âNo, itâs not exactly fear. You are so much younger than me, dear Farid! But Rafiq and I are of the same age, so I know him thoroughly. At the time of the last elections, he had promised me something if he won. I spent a whole lot of money and helped the bastard win after a lot of roughhousing. But he forgot all about the promise. Have you seen the plot next to my house? Itâs lying vacant. He had told me that he would arrange for me to get that. That land belongs to the government. It canât be bought or sold. So it has to be occupied, by paying off the leaders and the party men. The land was sitting unused. I could have put it to such good use. You tell me, isnât there a huge problem with parking cars? Instead of giving it to me, heâs now planning to put up a party office and youth club there. What a big betrayal, just think about it!â
Farid laughed to himself at Iqbal Ostagarâs outburst. He could figure out why Maruf had stayed away. One could jump into the fray with such selfish people in the interest of the communityâs development, but one could definitely not bring about a revolution that would shake the community. He said, âOh! Yes, so you must have been put to a lot of inconvenience then! I can see heâs a big fraud.â
âTell me about yourself. Why are you angry with him?â
âNo, Iâm not angry or anything. Why should I be angry? How has he harmed me? Thereâs no government land next to our house that I want to claim. Maruf Bhai says that illiterate folk canât do anything for the community. Our leader should be an educated person. We need educated people.â
âBut your own educated man Maruf Bhai has withdrawn! So what will happen now?â
âWhat can happen! Things will carry on as they were! As far as I know, Maruf has something on his mind. I donât know what that is. Heâs thinking. But he stopped talking about all this immediately after Hasan Chachaâs death! Heâs been stuck at home, working. And the rest of the time, heâs reading books. He doesnât come much to the mosque for prayers either. Letâs see what happens.â
Hasanâs Aliâs death, his funerary prayer not being conducted, Rafiq Ali Sheikhâs exuberance about that, and Imam Tahirulâs tacit support â taken together, all this had thrown Maruf into distress. As Maruf pondered over these matters, the point that he could simply not figure out was what he himself should actually do. Religious reform? Or reform of the community? Where exactly was the knot located?
The globally accepted stream of thought called âIslamâ from faraway Arabia hadnât dropped down accidentally from the heavens! It hadnât spread in this landmass through the efforts of Arab merchants, or the followers of the Prophet in his lifetime. Islam was preached, and it was spread, by Sufi darbeshes. Most of the Sufi darbeshes had come from Arabia, Iran and Iraq. Islam arrived in this country after traversing so many countries, cities, languages and centuries â like a river. Maruf compared Islam to a river. It had a source, but not an estuary. When it flowed speedily, it was full of waves; but when it slowed down, the waves were quieter. The river carried along gravel, pebbles and garbage with it. These pebbles could be likened to the customs and conduct of various countries and communities. Sometimes, like a tributary, a divergent philosophy, which was in conflict with Islam, joined this river. Gradually, those too became a part of the religious and cultural heritage. In time, these acquired such a sacred status that they became as essential as the other duties under Islam. Consequently, the religion became terribly burdened. It couldnât run any more, like it used to. It couldnât do battle. The real face of the religion was concealed, and something ugly came to be instituted. People then regarded that to be the religion; some were afraid, while some tried to mount and ride it like a vehicle. This religion turned into a hurdle for the advancement of the civilization. Was this the religion chosen by Allah? Was this the straight and simple path? Was this that religion in which, on the last day of the Haj, standing at the foot of the mountain, in front of hundreds of thousands of people, the Prophet had asked, âOh my co-religionists, did I succeed in bringing Islam to you?â Marufâs stream of thought kept meandering.
A lot of people regarded Terpol Hajiâs son, Jasim, with respect. That was because he was the first Muslim youth to have studied medicine, not just in Sadnahati, but also in the nearby villages. A change had come about in his garb and speech. This was a positive change. It wasnât arrogance, but a humility that his face expressed all the time, as well as a desire to get established. A collective consciousness had developed among the people. Bengali Muslims were awakening. Jasim was a representative of the awakened Muslim. The widespread belief that the general stream of education wiped away all religiosity was false. Jasim protested at once when he heard such talk.
Every kind of learning had to be accepted in order to keep oneâs values contemporary.
Maruf believed that, like the Pole Star, this bright boy from the Al-Ameen Mission could show the way to the community. Thatâs why he was especially fond of Jasim. Maruf had felt mentally devastated the last few days, he was feeling terribly lonely. When he heard that Jasim had come to the village, Maruf rushed to his house to pay him a courtesy call. After all, with whom in Sadnahati could he share his thoughts and his views regarding the community?
