At first, no one even recognized him. What had become of his appearance? He was skinny, worn out, dirty, and looked very sick. He had some sort of skin ailment all over his body. He was full of boils and blisters. With his veritable jungle of unkempt hair and beard, people had thought him to be a vagrant lunatic. He was found lying in the mosque compound at dawn. No one knew how, or with whom, he arrived here. Raqib’s elder brother, Rahman, was informed. He recognized his brother at once. Calamity struck when he was taken home and then shown to a doctor. In the course of medical tests, it was discovered that Raqib had contracted AIDS. As soon as word of that spread, everyone said the same thing: ‘As you sow, so shall you reap. Just see what disease he’s brought here!’

Dr Jasim’s chamber was shut today. So there were hardly any customers in Maruf’s chemist shop. The shop manager Farid was sitting there. Nazir had to admit that after having been involved with doctors and medicines for several years, Farid knew much more than him when it came to diseases. He asked, ‘I believe Raqib has got AIDS, everyone is talking about that. But what is really wrong with him, Farid Bhai?’

‘As far as I know, this is a disease caused by a virus known as HIV. Once someone gets that, he loses his resistance to infections and ailments. I mean, let’s say Raqib has a fever now. He’s supposed to get better with medicine, but that won’t happen. And even if it does, it takes a long while. His body simply doesn’t have the power to resist any disease.’

‘Oh Allah! It’s terrible! How do people get such a disease?’

Farid turned grave. The few people who were in the shop were also eager to know about something regarding which they had no idea. Farid said, ‘How can I tell you! This disease is transmitted through various means. The victim’s blood, phlegm, saliva, and so on, all carry the virus. Once any of those enter a healthy person’s body, that’s it, he’ll get the disease too. He too…’

‘Oh my! So it’s a communicable disease! How did Raqib get it?’

‘Why, don’t you know Raqib? He was only after having fun, and women … That’s how you catch this disease. Do you get me? If you sleep around with prostitutes…’

‘Tauba, tauba! Astagfirullah!’

Rahman’s wife had made it clear that she would not take care of Raqib. In fact, despite being born of the same mother, Rahman too expressed displeasure. But that didn’t mean that he could be thrown out. Raqib was laid in an unused loft upstairs. Perhaps his faculty of repentance had also disappeared. All he could do was stare blankly out of his sick frame. He had not been ashamed to take advantage of the vacant space of this very loft and craftily lure Riziya there one day to carry out the vilest crime. And today he was lying in the same space, a living corpse.

Maruf wanted to turn Sadnahati into an ideal village. With that objective in mind, he got the mosque committee to participate in the development programme. The Almighty Allah did not improve the lot of people who did not of their own accord try to do it themselves. He had been able to bring together what was socially necessary with the religious assembly. Like every year, there was to be a jalsa in the village. There were supposed to be various programmes from the afternoon itself. Preparations for the programmes were at their peak now. There were only two days left. The village was decorated with coloured paper. Arrangements had been made for ornamental electric lighting. All the streets were spanking clean.

But meanwhile, an umbra of gloom had settled on the village. Maruf was a bit sad on receiving the news of someone’s death. Suman, the youth from Jogipara, had been run over by a train. His body had been brought to Sadnahati. Maruf was not in a state to look at the body of his childhood friend, although many said that Suman’s face had not been mutilated. Nevertheless, Maruf hadn’t gone. But he had wept openly when he got the news of Suman’s death.

Riziya, too, had arrived at Sadnahati with Suman’s body – the one who had left the community. Maruf remembered that Riziya had told him that she would reveal everything to him the day she returned to Sadnahati. As soon as Maruf heard about Riziya’s arrival, the scene at Konnagar station two years ago floated before his eyes.

Maruf was waiting outside the station to meet Abinash Babu. He was a fan of Abinash Babu’s writing. It was the first time they met. Abinash Babu had asked him to wait for him. While he was standing there, he observed Riziya – who had sindoor on her hair parting – exit the station and walk up to the rickshaw stand. As soon as their eyes met, Riziya wanted to move away. Actually, she did not recognize him at first, but after that, she realized it was Maruf. She seemed to turn numb with embarrassment and fear. Maruf came up to her and directly asked her, ‘Where’s Suman?’

