by Pran Kishore
‘Where will I get you food from? I have sold every utensil that I owned. I sold even the cups, don’t you see? I am dying myself.’
‘I will die, Oh God! Do something, Reeny dear.’
‘What will I do? Tell me! Take that chopper and cut me into pieces, cook my flesh and eat it. But you have grown so fat that you cannot even move from your armchair. Oh Jesus! What will I do?’
Ghulam Qadir reached the veranda from where he could see directly into the bungalow. Old chairs and tables lay inside, scattered haphazardly. In the front, was the counter, perhaps of the kitchen. A little away from this counter, he could see an old rocking chair in which an aged and bulky man sat quite snugly, as if he were welded in place. He wore an old-fashioned pant with suspenders. Above his chair, there was an iron chain with a big leather grip suspended from the ceiling. This arrangement had been made perhaps to help the big man get up from the chair.
Reeny was walking about angrily, from one corner of the room to the other. She disinterestedly tried to tidy the scattered furniture every few minutes. She was around thirty. Her skirt and blouse were relatively clean. Qadir could not make out whether she was the daughter or the wife of this bull of a man. Her face was hidden behind her hair constantly being ruffled by the wind. Seeing the condition of the house and its inmates, Qadir was in a quandary whether to go inside or not. He finally climbed the steps of the veranda, just as the old man in the chair began screaming:‘Oh Mary! Oh Mother! Why don’t you have mercy on me? I am dying of hunger and Reeny refuses to give me anything to eat.’ Qadir felt pity for him. But Reeny went towards the old man like a ferocious lioness, and gesticulating with her arms, burst out, ‘Yes, yes. I don’t give you food. You have devoured everything we had and stored it in the fat of your body. You have grown so huge that even this chair cannot contain you.’
‘Oh God! I have been asking you for so long to replace this chair. I am not huge, this chair is meant for a child! It is so small!’
Reeny could no more control her anger and said, ‘Is it a kids’ chair? Even the carpenter was taken aback when he was asked to construct this mammoth chair for you. It is so wide and big that even an elephant can rest in it, but you do not fit! Shame on you!’
Qadir was now on the veranda and Reeny saw him. She came running towards the door and started shouting at him, ‘Hey, what are you doing there? Out! Out! Run away or this father of mine will devour you too. Get lost!’
Qadir was nonplussed. ‘Oh my God! Have mercy! Is she his daughter! Has she no compassion for her ailing father?’ Reeny shouted, ‘Are you enjoying the spectacle? Run away for we have nothing to give you as alms.’
‘He is just hungry. Please give him something to eat,’ Qadir dared to entreat her.
‘Are you going to leave now or should I call the police? Are you his son? I told you that if you don’t run away, he is sure to eat you up. You thank your stars that he is unable to move out of his chair.’
Qadir cast a piteous look at the aged man. He thought that the noblest deed at that time would be to feed this hungry old man. He climbed down the steps and went to the motel where he had had his meal. He bought a whole tandoori chicken and five to six pieces of bread. Holding this food in a packet, he ran to the bungalow. He ascended the veranda and peeped inside. Reeny was not there in the hall. The old man was having a catnap. He walked in and took out the tandoori chicken and the warm bread. Smelling the fragrance of chicken, Reeny’s father opened his eyes. He grabbed the chicken. He did not even wait to see the angel Christ had sent to quell his hunger. When Qadir gave him the hot bread, he held his hand and kissed it repeatedly. Chewing mouthfuls of bread, he prayed for him, ‘My son! Oh my son! God bless you!’
In the meantime, Reeny came down the stairs. In his rapture, the old man yelled, ‘See! See Reeny! Mother Mary has heeded my moans and sent this angel for me. See what a delicious roasted chicken he has brought me.’
Seeing the chicken and the bread in her father’s hands, Reeny rushed in like a wounded lioness and snatched the bread away from his hands. ‘Are you going to kill him? He will die! The doctor has strictly forbidden all this food. Where did you bring all this from? Get out! Who are you to be doing all this? Get out!’ Then she took away the half-eaten chicken from her father’s hands. ‘You are sure to die, you glutton!’
The old man got angry. He held the suspended chain in front of him and tried to get out of the chair, cursing Reeny. But the chair moved up along with him. He crashed back into it. Reeny’s eyes filled with tears. She wept and returned the food to her father. Then she sat beside him. She held her head in her hands and sobbed. After a while, she stood up and vented her rage on Qadir. ‘Who are you? Why did you come here? Get out!’
Qadir hesitantly told Reeny that he had come seeking a room to stay and that he hoped to find some job. Reeny let out a venomous laugh and said, ‘A room and a job! Here! Here in this broken house! You please go somewhere else. We have nothing to offer here.’
