by Pran Kishore
But Kashmir had always attracted misfortune; stability never lasted for long. After a couple of decades of peace and prosperity, the neighbouring Punjab was overwhelmed by a long period of turmoil. This affected Kashmir too. The number of tourists coming to Kashmir decreased day by day as the route to Kashmir was through Punjab and people did not want to take any risks. Malla Khaliq and Narayan Joo therefore had to rely on what they had earned earlier. By God’s grace, the violence in Punjab subsided and everyone began to look forward to having a fruitful tourist season.
With this hope, Malla Khaliq finished his nimaz and was about to fold the prayer mat when Gula Chooncha’s shikaarah stopped near the shore, and Narayan Joo came out of the boat and walked up the stairs leading to the isle. Narayan Joo was a graceful man – tall, bearing an almond-shaped saffron tilak, the sign of a devout Kashmiri Pandit, on his forehead. He looked as fresh and happy as a newly-wed groom.
‘As-salaam-alaikum!’
‘Wa-alaikum-salaam,’ Malla Khaliq responded without turning.
‘What! Are you now hesitant to even turn your face to me?’
Seeing his friend, Malla Khaliq flung the prayer mat on a branch of the willow tree, and gave him a tight hug. Aziz Dyad, who was walking over to the water tap, saw them. She left the basket of utensils there and rushed towards the two.
‘Is it you, Narayan Joo? I can hardly believe my eyes!’
Hearing Aziz Dyad, the two friends let go of each other, and Narayan Joo turned to her.
‘Salaam alaikum! I intended coming directly to you, my sister, but he held me back.’
‘Come, come! I know how you cared about me all this year.’
‘Why do you say that? I have always inquired about your health over the telephone from Khaliq.’
‘He doesn’t care about me while being here, how will he inform you in Bombay about me over the telephone?’
‘No, no, you are absolutely wrong! Whenever I asked him anything about his health, his answer was that Azi was not well. That shows how worried he is about you. And when I asked him about his children, he said, “Narayan Joo, I am here just for name-sake. If my children are settled to some extent, it is all because of this sister of yours. If she were not there, I would have been worse than a farthing.”’
‘He said all this, because he knows that I am a dear sister of yours.’
Malla Khaliq was enjoying this tête-à-tête between the brother and sister, and he gazed at Aziz Dyad’s face with an affectionate smile.
‘Now, let us come to more important things. Tell me, why are you so late in coming this year? Is everything all right in Bombay? Is our dear daughter-in-law well settled? I think the baby must have grown big by now,’ Aziz Dyad said.
‘Thanks to the Almighty, she is in good health and has started to go to office, too,’ replied Narayan Joo.
‘I was worried about her. Your wife, peace be upon her soul, too, used to be worried about her ill health till her last breath.’
Malla Khaliq diverted his wife’s attention from further mention of Narayan Joo’s deceased wife and said, ‘Do you mean to keep him standing over here? Let him have a little rest. Come, Narayan, let us go inside.’
‘But I would really like to stay out here for a while. It is after six months that I have had the fortune to witness the Zabarwan mountain and its magnificent reflection in the calm waters of this Dal Lake. Let us just sit here on this turf,’ said Narayan Joo as he took off his shoes and sat down.
‘Oh no! Please wait. I shall get you a sheet something to sit on,’ Aziz Dyad said.
‘Aziz Dyad! Won’t you let me relish the soothing touch of this sod? In Bombay, we crave this!’
‘All right, I will send you something to munch on.’
‘Razaqa. Oh Razaqa!’ Khaliq called out to Razaq who was wiping the glass panes.
‘Yes, sir!’ Razaq responded.
‘Come here quickly.’
Malla Khaliq, too, took off his shoes and sat near his friend. ‘Now tell me, why did you take so much time to return? Is it because of the situation in Punjab?’
‘No, Punjab is quite calm these days. It was only for you that I took some more time. There is a big party arriving from Japan. The tourist officer asked me to stay for a month longer so that their schedule could be finalized. Some Japanese tourists plan to come to Kashmir after they finish with other places. I did not want to miss the opportunity of hosting them here.’
