Hujur, please don’t mind, but wasn’t a chicken slaughtered twice?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You didn’t get me, isn’t it?’
‘No. Please explain.’
‘How many times is a bride married to the same groom? The Kazi Saheb came at Zuhr time. After all, he had come specifically to perform the marriage. He did it too. So repeating that…’
Maulana Tahirul wanted to make light of the matter. As if asking him the question was inconsequential. He said, ‘That was the registration, a record of the marriage.’
‘Let’s say you did not deliver the sermon. Say you didn’t even attend. So wouldn’t the newly married couple be able to set up home on the basis of the entry in the register by the Kazi Saheb? After all, delivering the sermon is not mandatory.’
‘Yes, they can. Actually, this is an old custom or ritual. The marriage can be completed without the registration too, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Whichever way it’s done, it ought to take place only once. Didn’t you say in the morning that Islam does not like excess? Actually, all these are excesses. And think about it, the mehr was fixed at merely five thousand rupees. Whereas this groom is capable of paying two lakh rupees. That’s what I wanted to convey.’
Tahirul was at a loss for a suitable reply. Maruf was sitting nearby. He realized that Tahirul had fallen into a terrible snare. He tried to argue in his favour. ‘Actually, although the marriage is concluded through the registration, some important things remain. Isn’t it, Mama? Like the sermon is delivered, Medina dates are partaken of, some monajaat takes place. All that, I mean.’
Tahirul got his wits back with Maruf’s support, as if he had received a dose of oxygen. He said somewhat loudly, ‘I see that everyone knows the shariat now. You’re a man of law and courts, stick to that. Sticking your nose in…’
The Advocate Saheb got annoyed. He shouted, ‘There you go talking rubbish, Hujur. Do you think I am in legal practice without knowing about shariat? Do you know how many divorce cases come up every day? But you people are busy with religious gatherings then. You conduct the marriage, but once the matter of divorce arises, why does everyone rush to the courts? Can’t you settle it sitting in the mosque?’
Many people in the groom’s party were listening to their argument. One of his friends in the group said in jest, ‘Whatever it may be, irrespective of whether the chicken was slaughtered once or twice, I hope it was halal! Our friend has a history of his bride running away before the marriage!’
Everyone laughed at that. As soon as the atmosphere eased, Tahirul offered his greetings to everyone and left.
Suman had listened to everything from beginning to end. It occurred to him that their brahminism was good in a way. No one else other than them bothered about such scriptural matters. No one observed how many times ghee had been poured into the fire. No one asked whether the mantras had been recited, or whether they were pronounced properly. And so, such matters were never subject to debate. Suman said to Maruf, ‘Although your community looks very strong from the outside, there’s a lot of weakness inside, dear Maruf!’
What could Maruf say? After all, he himself had realized the same thing. He said, ‘Do you know, people of no other faith are of as religious a bent as Muslims! You consider that a weakness. I don’t. It simply shows the spread of religious knowledge.’
‘That may be. But the attitude is similar to brahminism, isn’t it?’
‘In what way?’
‘What Imam Saheb said, that everyone seems to have understood the shariat. Yes, everyone ought to understand it. But I sensed a tone of regret when he said that.’
Observing Suman closely, Maruf said, ‘Yes, you’re right, that’s the biggest problem. Some people think that they have a monopoly over religious knowledge. That keeping long beards, sporting caps on their heads and wearing jobbas, or long-shirts, are the yardsticks of faith. There are some families who consider themselves as the sole servers of Islam, the true scholars, the true Pirs. The key to administering society would lie in their hands. That’s the tradition. And this is a major ailment in the community.’
thirty-one
Fulsura was married. It was as if Allah had lifted a burden from Kalu Miya’s head. His old face ought to have been beaming – but no. His brows were still furrowed. He had plenty of reasons to be worried.
A new problem had arisen. They were not done with the matter of selling off land on the occasion of his daughter’s marriage. The two brothers had risen to the task and pursued the matter quite a few months ago. They had paid a bribe and got the land newly recorded in their own names. This was that same controversial plot of land about which the Muslim masses of Sadnahati village had various questions and curiosities.