Qadir cast a sad look, looking at her face for the first time. Then he looked towards the old man. Reeny asked him, ‘Why do you look at him? Do you think you can buy him over by giving him a loaf of bread?’
The old man swallowed the last piece of bread and let out a loud belch. He turned to Reeny. ‘There is no one in the world who can buy Dallas De Souza. Not even that bitch, Liza Brigonza.’
Reeny lost her temper again and said, ‘Shame on you! You lost even this hotel business to that woman! And now you say that no one can buy Dallas De Souza!’
Reeny immediately realized that she had disclosed family secrets in front of a complete stranger. She again shouted at him, ‘Will you leave now or else …’
The old man yelled, ‘No, this hotel belongs to Dallas De Souza. This boy will not go anywhere. Get your baggage. You will stay here!’
Father and daughter quarrelled with each other over this issue. Seeing this, Qadir tried to flee, but Dallas De Souza gathered all his energy, took the chain in his hand, and heaved his giant body out of the chair. ‘This boy will stay here with us.’
It was finally decided that Qadir would spend the night in the veranda until he found a proper room to stay. Ghulam Qadir thought that it was a good opportunity, but told them that he wasn’t a beggar, and he would pay them rent for staying there.
‘You just go on serving me,’ Dallas De Souza said to him.
Upset and agitated, Reeny went upstairs. Dallas De Souza managed to slide back into the chair again with Qadir’s help. When he had caught his breath, he beckoned to Qadir. ‘Don’t get scared. My daughter is a little hot-tempered. You stick around. She will calm down soon. You just continue bringing me roasted chicken and bread. But don’t buy anything from that cow Liza. Even if you do, don’t ever let her know that you get it for me.’
They heard Reeny climbing down the stairs. ‘You run away and sit in the veranda. She is coming.’
Ghulam Qadir ran out. The sun was setting and the sea looked golden. Qadir felt like going for a little swim in the tides. But he was too scared of losing his clothes and his bag in this alien land. He looked around and saw a water tap just behind the trees. He washed his shoes, then removed his jeans and aired them out. He change into the pants and T-shirt he was carrying in his bag. After washing his hands and face, he felt like a human being again. Placing his shoes in the sun, he calmly walked towards the bungalow.
Dallas De Souza was still trying to convince his daughter. ‘If we can afford to let out a room to him in the house, he can be very helpful to us.’ But Reeny did not heed his words and went out. Qadir was sitting on the steps. ‘Why are you sitting here as if we owe you something? Move and make way for me.’ Qadir rose and stood aside. Without looking back, Reeny took her bicycle and rode towards the sea.
Qadir walked into the hall and held the plump hand of Dallas De Souza and said, ‘Thank you, Uncle.’ De Souza looked at him in amazement and said, ‘Who? Who are you?’ and Qadir muttered to himself, ‘Damn it! He is losing even his
memory.’ He reminded him of the tandoori chicken and said, ‘You remember?’
‘O! Yes, yes. Sweet boy!’ Then he asked Qadir to sit on the arm of his chair and asked him his name and where he was coming from. ‘Qadir. My name is Qadir.’ He anglicized his name and told him that he worked as a businessman in Bombay. ‘I suffered a huge loss in my business there. Now I have come to Daman to look for some ordinary job just to get by.’
‘Bombay is no good,’ De Souza said. Qadir tried to evade further inquiry, but the old man was alert now. ‘What business were you running in Bombay?’
‘Hotel business.’
‘Hotel?’
‘It was an eatery. I mean eating joint.’
When he felt that the old man was not looking convinced, he made his story more believable. ‘It was a partnership. My partner cheated me.’
‘Yes. There is no dearth of cheaters. I was also cheated.’ He looked around and was about to narrate his tale, but hearing the bell of the approaching bicycle, he asked Qadir to go out.
The evening arrived quickly. Ghulam Qadir sat in a corner of the veranda. Reeny parked her bicycle in a corner of the compound. She untied the bag of vegetables from the handle of her bicycle and went into the bungalow. While walking in, she looked at the veranda. Qadir sat crouched there, but Reeny did not say anything to him.
Qadir saw Reeny walk into the kitchen. He stood up, took his bag in his hand, and calmly stepped in to tell De Souza that he was going to fetch some food for him. ‘God bless you!’ De Souza said.
Ghulam Qadir reached Liza’s restaurant. He hurriedly filled his stomach with rice. Then he packed tandoori chicken and bread for De Souza’s house.
