âThat was the notion that led to the partition, dear fellow! They got what they wanted. And now the Muslims who remained in this Hindu country are creating trouble. Doesnât that have to be remedied? Look, if you have to live here, you canât have droves of children. You canât go on marrying on a whim. Why are you so sympathetic to Muslims, Suman?â
Suman burst out laughing at the retort. Sandip was aware that the laughter was contemptuous. With a disgusted look on his face, he gravely said, âJust you see, the population of Muslims will exceed that of Hindus one day. That day is not far off, so you can stop your ugly laughter.â
But Suman continued to guffaw. And amidst that, he said, âHindus have been around in this subcontinent for a few thousand years. Tell me when, and under whose reign, the population of Muslims exceeded that of Hindus? All this is entirely imaginary, Dada. Yes, I agree that parallel to their economic plight is their lack of family planning. But how can they do that? They lack education and economic means. Have we really thought about mental development? Letâs say, your father was one of five brothers and four sisters. Think about it, just a single generation ago, there was no family planning among Hindus either. But they are a hundred years behind in every respect, Dada! Doesnât attention have to be given to the question of their social development? We need to think about that!â
âWhat the hell are you saying? Why should we bother about their development? Have you lost your head?â
Suman came up with a fitting rejoinder to Sandipâs query. It wasnât his own thought, though; it was his friend Marufâs. It had made him think a lot after he heard Maruf say it. Suman said, âWhy should we think about them, isnât it? So let me tell you. A major health issue in the country is polio. Make India Polio Free! You must surely have read in the newspapers about a section of the Muslim community being apathetic in regard to the polio vaccine. They are simply unwilling to allow their children to be given those drops.â
âYes, of course Iâve heard about that. So just think about it. Think about the bloody kids of the nedes. Theyâre such fools that they donât even want them to be given polio drops.â
âWhy they donât want that is a different question. We can talk about that later. But do you know, the government has taken a positive step. The imams of the mosques are contacted by the office of the Block Development Officer, so that the imams can explain the importance of taking the drops to those who are opposed to the polio vaccination drive. If this doesnât work, the police then undertake the task of forcibly administering the polio drops. Youâre reading about all this in the newspapers, arenât you? But can you tell me why they are doing this?â
âThe government is doing the right thing. You tell me why they are doing it!â
âI think that if the polio virus is carried by even a single child in the country, it poses a risk for tens of millions of children. Because, after all, the virus doesnât know how to distinguish between Hindu and Muslim. It doesnât know who is a follower of Lord Rama and who is a servant of Compassionate Allah. And so, all the children of the country are endangered because of a Muslim child afflicted with polio. Thatâs why the vaccination drive is being undertaken.â
âThatâs excellent. But do the nede chaps understand that?â
âNow, Dada, if this force exerted by the government, this uncompromising attitude is directed towards the malaise called illiteracy, then Muslim children are bound to be educated. But it is Hindus who eventually gain. Because once their lives improve, according to your logic, theft, robbery and terrorism are bound to decrease. So in their own interest, the Hindu majority ought to pressurize the government for the education of the Muslim minority.â
Sandip was shocked to hear Sumanâs reasoning. At a loss over how to respond, he sought to use some hackneyed bits of propaganda as his weapon. He said, âYouâve been going on and on about improvement in the lot of Muslims, but donât you want to know about their history? Wonât you look at how orthodox they are? How filthy they are! This sex-starved community has been seducing our Hindu women ever since the days of the Muslim emperors and consigning them to their harems. That tradition still continues! There are lots of incidents like this in your Sadnahati, arenât there? But can you show me a single case where a Hindu man marries and sets up home with a Muslim woman? I doubt whether thereâs even one in a hundred thousand! Donât you want to know history, Suman? They converted tens of millions of Hindus to Islam!â
The comment made Suman somewhat cheerless. The mention of Sadnahati embarrassed him, in fact it made him a bit numb. Perhaps Sandip had forgotten that Sumanâs own paternal aunt, Sujata, had married Alam and raised a family. But if he mentioned that now, Suman would be even more embarrassed. So in order to change the subject, he said, âDada, I would advise you to try to educate yourself a bit instead of poring over fake history. If you do that, youâll realize how helpless they are, and they suffer from an inferiority complex. Thereâs no need to be afraid of them. Because they are harmless. Your attitude is simply harmful for the country at large.â
âIâll introduce you to Chinmoy Da. Youâll get along very well with him. He knows a lot.â
âWhether itâs Chinmoy, or Mrinmoy, or Tanmoy, it doesnât matter. As I see it, when it comes to football, it wonât do for even a single player in the eleven-member football team to be lame. If the country has to advance, there needs to be peaceful coexistence among all. Mutual trust and understanding are necessary.â
Sandip did not say any more. He slipped away. A thought suddenly occurred to Suman.
