‘Do you know all the gossip going around in the colony about your wife? The wife of the Bihari barber apparently saw your wife performing namaz. Tell me the truth, what’s your wife’s religion?’

‘She’s my wife all right. You go ahead and do your thing.’

‘No, my boy, no! I tell you, there can’t be any puja in the lying-in room of a mlechchha! I can’t stay any longer in this house.’

The widow left. Riziya looked at Suman scornfully and remarked, ‘Do you have to follow your Hindu customs?’

Suman too retorted angrily, ‘Do you, too, have to show your Muslim ways? How did everyone in this colony find out that you are not a Hindu woman? Was it really necessary to perform namaz before others?’

Perhaps the newborn child got alarmed hearing them quarrel. This was the first time she was hearing a religious quarrel. There was probably no such nonsense in the place where her soul came from. And so the baby began to howl, oaah, oaah.

sixty-seven

Maruf’s Abba was unwell. He had been admitted to quite an expensive private hospital. His condition was much better now. Maruf and Farid were sitting in the corridor outside his room. Farid came every day, he kept Maruf company. They would be able to meet the doctor around 9 p.m. Nasir Saheb was able to sit up today. He was reading the newspaper. Maruf was greatly relieved. He could not be operated on unless his blood sugar level came down. The report received today was positive. Perhaps he could be operated on within a couple of days.

The two friends were chatting. After talking about various things, Farid said, ‘Will your Dada, Faruk Bhai, be coming today? You’ve spent three consecutive nights at the hospital. You should go back home and rest today.’

‘Let’s see.’

‘Won’t he be coming?’

‘He might come. But I don’t think he will stay at night. He has work, he has a family. Besides…’

‘He ought to stay. His younger brother’s stayed three consecutive nights … I mean … Is it only your Abba who’s unwell?’

Maruf replied calmly, ‘That doesn’t upset me, Farid. If Dada wants to stay, he’ll stay. I’m not going to ask him to stay.’

‘I want to ask you something. Can you tell me? No, forget it.’

‘Tell me, Farid, what do you want to know?’

‘You won’t mind, will you? It’s about your family matters.’

‘No at all. I don’t have any problems telling you.’

‘The idea I have is that you people are quite wealthy. You have a lot of property. But when it comes to you…’

‘Until ten years ago, Abba handled everything. And then Dada took over. I’ve never tried to find out about property matters. The need to do that never arose. But why do you ask?’

Farid didn’t say anything. He seemed to be embarrassed. He thought it was not appropriate to pry into matters regarding a friend’s property. Besides, Maruf’s Abba was unwell now. This conversation at such a time could lead to adverse reactions. A schism could develop between the two brothers. He wanted to tell Maruf about all that he had heard in Sadnahati today. But he couldn’t. That’s why he merely said, ‘Oh, just like that.’

The renovation of the mosque in Sadnahati had been initiated by Haji Burhanuddin Saheb, but he couldn’t see it through. After he departed for the other world, a bit of a problem came up. Who would be the mutawalli now? According to the law, his elder son was supposed to be the one. But that worldly man had neither a religious temperament nor any desire to be encumbered with any responsibilities. As the seniormost, the committee member, Kalim Mirza, had been given the responsibility of acting as caretaker mutawalli. He was in the mosque day and night. The renovated mosque was coming up at great speed. None of the old walls remained. Everything was new. The southern side was quite spacious. But there was hardly any change in the size of the Imam Saheb’s room. Maruf’s Abba had taken the responsibility of constructing the washing space and the main part of the mosque, the pulpit, or kobba. The minaret of the mosque could now be seen from far away. A crescent moon and a star atop a green-coloured minaret. He had spent a lot of money. But after all, this expenditure was not for worldly ends. Merit would be deposited in the afterlife. No one else in Sadnahati could match Nasir Saheb’s donation. He had a special status in Sadnahati on that account.