‘So was the plan confirmed?’ Malla Khaliq asked, desperate as he was for visitors. It was after three long years that he hoped to have a good number of guests. But Narayan Joo was being jovial. ‘You are always in haste. Let me bake the news a little more and then serve.’
‘All right, take your time,’ remarked Malla Khaliq, turning his face away.
‘So now you are sulking. I swear by God that I craved to see you sulk in this manner. Now, dear friend, look towards me.’
‘Okay. What do you have to say?’
‘They are sure to come. The boats will be occupied for not less than ten days. But it will take some time. Till then, I already have the booking of two to three local tourist groups for your boats.’
‘This is great news! There are no affluent Western tourists anywhere. Of course some still do come, but they do not stay for more than a couple of days. In the past we used to get Western tourists who stayed for a fortnight to one month. Forget them. Now our own local tourists are better for us. They stay longer and spend freely, provided they are really rich, which quite a few are.’
‘All of those whom we have booked are millionaires. By God’s help all our toils will end.’
Malla Khaliq felt reassured.
In the meantime, Aziz Dyad sent Parveen with a platter filled with some apples and almonds. She greeted Narayan Joo with respect, ‘Namaskaar, Mahara, Lala Sahib!’
‘Wa-alaikum-salaam wa rahmatullahi barkaatahu, Miss Parveen Sahiba, daughter of Haji Abdul Khaliq daama iqbaalahu!’
Parveen laughed boisterously on hearing such an exalted greeting. As she kept the platter before the guest, she said to him, ‘Tell me, how did you fashion my short name Parveen into such a long sentence? I am the same old Pari of yours.’
Narayan Joo turned to Malla Khaliq. ‘My Pari was as big as my thumb, but see she has suddenly grown so big and fast like a poplar tree. That is why I have added so many honorifics to her name.’
‘Your hair is turning grey and yet you do not give up your buffoonery,’ remarked Aziz Dyad who had joined them with a steaming samovar full of qahva.
‘This is not buffoonery but liveliness. I hope you still remember my father. He used to say that every moment you live is precious, so one should spend every moment jovially.’
Narayan Joo turned again towards Parveen and completed his statement. ‘So, my dear Parveen, you should always try to live happily and prosper. And you, my Haji Sahib, do not bother. God is always there to help us. Your memsahiba has brought you tea – enjoy a cup.’
Holding a cup in her hand Aziz Dyad said to Narayan Joo, ‘I entreat you, my brother, give up your orthodoxy and accept a cup of tea from my hand. Times have changed. Don’t you see, now all eat from the same plate.’
‘It hardly matters whether you share the same plate. What matters is that all should be united in their souls.’
‘Yes, you are right there,’ Malla Khaliq concurred. ‘You pour tea into my cup, and I shall peel an apple for him,’ he said turning to his wife.
Parveen extended her hand towards the apples, ‘Let me do it.’
‘No, my darling, you go and send me a couple of plates.’ Aziz Dyad held her back.
Parveen went to the pantry. Aziz Dyad offered her husband a cup of tea, stood up and said to him, ‘I will leave the samovar here. You may have some more tea. Razaq will take it away when you finish.’ Then she left.
Narayan Joo took the apple from Malla Khaliq’s hand. ‘Give it to me, my friend, I still know how to peel an apple. You please have your tea. Why are you g
azing at me like a gazelle?’
Malla Khaliq heaved a long sigh and took the cup to his lips.
Narayan Joo, while enjoying the juicy slices of the apple, watched the waves in the lake. The waves, he felt, were chasing each other like lovers. The two friends were lost in their own thoughts, when Razaq’s voice broke the silence.
‘Salaam alaikum! Should I pour some more tea into your cup?’
‘What? No, no, my dear son, you take this samovar away.’
Razaq took away the samovar.
‘He seems to be a well-behaved boy. Where have you got him from?’ Narayan Joo asked Malla Khaliq.
‘I got him from your office.’
‘Is he the boy who was hankering after Mohammad Sidique for a job?’
‘Yes, this too is God’s grace. Had I not visited your office to inquire about you, how could I have found this gem of a boy?’
