by Pran Kishore
Narayan Joo scolded him, ‘Why are you being such a cynic? Ghulam Qadir has left just to seek a livelihood, and here you are, God forbid, declaring him dead! What is wrong with you? If my sister Aziz Dyad comes to know, you know well what would happen to her.’
‘Narayan Joo, Qadir’s inclinations are not virtuous. And you know that the tourist season this year was a dud.’
Narayan Joo too was very anxious about the poor turnout in the tourist season, but he had entrusted all to God. By consoling Malla Khaliq, he in a way, consoled himself. ‘There is still plenty of time, God will set everything right. Go and tell Aziz Dyad what we have come to know about Qadir. Give up this brooding, otherwise she will not believe what I say.’
Zeb sat with Aziz Dyad picking spinach. The moment Malla Khaliq and Narayan Joo entered the room, she picked up the basket of vegetables and was about to go into the inner room, when Narayan Joo stopped her. ‘Sit here, my child. You must also hear the good news.’ Then he turned to Aziz Dyad. ‘Ghulam Qadir was in Delhi and has now left for Bombay in connection with his carpet business. He will stay there for a week or so, then return home.’
Aziz Dyad said to Narayan Joo, ‘I think Vijay Lala is in Bombay; he must have told you about him.’
Narayan Joo was thrown, but he immediately regained his composure and spoke so as to anchor her faith. ‘Of course, he telephoned me.’
‘May my Dastagir bless him! I was restless like a live fish in fire. And this daughter of mine was more worried than I. Thank God, all is well.’
It had been three days since Parveen had returned home. Her presence restored the old joys in the family. Ghulam Ahmed had returned from Pattan and Noor Mohammad, too, along with his wife. But whenever Malla Khaliq was alone, or with his wife, his fear about receiving some bad news from Bombay resurfaced. He cursed himself for lying every day for the sake of his wife.
When anyone asked him why Ghulam Qadir was not around, he would say, ‘He has gone to Bombay to meet some important customer.’ But when his relative Naba Kantroo heard it, he could not digest it. He said, ‘Yes, I believe the customer is really very important. Otherwise why would Ghulam Qadir leave for Bombay without bidding farewell to his only sister?’
Malla Khaliq abhorred Naba Kantroo. The very thought of him made his mouth bitter. He picked up a bottle of water and drank it in one go. Then he heaved a long sigh and stretched himself again. He grazed Aziz Dyad’s body and she turned over to face him. ‘Are you still awake? Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I am all right. I was just feeling thirsty.’
Aziz Dyad turned around and slept. Roving in the wilderness of fears, Malla Khaliq, too, slept.
Early next morning, Malla Khaliq took his boat to the shrine of Makhdoom Sahib after a long time. He ran into Narayan Joo at the temple of Maha Ganesh. As was the custom between them, he slapped Malla Khaliq on his back and said, ‘Good morning! Alhaj Abdul Khaliq Sahib, the lucky man. I am delighted to meet you again here. All our sorrows and aches will get assuaged. I am sure.’
‘I have never given up my trust in my benevolent saint. It was just that I was so caught in the vortex of my anxiety that I could not make it here for some days. Please wait for me near the Devi’s shrine. We can go back together.’
‘That is a good idea.’
‘Did you hear from Vijay Kumar?’
‘Yes, I did. He has not been able to get any information. Today he is going to the Kashmir Arts Emporium in Bombay. The airport people told him that Ghulam Qadir reached six days ago. Vijay traced his telephone number, but the call went unanswered. But don’t worry, Vijay Kumar will find him soon, somehow or the other.’
Narayan Joo, chanting sacred verses, went towards the Maha Ganesh temple ahead of Makhdoom Sahib’s Ziarat at the foot of the Hari Parbat hillock. Malla Khaliq climbed the stairs towards Makhdoom Sahib’s shrine.
At home, Aziz Dyad sat brushing Parveen’s hair. Then she turned Parveen to face her and asked her, ‘All is well here. Tell me honestly if you are happy there. Don’t try to lie.’
‘You tell me, are you happy?’
‘I am very happy.’
‘Then I am also happy.’
‘Leave my happiness aside and tell me if you are happy there or not.’
