by Pran Kishore
‘But he is not indulging in drug smuggling. You are housing baseless forebodings in your mind that will just upset you. Come on. Let us move faster, it will be late otherwise.’
In the houseboat, Qadir and Jane were very agitated. They had concealed the consignment in the deserted hut at the rear end of the Dal Lake. Extremely nervous, Jane insisted that Qadir take the hidden consignment to the hideaway of the hippies. She told him that if they did not do so, that aged hippie was sure to reach there. Qadir tried to assuage Jane’s fears. ‘We will take a secret route to the ruined hut.’ Having pacified Jane, he went to his own room. He had to pass Ghulam Ahmed’s room, and as he did, he could hear Zoon’s laughter. He halted to eavesdrop so he could know whether she told her husband something about him. This thorn of suspicion was constantly pricking him since that dreadful night when Zeb had lamented on her bad luck. After halting a little, he sneaked towards his room.
Zoon stopped laughing and told her husband, ‘Come on, you too might be running after other women and here you try to make me trust your saying that you never hide anything from me.’
Ghulam Ahmed said to cajole her, ‘Look, I swear by God that I reveal every secret to you.’
‘Then tell me where you are planning to go today, and do not fib.’
Ghulam Ahmed knew he had run out of excuses. He said, ‘I’m not going to the airport, I am in fact going to Pattan. There is a large apple orchard available to me on contract. In case I succeed in this deal, we will be relieved of this penury. But, please do not divulge this information to anyone, not even Abba. He is already irked over last year’s contract.’
‘All right, you are free to do whatever you deem feasible. But please do not ask me to seek money from my father.’
Holding her chin in his fingers, Ghulam Ahmed turned her face towards him and said, ‘You always say so, but later on you do what I request you. You know I do not need his money for myself alone. I am not striving for any selfish ends. And this time, I do not need a huge amount.’ In order to reassure Zoon, he told her that a broker in the apple trade would help him out financially. All this persuasion could not convince Zoon, but Ghulam Ahmed was stubborn. After a short pause, he said to Zoon, ‘You know, there are people who run several jobs simultaneously. That is the only secret of their being millionaires. I request you to plead my case to your father, just for once, and then see how I make you rich.’ He bent forward to hug her.
‘Do not pester me. Leave my hand! Oh God! See, Abba is coming this way.’
Ghulam Ahmed let her go. On reaching the inner room, Zoon giggled and said, ‘Abba is yet to return from Makhdoom Sahib’s shrine.’ Ghulam Ahmed felt assured that she would certainly plead his case to her father.
Reclining on an armchair on the deck of the houseboat, Rani Ranthambore was engrossed in a book. She heard some conversation going on out on the isle below. She could also hear the chatter of the children. She stood up and looking down saw Narayan Joo welcoming another tourist. He was a tall and handsome young man. His wife seemed to be in her early thirties. He had two sons, one Narpaul’s age and the other one younger than him. Narayan Joo shook hands with them and said, ‘All right, Bhonsley Sahib, I shall now go and see Raja Sahib. You are now in the safe hands of Haji Sahib.’
‘Say that we are in safe custody,’ said Bhonsley, with a smile at Malla Khaliq.
Placing his right hand on his chest, Malla Khaliq bowed his head and said, ‘Yes, on my head and in my eyes!’ He escorted the family to his houseboat Gulfam, asking Razaq to carry their baggage.
Rani Ranthambore returned to her armchair and thought, so this is Sudesh Bhonsley, the narcotic controller of Bombay whom Malla Khaliq had been talking about.
Narpaul came walking with loud steps up the wooden stairs of the houseboat. He held his grandmother’s hand. ‘Please ask Haji Sahib to take us on a trip.’ He compelled her to leave her chair and climb down the stairs. In the drawing room, Narayan Joo was standing and talking to Rathinder Singh. Rathinder was telling him that he had to stay in Delhi for about two weeks and there would be no trouble getting a connecting flight. Narayan Joo collected the tickets. While he was checking the tickets, the rani entered with her grandson. With his hands folded, Narayan Joo greeted to the rani and sought leave of Raja Rathinder Singh who accompanied him to the exit. ‘Please keep sitting – this embarrasses me,’ said Narayan Joo. He came down and stepped into the trip-boat waiting for him.
Malla Khaliq asked him, ‘So you are leaving—?’
