‘Let it be, Maruf Bhai. I feel ashamed. I made a mistake. You are indeed a friend. Tell me what I ought to do now.’

‘Achchha, do you want to marry her?’

Blushing in embarrassment, Tahirul lowered his head and replied, ‘I do. But Raqib…’

‘Yes, I heard that too. They are getting the girl married to Raqib. I’ve also heard that he’s not in the village now. Did you hear about it? He stole things from his house and ran away somewhere. It’s just as well. If you explain to Salaam Chacha, he’ll agree.’

‘But…’

‘But what?’

‘Actually I want to take her to my village house…’

‘Hmm. That’s a problem. Let me return, we’ll talk about it after that. But you should stay away from all that.’

‘All right.’

Maruf left. Tahirul felt a great sense of relief. He believed that if Maruf took up the responsibility, a lot of problems would disappear.

Man was also given to vengeance. He could hide this tendency in the recesses of his mind. But animals couldn’t do that. And that was why man had surpassed animals when it came to violence. Only man knew the various types of vengeance. He could seek revenge in many ways. Abid Sheikh was routed by Rafiq Ali Sheikh in the Panchayat elections. They lost their deposits in two constituencies. Of course, Tahirul played an indirect role in this defeat. By refusing to conduct Hasan Ali’s funerary prayer, he had demolished the acceptability of their party in the eyes of people. Although they had sheltered under the CPI(M)’s umbrella all these years, the point that this was an atheistic party now began to spread by word of mouth. They did not believe in Allah or the Prophet. Abid Sheikh could not take out his ire on Rafiq Ali Sheikh. So he nurtured a deep anger against Maulana Tahirul. He had now found a good means to exact revenge. How could the character of the imam of a mosque, behind whom all the musulli recite their prayers, be like this? How could a young, unmarried Imam Saheb have a dalliance with a brimming young woman? If he went to meet her on the pretext of giving tuitions and then played footsie with her, that was only to be expected. That was the extent of what Abid Sheikh knew. He began spreading what he knew, albeit with imaginative colouring. No! A characterless imam could no longer be tolerated!

Scandal was the greatest source of entertainment for people. If there was something that the people of a community listened to carefully, that was scandal. If the illicitness pertained to a person of high society, or esteem, it was even greater fun. And so, it did not take very long for word of the scandal associated with Tahirul to spread. But despite the rumours and gossip, the mosque committee could not take any action against him. Because the most powerful leader in the area was his fan. The number of Tahirul’s fans was not insubstantial. That was why the mosque committee could not arrive at a decision. Islam had forbidden idle gossip in no uncertain terms. If a complaint was made against a person without any evidence, that was considered ‘buhtan’, meaning slander. And since slander was always based on falsehood, it was more terrible than even geebat, or backbiting. The one committing geebat was viewed as contemptibly as if he had feasted on the flesh of his own dead brother. So some people spoke out against the slander. That was what gave Tahirul confidence. It was religion that provided the armour that he needed for his defence.

Enmeshed as he was in such worries, although he laid his head on the pillow, sleep eluded him. All he could think of was a girl. Riziya. He had not seen her in a long time, nor had he spoken to her. Had she forgotten him! Had she finally consented to marry Raqib! Didn’t she protest! But there was one thing he could not figure out, and that was why Raqib had disappeared at this juncture. Everyone knew that the boy was a no-gooder who had turned wayward. Marrying him would be the death of her. Who else but Tahirul could realize the state of her mind! He began to feel a deep sense of hurt against Riziya. What was she doing now? Plagued by such thoughts, he would finally fall asleep at some point. Like everyone else in Sadnahati did.

But what about Riziya! She found it difficult to sleep nowadays.

fifty-one

It was the first time Suman was present at the meeting of this organization. He had to attend despite his reluctance. He couldn’t say no to Sandip. It had also been a long time since he had visited Kolkata. He had some work at Calcutta University too. He thought he could do both the things on his visit. So he decided to go. After all, they were not involved in any wrongdoing. Was it wrong to seek to preserve the rich ancient heritage of one’s own community! Love for cows was part of the heritage of Hindu society, and yet a neighbouring community was slaughtering cows in the name of Bakri Eid. The matter needed to be explained to them in terms of their own religion. Why was it that they could only think of cows when Bakri Eid arrived! Was there some instruction that only cows could be sacrificed? They could sacrifice camels, goats, and so on instead! Sandip was of the view that Suman was far more articulate in this regard than anyone else.