Suman often thought about who all these Muslims of Sadnahati village actually were? And who ultimately were the Hindus? After all, other than religion, there was no difference in any respect. Because he was educated, he could understand that the physical anthropological features of the people were not different from those of the Hindus. They spoke the same language and looked the same. They shared the same life struggle. They had lived next to one another for centuries on end. It could well be that, at one time, when the entire village was
non-Muslim, they gave up their religion and became Muslims. Perhaps the Muslims in the village today were descendants of those people. After all, it was on account of the humiliation suffered at the hands of the high-caste Hindus that many people embraced Islam at that time! So why had some people not done that? How did his Jogipara manage to survive? Were they the oppressors then? Or was it because of their great caste pride that their forefathers hadnât converted? Perhaps it was not merely on account of living together with Muslims in the same hamlet but for some other deeper reason that Suman considered them as his kin.
Was it because of that sense of kinship that he was secretly in love with Riziya? That he professed a sense of responsibility towards her?
When Salaam Chacha had first brought his niece for tuitions, Suman had thought she was like any of the other girls. She was in Class Seven then. She used to come wearing a frock. He was amazed at her memory. Teachers were supposed to be fond of the students who were not afraid of mathematics. Suman was just a first-year student in college then. He had been amazed that Riziya had managed to memorize all the algebraic formulae in a single day. He was unable to disregard Riziya after that. It wasnât just her studies; the girl had a different way of conveying her respect. When she spoke, she did that with a smile and her head lowered. There was a self-restraint and simplicity in her. Afterwards, she overcame her inarticulateness and became very fluent. But as soon as this girl was promoted to Class Nine, her Mama, Salaam Chacha, began looking for a groom to get her married off to. Riziya went straight to Suman and told him, âDada! Do you know, Mama says heâs going to get me married off. Wonât I be able to take the Secondary examination?â
âWhat are you saying? Is this any age to get married?â
âBut I want to study more. If Mama justâŠâ
âOh, I can speak to your Mama. Iâll stop your marriage. And, you are so good in studies, but wonât you speak in proper Bengali now, instead of using the dialect? Do you understand?â
Suman had spoken to Salaam Miya. He had been able to explain Riziyaâs aspirations. But Suman himself was unaware that Riziya would steadily become the woman of his dreams. And when he did become aware, he kept that secret from the entire world. Even Riziya never had an inkling. She wasnât supposed to either. That was because Suman had locked up his secret love in the recesses of his mind, where it was out of everyoneâs sight. He had to do that because of various social ramifications. He wrote down a lot of his inner feelings in the form of poems in his secret journal. Sumanâs journal of love was a mysterious Pandoraâs box.
Riziya was getting married. But since he had been able to be so secretive about his feelings, he hadnât really felt any anguish when she informed him. It was the fact that she was going to get married to Raqib that caused him anguish. Could this even be possible! Ever since his childhood, Raqib had been a wayward, ill-mannered boy. There was no way that he was worthy of Riziya. Besides, even if it was a distant relation, she was his cousin after all. Suman was quite pained when he heard the news. His hitherto powerful ability to conceal his emotions seemed to suddenly weaken.
Suman had also heard talk relating to the imam of the mosque, Tahirul. However, in that instance, he had not felt so bad. He had thought, after all, my Riziya is not going to an unworthy man. But when he heard the name of Raqib, he thought he ought to do something, however offensive it may be. He wanted to go right away and land two tight slaps on Salaam Chachaâs cheek, although he knew that he would never be able to be so brave in his life. After all, being brave was untoward and unethical on the part of the âminoritiesâ! They would cloak their anguish. They would suffer in secret, and with a smile on the face, one would placate the other. Suman did the same.
