Gul Gulshan Gulfam

by Pran Kishore

  Zeb remembered how Qadir returned with a pile of morels in his shirt. ‘This is called a real surprise. See how many morels I have collected. Where have you kept the ones you collected?’

  Zeb showed him the four morels she had found. Qadir let out a big laugh and said, ‘Only these few! Shame!’ Zeb cribbed. ‘Only these few were here, and what is there to laugh about? How did you find so many?’

  ‘You know I am dark while you are milky white. It is said that morels are found only by people with a dark complexion.’

  ‘What do the dark complexioned ones find then?’

  ‘Nothing but fair complexion!’ Saying this, Qadir held her in a tight hug.

  Swimming in the memories of her past, Zeb felt her heart was wrenched; a torrent of tears poured forth from her eyes.

  Malla Khaliq put the bag of morels in his attaché case. Qadir might begin loving Zeb afresh when he saw the morels. Noor Mohammad came very early to see his father. He said, ‘Abdullah Shah has come to see you.’

  ‘How did he pop up from the swamp so early in the morning? You should have told him that I am not free.’

  ‘Abba, maybe we shouldn’t avoid him. Perhaps he has come to know that you are not keeping well and are going to Bombay.’

  Malla Khaliq went to houseboat Gulshan. Abdullah Shah was waiting for him in the drawing room. Abdullah Shah, who was known for his arrogance, stood up courteously, shook hands with him and then sat across from him. ‘I came to know that you are not keeping well and are going to Bombay with Narayan Joo for treatment.’

  ‘Yes, the Doctor Sahib is insisting I go there. You know winter has set in earlier than usual. This breathlessness is not leaving me.’

  ‘Yes, it’s true. All ailments get a new lease of life as it gets colder. I thought you might stay there for quite some time, and so came to see you before your departure.’

  ‘But so early on such a frosty morning!’

  ‘I was told that your flight leaves before noon. And I also have a small request. I have to send some carpets to Ghulam Ahmed. Since you are going there, I thought I could book the consignment in your name so that Ghulam Ahmed receives them well in time.’

  Malla Khaliq was enraged to hear this, but repressing his anger, said, ‘As you know Shah Sahib, I am indisposed. How can I take this responsibility? Whatever business is between you and Ghulam Ahmed is known only to God and you both. Besides, I hardly know where he stays in Bombay. I beg your pardon, I am not ready to shoulder this added responsibility.’

  ‘There is nothing fishy in it, I assure you. If you—’

  ‘I told you that I am not well. You may send it as you always send across such things.’ Malla Khaliq did not let him complete his sentence. Then he called out to Noor Mohmmad, ‘Please bring a cup of tea for Shah Sahib.’

  Abdullah Shah stood up abruptly and said, ‘No, so kind of you. I don’t have much time. I thought … All right, there are many other ways to send the consignment. As-salaam-alaikum!’ He stormed out, fuming.

  Malla Khaliq said, ‘I told you that I did not want to see this evil person so early in the morning. See his gall! He thinks I am his father’s porter that I should carry his load of carpets through the markets of Bombay!’

  Aziz Dyad, Mukhta, Nisar Ahmed, Bilal – all of them were on the isle, waiting for Malla Khaliq. Subhan had already put his luggage in the boat. Aziz Dyad kept gazing at her husband, but he had no courage to look towards her. Bilal came running. ‘Are you going to Bombay to meet my father? I will also go with you.’ Malla Khaliq took the child in his arms, hugged and kissed him. ‘You know you will start going to school soon. Let me go. I will be back soon. Once I return from Bombay, I will take you to school every day.’

  Zeb came and took the child away from Malla Khaliq’s arms and said, ‘Abba will be back soon. He will get you many toys – motor, scooter, motorboat, everything.’

  ‘And Daddy?’

  ‘And Daddy, too,’ Malla Khaliq said.

  Noor Mohammad thought this farewell might become very emotional, so he told his mother, ‘Now you should let Abba leave. We also have to pick up Lala Sahib on the way to the airport.’

  Nisar Ahmed took his grandfather’s hand and led him to the ghat. All of them followed him. Nisar Ahmed and Noor Mohammad sat beside Malla Khaliq in the boat. When the boat started moving, tears trickled down from Malla Khaliq’s eyes. He kept gazing at his wife until his houseboats were out of sight.

