Gul Gulshan Gulfam

by Pran Kishore

  Ghulam Qadir also closed his door. He did not dare switch the lamp on.

  Narayan Joo went to wake up Malla Khaliq. ‘Haji Sahib, get up now. See, it is already broad daylight.’

  Malla Khaliq got up abruptly. ‘Oh my God! I slept like a dead man, after so many years; I even missed my morning nimaz. Oh God, have mercy on me!’

  Narayan Joo asked the servant, ‘Have we not got the newspaper yet?’

  ‘Yes, I have kept it on the table.’

  Narayan Joo started reading the paper. Vijay Kumar and he always had their morning tea together. Malla Khaliq joined them too. Malla Khaliq was still cursing himself for having missed his morning prayers.

  ‘I hope you didn’t find the room stuffy,’ Vijay Kumar asked him.

  ‘I slept so soundly after so long! Besides, the air conditioner was on, why would I feel hot?’ Vijay’s wife entered, bowed before the elders and started making tea. ‘Did you send Ghulam Qadir his tea?’ Vijay Kumar asked her.

  ‘Yes, I sent Bahadur with the tray.’

  While they were talking, Bahadur returned with the tray.

  ‘Why? Is he still sleeping?’ Vijay asked him.

  ‘No, the door is wide open and he is not in his room.’

  ‘He might be in the bathroom.’

  ‘No, he is not in the bathroom either.’

  Malla Khaliq almost dropped his tea cup on hearing this. Narayan Joo stood up, but Vijay Kumar stopped him. ‘You stay here. He must have gone downstairs for a stroll. I will go and see.’

  Vijay Kumar looked all around. He went and asked the watchman. He said, ‘Yes, sir. I saw him leaving with a bag in hand. The man who was with you in your car last evening. He left early in the morning.’

  Vijay Kumar rushed to the auto-stand. He inquired with the auto drivers and found out the number of the auto in which Ghulam Qadir had left for the railway station. While he was walking back towards the gate, the auto that had dropped Ghulam Qadir at the railway station returned. The first auto-driver called out to Vijay Kumar, ‘Sir, the auto has returned from the station.’

  Vijay Kumar ran to him. He asked him about Ghulam Qadir. The auto-driver replied, ‘I don’t remember what he looked like very clearly. He asked me to drop him at the railway station. But then he stopped me halfway and alighted. He gave me a hundred-rupee note, and when I was about to return the change to him, he did not take it and was soon out of sight. Has he stolen anything from your house?’

  Narayan Joo was waiting at the door. He handed Vijay Kumar an envelope that Ghulam Qadir had left under his pillow.

  ‘What is this, Daddy?’

  ‘A pack of salt that the scoundrel has left behind to empty out on his father’s open wounds. Read for yourself.’

  The letter was brief.

  ‘My dear Abba, I have committed so many sins that I don’t know how to begin pleading with you for forgiveness. There is hardly any sin that I have not committed. How will I find the courage to fall at your feet? How will I show my face to my mother and my family at home? How will I face Lala Sahib who has loved me like his own child? It was on his insistence that I went to college. Now I am leaving to start my life afresh and make something of myself. I don’t know my destination. But after thinking for many days and nights in the police lockup and the previous night, I came to the realization that there is still time to redeem myself. I want to prove that I, your Qadir, can achieve all that I had desired to since my childhood. But I swear on the dust on the soles of your shoes that I will follow the path of honesty. Kindly forgive me until I return to Kashmir with a face worth showing. Please don’t waste your time searching for me.’

  Vijay Kumar then said to his father, ‘He has written that so that we will not search for him, and we have all accepted it! You need not worry; I can find him even if he is hiding in a raven’s nest. I will approach the police commissioner; his son is a friend of mine. He will block all routes and let’s see how he escapes from Bombay.’

  Malla Khaliq stood up and said to him, ‘It is a lost cause. Let him go wherever he wants to go. For me he died on the day we received the message that he was arrested by the Bombay police on charges of drug trafficking.’

  Narayan Joo could not control himself, ‘What nonsense are you talking? He is after all your own son. He is a piece of your heart even if he is bad. If he wasn’t a family man himself, we could have considered letting him go. His destiny is connected with the life of an innocent girl and his little child. What will happen to them?’

  Malla Khaliq felt as if all reasoning had failed him.