‘Yes. I have to go to the airport again.’
The trip-boat was leaving and Narayan Joo said to Malla Khaliq, rather loudly, ‘Be careful, all right?’
‘Yes, I have to be,’ said Malla Khaliq in reply.
In the meantime, Narpaul had brought his grandmother to the doorstep. ‘Look, my child, there is your Haji Uncle. Why don’t you just call him?’ Then turning to Malla Khaliq, Rani Ranthambore said, ‘Haji Sahib, you have pampered him. Haji Uncle’s name is always on the tip of his tongue.’
Malla Khaliq laid a compassionate hand on the boy’s head and said, ‘I did not know that I had grown so popular.’
Narpaul released his grandma’s hand and held Malla Khaliq’s hand instead. ‘Haji Uncle, I can’t wait any longer. You take out the little boat now and take us for a boat trip.’
Malla Khaliq somehow succeeded in convincing the child that he would surely take them on a trip after lunch.
Raja Rathinder was enjoying watching their argument. Narpaul ran off to convey this good news to his sister. Raja Rathinder congratulated Malla Khaliq on his third houseboat being also occupied now. ‘It is all because of your prayers, and God’s grace,’ Malla Khaliq said and then told Raja Rathinder that Sudesh Bhonsley was a close friend of Narayan Joo’s son and an upright officer. He further told him that he was to stay there just for a week.
‘I will be glad to meet Mr Bhonsley.’
‘But sir, they have already scheduled a trip to Gulmarg tomorrow and Pahalgam the day after.’
‘Then it will not be possible to see him because I am leaving for Delhi the day after tomorrow.’
‘Sir, Mr Bhonsley also desires to see you, and has already arranged for a joint dinner.’
‘That will be great.’
Qadir had called for his boatman and had asked him to get his trip-boat there in the afternoon. Jane and Qadir knew that everyone would have a snooze after lunch and it would be easy for them to go to the ruined hut to retrieve their hidden consignment and take it to the hippies.
When there was complete silence, Qadir calmly came out of his room, closed the door quietly behind him, and moved to his houseboat by the rear side of the isle. Holding Bilal to her chest, Zeb was fast asleep in the room.
Razaq too was in his shed. He was not accustomed to sleeping during the daytime as he used his leisure time to study. He had left school when he was in the tenth standard, but wanted to complete his matriculation, continue with his studies and become an executive officer. Through the crevices of his shed, he noticed a shadow moving. Book in hand, he stood up and peeped through a crevice. Qadir was moving like a thief towards the rear prow of the houseboat. Had it been someone other than Qadir, he would have certainly gone out and stopped him. But it was Qadir and he was scared of him. Qadir managed to get Jane out from the hind window of the pantry. The boatman was waiting there. Both sat in the boat. He saw Jane bearing a brown bag. The boatman pushed the side of the houseboat with his oar and the boat glided in the water like a dart. Razaq continued watching them till they were out of sight. Then he returned to his place and started reading the book again. The words on the page, however, seemed to be running after each other. He placed the book aside and lay down to relax. He tried to make out why they had left the scene like thieves.
When it was four o’clock, Narpaul woke his sister up. The two hastily readied themselves and went to their grandparents’ room. After seeking their permission, the two kids jumped from the prow of the houseboat to
the isle. ‘You just stay here,’ said Narpaul. ‘I will go get Haji Uncle.’
‘I am already here!’ Malla Khaliq called out.
‘Oh Haji Uncle, you’re great!’ Narpaul ran towards him.
Malla Khaliq was accompanied by Qadir’s son Bilal. The raja’s granddaughter, Maya, went and held his hand in friendship. ‘Let’s take him along.’
‘Sure!’ said Malla Khaliq. He took Bilal in his arms and started going to the ghat. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’ Malla Khaliq was not quite comfortable in Hindi or Urdu. Having had a regular association with European tourists right from his childhood, he had a workable knowledge of written and spoken English. He could use this little knowledge of the language for managing his business. He made the three children sit in the boat and rowed it towards Gagribal. Sitting at the deck of the houseboat, Rani Ranthambore fondly watched her grandchildren. The two children, with their hands raised, waved to her till she was out of their sight.
