by Pran Kishore
Aziz Dyad wiped her tears with her own headscarf and said, ‘My dear daughter, I know well what fears haunt you. Don’t despair, for your Abba has understood everything. I am sure he will resolve all your problems very soon. He is waiting for the advance paid by this wench of a Mem to expire and then he will never allow her to step with her dirty feet into his houseboats. Now sip this cup of qahva. But no, it might have gone cold. Let me refill the cup.’
Zeb could hardly stop her tears. ‘Amma, I have caused you so much trouble all these days. If my own mother were alive, even she would not care so much for me.’
‘But you are my daughter. I am not doing anything to oblige you. Promise me that you will drink one more cup, okay? Now let me see what they are doing over there. A group of visitors is coming today,’ Aziz Dyad said as she left the room.
Narayan Joo had told Malla Khaliq that Raja Rathinder loved fish. He had fetched over four kilos of fish from the dargah. When Aziz Dyad came out of Zeb’s room, she noticed Malla Khaliq sharpening a knife near the water tap. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Darling, see how I have sharpened your knife. We can slaughter even a lamb with it now. Do send all the fish here. I will carve them with this knife.’
Aziz Dyad snatched away the knife from his hand, saying, ‘As if you always clean fish for the family! Go change, Narayan Joo will be here any moment with the tourists.’
‘Whatever you say, I’m at your service. Here’s Parveen getting the basket of fish,’ Malla Khaliq said as he went into his own room. Parveen placed the basket of fish near the water tap and said to her mother, ‘Let me clean the fish.’ But Aziz Dyad never trusted anyone with fish. However thorough they tried to be, she always complained that the fish stank.
While going towards the houseboats, Parveen noticed Razaq near Gul. He was in his new, snow-white uniform. The moment he passed her, she could not stop giggling. She said to him, ‘Idiot! If you must wear this uniform, then you must learn how to keep the waist-belt tight. Come here. Come – I am not going to bite you.’ Razaq hesitantly moved closer to her. She turned his waist-belt around.
She was yet to finish when Ghulam Ahmed happened to see them. Sitting on the deck of the houseboat, he thought that Parveen was glued to Razaq’s body. He jumped down and yelled at Parveen. ‘You shameless girl!’ Saying this he caught hold of her arm and almost dragged her to Aziz Dyad who was cleaning the fish. He pushed Parveen towards her and said in a rage, ‘Take care of this darling daughter of yours! You should have seen how she held that village boy in an embrace! She isn’t even bothered about her father’s respect!’
Hearing Ghulam Ahmed’s angry voice, Malla Khaliq came out almost running. ‘What is the matter?’ he asked Ghulam Ahmed.
‘Please ask your daughter whom you have spoiled with all your pampering.’
‘But tell me what happened?’
Parveen boldly stepped forward and said to her father, ‘I will tell you, Abba. I did not commit any sin. I saw Razaq in his uniform, but he had worn his belt the other way round. So I taught him how to wear it.’ Having said this, she moved towards the pantry.
This made Ghulam Ahmed angrier and he said to his mother, ‘Do you see how cheeky she has grown?’
Malla Khaliq did not want to drag this trivial issue and said to Ghulam Ahmed, ‘You see, my son, Parveen is a child after all. If we shout at her like this, she will be confused.’
But Ghulam Ahmed continued to fume. ‘Yes, yes, she is still a toddler, and you are always mindless in your decisions. Whosoever comes to work here, you deem him fit for this kind of uniform within a few days. As if our business will fail without the damn uniform.’
Malla Khaliq lost his composure and said, ‘You must remember that these houseboats belong to Malla Khaliq. It is not a commonplace motel where the attendants work with a smudged towel on their shoulders. This is a place where people like Sir Roberts and Raja Bhupinder have spent their holidays.’
The father and the son were yet to settle their argument when Noor Mohammad came running to them saying, ‘Will you please keep quiet? Lala Sahib is escorting the guests in that shikaarah.’
Malla Khaliq and Ghulam Ahmed went to welcome the guests. Parveen took Bilal, who was playing outside, to Zeb’s room. She saw Qadir combing his hair. He cast an angry look at her. This frightened her and she left the child near Zeb and left. He had sensed that it was she who had informed Abba about his misbehaviour with Razaq.