Parveen held her mother in a tight hug and said, ‘Don’t you see how happy I am?’
‘Stay happy like this, always. May my Peer Dastagir fill your life with joys!’
Parveen cast a loving glance at her mother and asked, ‘But Abba doesn’t seem to be happy. Something’s worrying him.’
‘Since you left for your in-laws, he feels an emptiness in this house. He remains a little despondent. And then you know the tourist season this year hardly brought us any business, all three boats are lying empty.’
‘Has Ghulam Qadir really left for Bombay to sell carpets or—?’
‘The carpet business that he started last year seems to be taking off. That’s why he had to leave for Bombay in such a hurry.’
‘This too might be a cause for Abba’s worries.’
‘Yes, in a sense.’
‘You get some rest here and I will go see Zeb in her room.’
‘But make sure to return soon, for your father must be on his way back.’
Parveen left for the willow groves behind the house. She reached Razaq’s shed. The door was locked, but the window was ajar. She stood up on her toes, bent forward and looked in. There was darkness inside. The trunk too was empty. She heaved a deep sigh and ambled through the willow groves towards the rear swamps where she would find the remains of her stifled desires. She stopped and looked all around. Everything was the same. She spotted the old carry-boat that belonged to the vegetable vendors. She moved closer to the water. One of the steps on the ghat had caved in. She slipped, but caught hold of a willow branch just in time. Just then, she saw the doll that she had given Razaq lying in the mud. She felt an iron grip clench her heart. Holding on to the willow branch, she bent forward and picked up the castaway doll. She sat on the ghat and washed the doll. She wiped it with her headscarf and held it close to her cheek; her eyes filled with tears. She murmured, ‘So he did not know your value either?
Zeb’s call brought her back to reality.
‘What are you doing here all alone?’
Parveen started and hid the doll in the side pocket of her phiran.
‘I know what you are searching for.’
She held Parveen’s hand and said, ‘Forget everything that once happened here. He was a sensitive and sensible guy and, as such, bearing the secret, left this house.’
Parveen looked agape at her sister-in-law. ‘But I heard Abba saying that he has gone on vacation!’
‘What else would he say? Razaq left in the middle of the night without giving notice. He did not even ask for his six months’ salary. He tidied the whole house after your departure, and then left.’
‘Who knows where he has gone!’
‘All this was a dream, and I advise that you forget it all; you will otherwise lose yourself in a maze. Let’s go. Abba must have returned from Makhdoom Sahib.’
Parveen felt gripped by a wild despair. Zeb stopped and turned to her. ‘Wipe your tears. Look at me. I too had entrusted my fate in the hands of your brother, but all men are made of the same substance. They are always perfidious in love. Who knows who my rival is and how she ensnared him? And in comparison to me, you are fortunate. Forget him and repay the love of your husband.’
Parveen seemed to be listening to Zeb, but inwardly she was still trying to understand why Razaq had discarded the doll in that manner. Did he abhor me to that extent? she thought.
Malla Khaliq had returned from Makhdoom Sahib. Aziz Dyad asked him, ‘Did you meet Narayan Joo?’ When Malla Khaliq told her that Narayan Joo had assured him that his son Vijay Kumar was doing whatever he could to trace Qadir, she was somewhat calmed. Squatting near the window, he saw Zeb and Parveen outside the kitchen. He entreated his wife to remain calm. He had three cups of
tea and then went out to the isle. Qadir’s child Bilal caught sight of his grandfather and capered to him. ‘See, I haven’t plucked any flowers today.’
Malla Khaliq was overwhelmed by love and he took the child in his arms, kissed his cheeks and said to him, ‘Not only today, but you should never pluck any flowers ever.’
‘Then why do you cut so many flowers for the vases?’
The innocent question left Malla Khaliq speechless. Then he said, ‘You little imp! Who can win against you!’
‘Papa. He steps into the boat in one leap.’
Malla Khaliq felt his heart sink. He sighed and thought to himself, ‘Those very leaps of his have ruined our peace.’
‘Why are you silent now? Why do you cull flowers for the vases?’
‘I cull only those flowers that are about to wither.’
‘What is “wither”?’
‘I mean flowers that are about to shed their petals.’