The boat passed behind the houseboats and reached the point of the rear Dal, where the vegetable growers had had an altercation with Malla Khaliq a few days ago. There was a mob at that place again. All of them were busy unloading clay from their boats and were in such haste filling the lake as if their life depended on it. Malla Khaliq slowed his boat and when Rahim Wangun saw him, he greeted him, ‘As-salaam-alaikum, Haji Sahib! You got angry with us for nothing.’
‘You were taking the recourse of calling a full punchaath! Did you resolve your dispute?’
‘Now please forget about the punchaath and the court. We finally reached an agreement that we shall fill up this available stretch of the lake, make it a piece of land and then distribute the land among ourselves.’
On hearing this, Malla Khaliq was aflame with rage. He thrust his oar into the water and said to them, ‘Yes, go on filling up the womb of our mother with clay. Go on and then watch how she shall become sterile, and we all shall die of hunger.’
Ghana Batukh gave him a sarcastic reply. ‘What fears you harbour in your brain, Haji Sahib! This lake can last for at least ten generations, I am sure. Your apprehension is baseless!’ All of them burst into laughter. ‘Now move your hands faster,’ he said to his men.
Speeding up his rowing, Malla Khaliq left the spot, but told Ghana Batukh, ‘Go on filling up. A stay order from the court will put an end to your nefarious activities.’
Malla Khaliq took out his wrath on the waters of the Dal by striking his oar harder. The children in the boat were a little frightened. He looked towards them, produced a smile on his face, and said, ‘Now we are about to enter the larger lake.’ He tried to divert their attention from those rude vegetable growers to the plentiful flowers that had bloomed all around the mansion on the Kotarkhana isle. Narpaul asked Malla Khaliq, ‘Are these guys going to fill up the whole of this lake?’
Malla Khaliq looked around and with a deep sigh said to him, ‘Yes, my son. It seems so.’ Maya was fascinated by the ripples in the lake. She saw how tiny fish frolicked through the weeds. Their bodies shimmered in the rays of the sun. All this seemed to be a dream to her. She turned to her brother when he posed another question to Malla Khaliq: ‘Then shall this lake grow dry?’ Without giving him a reply, Malla Khaliq turned his head away. Maya trembled with fear and said, ‘Then all the little fish living in its waters will die!’ On hearing these innocent words from the little girl, Malla Khaliq’s eyes watered.
Malla Khaliq’s boat was now passing through the larger Dal. Narpaul was keenly watching the bottom of the lake. After a while, he raised his head and asked Malla Khaliq, ‘Haji Uncle, is this lake yours?’
Malla Khaliq was back in the world of the little children. ‘Of course!’
In the meantime, the boy was lost in his own world. He had learnt from his grandfather that there were several springs in the bottom of the lake which always kept it replete with water. He had also learnt from him that there were numerous springs in Kashmir, and many fairy tales were associated with each of these springs. Narpaul was curious and asked him, ‘Who is the owner of the springs that are in the bottom of the Dal?’
‘The springs too are mine!’ said Malla Khaliq.
‘And the fairies which live in those springs?’
‘They belong to you.’
‘No, not all of them are mine. Only the princess of those fairies belongs to me.’
Malla Khaliq burst into laughter. The feuds of the vegetable growers, the sickness of the Dal, the loan from the bank, Qadir’s recklessness – all these worries vanished from his mind. He moved his hand softly over Bilal’s golden hair as he lay quietly in his lap. He looked up at the sky. It seemed as if the sun was playing hide-and-seek in the trailing clouds. He was thankful to God that man’s hands could not reach the sky or it too would have been ravaged.
Maya was engrossed in the waning and waxing of the reflection of the Zabarwan mountains in the waters of the lake. Narpaul, however, was expecting some sudden miracle to happen. He was rather bored with water all around him. Malla Khaliq had promised he would show them the spot where the milkman and the rush-mat maker lay. When he felt they had been on the lake for a long time, he said to Malla Khaliq, ‘We have traversed so much of the lake, but the milkman and the rush-mat maker are nowhere to be seen.’
Malla Khaliq had in fact forgotten his promise. ‘Sorry,’ he said and turned the boat round.
Qadir knew that the police had intensified the campaign against the drug smugglers and hashish suppliers. He did not go directly to the deserted hut where the consignment of drugs was hidden. He took a long diversion by going to Navapore through the route of Rainawari. For the first time, Jane was feeling quite jittery. On reaching the destination, Qadir helped her out of the boat.
