by Pran Kishore
Malla Khaliq’s business had totally collapsed last year and he could not pay the instalments towards his bank loan. Qadir was well aware of this. He had the money but no courage to hand it over to his father. He had deposited it all in a different bank so that no one in the family would know about it.
It was already afternoon when Qadir’s shikaarah reached the hideaway of the hippies. A frail man stood shirtless and in tattered jeans, puffing on a cigarette on the deck of the houseboat. He climbed down the stairs to the prow. As soon as the rowboat touched the rotting staircase of the still houseboat, the hippie extended his hand to Jane and pulled her into a hug. She freed herself from his clasp and entered the boat. Before entering, she sternly told Qadir to wait outside. The hippie cast a derisive glance at Qadir, gave a boisterous laugh and offered him his cigarette. Qadir refused. The hippie guffawed again and climbed up the stairs to the deck of the boat.
‘Why are you staring like a dumb deer? Keep the boat there behind those rushes,’ Qadir ordered his shikaarahwala. ‘It might take us over an hour here.’
The boatman calmly moved his boat away. Qadir sat on the seat on the prow of the boat. His mouth had grown bitter. He took out a cigarette from his pocket, but meanwhile the owner of this still-boat, Sula Kava, came out and sat down beside him.
‘Is Haji Sahib well, Qadir Sahib?’ he asked.
‘Thanks to Allah,’ Qadir said curtly, trying to stop the conversation there.
But Sula Kava was adamantly nosy. ‘I have wished so many times to have the luck to see him, but am always entangled in never-ending work here. Besides, I was worried I might inadvertently mention this Jane or you … you know.’
Qadir got irked. He felt like knocking down this nasty fellow and smashing his hooked nose flat, but he contained his anger and said, ‘You did the wise thing by not going there to see him. He has not forgotten that moment when you caused an upheaval in the Boatmen’s Union.’
‘That was a ruse of your brother’s father-in-law, and I was blamed for nothing. Forget about it and relax. I am not to see your father. First tell me what kind of tea you would like to have. To be honest with you, the guys sitting inside the boat are enjoying beer. You too may go in, they have no inhibitions.’
Qadir put his cigarette back in the packet and entered the boat cabin. The door to the bedroom in the extreme end was ajar and he could see the bed through it. He saw Jane’s friend Ruby, half-naked, glued to the chest of George, the gang leader. Qadir turned back, but George called him, ‘Hey, Qadir. Come in.’
Qadir entered the room. He saw Jane sitting on the edge of the bed on the other side of George holding his hand and he was giving it a soft massage. Qadir was aflame with jealousy. Jane noticed the colour of Qadir’s face change. She freed George’s hand and stretched it to Qadir. ‘Come here, darling, sit awhile.’
‘No, Jane, it is getting late.’ Qadir wanted to catch Jane by her arm and drag her out of this den, but he stood helpless. He did not want to lose her trust in any case. Thus he told her, in a seemingly calm tone, to finish her job there, and that he would be waiting outside. When he stepped out, George and Ruby laughed rowdily. Jane stopped them by saying that Qadir, if irked, could report them. This warning angered Ruby, but George was prudent enough to stop her. ‘It is after much effort that Jane has succeeded in ensnaring such a dependable broker here. If he is annoyed, he will see us all handcuffed.’
Qadir sat at the prow. Noticing this, Sula Kava came near him again and said, ‘Should I get you a cup of qahva?’
‘No thanks.’
‘A cup of qahva would make you feel good. It is very cold here.’
‘Please, for God’s sake, do not bother me.’
Sula Kava had tried his hand at many trades, but nothing profited him. ‘Kava’, meaning ‘crow’, was not his caste but his nickname. He was not a houseboat owner by descent. He owned a dinghy. That dinghy was, in fact, an open boat that he had roofed with a few wood planks and thatched with a mat of rushes. They were essentially firewood vending boatmen. He helped his father in hewing wood for the fireplace of an aged European woman called Liza. With time he became the head of Liza’s domestic servants. It is said that Liza traded in felt-mats. She was quite agile, even in her old age. But one day she had an unfortunate fall from the stairs of her houseboat and since then was confined to her bed. She survived for a full five years after that and Sula Kava never failed her. Before breathing her last, she bequeathed the old houseboat called ‘Elizabeth’ to him.