  From Delhi, Narayan Joo and Malla Khaliq took the evening train to Bombay. On their arrival at Victoria Terminus, they met Vijay Kumar who, along with his little son Vishal, was waiting for them.

  Vijay Kumar said to his father, ‘Let us move, otherwise we will lose track of the coolie.’

  There was a huge crowd at the station. Malla Khaliq had seen Bombay railway station eighteen years ago while on his way to haj along with Aziz Dyad.

  ‘There weren’t so many people when I first came here,’ Malla Khaliq said.

  ‘Haji Sahib, eighteen years have gone by since then. Please take care of your pockets,’ Narayan Joo said as they both hastened to follow Vijay Kumar.

  While proceeding to Bandra, in the car, Malla Khaliq was growing impatient to know what Mr Bhonsley had told Vijay Kumar. Narayan Joo placed his hand affectionately on Malla Khaliq’s shoulder and, in order to divert his attention, said to him, ‘Haji Sahib, do you see how the world has transformed?’

  ‘Yes, I see. This is the world of dreams which lures our new generation.’ Vijay Kumar, who was driving, heard, looked back and said to him, ‘If man does not have dreams to chase, how will the world move ahead?’

  ‘Yes, that is true, but one must have the wisdom and courage to realize his dreams,’ said Malla Khaliq.

  ‘Uncle, you are absolutely right.’

  In Vijay Kumar’s flat, Malla Khaliq went near the window and looked out. He saw the ocean spreading as far as the eye could see. The evening sun was ready to go deep into the waters, making the water crimson red. Narayan Joo laid a hand on his shoulder and said, ‘Haji Sahib, what are you thinking about?’

  ‘I was watching the setting sun lighting the ocean aflame. I have been living on water all my life, and yet, God knows why, this vast expanse of water scares me.’

  ‘This flat is on the twentieth floor, and looking down from such a height makes one nervous.’

  ‘No. Seeing this fiery crimson of the sun makes me fear that I have to face something worse soon.’

  Narayan Joo, trying to calm him down, said, ‘But you have always loved watching the sun setting rather than the rising sun!’

  ‘But not in this manner. God usually turns the waters of our Dal Lake a beautiful gold, not a fiery red like this. It seems ominous.’

  ‘This is the colour of fire, which burns all impurities to ashes.’

  ‘Panditji, this profound philosophy of yours is beyond my reach.’

  ‘The secret of our destiny is known only to the One who has given us this life and breath.’

  Just then, Vijaya, Vijay Kumar’s wife, came to tell them that their tea was getting cold.

  Then he turned to his father and said, ‘ When I met Bhonsley Sahib today, he said he had interrogated Ghulam Qadir separately. Thanks to Mother Sharika, the all-knowing goddess, Ghulam Qadir has told them the truth.’

  Malla Khaliq felt like his throat was parched dry. His heart pounded in his chest and his brain was being hammered. He closed his eyes like a criminal who hears his death sentence with his own ears.

  Vijay Kumar understood his pain, and very briefly told them all that had happened during Ghulam Qadir’s interrogation. ‘Mr Bhonsley has directed his staff to release Ghulam Qadir on two grounds: first, no hashish was found in his possession; it was the notorious smuggler Karmakar who was trying to operate through him; secondly, he has revealed incriminating information about the chain of smugglers. The police succeeded in apprehending the whole gang of smugglers.’

  On hearing this, both Narayan Joo and Malla Khaliq he
aved a sigh of relief. Narayan Joo held his friend’s hands and said, ‘Do you see, Haji Sahib, how your prayers are working?’

  Vijay Kumar said, ‘Daddy is right, Uncle. Bhonsley Sahib told me that he handled the case personally because Ghulam Qadir is the son of Haji Abdul Khaliq. Such cases are otherwise taken care of by his subordinates. If the case had been assigned to any of them, they would have not released him this easily.’

  Malla Khaliq was drenched in sweat. He could not muster the courage to meet Vijay Kumar’s eyes. ‘But this wicked son of mine had secret connections with Karmakar right from Srinagar!’

  Narayan Joo got irritated and stood up. ‘You may go broadcast it throughout Bombay that your son is not innocent, and he is a hardened criminal! You are of course Raja Harishchandra of our time!’