Such meetings took place once a month. Each time, some new youths were brought for the meeting. Not all of them would find the proceedings engrossing. Many people avoided their organization, considering it to be ‘communal and violent’. Some did become members, though. They pledged their intellect to the organization. Some of them turned highly emotional, they became religious fanatics. Sandip had informed the members of the organization about having invited Suman for today’s meeting. The meeting was chaired by Tamal Da, or Tamal Ghoshal. He too was keen to see what Suman was like.

Their publication, Bortika, was being sent to Suman by post for the last four months or so. As Suman read this weekly publication, he slowly underwent a change. He found it very difficult to read their distorted view of history. But he liked some of the articles. Suman was drawn by Tamal’s logical writing, but he also had some differences with his point of view.

The people in Suman’s household had adapted to the air, water and climate of Sadnahati. That was how the people of rural Bengal survived. Both Hindus as well as Muslims. Suman personally believed in coexistence. But subconsciously, fine cracks had developed on the ramparts of that belief. Fiery magma, known as hatred, sought to pour out through those cracks against some aspects of Islam. But it could not come out right away. The fundamental reason was that he had observed the Muslim community from very close quarters. His experience in this regard was greater than that of many others. And that was why Suman was important for Sandip’s organization. They wanted an educated young man like Suman in their fold. Sandip took up the role of moulding Suman’s mindset. He was firm in the belief that the mind of an unemployed young man would definitely lean their way. Sandip had told Tamal Da, ‘I’ll give you a boy. He’s a gem.’ After visiting him several times and conversing with him, Sandip was hopeful. He thought Suman was their man.

There were two kinds of changes. One was a physical change, while the other was a chemical one. The physical change – the transformation of one substance into another – has to be extrinsic. That is merely a change in the form of the substance. Like from ice to water, or water to ice. Temperature or some other force is the cause of the change. It is possible to return the substance to its original form if the causes can be controlled. But Sandip did not want such a change. Sandip wanted Suman to change fundamentally – a chemical change, through which a mere change of form wouldn’t occur, rather, something new would be born. One that would never return to its former state. Like turning rice into puffed rice. A catalyst was required for such a transformation. Tamal Da would be able to play the role of catalyst.

When Sandip, accompanied by Suman, entered the office of the organization’s headquarters in Kolkata, the meeting had already begun. Twenty-five people in all. Everyone was seated on the floor. The one seated at the centre of the semicircle would certainly be Tamal Ghoshal. The man’s face was so radiant, and he had such a smart appearance that Suman was easily charmed by him. A thick moustache, smooth cheeks. He wore a thin, light-yellow, half-sleeved cotton shirt. It was so thin that both his sturdy frame and the caste thread around his chest were visible. He signalled to them to sit down. All the people were listening to him, rapt. Suman and Sandip sat down.

The subject being discussed was the social system in Vedic India. Most of it was based not on actual history but on the Puranas. And Tamal Ghoshal was presenting those tales so eloquently that they seemed to have occurred just the other day. Suman discerned errors in many of the things he said. He wondered why such an organization was actually needed. Was it possible to return to the Vedic age simply by wanting it? Although Suman found many things illogical, he was impressed by one thing: and that was a genuine respect for the Hindu community.

The meeting concluded. The office was not a tiny one. There were two rooms. There was a large hall-like space in front. That’s where the meeting was taking place. All the participants stood up; so there was a crowd. There were arrangements for lunch. The next session of the meeting would begin in the afternoon. The keynote address was supposed to be delivered then. There would be a discussion between the members from various districts. Suman needed to drop in at the university. When he went to take leave of Sandip, out of courtesy, he retorted, ‘Rubbish! Where are you going now? There’s lunch. And don’t I have to introduce you to Tamal Da? You can go after that.’

‘It’ll be too late, Dada. You stay on. I’ll finish my work and return in a little while. We’ll go back home together.’

But just as Suman was about to leave, Sandip held his arm. He wanted to make his way through the crowd and take him to the other room. And just then, someone else’s hand, from behind him, landed on his shoulder. When he turned around to look, he saw it was Tamal Babu. He looked at Sandip and asked, ‘So this is your Suman! Am I right?’

‘Yes. You’re here. I was taking him along to meet you.’

‘Excellent! So Suman, shall we talk at the end of the meeting? I’ve heard a lot about you. Have your lunch, okay?’

Suman was overwhelmed by his warmth. He seemed humbled by Tamal Babu’s personality. He was unable to refuse. He nodded in assent.