‘But Mummy says plucking a flower is a sin.’
‘True. It is a big sin.’
Holding the child in his arms, Malla Khaliq sat down. Just then, he caught sight of Ghulam Ahmed rowing towards the ghat. Bilal also saw him. He went romping towards the ghat yelling, ‘Ama Toth is home, Ama Toth is home!’
Malla Khaliq’s left eye started twitching. Ghulam Ahmed was not alone, his wife Zoon was with him.
Ghulam Ahmed asked the boatman to stop the boat. He and Zoon climbed up the steps and addressing Razaq’s replacement he said, ‘Subhana, will you please pass that attaché case to me?’
‘All well? Why have you returned just within four days?’ Malla Khaliq hastened to ask him.
Ghulam Ahmed placed the attaché case on the ground, and took the child in his arms. ‘Yes, all is well, Abba. There was hardly anything to do there. I managed to load all the consignments of the fruit in the trucks, and settled the accounts with the broker who left for Delhi. I thought you might be feeling lonely here.’
Malla Khaliq laid his hand on Ghulam Ahmed’s shoulder and said, ‘I was just worried if everything was all right.’
Ghulam Ahmed kissed Bilal’s forehead. ‘Here, I brought some toffees for you.’
Bilal took the toffees and gave one to his grandfather. Then he stretched his little arms towards him. Malla Khaliq took him in his arms again, and Ghulam Ahmed lifted the attaché case and went into his room.
Bilal cast a piteous look at him and then turned to his grandfather again. ‘When will my Papa be back, Abba?’
The question lacerated Malla Khaliq’s heart. ‘Yes, dear, he will be home soon.’
Fetching the hookah, Ghulam Ahmed said to Zoon, ‘It would have been better if you had stayed back at your parents’ house until I returned from Bombay. You could have also kept a watch over your darling son.’
Zoon, who never agreed with her husband, gave him a pat reply, ‘You may be able to con other women, but not me. Abba is all alone here, and Amma is also starting to feel lonely here. Yet you advise me to relax and enjoy myself at my parents’ house! You are going to Bombay to make money!’
Ghulam Ahmed pushed the hookah aside. ‘Will you please lower your voice? If anybody comes to know that the business went bust, we will be ridiculed.’
‘Then why are you being so stupid? I am quite happy staying here. You may go wherever you want to, but don’t leave without informing Abba, like Qadir did. So far as your son is concerned, he is being held as mortgage by my father. As long as you owe him money, you don’t have any right over him.’
Zoon was seething with rage because she knew that despite so much toil, Ghulam Ahmed could not earn anything over his daily wages and money for the bus fare; the broker had appropriated the profit. Having left over ten boxes of apples for Ghulam Ahmed, he had silently left the valley. The ten thousand rupees that he had given his father for Parveen’s wedding was all the money he had. In addition to that he had entrusted over twenty thousand rupees to Zoon so that she could repay some part of the loan from his father-in-law. Zoon was angry again. ‘Now why are you suddenly so silent? You won’t gain anything by puffing the hookah with an empty tobacco pot. Think about what you will tell Abba.’ Ghulam Ahmed did not want to annoy Zoon. He said ruefully, ‘My wits fail me. Please tell me what I should tell Abba.’
Zoon entered the inner chamber, and took out twenty thousand rupees which the broker had given her husband to repay the debt to her father. She flung the bundle of notes at Ghulam Ahmed saying, ‘Now go and give this money to Abba so that he is convinced that you too are not a fake coin. Then you talk about Qadir. You can later on tell him about Abdullah Shah’s trip to Bombay.’
‘And how will I pay your father?’
‘We will think about that later. You better not come back from Bombay empty handed.’
‘Who knows if I will earn anything there! Maybe I should borrow some money from Abdullah Shah.’
‘Why borrow from him? You could claim some advance. Why should you undertake so much trouble for nothing?’
‘Yes, I appreciate your wisdom. I will have a word with him tomorrow. Today let me make my Abba happy.’
Having decided all this, Zoon went to Aziz Dyad. Ghulam Ahmed also deemed it proper to sit for a while with his mother and find some occasion to talk about his going to Bombay. He, then, entered his houseboat and started dusting the cushions placed on the porch while waiting for his father to come.