  Vijay Kumar asked his father, ‘What do you suggest? Should I leave?’

  Narayan Joo remained silent for a little while and then he asked his daughter-in-law, ‘What is your suggestion? Is it prudent to inform the police? If they apprehend him again, they will not only rob him of all his money, but also put him back behind bars.’

  ‘Your Lala Sahib is right.’ The mention of the police made Malla Khaliq quiver. He stopped Vijay Kumar.

  But Narayan Joo was enraged and he said to him, ‘What sort of a father are you? Can you imagine what’ll happen to your family if they come to know that Qadir has deserted his family and fled?’

  Feeling helpless, Malla Khaliq lamented, ‘Then tell me what should I do and what calamities should I face?’

  ‘We will find him. There are many private detective agencies in Bombay. We can seek their help.’

  Vijay did not like the idea. ‘No. Private agencies just complicate issues. I am sure he must have gone to meet Ghulam Ahmed.’

  ‘Yes, Vijay is right. He was repeatedly asking about him and also had his address. I will go and find out if he knows anything about Qadir’s whereabouts.’

  This was Vijay Kumar’s final decision. But Malla Khaliq alone knew that the two brothers had never kept in touch with each other.

  Just then Ghulam Ahmed appeared. He greeted them more courteously than needed. Malla Khaliq said to Narayan Joo, ‘Narayan Joo, why don’t you welcome this guest with garlands? Why not hire musicians to welcome him? A business tycoon has graced us with his presence!’

  Narayan Joo too was upset. ‘How come the mighty magnate has found time to visit poor people like us?’

  Ghulam Ahmed somehow mustered courage and said, ‘Abba, I returned from Goa only late last night. Someone at my lodging informed me that Vijay Kumar had left a message that you have come to Bombay for treatment. Nobody in Srinagar told me even when I had called home.’

  ‘Who would tell you from there, your Naba Kantroo or Abdullah Shah?’ Malla Khaliq asked him sarcastically.

  Narayan Joo stopped Malla Khaliq from dragging the argument by saying, ‘What are we fighting over? Even if he did phone Kantroo Sahib, how does it matter? He is his father-in-law after all.’ Then he said to Ghulam Ahmed. ‘Look here, my son. We have been waiting for your call for a long time. If Abdullah Shah had not sent your letter, your father would not have left home. He was suffering from asthma there in the cold, so Nisar Ahmed advised him to come here for a couple of months.’

  Malla Khaliq burst out. ‘Why should we give him any explanation? Please just ask him about Qadir.’

  Ghulam Ahmed looked at his father and said, ‘He is now a very big carpet exporter, would he bother to come see me? A fortnight ago I had gone to the Gateway of India to hand over carpets to Abdullah Shah’s partner, Rahim Sahib. He had seen Qadir coming out from the Taj hotel. A big Ford car was waiting for him. Rahim Sahib tried calling out to him, but he did not look back. He stays in big hotels and drives around in luxury cars. Why would he come to visit me?’

  Malla Khaliq knew well that if Ghulam Qadir ever needed help, he would never approach Ghulam Ahmed. Nevertheless he asked, ‘So, did he not come to see you?’

  Ghulam Ahmed looked towards Vijay Kumar and asked, ‘What is the matter? Is Qadir well? Has he got into trouble over here?’

  Vijay Kumar led him to his room, saying, ‘Come with me, I will tell you all.’

  Malla
Khaliq tried to stop him, but Narayan Joo said, ‘Why are you getting so scared? Let Ahmed come to know all that has happened. How long can you hide this from your family?’

  ‘I am sure this fool will spread the news to all corners,’ Malla Khaliq said.

  ‘No, he is not such a fool. He is sure to have the details of Gul Beg’s associates. I am sure we will get some clue from them.’

  In the next room, Ghulam Ahmed stood dumbstruck. Vijay Kumar asked him, ‘Why are you silent? Why don’t you tell me what we ought to do now?’

  ‘What can I say? Qadir has never let Abba have even a minute of peace. In spite of my best attempts, I could not assuage my father’s worries. Whatever business I tried to set up failed. I am just about to establish myself in Bombay and Qadir has again gotten into trouble. I will not have the credibility of a farthing in the business circles here when they come to know about my brother’s fraudulence.’