âHow are you, Jasim? Are you on leave? How come youâre home suddenly?â
âYes, I got a few daysâ leave. And thereâs the Panchayat election just after that. I thought I should go and cast my vote. Itâs supposed to be my democratic right!â
âDid you come specially to vote? What are you saying, Jasim!â
âThe last time I was here, I had heard that you people will put up an independent candidate. But I canât see any of that, Maruf Bhai! I came specifically to vote for you people.â
âNo, I drove all such ideas out of my head! Itâs not possible, you know! Not this way. So let me share my thoughts with you. You know, Jasim, all these disorganized battles are damaging. They only lead to the demise of protest. Who will you have on your side when you battle? I thought the time was not ripe. I could not hear the call of my inner Bilal, Bhai! I thought something else ought to be done, not politics.â
âMaruf Bhai, the business of politics has become so vital that you canât do anything that you are capable of unless you associate with those in power. Look at the field of medicine itself; the students have graduated, they were supposed to be posted in their respective places, or districts. But unless you pull strings, you will be sent to a remote hospital in a faraway district. How can one attend to the sick when the roars of tigers and elephants are enough to terrify your very spleen!â
Maruf laughed at that and said, âYouâre absolutely right! But you know what, I have no personal qualms about Rafiq Ali. Do you know, though, why I still oppose him? I think they themselves are unaware that they are leading the community in the wrong direction. They have become intoxicated with power.â
âWhat is the correct direction? You have to take the responsibility of explaining that. That would be the logical response, Maruf Bhai. Iâve seen you from the time I was a boy. Your thinking is different from that of the others. But why doesnât anyone understand that?â
âItâs not as if everyone has to understand everything right away, Jasim. Did you yourself understand? After all, you are a doctor of the human body. Both the sickness of the human mind and that in the body collective of the community have to be diagnosed. That medical practice has become most vital today, brother. The Muslim community in India faces an imminent crisis. The most effective path in addressing this crisis is that of a silent revolution. By your kind of revolutionary.â
âWhat can we do, Maruf Bhai! After all, we arenât alems. I am just a doctor who went through the general education stream. Why should people listen to us?â
âJasim, tell me, who coined the terms âgeneral educationâ, âalemâ, and so on? They make me laugh. Things canât be made simplistic like that. Divine knowledge was directly revealed by Allah to the Prophets, and the Angel Jibreel was the intermediary. Wonât you call that education ilm? Humans used to wear tree bark and animal skins earlier. Prophet Idris arrived. Allah granted him the knowledge of tailoring. Now if someone studies fashion technology, isnât she following in the footsteps of that Prophet? Isnât she an alem in that subject? Or take the example of Prophet Daud who I believe was granted mastery over metallurgy. If someone studies engineering and graduates, that person is an alem too. Ilm does not refer to just the knowledge of whether uttering âtalaqâ thrice does or does not mean divorce. Humble subservience to the Almighty Allah and obedience to the Prophet of Allah are required. It is oneâs duty to undergo religious education. It is oneâs duty to learn whatever one must so that one can follow Allah and the Prophet, by adhering to the laws of life. This duty is obligatory for all. Itâs common to all. Rather, this is what âgeneral educationâ is. So, seen in this way, where do we stand?â
Jasim was profoundly influenced by Marufâs words, he was thrilled, and his respect for Maruf grew. He said, âMaruf Bhai, sometimes I am amazed when I hear you. So are you all planning to boycott the elections?â
âNo. I didnât tell anyone that.â
Abid Sheikh was finally fighting. Unexpectedly, people were responding too. Many people wanted to vote, not for the CPI(M), but against Rafiq Ali Sheikh. Jasmin herself was a factor now. Nonetheless, some people were furious with Rafiq. After all, Jasmin was a puppet in his hands. Because there was no other candidate, the CPI(M) was in a position to take full advantage of that. Abid Sheikh could not imagine how he had been able to cause such anxiety in the rival camp despite the lack of people as well as funds. Was that a matter of small satisfaction?
Meanwhile, Rafiq Ali Sheikh too was worried. People could not be trusted. They said one thing, but behind the scenes, in the dark, they voted for someone else. One had to move forward very cautiously. The night before the election was the most important time. A lot of things happened then; the chess game could be reversed. Thatâs why Rafiq Ali treaded with caution. He instructed the party boys and youths to be alert. After all, there was no dearth of people who were not CPI(M) supporters but wanted Rafiq Ali to suffer humiliation. They wanted to see him defeated. It was they who would secretly give money to Abid Sheikh â the votes of the lowly folk had to be purchased. âYou people have to win, Rafiq must be defeated.â
Rafiqâs boys stayed up like nocturnal creatures. They went to peopleâs doors, especially to the doors of the people who had attended a meeting in Iqbal Ostagarâs house, with Maruf.