  Vijay Kumar made his father sit down and sat beside Malla Khaliq. ‘I told you that Ghulam Qadir has told Mr Bhonsley everything. Mr Bhonsley is helping him because he said the truth.’

  Cutting their conversation short, Narayan Joo asked him, ‘When are they going to set him free?’

  ‘Bhonsley Sahib will tell me that by tomorrow.’

  Narayan Joo held Malla Khaliq’s arm again and said, ‘Come, let us phone my sister; she must be waiting impatiently for your call. Now get up. I hope God has finally set Ghulam Qadir on the right path. His repentance and truth will absolve him.’

  Malla Khaliq got up to make a call to Srinagar.

  Her sudden ‘hello’ startled Malla Khaliq and the receiver fell from his hand. Narayan Joo laughed, lifted the receiver and gave it to his friend. ‘Haji Sahib, say something, poor Azi is waiting at the other end.’

  ‘Hello! I am calling from Bombay. We arrived today. Just an hour ago – yes, we are with Vijay Kumar.

  ‘How are Vijay Kumar and his wife?’ asked Aziz Dyad.

  ‘Yes, all are well. Are you well there? Yes Ghulam Qadir is also well. No, he has not come so far – yes, yes – you need not worry – Vijay Kumar knows where he lives—’

  ‘Did Ghulam Ahmed come to see you?’

  ‘He will also come soon. See how much you care about your sons. I wish you cared so much for me as well.’

  Malla Khaliq nudged Narayan Joo and winked. Azi replied loudly, ‘See what he says! You have your bosom friend with you to give you all the care you need. My poor sons are there in an alien land. Who knows how they are …’

  ‘Why do you sound so low?’

  Narayan Joo laughed and said, ‘Haji Sahib, it is a call from a place fifteen hundred kilometres away.’

  Malla Khaliq felt stupid. Azi said at a higher pitch, ‘Is Narayan Joo near you? Tell him I can recognize his voice even in a crowd of thousands.’

  Passing the receiver to Narayan Joo, he said, ‘Here he is. Tell him yourself.’

  Narayan Joo did not let Azi talk. He said to her, ‘His soul lies there with you. He talked about you all the way.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. He did not love me when he should have. What is the point of all this love for me now? Now please tell me if he felt all right during the journey.’

  ‘Perfectly fit.’

  ‘You always say so. Is he still wheezing?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I wish you could have seen how he climbed up the stairs like a wild goat.’

  ‘Please tell him that Noor Mohammad wants to have a word with him.’

  She passed the telephone to Noor Mohammad and left the room. Narayan Joo passed the phone to Malla Khaliq.

  Malla Khaliq told Noor Mohammad about Qadir. Then he asked him to convey to Zeb that Qadir was fine and would be home soon.

  ‘Abba, you do not have to rush back to Srinagar now. It is constantly snowing here. No flight could land for the last three days. The Jammu road is also closed. Please don’t think of returning home for some time. Keep Qadir under close watch. As-salaam-alaikum!’

  Malla Khaliq could not muster up the courage to meet Mr Bhonsley. But the next day, Narayan Joo and his son went to thank Mr Bhonsley. He said, ‘There is hardly anything that merits thanks. I am sure that Ghulam Qadir was in league with Jane Lockwood. But there was no proof of his being an active smuggler.

  ‘I am a great admirer of Haji Sahib for his wisdom, honesty and kindness. But had Qadir been apprehended carrying drugs or the hashish which was recovered from Karmakar, I couldn’t have set Qadir free.’

  Vijay Kumar was granted permission to see Ghulam Qadir in the police lockup.

  Ghulam Qadir was crouching in a corner. Vijay Kumar tried his best to console him and cheer him up, but Ghulam Qadir, his eyes fixed on the floor of the cell, did not utter a word in reply. Finally, when he told him that his father had reached Bombay in search of him and that he would come to the police station to get him released and take him home, Ghulam Qadir trembled. ‘No, no. How will I face him?’ He begged Vijay Kumar to not bring his father there. ‘I will kill myself well before that.’