This shanty of a still-boat was now in poor condition. Located in the back end of the Dal, it attracted no tourists. Sula Kava, being penniless, might have died along with his family had he not consented to be a family servant to Malla Khaliq in his good days. It was there that he developed an association with a few hippies whom he, with the help of Qadir, had taken to his out-of-business boat. The hippies in the group had made acquaintance with Qadir at Gulmarg when he was there with a group of German tourists interested in playing golf. Since then business in Sula Kava’s still-boat had been in full swing.
Sula Kava knew why the hippies preferred to stop in his crumbling boat. They wanted to be away from prying eyes. He thought it wise to remain silent and paid some corrupt policemen bribes to shield himself. He too would have surely joined their illicit dealings if he were not scared of his wife. His wife, a God-fearing woman, visited all the shrines to seek absolution for all his sins. In spite of all this, he strongly believed that Ghulam Qadir was there to provide him with good opportunities of earning without his personal involvement.
It was he who had brought George and Ruby, who stayed in his boat for the whole of last year, and now with the advent of March, they were back. Besides, they got one more hippie this time, Tony, who remained busy writing till late into the night. Thus, the money was enough for Sula Kava to manage his family. Ghulam Qadir, too, would make him happy by paying him a few hundred rupees when he would come carrying his empty bag to visit the hippies. Sula Kava was aware of what Qadir and Jane carried in that yellow bag. Whenever George rowed his small trip-boat through the rush-covered swamps to shoot with his camera, Sula Kava wished to follow him stealthily to see where he went. But the fear of losing these visitors held him back. Whenever George went on his trips, the new hippie entered Ruby’s bedroom and latched the door.
Qadir waited for Jane to come out. Every second of this painful waiting made the blood boil in his veins. In his frustration, he said to Sula Kava, ‘Sula Sahib, will you please go in and tell Jane that the sun is about to set and the weather is taking a bad turn.’
‘No, I cannot. I do not have permission to enter their bedroom.’ Saying this, Sula Kava sat down in front of Qadir and looked at Ismaal, the shikaarahwala.
‘It seems it is about to rain.’
‘I don’t think so. For the last three days, the sky is overcast with clouds in the evening, but there is no sign of rain. I wish it would drizzle.’
In the meantime, a bolt of lightning, and thunder made the lake quiver. Qadir was about to step inside the boat, but catching sight of Jane tidying her make-up before the mirror inside the chamber and combing her dishevelled hair, he stopped. He turned back and stood against the door of the drawing room, stewing in a furious jealousy.
Jane came out as if nothing had happened inside the room. She said aloud to Qadir, ‘Let’s go. It is getting late.’
Without saying anything in reply, he called out to the waiting boatman, ‘Ismaal! Get your boat here.’
Jane fished out a hundred-rupee note from her purse and handed it over to Sula Kava. Sula Kava lost no time in accepting the money. Bowing his head in gratitude, he said to her, ‘When are you going to visit us again?’
‘I will come when your sir invites me again,’ Jane said with a smile.
The shikaarah touched the staircase of the houseboat. Qadir caught hold of Jane’s hand coldly and helped her into the shikaarah. He sat silently on the prow of the boat. Sula Kava offered salaam to him, but he di
d not reply. The shikaarah moved towards the water avenues and Qadir, with head turned away, remained gloomy.
Bending forward, Jane took his hand and made him sit beside her. Shrinking her whole frame, she nestled under his arm. ‘It is quite chilly.’ But Qadir sat like a statue and tried to free himself when a bolt of lightning flashed again. It made Jane jump up and hug Qadir. Then there was a rumbling of thunder and it seemed that there was a cloudburst somewhere. Jane was now really cowering with fright. Within a moment, Qadir was warm again and said to her, ‘Do you know why this weather is so fierce? It is because you broke my heart.’
Jane consoled him by saying that she was solely his, and it was only for his sake that she went to George and Ruby. This comforted Qadir. In order to reassure him and calm his burning ache, Jane took her lips closer to his. This made Qadir melt like wax. He touched his lips to Jane’s and held her tight. He held her till the lights of the Boulevard became visible. The shikaarah turned towards Gulshan. Qadir let go of Jane and hastened to go sit on the prow.
