Jodi beheste jete chao go –
Ontore, raikho Allahr dor –
Kurbani korite hukum pranpriyodhon
Goru chagol hoilo ki tor eto priyojon?…
Atmotyagi ashol kurban
Jene nio bhai, go.
If you want to go to heaven, dear
Keep the fear of Allah in your heart
The command to sacrifice your dearest
Are cows and goats so precious to you?…
But there’s none so precious as yourself
It’s renunciation that’s the true sacrifice
Know that, dear.
It was difficult to say whether or not Muslims from far away heard the milad when it was broadcast via the mic. And why would they hear it from afar? The milad gathering was like the garden of paradise! When hardly any people came to that pleasant garden, who on earth would listen to it from far away? But one person did. And he listened to it quite attentively. That was Suman. This non-Muslim youth’s eagerness to learn about Islam had grown hugely in recent times. He thought deeply about not just the shariat Islam of the scriptures but also about the lifestyle of Muslims centring around Islam. He sought to know about the divisions within the beliefs and disbeliefs, and their true colours. What he learnt overwhelmed him, and sometimes shocked him. Listening to Tahirul’s speech, a hatred was created within him, he was getting wounded inwardly. After all, Suman was a Sadnahati boy. He had seen a lot of cow slaughter in his life. Everyone knew that he was fond of beef. When Bakri Eid approached, he felt happy inside. But of late, his thinking and consciousness had changed. They need not bother about your religion, but after all, the people from another community who lived beside you were emotionally attached to the cow. Wherever else reason was applicable, it wasn’t needed when it came to matters of faith. That’s why he didn’t like Tahirul’s sermon regarding sacrifice. His mind had been caving ever since. When his Pishomoshai, Alam Miya, began singing after the youths were done, Suman certainly liked that. He kept pondering over the lyrics of the song. Did the account of the sacrifice that Imam Saheb narrated have a figurative meaning? Renunciation was the true sacrifice! That was true indeed! Suman could not figure out why Imam Saheb didn’t know what Alam Miya knew! Maruf was not here now. If he had been here, he would have obtained an explanation.
The time for the Bakri Eid prayer was announced on the preceding Friday. This was usually held in the morning.
The imam of the mosque was employed to carry out the duties of an imam, to counsel people. But was everyone bound to obey him! Whatever religion may prescribe, there was something called the community, after all, and that was supposed to be kept in mind. Consequently, religion was trampled upon. If one had to live in society with dignity and with one’s head held high, one’s poverty could not be exposed. So they borrowed money, further shrank the businesses they ran with limited capital and purchased cows to sacrifice. In this respect, most of the people in Sadnahati were guided by the community and not by the imam. Almost every family bought animals for sacrifice. Some people bought an animal jointly. The price of the animal, and its beauty, were matters of competition.
Tahirul had just emerged from his room. He observed a bunch of boys making merry with a plump cow. He spotted Riziya’s cousin, Ayan, in the group. He was dressed in a panjabi and lungi, and had a cap on his head. They were on vacation from the madrasa. Seeing the boy Aman brought Riziya to mind. As soon as their eyes met, he greeted Tahirul in his unbroken voice.
‘Assalamu alaikum, Hujur!’
‘Waalaikum assalam! Hey, is it Ayan? Are you on vacation from the madrasa?’
Ayan left the group and advanced towards Hujur. He was now a Hifz student in the khareji madrasa. They obtained various kinds of lessons for life from this madrasa. In particular, they picked up manners, etiquette and civility very well. Tahirul was pleased with Ayan’s manner of greeting him. He had changed quite a bit in this time. When he came closer, Tahirul felt like putting his hand on the little boy’s head fondly and blessing him. During this Eid, there was a fatuous question on everyone’s lips. Tahirul too began with the question, ‘So, Ayan Saheb, has your cow arrived?’
Ayan shook his head.
‘Why is that? It’s only six days away.’
‘Abba said that this year he will sacrifice a goat. Not a cow. Aapamoni has been possessed by a jinn, don’t you know? Everyone’s sad because of that.’
‘Really? What kind of jinn is that?’
‘I don’t really know. Can’t you rid her of that, Hujur? Why don’t you ask the jinn to free Aapamoni? She weeps all the time.’
‘Who weeps?’
‘Aapamoni weeps. But actually, it is the jinn inside her that weeps. Isn’t it so, Hujur? Aapamoni doesn’t call me any more, to do things for her. She doesn’t talk to me either.’
‘Hmm.’
Two kinds of feelings were aroused in Tahirul. First, he felt extremely pained to hear about Riziya. Was the girl really very ill? Was she afflicted with a mental ailment? Was he himself the cause of the ailment? Wasn’t that wrong on his part? This inattention of his, after having expressed his love to the girl and telling her that he wanted to marry her – was that what Riziya could not bear? That may have been the case, but after all, Riziya knew how to love. There wasn’t supposed to be any flaw in her love…
Tahirul took leave of Ayan and retired to his room again. He felt utterly miserable. Caught between social structures on the one hand and Riziya’s bond of love on the other, Tahirul was robbed of peace. He resolved inwardly that if he did get married, it would only be to Riziya. He would have to leave Sadnahati in that event. Let that be. Allah could open a hundred doors when one was shut. If Riziya could lose her mind on account of love, couldn’t he give that bit up? Bakri Eid was six days away. He would announce that he was going to marry Riziya once Eid was over. He did not care about the buzz that would arise in Sadnahati. He would pay that no attention.