In a short while, he sighted his father’s trip-boat. He dropped a pillow on the steps of the houseboat so that Malla Khaliq would observe it and feel happy that he was tidying the houseboats. When the trip-boat touched the shore, Subhan hurried and pulled the prow of the boat to the ghat. Bilal came out of the boat and ran on the isle with a pinwheel in his hand. He ran into the kitchen to show it to his grandmother.
But Malla Khaliq was worried about what he had heard at Abdullah Shah’s shop. He sat down and started gazing at the lake. Ghulam Ahmed sat close to him and started talking about Ghulam Qadir. ‘Abdullah Shah’s munshi told me that Ghulam Qadir went from Delhi to Bombay. Shah met one of Gul Beg’s agents.’
Malla Khaliq cast a penetrating glance at him. ‘And when are you planning to leave?’
This caught Ghulam Ahmed by surprise. He stammered, ‘Me? I have to go to Delhi only for a couple of days.’
‘And then from Delhi to Bombay. Abdullah Shah told me everything.’
Ghulam Ahmed tried to explain, but Malla Khaliq left him speechless, saying, ‘Don’t try to sprinkle salt on my open wounds by giving me false explanations. When will you give up this craft of duping people? How dare you tell Abdullah Shah that you have already sought my permission?’
‘Abba, I never told him I have your permission. On the contrary, I told him that I will have to seek your permission. You know Abdullah Shah well.’
‘And don’t you know him? You know pretty well that he is a crafty cheater, and yet you decided to partner with him!’
‘No one can cheat me. We have agreed that he will pay me twenty-five per cent of the total commission. I will take my share after every sale of carpets. He will bear all the investment. My job is only to carry the carpets to the exporters in Bombay. Didn’t he tell you that?’
Abdullah Shah had tried to entice Malla Khaliq many times before and, having sowed the seed of doubt, he did not deem it proper to lengthen the argument. Feeling that the time was opportune, Ghulam Ahmed took out the bundle of twenty thousand rupees and offered it to his father. But Malla Khaliq cast a furious look at him and said, ‘You are trying to bribe me so that I remain quiet, aren’t you?’
‘No, Abba, this was my share of the profits lying with the broker. I have not given my consent to Abdullah Shah yet and if you don’t allow me, I will not go to Bombay. I thought that since the apple season is over and there is hardly anything to do at home, it would be better if I worked for Abdullah Shah to make some more money.’
Ghulam Ahmed held his father’s hands and gave him the money. In a broken voice, he started implori
ng him, ‘Abba, take this money. It is of course a small amount, but it is honest money nevertheless. I am not a rogue.’
Malla Khaliq melted a little. Placing his hand on Ahmed’s head, he said, ‘Give it to Zoon. Let us see what we can do after you return from Bombay.’
‘No, Abba, I have reserved some for my expenses.’
Caressing his son’s head, Malla Khaliq rose. The money fell on the ground. He bent down, lifted the money and put it into Ghulam Ahmed’s pocket. ‘You have earned some honest money, and that by itself is a treasure for me.’
Ghulam Ahmed’s eyes watered and he stared at his father’s face with guilt bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Malla Khaliq mistook this for sadness at his refusal to take the money. He put his hand into his son’s pocket, took out a hundred-rupee note and put it into his own pocket. ‘I will accept this much and think that I spent all your money on this household.’ Having said this, he started climbing down from the prow. Ghulam Ahmed gathered courage and said, ‘So may I leave, Abba?’
Without looking back, Malla Khaliq replied, ‘You all may go wherever you want.’
Parveen went back to her in-laws’ house. When the cook and the tent-man did not bring their bills to settle expenses, Malla Khaliq grew anxious. He sent the money to them through Noor Mohammad, but they told him that Ghulam Ahmed had cleared their bills. When Malla Khaliq came to know about this, he called for Ghulam Ahmed. Before he could rebuke him, Ghulam Ahmed sought his forgiveness, saying, ‘Why am I alone considered so worthless? Am I not obliged to do a little bit for the house? If I have done something wrong, you may kill me.’ Malla Khaliq put his hand on Ahmed’s mouth, and said, ‘May God always keep you this responsible!’