‘What about college? It’s just a year more before you graduate. Can you tell me why you people are so taken up with the business of marriage? Are you in a hurry?’
‘Yes.’
Suman was astonished. He couldn’t accept that such a clever student would drop out of college like this. As it is, the girls in Muslim hamlets paid no attention to education. Riziya was an exception. So had she, too, finally got obsessed with the same old marriage-and-family routine? Suman said, ‘So it’s the end of your studies after marriage. But listen, when you people have decided to get married, you could have avoided all the disgrace. You don’t step out anywhere, so you don’t know. I don’t like what I hear.’
‘Why? Why don’t you like what you hear?’
Suman was silent. How could he explain to Riziya why he was anguished by her disgrace? Suman’s mind was suddenly filled with softness. He stopped eating and merely said, ‘Are you really going to marry Imam Saheb? Won’t you stay any longer in Sadnahati? I mean, here I am talking to you, is this the last time then? The very thought pains me!’
Riziya was surprised to hear such emotional talk from Suman. Why would the anguish of separation over her getting married or leaving for her in-laws’ house affect Suman Da? After all, so many hundreds of his female students had got married. When those girls came from their in-laws’ house to visit and encountered Suman Da on the road, they smiled and enquired, ‘Dada, how are you?’, and Suman Da only smiled back and replied that he was doing well – that was all. But when it came to Riziya, he seemed to be acting differently in response to what she had said. Riziya thought, oh, so I’m not so insignificant, at least someone will be sad when I go away. The thought pleased her. She said, ‘Why should it be the last time, Dada?’
‘Oh my God! You will be the Imam Saheb’s borkha-clad wife. I’ll only be able to see your eyes. I won’t even be able to recognize you. Besides, we are Hindu. And if you speak to any Hindu…’
‘Is that what’s on your mind? What rubbish! Of all the things … Won’t I be able to recognize you? Dada, do you think anyone thinks of you as a Hindu? Why do you say such things? The girl who gets a man like you will be truly fortunate.’
Suman and Riziya’s conversation could not continue. Salaam Miya suddenly entered the house in a flurry. There was a look of panic on his face. He sat down with a thump on the floor of the veranda. He held his face in his hand and said, ‘You’ve ruined us, Rizi. Ruined us.’
Suman was dumbfounded. He asked, ‘What happened, Kaka? What’s the problem?’
‘Unbelievable! This girl has devoured every shred of my dignity! There’s a terrible commotion at the mosque. Abid Sheikh and Rafiq Ali are fighting it out. I think it’s turned into a CPI(M) versus Trinamool matter. It’s about Imam Saheb. And at the root of it all is this wretch, my niece, dear Teacher. There’s trouble at the mosque regarding Riziya. What am I to do now! Alas!’
Riziya stood still, like a statue. Suman gulped down a glass of water and hurried out of the house. Riziya observed his departure. But the very next moment, she felt saddled with shame, fear and diffidence. She somehow managed to slip into her room and latched the door.
Abid Sheikh had been furious with Tahirul anyway. The imam of a locality ought to be impartial always. Everyone was equal as far as he was concerned. But Imam Saheb had an excessive weakness towards Rafiq Ali, who was the main leader of this area. And so, even if one kept aside religious matters, no one had the courage to say anything against Tahirul. But Abid Sheikh had the courage. Notwithstanding the fact that he was the leader of a defeated party, he did his best to keep up the pressure, however marginal that was. It was he who caused the first public explosion, at a tea shop. He screamed out, ‘He declares fatwas! Rubbish! No funerary prayers for Hasan Ali, no to this, and no to that. All that is supposed to be against religion. Then what about an assignation with a woman at night, eh! Let’s hear who will declare a fatwa now! Can people pray behind him any longer? Why are all your lips sealed now! Give me an answer!’
There were all kinds of people at the tea shop. One of them said, ‘You can’t say such nasty things about Imam Saheb. What proof do you have?’
‘What the hell do you mean by proof? Don’t two and two add up to four? It’s as simple as that.’
‘No, it isn’t. You’ve got an axe to grind with him, Abid Bhai.’
‘Yes, think of it like that. But I’m telling you clearly, we can’t have this Maulana Saheb in Sadnahati any longer. Those who support him will also be doing wrong.’
‘Who are you to decide that?’
While this argument was taking place out in the open in the evening, Tahirul and Rafiq Ali Sheikh were sitting in front of each other in Tahirul’s room. He asked him directly, ‘Hujur, you tell us. What do you have to say about this?’