‘Which Suman? Who are you?’

‘Is this your daughter? Where do you people live nowadays?’

‘I don’t know you. Let me go, the doctor must have come by now. My daughter has a fever.’

‘I want to speak to you, Riziya.’

Riziya held her daughter’s hand and walked ahead briskly, pushing her way through the crowd. Maruf moved ahead and, standing in front of her again, asked her, ‘I need to speak to Suman urgently.’

Riziya came to a halt now. ‘There’s no use talking to him,

Maruf Da, he’s a drunkard now. If I ever set foot in Sadnahati again, I’ll tell you everything. I have to go now.’

Her personality seemed to shine through what she said. Maruf didn’t keep her back. But he said, ‘Tell him to get in touch with me.’

‘You won’t find the person you are looking for. Your friend Suman is dead.’

Suman had really died now. Maruf was anguished at such a culmination. Riziya had returned to Sadnahati. He had heard that she was staying with Abhijit for the time being. What had happened to Suman? What was the use of hearing anything from Riziya now that he was dead? He was curious no doubt, but he had no time for all that now. The mosque committee’s event was just two days away. He had a lot of work on his hands. Dr Jasim had been made the chairman of the programme. Farid was the treasurer of the mosque committee and of the programme as well. Nazir was always by Maruf’s side now. He had organized a bunch of youths and was attending to the pandal construction in the Eidgah ground, so that there was no shortcoming in the event. Many people would be coming from outside. Meanwhile, Maulana Tahirul had arrived at Maruf’s house. Tahirul felt as warmly towards Sadnahati as before. He had set out as soon as he received the message sent by Maruf. When Maruf had asked him, ‘How come you arrived a day ahead?’, Tahirul had replied, ‘Don’t you need helping hands for such a big event?’

‘Yes, I do. But I’m wondering which responsibility to give you … Hujur, I think you should be the moderator for the entire programme.’

‘Alhamdulillah! So be it.’

seventy-one

It was the third day of Riziya’s widowhood. Riziya, dressed in a plain sari, was sitting crouched up together with her daughter in one of the rooms of Abhijit’s house. The room had been empty ever since Suman’s Ma had passed away. Riziya and her daughter were staying in that room now. Abhijit was worried about how long they would stay. Why on earth would he carry the burden of the widow and daughter of the brother with whom they had no contact for ten long years, one who hadn’t visited even after their mother died? Abhijit’s wife was completely averse to that; she thought it was an unnecessary nuisance. In fact, she was completely against bringing Suman’s body, or getting him cremated. Abhijit, too, was opposed to that. But he had to do all that under the pressure of political leaders. Besides, this Muslim girl’s departure had brought terror and trouble to Jogipara. The people of Sadnahati were still angry. Would Abhijit be able to handle things if they suddenly descended upon the house? And why on earth would he do that in the first place? How was he to blame? Had he ever addressed Riziya as ‘Boudi’? Someone couldn’t just land up and join the family like this. Abhijit declared in a harsh tone, ‘You have to find your own place now. After all, I can’t keep you here. You must leave within a couple of days, all right?’

Riziya fell into distress. Where would she go now? All her things were lying in Konnagar. But what was she going to do? How would a single woman and her child survive? Riziya listened to Abhijit and stared helplessly at him. Preeti asked, ‘Ma, where will we live then?’

Abhijit’s wife replied annoyedly, ‘Go wherever the hell you like, but you’re no longer welcome here. Make sure you vacate this room within a couple of days.’

Riziya swallowed that, too, impassively and silently. Abhijit was about to leave, and then he noticed that the elderly Sushil Nath, meaning his Kaka, had entered the room. He had heard what was said. He said, ‘Do you think she has nothing? She owns at least one bigha of land in Sadnahati. One does not stop being an heir after religious conversion.’