In the meantime, Malla Khaliq turned his boat into the very same swamp to show the kids the corner where the milkman and the rush-mat maker had changed into stone. While entering the ruined hut, Qadir noticed the distant boat moving closer. He pushed Jane towards the ruined hut. Jane, completely flabbergasted, asked Qadir, ‘What happened?’ But Qadir stood dumb, the only thing he could utter was ‘Haji Sahib!’ and with this, he pointed towards the boat that was advancing towards the swamp.
Narpaul, who was looking at the nests of birds in the thick rushes and bushes, suddenly exclaimed, ‘Haji Uncle, Haji Uncle! Look there. The Mem living in your houseboat is there!’
Malla Khaliq could not discern anything except a vague figure that disappeared within a second into the ruined hut. All the purlieus of the Dal were enveloped in silence, and the sun was about to set. The din of croaking frogs gradually increased. Narpaul and Maya shrank in fear. Malla Khaliq started rowing faster, but the children said, ‘No, Uncle, no. We won’t go there. It looks like a place haunted by ghosts.’ Malla Khaliq stopped rowing ahead.
Qadir was trembling with fear. He had hidden his boat on the other side of the swamp. There was no chance of coming out of the hut to go to the boat. The door of the ruined hut was distinctly visible from the spot where Malla Khaliq had stopped his boat. Jane had fished her binoculars out of her bag, and through a crevice, kept a watch on Malla Khaliq. Qadir came panting near her, snatched the binoculars from her hands and looked out. He saw Malla Khaliq in the stationary boat, looking towards the swamp.
On the boat, meanwhile, Narpaul crept silently near Malla Khaliq, and said, ‘Haji Uncle, why don’t you move the boat? We are very scared.’ Maya started sobbing.
Malla Khaliq consoled the children and started rowing in the watercourse that was to his left.
When Qadir noticed his father’s boat moving in the opposite direction, he and Jane ran and retrieved their precious drugs and put them into a large bag. As soon as they sat in the boat, a boat loaded with vegetables appeared amidst the thicket of rushes. The vegetable vendor looked at the Mem and greeted her loudly. Qadir was flummoxed when the boatman asked him, ‘What made you come this way?’ He could hardly maintain his composure and said in reply, ‘I don’t know what this brainless Mem found so c
harming in this deserted place that she wants to take photos of.’
Jane understood the word ‘photo’ and at once revealed her camera and said to the vegetable vendor, ‘Just wait, man!’
Qadir said to the vegetable vendor, ‘She requests you to stay in the same posture so that she may take your photo.’
This annoyed the vendor a little and he said, ‘Lo, I know that much English.’ Then he stared at Jane and in order to prove that he understood English, said to Qadir, ‘Wait.’ He combed his dishevelled hair and looked at her. ‘Yes – now.’
When Jane focused her camera at him, the vegetable vendor stopped her again and said, ‘How much will you pay me for the photo?’
Qadir angrily said to him, ‘Listen, she is not here for shooting any film. I don’t know what charm she sees in your face anyway.’
Jane wanted to get rid of the boring rascal and having clicked a photograph, she said to Qadir, ‘Let’s go!’
But the vegetable vendor moved his boat nearer, ‘First my bakhshish! Me Ramzana understand! Film people give me bakhshish then leave.’
Jane took out a fifty-rupee note from her pocket and handed it over to Qadir. ‘Give it to him.’ Qadir stretched out his hand and gave it to the vegetable vendor. He tried to bargain, but Qadir lost his temper. He raised his hand to slap him. ‘Will you move or should I bury you here along with your boat?’
‘I’m leaving now! Don’t lose your temper!’ the boatman said and rowed his boat away. He knew that this son of Malla Khaliq was very hot-headed. But while leaving, he looked back saying, ‘Memsahib, send me a copy of the photograph to his address.’
Qadir said in return, ‘She will surely send you a copy of the photo, and that too in a frame.’
Their boatman asked Qadir, ‘Which way should I row now?’
‘First you go straight to Gagribal, and then to the houseboat Gulshan.’
Jane understood Qadir’s plan, but after a while told him that George might be waiting for them. But Qadir convinced her that it would be better for them to reach home before it was dark. It was possible that Malla Khaliq had noticed them there, or he might suspect them. If they were too late, he would certainly make a thorough inquiry.