"Talashnama" by Ismail Darbesh

‘The whole of Sadnahati is agog. There’s a commotion everywhere. Apparently, Asmat Chacha saw someone. But why did you go to him?’

‘Tell me what you heard.’

‘Asmat Chacha saw a woman standing in front of Imam Saheb’s room. He couldn’t make out who she was. Chacha thinks it may have been a jinn or something like that. But people are suspecting something else.’

‘If he couldn’t make out who the woman was, then why are you asking me, Bhabi? It may be someone else. Could be a jinn or a fairy too!’

‘Tell me the truth. Didn’t you go last night?’

‘Why are you asking me this? Why do you think it was me?’

‘Don’t try to act coy! Are you going to hide it from me, Rizi? What if I tell you that another person saw you? Listen, your Nazir Dada also saw you. He knows the colour of your printed churidar-kameez.’

Riziya was quiet now. The fact was that she had avoided the main road and taken a narrow lane going past the nooks and crannies of the  houses on her way back. She had thought that walking past Nazir Da’s house would be the safest. But Riziya had been seen. Yet she wanted to survive. Was that terribly wrong? People did a lot of things for the sake of survival. She too used the shield of religion for self-defence. She said, ‘Yes. I went to the mosque.’

‘The mosque? Why did you go to the mosque so late at night?’

‘Why? Aren’t women allowed to go there? Can’t they have something to say to Allah?’

‘But why did you go to the mosque? All right, so you went there. But why were you hovering around Maulana Saheb’s room?’

Riziya felt very angry. It was true that Reshma was fond of her, like a friend, but she knew that the predicament she had fallen into was not something Reshma could solve. And that was why, much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tell her. She found this interrogation by Reshma unbearable. She felt like leaving the room at once. But it wasn’t often that Reshma came to her room. Rather it was in Reshma’s room that they had their soirées. So she didn’t want to send her away. Riziya made light of the matter by joking about it. She said, ‘Tell me, if I go to the mosque, won’t I meet Imam Saheb?’

‘Keep quiet, brazen wretch! I’m going to speak to your Mami today itself. I can’t understand what their problem is! What’s wrong with getting their daughter married to Maulana Saheb?’

‘There’s no need for anything now, Bhabi. It’s all decided.’

‘What’s decided?’

‘It’ll be just after Eid. He’s going to come here. Can’t delay any more, Bhabi. We are going to get married within a week. It’s final. But don’t tell anybody yet. I told you because I trust you.’

‘Oh my! Really? This is fantastic news! But let me tell you one thing – that doesn’t mean you’ll…’

fifty-five

‘Teacher! You, son? I’m glad you’ve come. Come, come inside.’

Salaam Miya welcomed Suman as soon as he saw him. Visiting Salaam Miya at night on Bakri Eid was an annual routine for Suman. He partook of the simui and rice-flour rutis, and of course, the beef curry. Almost everyone in his Jogipara knew about that. But there was something else today. Sandip had come to Suman’s house. He wanted to witness for himself the gruesomeness and cruelty of Bakri Eid. Suman advised him to also visit the various temples where goats and buffaloes were sacrificed. They had an argument over this. He had left Sandip at home, and come, as always, to the Miya household. And that was why Salaam Miya too asked him in, as usual. Turning towards the house, he shouted out, ‘Hey Rizi, look, your Teacher is here. Get up and come here.’

‘Is Riziya very unwell, Kaka?’

‘It’s been almost a month … I just can’t understand what’s wrong. The stubborn girl doesn’t even talk to anyone.’

‘What exactly is wrong with her?’

‘Who knows! Why don’t you talk to her and see? She listens to you.’

‘Achchha.’

‘Let me ask your Kakima to get the food ready. But I didn’t sacrifice a cow this time, Suman. I got a goat. You eat mutton, don’t you?’

‘I don’t eat beef nowadays, Kaka. So mutton is fine. Achchha, tell me, if it’s all right to sacrifice a goat, why do you people sacrifice cows?’

‘Do I know all that, son? Please sit. Let me fetch Rizi.’

Suman was welcome in every house in the Muslim quarter. That was because there wasn’t a single family in which someone or the other wasn’t a student of his. At least in the hamlet of Dokkhin Sheikhpara. It was Salaam Miya’s house that Suman visited most often. He felt most at ease in this Miya household. Suman sat on the chair kept in the veranda. He did not notice when Riziya arrived and stood beside him. He turned to look at her when he heard her voice.

‘Dada! When did you come?’

‘Just now. How are you? It’s your Eid today. Why such a wilted face?’

Riziya feigned a smile. She didn’t say anything. As if there was no answer to the question. She said, ‘Sit, Dada. I’ll just be back.’

‘Listen, I didn’t come to have beef. I came only to meet you. You don’t have to do anything.’

But Riziya stepped down from the veranda nevertheless. She returned a little later, with a tray of food from the kitchen. Suman didn’t object. He began eating. As he ate, he said, ‘I’ve stopped eating beef, you know.’

‘Mami hasn’t given you beef, this is mutton.’

‘Yes. Kaka told me.’

Suman suddenly stopped eating and asked Riziya, ‘What’s all this rubbish I’m hearing, Riziya?’

‘What did you hear, Dada?’

‘About Imam Saheb and you…’

Riziya was silent for a moment. Suman Da had helped her in various ways ever since her teen years. How could she tell him about the unfathomable crisis that she was in! And if she did, how would he take it? Wouldn’t the fondness Suman had for her vanish in a trice! Something unimaginable had happened to her almost a month and a half ago. How could she open up about that now, after having been silent so long? She felt terribly small in front of Suman. Besides, he was a companionable gentleman, and her teacher. But he didn’t belong to the Muslim community. So how could he help her? Relying on Tahirul instead was best. After all, he would be here once the night was past. He would make the proposal directly to her Mama. The marriage had to be organized within a couple of days. There was no other way. There was very little time. Riziya replied to Suman’s query, ‘You heard right, Dada. We are getting married.’