But once Fulsura’s marriage concluded without any dowry payment, they changed their minds. Both Salaam Miya and Kalu Miya declared that they would not sell the land, and that got them into deep trouble. There were reminders all day and night. Some people had come to the house and threatened that no nonsense would be tolerated. They were Rafiq’s violent youth. If the land wasn’t sold, the value of Rafiq’s word would be destroyed. The price of one’s word was supposedly the highest when it came to matters of land and property. More than life even. They had to sell the land. Or else he would be fiercer than a ferocious tiger. They ought to know that.
Kalu Miya had thought that when there was a problem with the land pertaining to the mosque, no ordinary broker could sell the land. So they had given the responsibility to Rafiq Ali Sheikh, a leader of the area and the deputy chief of the Panchayat. As promised, he had found a wealthy Bihari man from somewhere else as a customer. He had been told that he was definitely getting the land. They had swallowed the few hundreds of thousands of rupees they had taken as an advance from him.
The buyer was no amateur. He had registered an affidavit to that effect. Kalu Miya and Salaam Miya had put their signatures on the affidavit. Of course, Riziya’s signature was not there. The buyer would go to court if he did not get the land. Kalu Miya’s son, Raqib, had also borrowed some money from Rafiq, upon the condition that it would be deducted from the land sale money. So if they now said they wouldn’t sell the land, how could that be!
They had no option but to sell the land. It was Rafiq’s responsibility to deal with the problems pertaining to the mosque. Kalu Miya was trapped. He had no idea what to do. They could have agreed to sell their portion of the land under pressure, but that would not solve the problem. The buyer to whom Rafiq had given word wanted the entire thirty-kattha plot. He was going to set up a stone-washing plant. He had already obtained a big bank loan for the purpose.
There was no disagreement over the price. Finally, under further pressure, Salaam and Kalu consented. But the main problem related to Riziya. She had suddenly turned contrary and declared that she would not sell off her share. After all, her share was the largest. It was this that the brothers could not explain to Rafiq Ali Sheikh. That chit of a girl! Rafiq failed to understand how she could disobey those in whose household she had grown up! Rafiq said, ‘So were you feeding milk-and-bananas and raising a deadly snake all these days? Isn’t it said, neither a son-in-law nor a nephew are one’s own! You knew that all along. But Riziya is not a nephew, she’s a niece. A girl. Find a nice boy and get her married off, Kalu Bhai. Let the matter end.’
They sat looking at him embarrassedly. How could they explain Riziya’s stubborn nature? And the main thing was that Rafiq could figure out that they were trying to save themselves by bringing up Riziya. Kalu Miya said, ‘Riziya is simply not agreeing to sell the land. This Salaam is her guardian. The girl doesn’t heed him either.’
‘Where is she getting such ideas from? Come, let me speak to her myself and see!’
Rafiq Ali himself had come to meet Riziya. He had to find out what exactly her problem was. How could the land be sold without her signature? And if it could not be sold, the advance would have to be returned. But the Bihari buyer would create a thousand problems. He would file a suit for cheating. The Panchayat elections were imminent. If all these hassles surfaced during election time, that would be a problem. His signature was there on the affidavit, as a witness. That’s why he was keen to speak to Riziya in person. He would find out for himself whether she really did not want to sell, or whether it was the two brothers who did not wish to do that. When Rafiq met her, he told her, ‘Riziya, I am your Mama by relation, isn’t it? I’ve heard that you are studying in college. You seem to be quite intelligent and knowledgeable. So why are you unwilling to sell the land? When everyone has agreed to sell, why are you refusing?’
Rafiq was sitting on the cot. He was accompanied by Kalu Miya’s eldest son Rahman and Riziya’s Chhoto Mama, Salaam Miya. Riziya was seated on a chair. This was her study room. For no particular reason, she disliked this man. She felt uncomfortable even about him being seated on the cot. He was dark-skinned, tall and hefty. He had a thick crop of curly hair on his head. Looking at him, one felt contempt as well as terror. Riziya was at a loss as to how she would respond to the direct question. ‘There’s indeed a problem. But I can’t tell you about that now.’
‘No! Tell me now. I’m a very busy man. Who knows whether or not I’ll be able to come again. A separate bank account can be opened in your name, where you can keep the money. Since you don’t trust Salaam Miya, who happened to raise you!’