It was very late at night. Rafiq Ali Sheikh had arrived at the muezzin Rahmat Bhaiâs door, together with seven others. Rahmat Bhaiâs wife stood holding the door. There were five votes here. Rafiq Ali asked, âSo, Rahmat Bhai, what do you make of things this time? Do you think weâll be able to win?â
On this night, the majority of the voters became perfect actors like Shah Rukh Khan. It was very difficult to gauge where they stood. Rahmat Bhai assured him, âDonât worry at all. Iâll vote for the same symbol that I do every time. You donât have to tell us anything.â
âTell me, which symbol will you vote for?â
âWhat do you mean, âwhich symbolâ? Do I have to say that, Rafiq Bhai? After all, itâs only you whoâs there when we are in trouble or danger. Go now, get a good nightâs sleep assuming youâve succeeded.â
But Rafiq Ali could still not believe him. Abid came here yesterday. He had spent quite a bit of time. A lot of people were secretly against him. Rafiq Ali asked Rahmatâs wife, âBhabi, may I enter your house? Can you move aside a bit please?â
But before she could respond, he made his way into the room. The Holy Koran, wrapped in cloth, was placed on a shelf. Rafiq Ali Sheikh picked it up. He devoutly knocked it on his forehead and kissed it three times. Holding it to his chest, he said, âRahmat Bhai, put your hand on the Holy Karan and say that all your five votes will go to our symbol.â
Rahmat Saheb was confounded. A hateful gleam sprang out of his eye. Nevertheless, a helpless and terrified hand touched that book. Rafiq Ali cheerfully put back the Holy Koran with due reverence.
When Maruf heard about this incident, he wasnât surprised. This was an ancient trick. But as the election day approached, he almost swooned when he heard about something else. The fresh youth, Jasimuddin, who had brought about a revolution in Sadnahati and the ostagar locality, would become a doctor in a few days. This well-educated Jasim was going to act as the election agent on behalf of Rafiq Ali Sheikhâs party, and apparently, this was the latterâs masterstroke!
Maruf realized that some kind of pressure must have been brought to bear on the young Jasim and he hadnât been able to say ânoâ. Maruf decided to put the subject out of his mind.
forty-nine
Reshma observed the anxiety and sadness writ large on Riziyaâs face. She felt dejected seeing her; Riziya had a terrified look, her face was grimy. Reshma was, however, aware of the commotion that was happening around Riziyaâs property, marriage, and so on. And so, she could also understand her agitated state of mind. For that matter, she wasnât unaware of the secret exchange of hearts between her and Imam Saheb either. Thatâs why she could not engage in the usual banter with Riziya today. Instead, she tried to convey her empathy.
She had prepared some simui yesterday. So she brought two bowls of simui, and gave one to her daughter, Nilufa, and as she proffered the second to Riziya, she said, âHave it, Rizi. I prepared it yesterday. Whatever you say, simui tastes nice only during Eid, isnât it?â
Actually, Reshma wanted to distract Riziya with this change of subject. She would be pleased if the sadness departed her face and a smile took its place. But Riziya did not reply. She sat silently with the bowl in her hand. Putting it down, she said, âI made a terrible mistake, Bhabi! I canât forgive myself. I think it was very wrong of me.â
âI know everything, sister! What else can I say? I know you are very sad now.â
After that, Reshma moved close to Riziya, like an intimate. She put her hand on her shoulder. She whispered to her, âShall I leave for my fatherâs house? Come, Iâll take you along, itâll be an outing.â
âWhen will you return, Bhabi?â
Reshma replied gleefully, âYouâll come, wonât you? Weâll stay for two or three days. Youâll be cheered up.â
Riziya heaved a deep sigh, and the worried look on her face was replaced by a smile. She asked, âWhat if I donât feel cheerful in three days?â
âThen weâll stay a week. Iâll inform your Mami and take you. You donât have any exams or anything in college, do you?â
âThereâs no need to inform anyone! And forget about college too. I can go, Bhabi, but I wonât come back. I just donât like it here. Sometimes I think I should take my own life, or run away somewhere! Iâve been very depressed the last four days.â