The muezzin of the mosque, Rahmat Bhai, was still there. But they were simply unable to get a permanent imam. The person would stay for two or three weeks, and then he was at loggerheads with the committee. None of them was able to win the hearts of most of the people, like Maulana Tahirul had done. Maybe the new person who had joined would stay. He was an acquiescent man, he never argued on any matter. And after all, who doesn’t know that mute people have no enemies!

After the Asr prayer in the afternoon, blessings would be sought for Nasir Saheb. Maruf’s Dada, Faruk, had requested the Imam Saheb that blessings for his Abba be sought with befitting seriousness. And while telling him that, he had also put some money into the Imam Saheb’s hand. He had also asked some musulli to be present at the mosque at Asr time. Nasir Saheb had been admitted to the hospital with a heart condition. His blood sugar was high. He was supposed to be operated on tomorrow, but the surgery was postponed. That was why a special prayer for blessings would be offered together with the musulli. May Almighty Allah restore his Abba to good health.

Faruk was a busy man, he wasn’t able to spare time to visit the hospital. It was Maruf who was laid up there. But did that mean that his responsibility or duty towards his father was any less? He too loved his Abba dearly. That’s why he was organizing a special gathering in the mosque to pray for blessings for his sick father. After the regular prayers, there would be a long session seeking blessings. Faruk was not like his younger brother Maruf, who had a keen interest in religion. That was something incidental for him. He was also quite indifferent as regards observing religious customs. But there was not supposed to be any deficit of affection from the musulli in regard to Nasir Saheb. Nonetheless, Faruk had decided to distribute sweetmeats in order to keep the musulli at the gathering to seek blessings for his Abba. And accordingly, before the session began, he brought a basket of sweets and kept it on the mosque stairs. Had Faruk lost his senses! Observing his gracelessness, Abdul Chacha exclaimed, ‘Hey nephew, why have you brought all these sweetmeats?’

‘There will be a prayer for blessings for Abba. That’s why…’

‘Are you out of your head? Your father is in hospital, and you’re distributing sweetmeats here!’

‘What are you saying, Chacha? Aren’t sweetmeats distributed after a special prayer? Is it anything new?’

‘My dear, that’s given during sowab reshani. When a person dies. To earn virtue on his behalf. For the peace of his soul. But when you organized a dowa khayer for a sick person, why on earth are you distributing sweets?’

‘So what should I do, Chacha? Shall I take them back?’

‘Do that.’

Faruk now felt ashamed to take back a basket of sweetmeats on his head from the mosque. He put it inside the Imam Saheb’s room. The Imam Saheb, too, suppressed a smirk.

If anything unusual happened in Sadnahati, word of that spread within minutes. Trivial incidents were blown out of proportion. Such internal strife within the most wealthy and highly respected family in the hamlet! Nothing was evident from seeing the two brothers. What kind of a son did Nasir Saheb give birth to, who wanted to distribute sweets when he was ill! Chhee, chhee! No one could voice their protest in front of wealthy folk. But it didn’t take very long for various kinds of slander regarding Faruk to be spread covertly. That Faruk had grabbed all his father’s property. He was now evading his younger brother, Maruf, and waiting for his father to die, and so on. Or else could anyone even think about distributing sweetmeats!

Nasir Saheb had been suffering from heart disease for several months. He had a mild pain on the left side of his chest. His arteries were blocked. He was to be operated on today. Maruf was very perturbed. His elder brother Faruk was beside him. Nasir Saheb had been wheeled into the operation theatre a little while back. There were some more people from the hamlet. Farid was there, Nazir too. Terpol Haji’s son, Jasim, had also been called there. He was a doctor himself. He was now the pride of Sadnahati. Maruf had taken his advice and brought his father to this private hospital. Jasim was acquainted with the doctors here. He had assured Maruf that the treatment provided in this expensive hospital was excellent. There was nothing to be worried about. Faruk held his brother Maruf, who was seated beside him, and began sobbing in a fit of emotion. As Farid moved forward to console him, Maruf too began sobbing loudly. Everyone fell into a gloom seeing the two siblings weeping. Jasim requested Farid to take them outside. Once they left, someone softly whispered, ‘Did you see Faruk’s play-acting?’