Abhijit had forgotten about that. Yes, of course! Should he have been obsequious towards Riziya instead? Kaka was an expert when it came to law. If he could rescue Riziya’s one-bigha plot of land, Abhijit too might gain from that. He was quiet. Sushil Nath asked, ‘It’s your earlier name in the records, isn’t it? The land has remained in the same state for the last ten years. Rafiq Ali could not take possession despite his efforts to do that. Because of the resistance by Abid Sheikh, Maruf and Iqbal, Jamila Begum’s land is still lying in the same condition. It’s already been recorded in your name. That’s why I say…’

Riziya signalled to Sushil Nath to stop. She said, ‘I don’t feel like talking about such things right now, Kaka. I want to be alone now.’

Sushil Nath signalled with his eyes to Abhijit’s wife to leave the room. They left. Reshma Bhabi arrived in a little while. Riziya felt a bit cheered up seeing her. They had met earlier at the pond-bank after her bath. She had come to meet Riziya again today. As soon as she saw Riziya, she asked her, ‘Have you eaten anything?’

‘Hmm.’

‘What are you thinking of doing now?’

‘I don’t know.’

Reshma was there for quite a while. But they didn’t talk much. Reshma didn’t even want to enquire into anything. While leaving, she said, ‘I’m off now. There’s a programme in the mosque today. Your Dada is there. There’s no one at home.’

‘Will you take me to your house, Bhabi? I’m suffocating here. Will you take me along?’

‘How can I do that! I came here in secret. You have no idea what all happened to me because of you! If the people at home…’

‘Why don’t you come in the evening? Take me with you, Bhabi. I’m terribly lonely. I want to fall at Chhoto Mami’s feet. I want to see Nilufa and Ayan. They must have grown up so much.’

‘I got Nilufa married last year. Ayan is an adult now. Will you go to the Miya house? No one wants to go there now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Raqib’s got AIDS. Your Boro Mama’s son. He returned to the village a few months back with this dreadful communicable disease. That’s why…’

Riziya experienced a moment of revelation when she heard that. But there was no outward sign of that. She turned grave and said, ‘Bhabi, I had faith in Allah. Now I have even greater faith. He delivers such perfect justice.’

‘You’re Hindu now. If people hear you speak of Allah, they’ll laugh.’

‘Let them laugh. But I will go there. Even if the people of Sadnahati cut me to pieces, I won’t protest.’

‘All right. You and your daughter be ready. I will come and take you.’

Riziya and her daughter didn’t leave their room. Some people peeped in through the window. Riziya was lying in bed with her arms wrapped around Preeti. The loudspeaker had been blaring since morning, announcing the blood donation camp. That would be followed by the felicitation gathering. Riziya was suddenly stunned to hear a voice. So the man was here then!

Riziya couldn’t help remembering that fateful night. The night on which she had gone to Hujur’s room and pleaded with him to run away with her. Should she have told Hujur the ultimate truth then? How would he have reacted if she had? When Riziya had said to Hujur that she would commit suicide, he had said, ‘You are being impractical, Riziya. You have to fight to survive.’ Hadn’t Riziya undertaken that fight? And because she had done that, they had survived! Would she see him face to face today? Would he ask her why she had left Sadnahati and gone away after having given him his word? Her life would not have entailed such complexities if she hadn’t gone away. As Riziya thought about such things, Reshma arrived and stood at the door. She said, ‘Get up now. Come to my house first. I got your Dada’s consent.’

Tahirul got the news of Suman’s death the moment his dead body was brought from the morgue to Sadnahati for cremation. And accompanying that, Riziya arrived at Sadnahati after ten years, wearing conch-shell bangles and sindoor. Some people got agitated, but fearing that the major event taking place in the village might get disrupted, Rafiq Ali calmed them down. Tahirul was putting up in Maruf’s house. He spoke to Maruf while they were having dinner. Maruf had said, ‘I should tell you, I didn’t go to see Suman. That’s because Suman was no longer the person I knew. He had become a drunkard. Let me tell you, Suman used to drink a little bit during the Puja, or other festivals, I knew that. But I never knew that he would be consumed by alcohol. I think there was some rage or grief at work. But as a childhood friend, I was very sad. If he had only met me once! Perhaps…’