‘Hmm.’

‘You be here. Let me take away the cups. I’ll be back at once.’

‘Hmm.’

Raqib rushed out. He returned after about five minutes. He observed Riziya yawning frequently. She was really very sleepy. When she tried to rise, she fell down. Raqib held her. He laid her down on the cot.

When Riziya woke up to the sound of the Maghrib azan, the room was in complete darkness. She could hear Tahirul reciting the azan. After being disoriented for some time, she realized that she was still lying on Raqib’s cot. When she sought to sit up hurriedly, she felt an acute pain in her body. Her clothes were dishevelled. Her pyjama was wet and pulled down. Notwithstanding her inexperience, it was not difficult for Riziya to figure out what had happened to her! She felt at a complete loss. She just sat dumbfounded. She felt as if she was no longer in this world. Had this happened to her of all people? She couldn’t believe that someone would do this to her. Was there a sleeping pill in the tea? So Raqib had remained a beast till the end!

What could a humiliated, dishonoured, raped woman do at such a moment? Riziya had no clue about what she would do! What ought she to do? She felt like breaking into tears. But the curse of something called disbelief seemed to have stifled her voice. Shock and bewilderment had made her immobile like a stone. She wept, and instead of making a sound, a suffocating feeling of repentance made her gasp for air. She was seized by a huge sense of shame. She had to leave at once.

Riziya returned to her senses and left the room. Her legs were unsteady as she went down the stairs. She descended to the veranda below and sought to cross the courtyard. Raqib’s Ma spotted her. Boro Mami and the others had returned from the wedding!

‘Hey, stop! Why are you here? Didn’t you know that none of us were at home? What were you doing upstairs at this time?’

Riziya was unable to say a single word. The environment here was not conducive for her to make even the slightest complaint. She walked away circumspectly. As soon as she reached her house, she went to the bathroom. She was awash with nauseous hatred. She vomited violently. Chhoto Mami shouted out, ‘What happened, Rizi dear! Why are you vomiting? Where were you all evening? Is it something you ate?’

Riziya did not reply. She felt exhausted after having vomited a lot. She sat down in the bathroom itself. What had happened to her? The scenes floated by again and again in her imagination. Emptying out all the water stored in the bathroom, she washed herself from head to toe. So that not even the tiniest sign remained. After that, a silent sob burst out from deep inside her. The salty tears from her eyes wet her again.

Riziya didn’t sleep a wink all night. Her lonely female heart scorched by a deep sense of self-hatred and remorse, she simply wept with her face buried in the pillow. When she got up from bed the next day, it was late in the morning. She could hear the sound of shouting in the other house. She pricked up her ears and heard Boro Mami quarrelling with Rahman’s wife. Apparently, late last night, Raqib had packed his things and gone away somewhere. After returning from the wedding, Rahman’s wife had taken off all her ornaments, and those were missing. Cash was also missing from the cupboard. He had taken Boro Mami’s own ornaments too and disappeared. Raqib was a fugitive.

Although everyone in the household was shocked that Raqib had left without telling anyone anything and stolen from his own house, Riziya was not surprised at all. A futile rage gnawed away at her head.

fifty

Reshma Bhabi had said to Riziya, ‘Be strong, Rizi.’ But she had no idea about the magnitude of the wrong committed upon her. Rape was the name of the ultimate act of oppression on a woman, which was more horrific than even death. Riziya wanted to tell her, but she couldn’t. She wept and repented. When she hadn’t been able to tell Reshma Bhabi, then who else could she tell? Riziya didn’t know how she could be strong. The girl whose outward firmness had been evident all these days was now so panic-stricken and terrified that she had confined herself to her own world. That world was desolate and devoid of a single soul. There was no one there whom Riziya, mentally and physically vulnerable, could tell of her plight. She hadn’t bathed or eaten. Her Chhoto Mama could simply not understand what had happened to the girl! She seemed to have withered in a week. If she was asked to be taken to the doctor, she buried her face in her hands. Salaam Miya interpreted it wrongly. He thought that it was the marriage that she was unhappy about, and was doing all this out of stubbornness. Everything would become all right eventually. He didn’t pay much attention either.