As soon as Jasim glared at them, the people there left too.

The anxious family members and relatives were waiting for Nasir Saheb. The operation was under way. Around eight o’clock at night, Jasim called some of the people sitting in the hospital lawn. He whispered something in their ears. As soon as Farid heard that, he shrieked. Nazir burst out loudly, ‘Inna Lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun.’ (Surely to Allah we belong and to Him we will all return.) Maruf, who was seated at a distance, heard that. Faruk heard it too. But they did not realize what had happened. And then when Farid approached Maruf and hugged him and began to sob, they understood. Maruf sat still in shocked silence. He wasn’t able to speak, nor weep either. Faruk began weeping loudly, crying, ‘Abba! Abba!’ Haji Nasir Sheikh had just expired. He had had a heart attack on the operation table itself. The two brothers, Faruk and Maruf, were orphaned today.

Jasim was a shining star of Sadnahati. He had opened a chamber in the village after qualifying as a doctor. Within a year he had earned an unimaginably good reputation. Patients from many nearby villages visited him. Appointments were made in advance for all the three shifts of the day, morning, evening and night. Jasim had adopted an extraordinary strategy. He took a reduced fee from the patients belonging to Sadnahati. This was supposed to be a sign of his love for his village folk. Just as all the villagers were happy at his magnanimity, they also felt a sense of pride. Jasim loved the village folk. Some cunning people in Sadnahati misused that love too. They made an appointment in their names and then they took a relative from another village into the doctor’s chamber. Of course, Jasim was aware of everything. He merely smiled. But that made him even more popular. Once a week, he treated ten elderly people free of charge. He had announced that his services were always free for the imam of the mosque. Jasim saw seventy or eighty patients every day. The emergence of the soft-spoken Jasim prodded the conscience of the people of Sadnahati. Qualified people had value. The attitude of wanting to admit their children into a good school was spreading among a lot of people. He had been able to give rise to the realization that spending on education was not a waste.

The person whom Dr Jasim respected the most in Sadnahati was Maruf. Observing the similarity in their thinking, it was only with him that he could speak his heart. He ought to go to meet the recently aggrieved Maruf. But he just didn’t have the time. So Jasim decided not to attend his chamber one evening. The one whom he had retained as a compounder was a youth named Ratan. Jasim asked him to put up a notice: ‘The chamber will remain shut today.’ Ratan said, ‘But, Sir, there may be some emergency patients this evening.’

‘I’ll see them at night. Write out the notice and put it up. Why? Did someone inform you?’

‘Kalu Miya is quite unwell. His son Rahman wanted to take you to his house. I asked him to bring the patient over. He’s put down

his name.’

‘No, no! Why did you ask him to bring the patient? When it’s an emergency, I would have gone myself. He’s an elderly man.’

‘Everyone says it’s an emergency! Are you going somewhere, Sir?’

‘You know, I haven’t been able to visit Maruf since I returned from Nasir Saheb’s burial. It’s been almost a week, I should definitely go. Achchha, arrange my bag, I’ll go and look up Kalu Miya.’

As Jasim was entering Maruf’s house, the sound of the darood sharif being collectively recited by many people wafted into his ears. He was hesitant to enter since he was uninvited. Dr Jasim was now an eminent person of Sadnahati. Some people spotted him and rose from their seats. Jasim signalled to them to remain seated. Seeing Iqbal Ostagar nearby, he asked him where Maruf was. Iqbal indicated with his hand that he was in his room on the first floor. Jasim climbed up the stairs to the first floor and saw Maruf sitting quietly with an indifferent air. He had a book in his hand, Dwitiyo Kusumer Swapno (The Dream of the Second Bloom). The author’s name was Abinash Chandra Mukhopadhyay. Seeing Jasim, Maruf shut the book and greeted him. Jasim sat down next to him. He asked him, ‘Have you applied for the death certificate, Maruf Bhai?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t neglect that. I had given the hospital papers to Farid. Did you get them?’

‘Hmm.’