‘So now that you have found him, never let him go. Good servants are almost non-existent now.’ Narayan Joo offered a slice of apple to Malla Khaliq. ‘Here, you also have a slice.’
‘No, I just had tea, it will cause acidity.’
‘But it is a real Kashmiri ambri apple, not the American variety. It will not make your stomach sour. Taste a slice.’
‘No. I am not in the mood.’
Putting a slice of the apple into his own mouth, Narayan Joo tried to read Malla Khaliq’s face. Malla Khaliq sensed this and turned his face towards the barge where Parveen was playing with Bilal.
Diverting Khaliq’s attention towards him, Narayan Joo said, ‘You’re not in your element, I can see that. What is the matter?’
Heaving a deep sigh again, Malla Khaliq replied, ‘What shall I tell you, Narayan Joo … I have received three successive notices from the bank; two instalments of Gulfam are still due, and our business is in a shambles, as you know. The interest on the loan, too, must have amassed. Since the last one month, I am persistently gripped by this anxiety.’
Narayan Joo, who was about to peel another apple, flung down the knife in anger, and turned to Malla Khaliq. ‘Did you consider me dead? You speak with me every week on the phone. You could have given me a hint. You would not have been indebted to me. Keep aside our brotherly relations. We are engaged in the same business, if nothing else.’
‘Don’t be angry with me. Who else can I rely upon? I would never feel shy of approaching you for help. I thought you would come back in April as you always do and relieve me of the anxieties, but you took a very long time to come.’
‘Just come to my office tomorrow and we shall go to the bank together. I too have some work there.’
At that moment, Qadir came out of Gulshan. He saw Narayan Joo with his father. Standing on the anchor point of the boat, he waved at him, ‘Hi, Narayan Uncle, all well?’
Hearing this, both Narayan Joo and Malla Khaliq looked at Qadir. Hearing Qadir’s style of greeting, Narayan Joo said, ‘Ghulam Qadir, since when did your Lala Sahib change into “Narayan Uncle”?’
Qadir overlooked his sarcasm and began to talk to the boatman who had stopped his boat near the isle. Narayan Joo turned to Malla Khaliq. ‘Qadir seems to be using more Western lingo now.’ Malla Khaliq was already irritated with Qadir’s newly adopted mannerisms. He said acidly, ‘There is a firangi woman in his houseboat, which might be the reason.’
He had hardly said this when Jane, carrying a bag in her hand, came out of the houseboat, and holding its trellis for support, stepped into a decorated shikaarah.
Qadir helped her as she sat on the spring-seat of the small boat while he sat on the cushioned seat in front of her. The shikaarah left, and Narayan Joo, who was intrigued after seeing Jane, asked Malla Khaliq, ‘Isn’t this the same girl who came last year, paid an advance for three months and then after two months suddenly left for Delhi?’
‘Yes, and I have no faith in her ways. It was because of my financial constraint that I allowed her to stay in the houseboat.’
‘It is not always possible to get the tourist of your choice. You should be happy that the boat has been occupied at the very beginning of the season.’
Narayan Joo had been managing his travel agency since he was a teenager. During his college days, he helped his father during his free time. After completing his graduation, he took over the occupation wholeheartedly. He knew that one had to bear both savoury as well as noxious things in business. Malla Khaliq, too, knew this harsh reality. However, he, like his friend Narayan Joo, had resolved to always be honest in his dealings. He did not approve of Qadir’s and Ghulam Ahmed’s ways. He sighed again and said to Narayan Joo who was watching Qadir’s boat speeding away, ‘How can I tell you what a wayward son this Qadir is! He did not learn anything even after spending over fourteen years in school and college. The only thing he has picked up from the dandies is to massage his hair with scented oil twice a day and buy a pair of jeans every month. He never tires of beguiling me, saying he has the knack to expand his business and make big businessmen sink in the competition.’
‘Has he started some business of his own?’
‘Nothing – this is all idle prattle.’
Narayan Joo remembered that Ghulam Ahmed had taken some apple orchard on contract last year. He was about to inquire about it, when Malla Khaliq continued, ‘I, nevertheless, am happy that he does not demand money as Ghulam Ahmed often does.’
‘Did he profit last year in his apple business?’