When the shikaarah touched Gulshan, Qadir noticed Malla Khaliq standing on Gul. He quickly jumped up the stairs of the houseboat, thinking of some excuse to give to his father. But Malla Khaliq remained quiet and returned to the room. Qadir felt relieved. He held Jane’s hand and helped her out of the shikaarah. It had already started drizzling. Jane hastily entered the houseboat and Qadir followed her. When he was in the drawing room of Gulshan, he looked through the window at his own room. He saw the dim figure of Zeb in the electric light there. He picked up a polythene bag lying on the sofa and, without waiting for Jane who had gone to the washroom, went out.
Aziz Dyad stood by the kitchen window in the dark, anxiously waiting for her son. When she saw Qadir rushing towards his room, she shut the window and went in. Malla Khaliq came in from the rear door and, while removing his cap, he flung a dart of sarcasm at his wife, ‘Relaxed, that your darling son is home? Did you see his gait, walking as if he is already rolling in millions? I’m sure, he will make me parade in the market one day.’ Aziz Dyad kept quiet, calmly handed over a kangri to him to warm his hands and crept into bed. There was a clap of lightning outside and the thunder made the windowpanes rattle. ‘Oh merciful God!’ Malla Khaliq uttered. ‘Forgive all my sins.’ He switched the light off and stretched himself by his wife’s side and pulled the quilt up. Qadir’s son Bilal, who loved to sleep in his grandfather’s room, was fast asleep in a corner. The wind was howling outside.
Aziz Dyad could not sleep. She murmured, ‘The quilt is not getting warmed up.’ Khaliq did not respond.
Malla Khaliq had erected a shanty comprising three rooms on the isle amidst the three houseboats, Gul, Gulshan and Gulfam. The pantry was still in the barge, and he and his wife lived in the room adjacent to it. He had allotted the second room to Ghulam Ahmed, the third one to Noor Mohammad and the last one to Ghulam Qadir.
Noor Mohammad and his wife were still awake. They had received a letter from their son Nisar, who was studying medicine in Jaipur. He had to deposit an instalment of the fees there. Noor Mohammad alone knew how his father was struggling these days to manage such a huge family. They had only one hope, and that was the help from Narayan Joo. They were talking about it when his wife Mukhta said, ‘Be quiet. Listen. I think Qadir is driving his wife crazy again.’ She was about to go near the door to eavesdrop, but Noor Mohammad stopped her.
‘Sit down, I advise you not to poke your nose in others’ affairs.’
‘Do you call them “others”?’
‘I do not mean to say that they are strangers, but sagacity demands that one should not meddle in the affairs of any married couple. See how they give vent to their rage. Relax, they shall get tired soon.’
‘But I think this time the problem is rather grave.’ Saying this she tried to get up again, but Noor Mohammad pulled her by the arm and made her sit.
And there, Zeb had let all hell loose on Qadir for being so late. Qadir had already thought of an excuse to placate her. ‘We were marooned in an eddy in the deep waters of Sadra Khwon. Don’t you see what a bad turn the weather has taken? You should be thankful to God that we survived; but instead, you berate me. Don’t you see how this kind-hearted Jane is always thinking of our well-being? Had she not helped us in time, this boat would have gone. Abba can hardly manage meals for the family – how could he help us?’
Zeb could hardly digest any of these excuses. She pulled a quilt up to her knees. Qadir picked up the polythene bag lying by his side and walked to Zeb. He took the silken cloth out of the bag and placed it on Zeb’s lap and, in a passionate tone, said to her, ‘See what a fine suit of silk Jane has got for you. She felt shy giving this to you herself and sent it through me.’
This made Zeb flare up and she threw the cloth away, saying, ‘There may be others who believe in your lies, but not this Zeb here. You should be ashamed of your vile deeds, but instead you purchase this piece of cloth from the market and tell me that that filthy woman has bought it for me! You are already in her snare and have forgotten your family. Aren’t you ashamed?’
‘I swear by God that this is a gift to you from her!’