Of course, Riziya was steadily trying to be strong. But Reshma Bhabi had no idea how difficult it was to be strong under her circumstances.

Tahirul was worried that he might face major opposition for the first time now. There wasn’t a single imam in Muslim localities where a hundred per cent of the musulli accorded him the honour due to a worthy imam. In fact, there were some musulli who were opposed to him from the beginning. Their numbers were so negligible that he never had to worry about them. He had faced opposition from Maruf and his friends as well. There were some among them who used to recite the prayers as they stood in the assembly behind the imam and then repeat the prayer. They were of the view that if they disliked the imam, thought him to be unworthy, or if they suspected the imam, why should they pray behind him? After all, the people prayed inwardly, repeating after him! Nonetheless, they had to do that. Even if they were bound to a gathering fearing discord, their minds cavilled. So they recited the obligatory prayer again, all alone. This class of musulli had grown in number of late. While leaving his spot after the conclusion of the prayer, Tahirul observed that quite a few people were reciting prayers by themselves. But the afternoon Asr prayer was a brief affair. Had all these people been unable to join the prayer gathering? He later got the news that all of them were repeating the prayer. Tahirul was displeased, he felt insulted. So many people had begun to dislike him. But why?

The imams of mosques usually faced a particular problem. They sought to handle both religious and worldly matters smoothly, and at the same time. In most cases, they failed. On the one hand, worldliness beckoned, and on the other was a deep belief in the afterlife. Caught in between, they suffered extreme problems.

If the matter of his intimacy with Riziya had been broadcast, then that fact was not at all favourable as far as an imam was concerned. More important than losing the job was the fear of losing the honour bestowed by Allah! And if your honour was lost, you were finished. Once word spread, there would be no place for him in nearby localities. Tahirul had retreated into himself. He felt a bit angry with Riziya. Not exactly angry – one could call it a great annoyance. He thought that she was a foolish girl. Instead of keeping matters of the heart between two people confidential, the crazy girl had herself gone and told a few people. Tahirul had not really told anyone. And he had definitely not told anyone in Sadnahati.

Tahirul childishly stopped admitting to himself that he had a weakness for Riziya. He altogether stopped visiting the Miya household. In the mornings, he stopped walking along that road, on one pretext or another. He no longer taught Riziya. He tried in every possible way to prove that whatever people had heard was entirely false – merely rumours spread by his detractors. Riziya was only his student, and nothing else. Tahirul didn’t actually say any of these things, but he conveyed them through hints. The detractors too did not say anything directly, they conveyed it through talk and actions. Many people laughingly remarked, ‘Hujur, you should get married now. Shall we look for a bride? Or have you chosen someone already?’

Tahirul could have treated this as simply a joke, but he regarded such talk as nothing short of a poison-tipped arrow, and that sharp arrow seemed to pierce him. He was constantly under the impression that people were asking questions or mentioning the name of Riziya in order to find out something. He faced a lot of mockery. Tahirul did not want the seat of honour on which the people of Sadnahati had placed him to be destroyed. There was also another worldly reason for not wanting that. Twin injunctions had been ordered by the court on Riziya’s valuable land. Rafiq Ali Sheikh had secretly bought a part of it. He too had filed a suit. It didn’t look like the case would be resolved easily. People turned old by the time verdicts were pronounced on civil suits. And so, Tahirul’s secret dream had also been crushed. That left the matter of Riziya. He really loved the girl. She had a unique grace, her body language was different. There was a semblance of progressiveness in her thinking and consciousness. Although Tahirul was charmed by her for all these reasons, he was somehow scared of her. He thought that she would get angry the moment he deviated from ideals. Riziya would not tolerate trickery or artifice at all. This was good in a way, but differences of opinion could well arise within a family. Differences of opinion had already arisen many times, but what was the certainty that these wouldn’t increase in the course of their marital life? Nonetheless, it was Riziya that Tahirul wanted to marry. But the situation had reached such a pass that even if he did not meet Riziya a single time before marrying her, people would still say that this marriage of Hujur’s was a love-marriage! He kept wondering what he would tell people in that event. One could only trust in Allah.