During the second session of the meeting, Suman’s boredom began to wane. But he wasn’t able to reconcile his understanding of Hinduism with that of the others there. A member who had come from Nadia delivered an anti-Islam speech in fundamentalist language. For instance: ‘This India is a country of idol worshippers. And the main edict of Islam is to oppose idol worship. At one time, the Arabs were pagans. Persia was a country of fire worshippers. Islam has taken over all those lands. They may also turn India into an Islamic state. Their motive behind producing so many babies is to increase their population. They marry our daughters, and that too is to increase their numbers. But we want to put an end to that. We want the annihilation of Muslims.’ Although he made an impact on all the others, Suman didn’t appear very enthusiastic. He whispered something to Sandip. Addressing Suman directly, Tamal Ghoshal said, ‘I think you wanted to say something. Please say what you want to.’

‘No. What’s there for me to say! I’m just listening to everyone.’

Tamal Babu then addressed him more personally, as ‘tumi’, instead of the formal ‘apni’. He said, ‘Suman, but you have something else in mind. Say it, what’s the problem? Let us hear that too.’

Tamal Babu’s excessive interest in Suman surprised the others. The speaker too looked at him with eagerness.

‘Actually it was the point he made about turning India into an Islamic state that I was thinking about.’

‘What were you thinking?’

‘Seven hundred years is a much longer period than seventy years. Isn’t it? After all, the Muslims ruled this country for seven hundred years. But if they wanted…’

The age of the man who had been speaking was double that of Suman. He felt offended by what Suman said. Interrupting the unfamiliar youth, he retorted, ‘What do you want to say? How much do you know about them?’

Although the gentleman was angry, Tamal Babu wasn’t. He had a pleased look on his face. He placated the gentleman, ‘Parimal Babu, why are you getting angry? He didn’t say anything wrong. Let him speak. Continue, Suman. Do you want to say something more?’

‘Achchha, now Buddhism crossed the borders of India and spread widely in countries like Tibet, China, Myanmar and Japan. The people of Mongolia have embraced this religion, by and large. But do the people who did not also say the same thing?’

Parimal Babu flared up again. He said, ‘They did not spread their religion through bloodshed, sir! It was their ideals that placed them there.’

Suman didn’t say any more. He did not consider it appropriate to argue with the man. Despite Tamal Da’s request, he remained silent. Before the meeting concluded, Tamal Babu spoke. He delivered a long lecture on the means and methods of preventing cow slaughter on the occasion of Bakri Eid. Suman observed that although all the other ordinary members were quite fanatic, the head of the organization seemed not to be so. Many people advocated violence. But nothing like that was uttered by him! Like how the sand always seemed to be hotter than the sun! Suman felt respectful towards him, someone to look up to. As the meeting concluded, Tamal Babu asked Suman and Sandip to meet him before leaving, and then rose to go.

Suman and Sandip went outside for a short stroll, and then returned to the room. Tamal Babu welcomed them, and they sat down on the chairs facing each other. Suman noticed that there were numerous newspapers and magazines on the table. Pictures of various gods and goddesses were arrayed, one after another, on the walls. The largest picture was of a scene in the Mahabharata. Sri Krishna, the charioteer, revealing his Vishwarupa, or cosmic form, to Arjuna on the battleground. Suman stared at that. Tamal Babu enquired, ‘What are you looking at, Suman?’

‘Just like that.’

‘Do you know the meaning of the picture?’

‘Why don’t you tell me!’

‘Arjun laid down his divine bow, Gandiva. Who would he kill? Who would he go to war against? After all, everyone was his kin. That was true, as far as earthly matters were concerned. But when it came to upholding justice against injustice, and religion against irreligion, the Kauravas were his opponents. God, Sri Krishna was showing Arjuna that creation–existence–destruction were all in God’s hands. Preordained. Laying down the Gandiva in the face of irreligion was impractical. Following that exposition, Arjuna resumed battle.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You don’t really like what I’m saying, isn’t it? Suman, I’ve heard a lot about you from Sandip. We run an organization whose principal goal is to eliminate the influence of Islam from the country. This may seem wrong to you at first. There are many fine things in Islam. But keep in mind, their jihad is not at all good for us. When you responded to Parimal Babu’s speech, I didn’t say anything, out of courtesy to you. But now I’m telling you, the sober fact is that, one day, Islam will take over India as well. Didn’t they take over Iran?’

‘I’d like to know the reason why you think so.’

‘Their faith, their Koran, their Hadith, all say that, do you know?’

‘I don’t know, Dada. But were India, or Iran, which you mentioned, inhabited along these exact borderlines three and a half thousand years ago as well, Dada?’