Should he visit her? The matter of the jinn could well be true. Tahirul kept wondering what ought to be done if that was the case.
fifty-four
Riziya was unable to take her own life. After standing for a long while on the Howrah Bridge, she realized that life was actually like this river. So many things floated along the river – muck, garbage, and so much else! But did the river ever stop flowing? It continued to flow at its own pace. If it encountered hindrances, it changed direction, but never stopped flowing. Wasn’t a person’s life, too, a river? The educated and free-spirited Riziya returned home that day. She brought back the means to be certain. She purchased a pregnancy test kit from a medical store. She had heard about how the kit worked from Reshma Bhabi about a year ago. If two drops of urine were applied to a card, two red marks would appear. If there was only one mark, it was negative. But if there were two marks, then it was certain that a seed had been planted in her. It wasn’t an easy matter for an unmarried woman to buy the pregnancy test kit from the shop. Although, as a Muslim woman, she wasn’t supposed to be wearing sindoor, like married women from the other community. So there was no way of making out whether she was married or unmarried. Such compunctions existed only in her mind. Yet her heart had been thumping. Overcome with embarrassment, fear and anxiety, she wrote out a chit and extended that to the store attendant. The attendant gave her the kit as if it was a routine matter. She paid for it. Riziya was most astonished. It was as if she was buying a lozenge or chewing gum! Did the store attendant have the time to think about who was married and who wasn’t! Riziya hadn’t even looked at the thing inside the packet given by the attendant, she had hurriedly put it inside her bag. The only thing Riziya had in mind was using the test kit. She didn’t feel like going anywhere else. She had boarded a bus and returned to Sadnahati. But she couldn’t open the packet immediately after arriving at home. She had looked at the kit a few times. When she carried out the test the next morning, an inexpressible feeling suffused her young feminine heart. She was shocked! Two clear red marks gradually appeared. She wondered what she ought to do now. The immoral seed of the horrible, lecherous Raqib was in her womb. A human seed.
Rahman Da’s wife had to have an abortion once, when she was two months pregnant. That was not by having some medicine, she had to be admitted to a nursing home; that took all of half a day. Reshma Bhabi had mentioned that once during their chats. Oh, how painful the procedure was! Even if one set aside the matter of physical pain, how would it be possible for an unmarried and, therefore, supposedly virginal girl to undergo that? Where would she go? Would she be able to show her face if word got around? Would the Miya household have even a shred of honour left after that? As Riziya pondered over all these matters, she suddenly heard Tahirul’s deep voice. Wasn’t Reshma Bhabi’s family milad taking place today?
She was listening to everything he said as she lay in bed. Tahirul was conducting the owaj for the sacrifice. He made the final declaration, ‘What had Allah signalled to Prophet Ibrahim to sacrifice? His child! Oh yes, the most beloved thing to parents, the heart of their hearts.’ Hearing that threw Riziya once again into the vortex of her stream of thoughts. A child! The life that was planted in her womb was such a child. Was it right to destroy or kill that? Although it was undesired, was it really unbearable? Wouldn’t Tahirul understand once everything was explained to him?
Chhoto Mami brought Riziya her dinner. But today she didn’t say that she wasn’t hungry. She sat up in bed like an obedient girl. She ate all the food. She felt a lot more normal. She wanted to conceal her anguish with a veneer of firm conviction.
It was the dead of night. Two more days had passed by. She couldn’t afford to sit around any more. She changed into fresh clothes. Was there something she needed to take along? She didn’t take anything. She exited her house cautiously. As soon as she went past the main entrance and stepped on the road, a few street dogs began howling, and then fell silent. Riziya paid no heed to that. She made her way directly to the mosque. There was no one there. When she neared Tahirul’s room, she began trembling. She knocked on the door a few times. There was no response. She knocked on the door again, and then in a voice mixed with fear, she called out, ‘Hujur! Hujur!’
There was a response now. A loud voice asked, ‘Who’s that? Who’s calling?’
Riziya remained silent. Words seemed to elude her. She cast a glance behind her. No one had spotted her, had they! She knocked on the door again. The door opened soon after. Tahirul was wearing a half-sleeve vest and a lungi. Seeing a girl standing in front of the door, he was dumbfounded. But before he could say anything, Riziya pushed him aside and went inside the room. Tahirul had not been able to recognize her in the dim light. As soon as he turned back into the room, he reached for the switch beside the door. As the light came on, he saw it was Riziya. Astonishment and panic writ large on Tahirul’s face, all he could say was, ‘You?’
‘Yes, it’s me, turn the light off, Hujur! Turn the light off!’