Zeb picked up the piece of cloth from the floor and flung it in Qadir’s face. ‘Go now and return it to her. Tell her that when Zeb goes mad, and wants to kill herself by hanging, she will use her own headscarf, not this dirty cloth. Do you hear me?’
Qadir smacked his forehead and started moaning, ‘Oh my God, come to my rescue so that I can convince this woman that I have no illicit relations with Jane.’
‘I have been observing you around her since last year.’
‘Why don’t you trust me? We have nothing to gain from this old occupation. I intend on starting the business of exporting carpets to England, and Jane’s help is a necessity. It is after all a new business.’
‘If you were really serious about this new business of yours, you should have consulted with Abba or your brothers, not this witch of a woman!’
Qadir retorted, ‘You say I should have consulted with my brothers! Ghulam Ahmed, who is already drifting after his father-in-law? And if I seek counsel from Abba or Noor Mohammad, they will silence me with their own logic. They hardly have any inkling of the changed world.’
‘They are not fools to try to fly without having wings as you do. New business! My foot! You can beguile others with these fibs but not Zeb. I say, leave right now and dump this rag of silk on that fairy of yours. Otherwise I’ll go myself and throw it at that monkey-faced slut.’
‘If I had known that there was such venom in your head, I would never have married you.’
Zeb was beside herself with anger now. ‘You have not burnt all your boats; she is there waiting, undressed for you in the houseboat. Go, what are you doing here?’
Qadir lost his patience. He stood up and slapped her saying, ‘Shut up, you…’
She caught both his hands in her own and started hitting her head with them. ‘Go on, hit me! Why don’t you hit me? Come, come, kill me. All your hindrances will be removed!’
Qadir freed himself and sat down holding his head in his hands. Zeb flung the door open, went out and sat on the stairs of the veranda.
It was raining heavily and the intermittent lightning and thunder made everything shudder. Zeb sat weeping. Thunder struck somewhere in the city, and the power supply went off. Everything was engulfed in darkness, but Zeb remained unmoved. She prayed for a great thunderbolt to annihilate everything and relieve her of this agony. Had she not had her son Bilal, she would certainly have killed herself by jumping into the lake. The very thought of the boy made her body shudder. Bilal was fast asleep beside his grandparents. She cast a look at Malla Khaliq’s room. Even the emergency light which Narayan Joo had got Aziz Dyad from Bombay had not been lit. With a sense of complete helplessness, Zeb looked towards the sky. It was pitch-dark, yet she could visualize the tall poplars that stood around the isle, swaying in the wind, casting serpentine reflections that stretched their fangs i
n the water below.
Inside the room, Qadir stood dumbfounded; all his rage had subsided. He now desired to go out of the room to bring Zeb back. But he could not muster up the courage to face her. He moved to the window and looked outside. In a flash of lightning, he saw Zeb sitting so still on the stairs that it was as if she was petrified. A shudder of fright ran through him. He thought that if anything happened to her, his father would inter him alive. He somehow gathered the courage and ventured out. He walked to Zeb and softly laid his hand on her shoulder. She was completely drenched in the rain. He held her arm and said, ‘It is not advisable to sit like this in such a terrible downpour.’
‘Do I look like a lump of salt that I will dissolve in water? Go, that harlot might get frightened in this dark, terrifying night. Do not touch me, I say, don’t touch me!’
In spite of her continuous protests, Qadir lifted her in his arms and took her inside. He shut the door and tried to help her pull off her drenched clothes, but she pushed him away. She buried herself under the quilt, and Qadir wrapped himself in a blanket and lay in a corner.
With the morning prayer call, the night was over. The thunderstorm, too, had completely abated. The prayer call, as usual, made Malla Khaliq rise from bed. Aziz Dyad was still asleep. He quietly came out of the room and went to the quay for his ablutions. It was still dark and leaves and twigs of trees were strewn all around. He could see heaps of spring sprouts washed away by the storm as if they were the innocent dreams of Zeb. Zeb was also awakened by the prayer call, but she did not get out of bed. Every inch of her body ached. She shivered and her eyes burned. She raised her head and looked at Qadir. He lay on the carpet without a cover. She pulled her quilt up and turned on her side.