  These words enraged Vijay Kumar. ‘You are lamenting over your business when Ghulam Qadir has not committed any theft. He has taken to hiding because he is suffering from a sense of guilt. It is our moral obligation to find him and help him start afresh.’

  ‘Hah! Him starting a new life! He has developed a taste for illicit money. He is simply incorrigible.’ Ghulam Ahmed firmly dissociated himself from the problem.

  Vijay Kumar had great hope that he would help them trace Qadir. He knew that Ahmed had strong connections with the Kashmiri businessmen who had shops in Bombay. He stood up and said to him, ‘It is all right, Ghulam Ahmed. But please don’t talk like this in the presence of Haji Sahib. We must reassure him that we will find Ghulam Qadir.’ After this, he went back to the drawing room where Malla Khaliq and Narayan Joo sat with their heads hung low.

  Vijay Kumar gave them a little hope by saying that Ghulam Ahmed knew a lot about Gul Beg’s accomplices whom Qadir stayed with when he was in Bombay.

  Vijay Kumar and Ghulam Ahmed hurriedly had their breakfast and left in search of Ghulam Qadir.

  They had hardly reached the gate when Noor Mohammad called from Srinagar. After the formal greetings, Narayan Joo handed over the phone to Malla Khaliq. His hand holding the phone shook. When Noor Mohammad asked him about Ghulam Qadir, he stammered but maintained his composure and said, ‘Don’t tell your mother or Zeb anything about him. We got him released, but he is not allowed to leave Bombay for some time. He is here, staying confined in the guest room. He has no courage to come near me. Let us see what God decides. Is your mother well?’

  Noor Mohammad said, ‘Here she is, ask her yourself. She is quite well but always worried about you.’ After this he handed over the phone to Aziz Dyad.

  It took her a little while to come to the phone, and on the other end, Malla Khaliq grew nervous. He said to Narayan Joo, ‘Perhaps the line has gotten cut. Hello! Why don’t you say something?’

  Narayan Joo smiled and left the room saying, ‘You worry too much! You chat with her until I return.’

  Aziz Dyad did not have anything particular to say. After a few formal inquiries, she returned the phone to Noor Mohammad. ‘Ask him if Qadir is well. Has Ghulam Ahmed visited him yet?’

  Malla Khaliq heard every word that she said. He said, ‘God will have mercy on all. I forgot to tell you, Ghulam Ahmed came to see me today. Yes, yes, he is well. His business is running smoothly. He told me that he had phoned you.’

  ‘Yes, he did call. He also called his in-laws to speak to his wife. It was she who told Amma that he is doing well in Bombay.’

  ‘So, that is all for this time. Take care of everyone at home, particularly your mother. Wa-alaikum salaam!’

  Narayan Joo returned and asked him about everyone at home. He said in reply, ‘As long as Noor Mohammad is there, I need not worry. I told you that Ghulam Ahmed must have phoned his in-laws, and now I found out that he did indeed call them.’

  ‘What can be done about that? God has not created all human beings from the same mould. You just pray to Dastagir Sahib that we find Ghulam Qadir. I will bring him to his senses.’

  ‘One who has lost sight of the righteous path cannot be redeemed. Just pray to God that he does not invite any new perdition for us.’

  ‘Mother Goddess knows which direction he has taken!’

  ‘I am no longer bothered about that. Let him go wherever he wants. I only want to find him for the sake of poor Zeb.’

  But how could they find Qadir? He had alighted from the auto-rickshaw halfway and taken the bus which was headed for the sea-shore of Guraya. He had seen the bus from a distance and, after giving a hundred-rupee note to the auto-driver, ran to catch the bus. He had come to know about Guraya beach from Gul Beg’s accomplices who frequented Bombay with the consignments. Steamers went from the beach to the old Portuguese colonies around Goa. The bus reached Guraya in the afternoon.

  There were dense crowds there; people queued for the two steamers that stood anchored at the shore. Ghulam Qadir almost jumped from the bus and ran towards one of the queues. He found out from a person standing in the queue that the steamers were heading towards Daman-Diu. Ghulam Qadir knew that there were many Kashmiri traders in Goa. If he was identified by any of them, all of Kashmir would come to know about his new destination. He again asked the same person, ‘What sort of place is that?’