The shikaarah was yet to be anchored near the wharf when Malla Khaliq descended to the ghat and cried out, ‘Welcome to my humble houseboats, sir!’
Raja Rathinder responded while he was still in his chair, ‘How are you, Haji Sahib?’
‘I am well because of your kindness,’ said Malla Khaliq quite obsequiously. The shikaarah was anchored and Narayan Joo, who was sitting at the prow, caught hold of Malla Khaliq’s outstretched hand and stepped over. Noor Mohammad helped Raja Rathinder’s two grandchildren to step out. First his grandson, Narpaul Singh, who was seven to eight years old, and then his granddaughter, Maya, who was five to six years old. They came running to the isle. It was spring and Malla Khaliq’s rose garden was in full bloom. The two children were giddy with joy upon seeing the roses. Raja Rathinder called out to them and told them not to pluck any flower.
Raja Rathinder stood on the stairs waiting for his wife, who was straightening the seams of her dress, to come out of the shikaarah. Then she extended her hand to her husband and he helped her step over to the isle. Narayan Joo introduced Malla Khaliq to her. ‘Here is Haji Sahib, the proprietor of all three houseboats.’
She shook hands with him and said to Narayan Joo, ‘Yes, Raja Sahib was all praise for Haji Sahib while we were on the plane.’
Placing his hand on his chest, Khaliq greeted her by bending forward in a courtly manner and said, ‘He is very kind, madam.’ He then escorted the guests to the houseboat Gul.
‘Oh my good old Gul!’ the Raja exclaimed. ‘It looks just the same.’ Then he looked around and said to Narayan Joo, ‘I am happy that Malla Khaliq has not painted his houseboats as other houseboat owners have done.’ He held his wife’s hand and helped her climb up to the veranda. He let out a long sigh and told his wife that he had come over thirty years ago with his father. ‘Much has changed in Kashmir since then,’ he said, ‘but these mountains, these waters of the Dal, and all these rows of houseboats have defied all change. A few boats are covered in paint, of course.’
Malla Khaliq said, ‘But, I beg your pardon, the Dal, too, has changed a lot. Please come in, I think Rani Sahiba is quite tired.’ He kept the curtains to the door of the rounded room held up with his hands until the raja, the rani and Narayan Joo entered the drawing room. Malla Khaliq enthusiastically described every element of his houseboat to Rani Ranthambore. ‘Amazing!’ she exclaimed, seeing the detailing of the wood carvings and ancient carpets. Malla Khaliq felt a sense of pride. He told the rani that craftsmen having such expertize in the art were no more found in Kashmir. He said that the carpets spread in the houseboats had been woven by the master weaver who had also prepared carpets for the royal palace of Sherghari.
They were busy recounting the glories of the past when the two children came running and romped about on the carpets. She tried to stop them, ‘Easy, children, easy!’
‘They’re kids after all!’ said Malla Khaliq. ‘Madam, our houseboats are not made of cheap cardboard.’ The children were fascinated by the carvings on the walls and touched them. They argued with each other whether the designs were made by Haji Uncle himself or someone else. Malla Khaliq loved children. Children were God’s angels until they grew up to cheat. He forgot about the rani and began telling them about the quality of timber and how many artists had collaborated in giving the interiors the finishing touch.
Narayan Joo entered the room to tell Rani Ranthambore, ‘Raja Sahib is waiting for you with your cup of coffee.’ She called the children, ‘Come on, little ones!’ The children enjoyed Malla Khaliq’s stor
ies. They wanted to stay back and talk with Haji Uncle, but their grandmother gently said that they had many more days to spend with Haji Uncle.
Raja Rathinder was examining the file of old letters when his wife entered along with the children. Narayan Joo and Malla Khaliq followed them. The raja said to Malla Khaliq, ‘I hope you will excuse me for having opened this file lying on the writing table without seeking your permission.’
‘Sir, it is kept there for guests to read,’ Malla Khaliq said and then went on to explain how painstakingly he had preserved every ebb and flow of time in that file. The rani, already very impressed with Malla Khaliq’s personality, said to him, ‘Nobody can compete with you in the way you hold conversations with people. I wish you were a poet.’
‘Of course!’ said Narayan Joo in consensus.
Raja Rathinder turned the leaves of the file. Meanwhile Razaq, like a seasoned butler, brought coffee for the guests. He kept the tray on the side table, but the rani said to him, ‘Keep it closer.’ Razaq obeyed and placed the tray on the table in front of her. ‘You may go now.’