  ‘You have not murdered anyone.’ But Ghulam Qadir knew what a grave crime he had been involved in. He said, ‘I have committed a crime more serious than murder. I have really besmeared Abba’s name in the city. I have ravaged his faith in me; I don’t have the guts to face him. You please take me from here to some hotel.’

  ‘Do not be so childish. My house is your own house, why should you stay in a hotel?’

  ‘No, Lala Sahib is there. My Abba is there. I cannot go there. Please try to understand,’ Ghulam Qadir continued pleading with him.

  ‘Then we have another option. We have a guest room which is separate from our apartment. You can stay there for four or five days until you feel better about yourself.’

  ‘How can I stay there and still hide from Abba’s sight? Won’t they see me when I enter?’

  ‘The room has a separate entry. You just leave all this to me.’

  Ghulam Qadir looked at Vijay Kumar suspiciously.

  Vijay Kumar laid a hand on his shoulder and said, ‘Trust me. And forget all this happened. Start a new life. Everyone will forgive you.’

  ‘Yes, I have to. I have no option.’

  ‘Good. Be a brave man.’ Saying this, Vijay Kumar left.

  Qadir was restless in the room. He shut the door and almost latched it from inside, but stopped. Then he sat on the bed, opened his bag and counted the money, and then, he put the envelope back into the bag. He kept it near his head and stretched out with his eyes closed. He remained still for a long time and then all of sudden, he got up as if he felt an electric current had passed through him. After reflecting a little, he went near the dining table. He removed the lids of the casseroles, served rice on to his plate, and helped himself to a spoonful of broth and then some stew on the rice. He was taken aback when he saw pieces of morels mixed with meat balls on the rice and a surge of affection and love filled his heart. He remembered Zeb. He forgot all his hunger, as if his mouth were filled with poison. He washed his hands again and dropped on the bed.

  Then he opened his eyes and looked at his face in the mirror of the dressing table. He felt like a stranger was looking back at him. He saw his unshaven face, eyes sunk into the sockets and lips parched. He saw this stranger moving his lips, and then he heard himself saying, ‘Do you see what shape you are in? What a millionaire you’ve become! The zeniths of the sky can be touched only by those who have strong wings to fly. Do you understand?’

  He got nervous and started rummaging through his bag. He took out a notebook, kept it aside and started thinking again. He emptied the bag. An electric shaver dropped out. He put all his belongings back into the bag, kept the notebook under the pillow and ran to the bathroom. He shaved and then gazed at the platter of rice. The morels looked like a clot over a wound. He went over to the window. In the moonlight, the ocean looked like a fathomless abyss, and the waves roared like black serpents moving towards the shore. For a moment he though the tides would rise and engulf him. He shuddered. He shut the window, and moved towards the bed, but sat down on the floor. He imagined fresh morels springing all over. He he
ard the song of the shepherd girls that he and Zeb had heard while gathering morels in the woods. He jammed his ears with his hands and put his head between his knees. After remaining still for a while, he removed his hands from his ears, took the notebook and started writing something. Tears fell thick and fast on to the paper as he wrote. He dried the paper with his shirt. As he was writing, he heard the door opening. He hid the notebook under his pillow, switched the light off, and stretched out under the sheet. He lay with his back towards the door, listening for any sound in the corridor. There was a sound of light steps approaching which stopped near the door. Then there was complete silence. Qadir waited with bated breath.

  Malla Khaliq softly opened the door and quietly walked into the room. Ghulam Qadir shut his eyes tightly. He felt his heart would burst. He yearned to fall at his father’s feet, wash his feet with his tears and beg for forgiveness. But he did not have the courage or the right! He continued to lie curled up, still. He knew the sound of his father’s footsteps since childhood.

  Malla Khaliq walked to the side of his head. Seeing his son’s face in the moonlight, his heart filled to the brim. He continued gazing at his face. He controlled his tears, bent forward to pull the sheet to cover Qadir from head to toe. Then Qadir heard the door closing. He got up from the bed, went near the door and put his ear against it. He heard Malla Khaliq’s saying, ‘Oh God, have mercy on us!’ Qadir opened the door a crack and peeped out to see his father walking in the dark. When the door on the other side of the corridor opened, a shaft of light illuminated the corridor and Qadir saw that his father’s back had bent a little more. A torrent of tears overflowed from his eyes. The light thinned and the door closed.