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.
When the news reached the ears of the imam of the mosque, Maulana Tahirul, he was astonished too. But he wanted to rein in his sense of awe. Because he did not want to break the hearts of the people of Sadnahati. It was true that Haji Saheb was a good man; he was a beloved well-wisher of his too. If three upright persons certified a Muslim to be a good man, he was indeed one, Tahirul believed that. If the masses of Sadnahati believed that Haji Saheb had attained ruhani fayez – spiritual elevation – then what was the problem? Was it wrong to nurture a good impression about a deceased person? Tahirul supported this emotion of theirs. As a result, Haji Saheb was formally honoured in an unprecedented way. People flocked to Sadnahati from nearby villages as well. The prayer service at midday on Friday went on for very long. A few thousand people had gathered for the namaz-e-janaza. Haji Saheb was buried with full honours. The Pirzada from Dada Hujur’s family was called to conduct the funerary prayer. He too bore witness, that the very number of people gathered there testified to the fact that Haji Saheb was a virtuous servant of God.
There was a large graveyard along the main road in Sadnahati. About a month later, thick walls were erected on the four sides of Haji Saheb’s freshly dug grave. Using quite a bit of space, four small minarets were constructed on the four corners of the grave. They were painted a deep green. Jasmin’s husband, Sharif Ali, bore the expenses to get this done in memory of his grandfather. Although he had not been very close to his grandfather when he was alive. Everyone knew that. After Haji Saheb’s death, people’s faith and love had made Sharif Ali respectful towards his memory. After all, it was his own grandfather who was such an elevated person. That’s why, once he was dead, he wanted to repay the debt for not having honoured him in his lifetime. He had converted the grave into a tomb.
But there were many such tombs. An ancient, dilapidated tomb was visible near the pond in the bamboo grove, about which nothing was known. Didn’t anyone even want to know whose tomb it actually was? How many generations ago had it been built? No one ever tended to it. That’s why Sharif decided to install a plaque. Many people were filled with enthusiasm when they saw that. They only viewed Sharif Ali’s act as one of immense reverence for his forebears. But was Haji Saheb merely his grandfather any longer? Was that his only identity? No! He belonged to Sadnahati now. He was Sadnahati’s pride and honour.
Sharif had received a proposal. The local leader, Rafiq Ali Sheikh, was so full of reverence for Haji Saheb that he wanted to convert the tomb into a majar with a green dome. He would bear the
entire expense. Of course, the activities which went against the shariat, which usually took place in a majar, wouldn’t happen in Sadnahati. Because its inhabitants belonged to the silsila of the true Pir. They knew that lighting incense at the tomb or majar, or offering chadar or flowers was strictly prohibited. In order to honour the memory of Haji Saheb, the foundation of the majar would be laid on the fortieth day of his passing itself, Inshallah, when the kulkhani ceremony took place. Haji Saheb dearly loved the imam of the mosque, Maulana Tahirul. Many of the musulli were aware of that. And so, the foundation stone was laid by the Imam Saheb, to the utterance of Bismillah. Many Sadnahati residents participated a little bit in this event and thus acquired endless merit in religion and in the world.
Erecting a tomb, constructing a dome, plastering the structure, or sitting atop the tomb were all forbidden. There was a Hadith to this effect, the Musnad Abi Ya’la. The people of the new mosque, who were associated with the Tablighi Jamaat, did not view this favourably. Their contention was that Haji Saheb was a good man, all right. But wasn’t making him equal to a Pir by erecting a majar excessive? However, how they viewed it, or didn’t, did not matter a whit.
Maruf, too, protested fiercely. But even his protest did not serve any purpose. His words blew away like dry leaves in the face of the gust of people’s religious emotions. Rafiq Ali argued that since Imam Saheb himself was with them, what could Maruf do? Was building a majar something new? There was a picture of the majar of Dada Hujur in Rafiq Ali’s room. Did Maruf’s objection matter? And why only that? After all, there was also a calendar beside the picture. The green dome, along with the Kaaba Sharif. Everyone knew that it was the dome over the tomb of the Prophet (PBUH). And what was that? A grave originally! Actually, that was a majar too! So what was wrong with building a majar?
‘What’s this you have done, Hujur?’ Maruf remonstrated. ‘You established a majar on the soil of Sadnahati?’
‘Haji Saheb was a good man. Many people in the village wanted it. So what’s the problem?’
‘Do you really think there’s no problem? Didn’t you sow the seed for shirk?’