Rathinder Singh called the children near him saying, ‘Look at this letter. It was written in 1907. See the date! You know how old this letter is?’
The children assessed the years gone by and said that it was written about eighty years ago. Malla Khaliq told them that Sir Roberts had stayed in that very houseboat in the waters of Nigeen Lake. Rani Ranthambore and the children were amazed and asked how a houseboat could be moved from its position. ‘When a ship, a thousand times bigger than this, can sail from one country to another, why can’t this houseboat move?’
‘Haji Uncle, can you make this houseboat move around the whole lake?’
‘There are motorboats available in the lake for that purpose,’ Malla Khaliq said with a smile. ‘Then there are also numerous shikaarahs adorned like brides. They move about the lake quite freely.’
Being absorbed in the chat, Rani Ranthambore had forgotten about the coffee placed on the table. She lifted the cover from the coffee pot. Malla Khaliq called Razaq in and said, ‘Go and get fresh coffee in this pot. It must have gone cold. The rani said, ‘It is all right. It is still very hot.’ Razaq stood with his head bowed in respect and his two hands crossed near his chest. Malla Khaliq said, ‘You may go now.’ The rani started making coffee and Malla Khaliq and Narayan Joo took leave of them. But Narpaul Singh stood up and said to Malla Khaliq, ‘Wait, Uncle, I will come with you. I want to see the lake.’ While taking the cup from the rani, Raja Rathinder Singh said to him, ‘Sit down. You will be able to see the lake every day now.’ But a child was a child after all; how could he be controlled?
Malla Khaliq took Narpaul Singh to the prow of the houseboat and said, ‘Look, this is our lake. It is called the Dal Lake. The lake that stretches from here to that road is called Lwaokut Dal and Gagribal. The lake beyond this part is called Bod Dal.’
Maya too came dashing to the prow, and was impatient to see how big the lake was. But Malla Khaliq was endowed with a knack of making obstinate children concede. He told them with affectionate assurance that he would take both of them along one of these days on a trip through the Dal and also show them the floating gardens. He talked to them about the milkman and the rush-mat maker of ancient times who froze in a corner of the lake. Narpaul and Maya ran in to narrate all this to their grandfather. Malla Khaliq smiled at Narayan Joo and said, ‘This is called politics. They are happy and with them we are also happy.’
‘But please spare some time tomorrow to take them on a trip,’ Narayan Joo said in reply. ‘Do not woo them just with words, as our politicians do.’
‘Now let’s move. Do not equate your friend Malla Khaliq with the politicians of our time,’ Malla Khaliq said.
Narayan Joo took leave of Malla Khaliq and stood waiting near the ghat for the shikaarah. The boatman turned the boat and Narayan Joo set out for the Boulevard.
The sun was trailing down to the summits of the Apharwat mountain when Malla Khaliq, after having served lunch to Raja Rathinder and his family, was returning to the pantry of the houseboat. He heard the rumbling of a motorboat and turned towards the ghat. Karmakar came out of the motorboat holding a rolled-up carpet in his hands. He asked the boatman to wait and entered the houseboat Gulshan.
Qadir was eating lunch at the time. He left his meal, washed his hands, and quickly entered Gulshan. Even in his hurry, he saw his father who had turned back to see who had come. Malla Khaliq had discerned that something not quite right was afoot, otherwise Qadir would have greeted his father when he passed him. He started ambling towards Gulshan to check, but something held him back.
Inside the houseboat, Jane and Karmakar were arguing. Karmakar had got her the bag of notes, but he was not ready to hand it over to her unless she cleared the outstanding dues. As soon as Qadir came in, he told Karmakar that the police had been seen patrolling the Dal the day before and so they were not able to get the consignment to the houseboat. He convinced Karmakar that it was hidden in a safe place and would be handed over to him the next day. Just then he noticed Noor Mohammad carrying vegetables from the rowboat to the pantry and started speaking to Karmakar in a loud tone, ‘Why are you bringing this carpet after so many days? They are not ready to take it back.’ Karmakar was puzzled by the switch but kept silent. Qadir stood on his toes to peep through the window, and saw that Noor Mohammad had entered the pantry. Heaving a sigh of relief, he said to Jane, ‘Thank God!’ Jane said to Karmakar, ‘If we keep repeating the same old ruse of this folded carpet, we will be suspected soon.’