Tahirul seemed to have lost the power of speech. What kind of test was Allah subjecting him to! He was in this predicament today because of greed and infatuation. He had wept copiously in prayer and supplication. But today, it was the first time he broke down. He held Rafiq Ali’s hands and kept saying, ‘I’m completely innocent. Believe me. That is if you believe me.’
Rafiq Ali was moved by his tears. He said, ‘I’ll pull out the Adam’s apple of those who are going around spreading falsehoods and indulging in character assassination, just you watch!’
‘I don’t want there to be any trouble on my account. Listen, Rafiq Bhai…’
Rafiq didn’t pay any heed to his words. He rushed out of the room. He suddenly appeared at Chacha’s tea shop. Abid Sheikh was still blustering there. He was much older than Rafiq, and a political rival. Once Rafiq arrived, Abid was quiet. Rafiq said, ‘What happened? Let’s see you telling me. You were saying all kinds of things about Maulana Saheb, let’s hear that.’
‘Why should I be afraid of anyone when I’m telling the truth? We can’t have a Maulana Saheb who lacks character. That’s all.’
Rafiq Ali Sheikh was incensed. He grabbed Abid Sheikh’s collar. He said, ‘“Lacks character”? Who was that again? Let’s see you saying that again!’
Factionalism had afflicted the majar of Haji Saheb. But this time, it wasn’t exactly political. It had to do with clan conflict, a bit of politics, and most of all, religious sentiment. Taken together, Bakri Eid in Sadnahati turned out to be an extremely noisy affair.
Meanwhile, after examining everything, Suman again rushed to the Miya house. He went to Riziya’s door and called her, ‘Riziya! Rizi! This is your Teacher, Suman Da. Please open the door.’
Suman banged on the door again and again, but there was no response from Riziya. He was dumbfounded. Suspicion took wing in his mind. Had the girl done something terrible! She was too young to decide on right and wrong, and her situation too was a complicated one. He called out to her a few more times. There was no response from inside. Suman wondered where Salaam Kaka or Kakima were, but Kakima came rushing just then. She was upset and began howling. She had come running from the kitchen, hearing the banging on the door and Suman’s cries.
‘What’s happened, Teacher? Why isn’t my Rizi opening the door?’ She too kept knocking on the door. ‘Rizi, hey Rizi, please open the door, child.’
Suman asked Rizi’s Kakima, ‘Shall I break open the door?’
‘How can you do that all by yourself? Wait, let me call Rahman from the other house.’
The window of the room suddenly opened as they were conversing. Suman and Rizi’s Mami turned to look. They saw Riziya’s face through the open window. She looked stoic and serene; there was no sign of any dangerous panic on her face, as if nothing serious had happened to her. But Suman was overly curious, and also annoyed. He went closer, and with an air of demanding explanation, said, ‘Didn’t you hear me calling you? What were you doing, eh?’
‘I was calculating, Dada.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You taught me algebra, arithmetic, theorems and proofs. I learnt all that too. But the balance sheet of life is extremely complicated, Dada. Why am I not able to reconcile it? Can you tell me that, Dada?’
But before Suman could say anything, Riziya broke down in tears. However, the distraught look on Riziya’s Mami’s face was gone. It was now turning angry. She moved forward and, addressing Riziya, said, ‘Will you stop this drama now, Rizi? I don’t like it. Why are you making all this fuss? I used to boast so much about you to everyone. I used to say, Rizi is our scholar girl. And then you turn out like this! Chhee, chhee!’
Riziya had never imagined her Chhoto Mami glowering at her like this. She had always taken her for granted. That her Chhoto Mami would only continue to love her at all times and under any circumstances. Riziya neither hated her, like she did her Boro Mami, nor respected her like her own Ma. But her Chhoto Mami was the only person in the family on whom she had utmost trust. A naive housewife. Hearing her Mami foul-mouthing her like this, Riziya was hurt, and she pushed the open window shut with a bang. Turning to Suman, who was a witness, Chhoto Mami exclaimed, ‘Did you see that, Teacher! Did you see that! Did you see her temper? That’s why I could never say anything. Do you think I didn’t know? She digs her own grave, and then shows me her temper!’
Suman did not reply. He exited the house slowly. He felt terribly depressed.
fifty-six
Discussions and vilification continued all night long. Altercation. Conflict. Rafiq Ali Sheikh’s party was now in a position of strength. So Abid Sheikh had to eat humble pie. But he had to take revenge, and he was successful in that regard. What had to be decided upon now was whether Maulana Tahirul could carry out his duties as an imam following such a loss of face.