Meanwhile, Riziya steadily became isolated. It had been a very long time since she felt so helpless. She would never have submitted to the decision of the family if Tahirul had got in touch with her. She had wondered again and again how a man could be so unperturbed. Even if no one knew, at least Allah knew how deeply she loved him! After all, her Allah and Tahirulâs Allah were not different. Couldnât he feel her heartbeat from his room in the mosque? Ayan was in the madrasa now. If he had been here, she could have written a letter speaking her heart. So would she have to eventually accept Raqib as her husband? Every time the thought struck her, she felt nauseous from the core of her being. Yet she did not sink into despair. Riziya thought that she ought to speak to Raqib directly. If she could explain to him that she was unwilling, after all, wouldnât he too be unhappy at such a marriage! Or was it utterly pointless to tell him!
Riziya also felt hurt as regards another person, and that was Suman. After all, Suman Da had once halted an undesired marriage. Wouldnât he be able to do that this time? Hadnât the news reached him in these last two weeks? Why was he sitting idle when his favourite student was about to be ruined? Although he was Hindu, Muslim families did heed his advice! Couldnât Suman Da have dropped by?
Finally, Riziya herself went to Sumanâs house, on a flimsy pretext. He was sitting on a chair in the room he took classes in. He was overwhelmed to see her. He smiled and said, âHey Riziya, how are you? You havenât come in a long time!â
Riziya felt terribly wounded. She was certain that he knew about her impending marriage. And yet he was pretending that he didnât know. So Riziya too did some play-acting. Deliberately using the Sadnahati dialect, she said in a mocking way, âDonât you know why, Dada? Iâm really getting married this time! After all, once one is married, thereâs no longer any need to study. Thatâs why I probably wonât be coming any more! So I came to visit.â
Suman realized that Riziya was angry. He said, âBut hey, donât you call Raqib âChhot Daâ?â
âYes! Once Iâm married, Iâll call him âBorâ. Does anyone have a problem? Whether I call my husband âChhot Daâ or something else is my business. No one has to worry about me.â
âAah! Why are you talking like that? Will you tell me something, Riziya? Tell me the truth! Do you like Imam Saheb?â
Riziya was silent for quite a while. Her silence conveyed that she did like Tahirul. Suman began to feel an ache in his breast. But it was deep inside, with no outward manifestation. He said, âI understand. Why donât you ask him to marry you?â
âThe people at home wouldnât want that. Wonât my uncles lose their hold over my Maâs property? After all, theyâve swallowed all the land, and they have pledged in an affidavit to sell it to Rafiq Ali. Iâm not willing to sell the land. So they are against my wishes.â
âIf people at home are unwilling, go and get married at the registrarâs office. That will end the matter.â
âDada, are you a child? Donât you know Tahirul is an imam? A maulana? Will people like him want to do something like that? Forget about Allah, will people spare him?â
forty-eight
Hasan Aliâs death had apparently not really had much of an impact in Sadnahati. But perhaps, beneath the surface, it had laid the ground for an inevitable change. It could be that this death merely occasioned that. Constant change was indeed the demand of the times! And as regards fulfilment of the demand, an occasion was needed. Had Hasan Aliâs death portended that?
Abid Sheikh was inwardly furious with Maulana Tahirul. But to what avail was that? After all, Tahirul was not just any ordinary person, he was an imam. And so, he couldnât intimidate him. When Hasan Ali had spent his entire life with the Muslim community, how could he be rendered into an isolated corpse in a moment! How had the entire Muslim populace turned their faces away following a single announcement by the Imam Saheb? So what was more powerful? Religion or politics? Or was it that ancient power that had arisen from the amalgam of religion and politics, which was ruling the whole world? Influencing the minds of Muslims who were full of half-baked faith! What was this equation?
The Panchayat elections were forthcoming. It was the responsibility of Abid Sheikh and Maruf to move forward with the combined strength of the political alliance that had come together, thanks to Hasan Ali. That was what was supposed to happen. But all of a sudden, Maruf had a change of heart. He lost all interest in this matter. His disinterestedness made Iqbal Ostagar terribly dejected. It was a sentiment shared by many. The platform opposing Rafiq Ali Sheikh that had developed stealthily was not able to mature following Hasan Aliâs death. It was as if the platform had been stillborn.