Karmakar left the bag as well as the carpet there and went away.
Meanwhile, Noor Mohammad called on Malla Khaliq.
‘I heard noises. What is going on?’ asked Khaliq.
‘The farmers are fighting over something,’ said Noor Mohammad. ‘They are about to hack each other for a small patch of land.’
‘Let them chop each other, I don’t care. But using volleys of abuses against each other and creating a ruckus might frighten the tourists away. Come with me – I will resolve this issue once and for all.’
‘Abba, it is not the right time to interfere in their dispute. They are possessed by the Devil. They will not pay any attention to us.’ But Malla Khaliq was not about to listen.
‘All right, you stay back near your mother!’ he said sarcastically, and stepped into the rowboat. Noor Mohammad quietly followed him.
In the back portion of the Dal, there was a swamp, and over fifty people were gathered there. The two warring sides had raised a pandemonium. As soon as Malla Khaliq’s boat approached the swamp, Ghana Batukh saw him. He went running to Swana Hakh. Swana Hakh, being unable to settle the dispute, had raised his spade and was about to hit Muji Dar. ‘Haji Sahib is coming here. Let us entreat him to deliver justice.’ Ghana Batukh was the only brother of Swana Hakh’s wife. Swana Hakh was fuming with rage. He flung his spade away and started shouting. ‘This high-handedness will not be allowed here, everyone follows the principle of “might is right”! I will request a full bench of the five elders. Swana Hakh is a slumbering dragon. Never shall this brother-in-law come to know how I can reduce him to trash along with this stolen patch of land!’ Muji Dar was not one to get scared. All of a sudden he pounced over him. Had the others not intervened, something untoward was sure to have happened.
Meanwhile Malla Khaliq and Noor Mohammad had anchored their boat to the bank and were already on the swamp. Malla Khaliq roared, ‘Aren’t you ashamed of what you are doing? You fight like pimps and call each other names?’
All were struck dumb, except Swana Hakh who was still panting in anger. In one jump he came near Malla Khaliq and said to him, ‘But tell me, Haji Sahib, when one is driven to committing suicide, what else can one do?’
Muji Dar also could not contain himself and said, ‘Hey, listen, Swana Hakh! Your shouting shall not avail you anything. Haji Sahib knows all. He is not a stranger here.’ Swana Hakh also started to swing his arms, but Malla Khaliq sto
pped him. ‘What has come over you? What is the issue?’ This very inquiry stirred a fresh tumult. This agitated Noor Mohammad who was watching the scene from a distance. He managed to silence them when he said, ‘There are so many tourists in the nearby houseboats. What will they think of you? Please sit down and explain the problem to Haji Sahib so that he can come up with a solution.’
‘Yes, he is right. Haji Sahib is not going to be partial in his judgement,’ someone in the crowd said loudly.
Malla Khaliq requested them all to sit down peacefully. The two factions sat facing each other and Malla Khaliq and a couple of elders sat at the centre. ‘Now tell us what happened, but calmly, please,’ he said.
Before Muji Dar could utter a word, Swana Hakh began to shout. ‘Every night this Muji Dar, along with his kith and kin, comes and slots logs and poles into the bottom of the lake to demarcate their territory and usurp long stretches of water from my possession.’
Muji Dar yelled out to clarify his position, ‘Hear oh my God, hear! What false allegations! The truth is that you have already occupied my stretches of lotus-growing mires by dropping boats full of clay into them.’
‘What lotus-growing mires? You yourself filled the waters around your shanty with truckloads of debris and clay and raised so much of land.’
‘But the waters do not belong to you. It was my own area and I did whatever I wanted to do with it.’
‘Yes, it was your father who bequeathed this area to you on paper!’
‘Mind your tongue! If you name my father here again, I will mend your ugly mouth with my shoe!’
Malla Khaliq could no longer be a silent listener. ‘Will you keep quiet or shall I call the police to silence you? First tell me why all of you are after occupying the waters of the lake. If all of you continue filling it up, the lake will turn into a network of sewers. And if this Dal dies, how are we going to live?’
An elderly person sitting beside Malla Khaliq said, ‘But they are never bothered about that. They will lust after land even if all the water disappears.’