‘Nothing but grief. He never perseveres in any vocation. To add to my worries, he is hell-bent on getting rid of this tourist business that has come to us from our forefathers. He always tries to convince me that the waters of the lake are nothing but useless fluid, never to remain static.’
This long tale of woe from Malla Khaliq made Narayan Joo ruminate about his own situation. His condition had not been very different. Malla Khaliq continued to vent, not sensing the changing colours on Narayan Joo’s face.
‘The idiot tells me that I should abandon the legacy of our clan since the great Hazrat Noah. It is, in fact, his father-in-law Naba Kantroo who is trying to instigate him. He has no brain of his own in his skull.’
Narayan Joo heaved a long sigh but did not respond. He was lost in his own worries. Sensing this, Malla Khaliq asked him with concern, ‘Are you well? You are not saying anything. Am I wrong in my apprehensions?’
‘What shall I say when I am facing the same dilemma? You remember how my Vij Lal pestered me when he returned to Kashmir after completing his training course?’
Vij Lal, that is, Vijay Kumar, was Narayan Joo’s only son whom he had sent to Bombay for a degree in travel management so that after his return he would expand the family business. Narayan Joo had decided that he would invest all his resources in establishing a large office on the shore of the Dal Lake. He was determined to capture the entire tourist market of Ladakh that was open to even the foreign travellers. When Vijay Kumar returned with his degree in travel management, his father placed his plan before him to consider. He wiped off all his hopes. ‘I am not the one to remain confined within this huge fortress of insurmountable mountains. Dad, this world is not a handful of sky that you can see in this narrow valley; the sky is too vast to fathom. Why are you so determined to clip my wings? Dad, you must pay a visit to Bombay and see the inexhaustible scope for expanding business. Perhaps then you will understand.’
Narayan Joo recalled every word of his son’s that had demolished the empire of his dreams inch by inch. Malla Khaliq’s voice retrieved him from the vortex of bitter memories.
‘I was born in these waters, and have grown up on the lake. Ask this blockhead why these myriad winged ducks, swans and grebes traverse thousands of miles to be here every year and weave their nests here with the weeds of the lake. It is because they know that the waters of the lake are their own world; they cannot survive on land.’
‘And what about Noor Mohammad, what does he say?’
‘He is also facing the same predicament. Only he is there to keep my name
alive. You yourself witnessed Ghulam Qadir’s ways. To be honest, he is my only worry; he is always trying to soar in the sky and never places his steps on the ground. He returns very late in the evenings, sometimes as late as ten or eleven in the night. Whenever I try to inquire about his engagements, his answer, “there was a meeting”.’
‘It may be that he has joined some political outfit.’
‘Who knows? I do not dare ask him.’
‘But I am sure he will not be so careless in returning late in the evening these days since his boat is engaged now. God will set everything right. You should always have faith in His mercy, as I do. So let me take leave of you now. I have an urgent piece of work to attend to. But remember to come early to my office in the morning tomorrow.’
Narayan Joo went near the barge and bid goodbye to Aziz Dyad. Then he walked to the ghat, the landing, to anchor the shikaarah, where Malla Khaliq was already waiting for him. He extended his hand to Narayan Joo and helped him sit in the shikaarah. He sat beside him, saying that he too had some work to do at the Dal Gate market.
Qadir made the shikaarahwala row the boat fast through the swamps in the backwaters of the Dal. Whenever he noticed any other shikaarah approaching or passing by, he enthusiastically pointed at the rushes or towards the diving pintails, as if he had no other concern but to give this European woman a feel of the life on the lake.
There was a group of hippies lodging in a dilapidated, still houseboat, hidden in the thicket of willows at the far end of the lake, posing as if they wanted to be away from the hustle and bustle of city life. But their hidden activities were known to Jane and Qadir. Jane had lured Qadir into her circle of friends by paying him pocketfuls of money. Having seduced him with her beauty, she also taught him the knack of acquiring easy wealth. Before leaving for Bombay last year, she had paid him a sum of thirty thousand rupees extra as commission for the year’s business of drug trafficking. Though she tried to give everyone the impression that she was dealing in carpet exports, Qadir wasn’t blind to her true intentions.