  ‘Diu and Daman? Very beautiful,’ the stranger said in reply.

  Ghulam Qadir thought that perhaps God had allotted a livelihood for him there. He ran and stood in the queue at the ticket counter. He got his ticket, saw the number of the steamer and placed the ticket in his pocket. He zipped his bag and ran towards the steamer.

  The steamer was now far away from Bombay. Qadir did not know which shore his boat of destiny was going to touch. With his eyes shut, he continued ruminating over what evil spirit must have possessed him that he was swayed by a crook like Gul Beg. The voice of a woman singing pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked to his left and saw a European girl and a robust shepherd-like young man of the same age. The man was rubbing his cheek against the girl’s, and was trying to coax her.

  The European girl giggled and blushed, looking absolutely blissful. Qadir continued gazing at the girl. He remembered when he had once tried to please Zeb with his jokes. When the European girl noticed that Qadir was ogling at her, she blushed and looked away. Qadir felt like the girl resembled Zeb. She was thin and her face was apple red like Zeb’s. After a long time, he felt an ache in his heart. He cursed himself. ‘What happened to you, Qadir? You left behind a beautiful woman to follow that white slut like a dog!’

  The girl was looking at Qadir and then looking away. He was afraid that she might be a sorceress like Jane. In order to avoid her eyes, he looked towards the ocean and soon started thinking about Zeb. He yearned to jump into the waters and swim back to her. But how would he face her after all that he had put her through? Besides all of Kashmir probably knew that Malla Khaliq’s son Qadir was apprehended in Bombay for smuggling hashish. Then he started consoling himself.‘Qadir, there will be a time when you will go back to your family with your head held high and they will warmly welcome you home. But now is the time for your real trial. It is time for you to prove yourself.’

  Far away, through the dense coconut trees, the beautiful shores of Daman shone in the golden light of the rising sun. It looked like an island from fairy tales. When Qadir reached the shore, he saw the European girl waiting for her companion. But her eyes were fixed on Qadir. When Qadir walked past her, she said ‘Hi!’ but Qadir was now a defeated young man. Flinging his bag on his shoulder, he quickly walked ahead. Travel agents, hotel agents, shopkeepers and vendors came running towards passengers, each wanting to impress them. Ghulam Qadir was reminded of Srinagar airport where he once used to run after the tourists. Now he felt like a hapless fellow for no one approached him. He examined himself. The four-thousand-rupee shoes which Jane had bought him were covered with muck. His jeans were covered with so much dirt that its blue was not discernible.

  He was very hu
ngry. He walked to the nearby market, looked all around and took note of all the big hotels and shops. He did not venture into any of these hotels. He knew he had thirty thousand rupees in his bag. But seeing his dirty shoes and jeans, nobody would allow him inside anywhere. He continued walking and reached the other end of the market where he noticed a small hotel.

  There were about eight to ten homeless people eating rice and fish outside the hotel. A hefty native woman approached him. ‘Full or half?’ Initially Ghulam Qadir could not make out what she was saying. Soon he understood that the restaurant served either rice with fish or roasted chicken, and he asked for rice and fish. He was not sure if the chicken would be halal.

  ‘Madam, full plate,’ he said.

  Within no time a platter of rice and two pieces of fish and gravy in a bowl were placed before him. He washed his hands and started devouring the food. The fish gravy was very tangy and spicy, but he was too hungry to bother. The woman brought him a fork and a spoon. But when she saw him using his hands, she looked at him in amazement. Then she said to herself, ‘Poor soul!’

  Ghulam Qadir forced a smile on his lips and said to the woman, ‘I like eating rice with my hands. It somehow makes it tastier.’ The woman laughed and took back the fork and spoon.

  After ordering and polishing off another half-plate, Qadir asked the woman if he could get a room in her hotel. She cast a bemused look at the shanty of a restaurant and asked him, ‘Do you think this is a hotel?’ Qadir nodded. Liza turned out to be the owner of the hotel. ‘There are just two rooms, in a shambles. My man and I live there.’ She advised him to seek lodging in the hotel that lay behind a grove of coconut trees some distance away.

  It was a bungalow-type hotel for tourists.

  Qadir trudged towards the hotel. He heard a man wailing from inside the bungalow. ‘I will die, Reeny dear! I will die of hunger. Oh, I will die, my child!’