Bengali Muslim politics seemed to have lost its sense of awareness. Maruf realized that, and therefore he was unable to figure out where that incognizance would land them, and when. Rafiq Ali Sheikh was the leader of the area now. An influential family of the village, the Haji household, was under his control. Just a few months ago, he had built a full-fledged domed majar over the late Haji Sahebâs tomb. And with that, he became popular overnight in all of Sadnahati! Had that fake popularity frightened Maruf? He had not constructed the roads and health centres for which government funds had been allotted; how would the construction of a majar with money from his politically acquired earnings benefit the public! Yet, because of that, the people of Sadnahati had made him their undisputed leader. The writing on the walls had begun. It screamed out, âVote for Haji Sahebâs dear one, the daughter of Sadnahatiâs soil, Jasmin Begum, on the twin flowers symbol.â Amazing! Jasmin was contesting the elections!
Meanwhile, Abid Sheikh, despite having been in politics for a long time, was unable to step out of his circle. With or without reason, he got angry with people â voters â and went around swearing at them. He said, âAll are bloody traitors! You carried on with your lives for so long with the generosity of the CPI(M), and now, after you see which way the windâs blowing, all of you scoot? Donât forget that the CPI(M) is still running the state. Let the Panchayat elections be over, and Iâll teach you a lesson! If you ever come for anything, Iâll kick the whole lot of you in the arse and drive you away!â
When Hasan Ali was alive, he used to get angry at Abid Sheikh. Was getting peopleâs support so easy! Was the battle of the Leftists a matter of a day? He wanted to put a lock on Abid Sheikhâs mouth. But Abid Sheikh didnât heed Hasan Ali. With such behaviour on the part of Abid Sheikh, many people made up their minds. No! Whoever else might win, the CPI(M) would never return to the Sadnahati Panchayat. They were steadily getting isolated from the people.
Abid Sheikh was no longer brave enough to pour out his hateful venom like before. He seemed to be all alone now. Jasmin was the daughter of a butcher. She had fallen in love with Haji Sahebâs grandson and married him. They had not been willing to let the lowly-born girl into their household. How much trouble Abid Sheikh and Hasan Ali had gone through to fight on her behalf! They had finally organized an arbitration meeting and thus helped this girl set up a family. Haji Saheb eventually had to accept Jasmin. And now, the very same Jasmin was fighting against them in the elections! If it had been another time, Abid Sheikh would have sworn at her openly. But Hasan Ali was no longer alive to restrain him. He was beginning to realize only too well now the importance of Comrade Hasan Ali, with the sling-bag on his shoulder. He felt as helpless as someone who had lost his parents.
For some unknown reason, it was Iqbal Ostagar whose ire against Rafiq Ali was the greatest. Marufâs friend, Farid, was full of energy, and it was with him that Hasan Ali had first spoken. So the two of them could simply not accept Marufâs indifference. If Maruf had been willing, the battle could have been fought! Did Hasan Aliâs departure from this world mean that the battle against Rafiq Ali would be halted?
âWhatever you may say, Farid, nothingâs going to happen with Maruf. Heâs not the kind of person I thought he was! Abid Bhai was saying that if you people donât stick around, they will nominate someone from the CPI(M). If Rafiq has to be defeatedâŠâ
âLet them do that. I donât like it any more. I canât open my mouth in front of Rafiq Saheb. Do you know how he taunted me the other day? He said, âHave you lost your zeal for a new leader already? What news of Maruf Sheikh?ââ
âI too feel ashamed. Do you remember his nephew, I mean Chhappa Hajiâs son, created a scene at the meeting in my house? Rafiq Ali met me subsequently about it. Do you know how he snubbed me politely? He said, âIqbal Bhai, if I am at fault, or made a mistake, you could have told me directly. Was it right to gather people together and make false allegations against me? After all, I will win this time as well. Will you be able to face the consequences?ââ
âAre you ashamed, or afraid? Tell me something, Iqbal Bhai. Why do we want to defeat Rafiq Ali? Forget about me, tell me why you want that.â