Tahirul kept himself occupied within the religious ambit now. He conducted zikr sessions along with a few musulli after the Isha prayer at night. While rapt in zikr, there were thoughts about the coming future, there were desires, and there were pleas to Allah. Almighty Allah granted honour to whoever He wished, but He could also take away the honour if He so wished. People had to resort to caution. That was why Tahirul did not want to battle against the circumstances. He wanted to remain aloof and above any kind of dispute. If Allah so wished, he would settle down in Sadnahati and be able to set up home with Riziya too. Even if the whole world wanted to obstruct that, they would not be successful. Tahirul became terribly fatalistic.

‘Hujur, are you in the room?’

‘Yes, who’s that?’

‘Assalamu alaikum!’

‘Waalaikum assalam, Maruf Bhai! Please come in. How are you?’

‘I had been to meet Suman, and was coming back this way, so I remembered you.’

‘That’s nice. But why don’t I see you in the assembly at the mosque?’

‘I’ve been joining the gathering in the mosque in the other hamlet the last few days. But I did come here for prayers on Fridays.’

‘In the Tablighi Jamaat’s mosque?’

‘That’s also a mosque for Muslims, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. Actually, I just repeated what people say. Forget it. How’s everything else?’

‘Haidar Ali had been asking me for long to accompany them to their gathering. It’s for forty days. That’s why I’m leaving tomorrow, Inshallah. Do give us your blessings.’

‘What are you saying? You’re going for chilla?’

‘Let me go and see what it’s like. One hears a lot of things from afar. Let me see things for myself.’

Tahirul was not pleased to hear Maruf. He admonished him, saying, ‘You’re going to perform chilla for forty days? But you’re yet to fulfil your duty of Haj, Maruf Bhai. Did you think about that? You set aside your duty and attend a bedaat…’

‘I’m getting my passport made, I’ve decided to go for Haj next year, Hujur. But is chilla bedaat?’

‘What do you think? Just go through the Hadith and the Koran and see whether you can find any evidence of the forty-day affair.’

‘Hujur, since my childhood, I had developed a negative view of this Tablighi Jamaat. I’m going in order to eliminate that prejudice. It occurred to me that this was a mobile educational institution. It could give Muslims the opportunity to learn more about Islam and to practise it. That’s why I agreed. And after all, it’s you people who say that there are two kinds of bedaat. Bedaat-e-hasna, meaning acceptable bedaat, is one of them. I am viewing the chilla as something like that.’

Tahirul was already dejected. Maruf could well have said that, after all, bedaat was only bedaat! But if he had said that, Maruf would also smear himself. As it is, he didn’t like to discuss such matters.

‘I was sitting with Suman, you know. His views seemed to have changed a bit. All these days he was not really interested in his religion, but now I see he is hugely interested.’

‘How so?’

‘Earlier, he used to be astonished to learn about various things pertaining to Islam and try to find parallels to those in his own religion. Now, today I heard him say that the ancient Vedic religion is apparently the best ancient religion in the world. That apparently keeping intact the characteristics of this religion on Indian soil is the duty of all Indians. Of course, I didn’t get into an argument. Where’s the need for that! Everyone can claim their religion to be the best, right?’

‘You’re setting out to preach the religion by going to chilla for forty days, but you don’t invite your own friend to Islam. After all, the Prophet (PBUH) invited his own family members and friends first.’

‘That was a different matter. We can discuss this elaborately later. May I tell you now about the other reason for visiting you?’

It took Maruf some time, but after a while he said, ‘There’s a lot of gossip going on about something, and it’s a problem if an imam makes such a slip…’

Tahirul understood at once. But he feigned ignorance and asked, ‘I don’t really understand.’

‘Listen, I’m telling you directly because you are a friend. I had guessed it long back. The day you went to the madrasa with Salaam Miya’s son. The boy felt hurt and said…’