Reeny had placed a tray of food on a small table almost over the protruding tummy of her father. She had cooked fish. There was a basket filled with baked bread. Her father had pounced on the food as if he had been hungry for months together. Qadir felt sorry for Reeny. He understood that this gluttonous elephant of an old man had driven her crazy. ‘Who knows if this poor girl has eaten?’ he thought. He felt an urge to go in and give the parcelled food to her. But seeing Reeny’s grimace, he could not muster the courage. He again sat in a corner of the veranda.
De Souza finished the basket of bread within no time. Reeny came, took away the empty plate and went back into the kitchen. She reappeared, and took the tray from the table, and went to the window. She looked out and saw Qadir. She seemed like she was about to say something to him, but then went back.
Ghulam Qadir was still trying decide whether to hand over the parcel to De Souza or Reeny. In the meantime, Reeny appeared at the door. Qadir tried to hide the parcel, but Reeny caught sight of it. She came running and snatched the parcel away from his hands. She said angrily, ‘What is this? Do you intend to kill him?’
Ghulam Qadir was flummoxed, but managed to say, ‘It is for you.’
Casting a furious look at him, Reeny said, ‘What?’
Qadir stuttered, ‘No, no, for me.’
Reeny took the parcel and went in. De Souza caught sight of it and his mouth watered. ‘That is for me. Give it to me.’
Reeny went back to the veranda, tossed it at Qadir and shouted, ‘If you ever do this again, I will not let you stay in Daman, leave alone the veranda. Understand?’ She went to her father. She pulled the chain and brought its leather grip near her father. ‘Now get up. Time for you to sleep. Come on.’
She used all her strength to pull him out from the chair. Taking the support of the wall, De Souza moved to his room slowly, step by step. Before entering his room, he looked back at Qadir through the window, then said, ‘Keep it up! Goodnight! We will meet tomorrow.’
Reeny shut the door. Then she came out, holding an old blanket in her hand. She threw it towards Qadir. ‘Take it, or you will die of cold. But don’t run away with the blanket.’ Then she shut the door and switched off the lights. Qadir heard her climb up the stairs.
Then there was silence all around. The only sound that could be heard was that of the sea rising and falling under the bright moonlight. Qadir took out a cigarette and lit it. Then he used his bag for a pillow, and pulled the cotton duvet over himself and gazed at the moon which was visible through the coconut trees. It seemed as lonely and forlorn as he was.
Narayan Joo and his son Vijay Kumar searched all of Bombay, from Chandivali to Colaba, but they could not find any trace of Ghulam Qadir. In the evening, they sat near Malla Khaliq to discuss the next course of action. He said to them, ‘It is a hopeless case. I am not worried about Qadir; if he is destined to ruin his life, let him do so. My only worry is about facing my wife and Zeb.’
‘What will you say to your wife? She will feel like she has lost her son.’
‘Is she alone going to suffer? I am not a stone, after all. Have I not lost a piece of my heart as well? Both of us will wail over the loss for a month or so and then get sucked into the routine household chores. But what will poor Zeb do? She has to live a long life with just her innocent child.’
Narayan Joo was also worried about Zeb, yet he was convinced that after many more failures, Qadir would finally return and prostrate himself at his wife’s feet. But he felt that Aziz Dyad, who was already old and ailing, would not be able to bear the shock.
Vijay Kumar finally broke the silence by saying to his father, ‘I think we should call Noor Mohammad and tell him all that has happened.’
Narayan Joo turned to Malla Khaliq, ‘What is your opinion, Haji Sahib?’
‘Where has Ghulam Ahmed gone?’ he asked, instead of answering their question. He was sure that Ghulam Ahmed could never find a better opportunity to settle scores with Ghulam Qadir. He must have gone to call Naba Kantroo, he thought. Trying to dispel his fears, Vijay Kumar said to him, ‘He received an order and left to attend to it.’
Narayan Joo said to him, ‘What do think of Vijay Kumar’s suggestion?’
‘Well, we cannot hide it any longer.’ Malla Khaliq heaved a deep sigh and continued, ‘It is God’s will. We have to anchor our boat in this fierce autumnal wind, otherwise everyone might drown.’
It was also decided that Ghulam Ahmed would return to Kashmir well before Malla Khaliq so that he could make his mother understand that Qadir had deserted all of them and had left for some unknown destination with his associates. Ghulam Ahmed would reassure her that Qadir, engaged in some big business, would return soon and take Zeb and Bilal with him. He would also convey that Malla Khaliq would return to Kashmir as soon as the severe winter ended. Until then they would try to trace Qadir’s whereabouts.
Malla Khaliq’s only worry was that Ghulam Ahmed might make a mistake and disclose everything to his mother. When Ghulam Ahmed came back, he assured his father he would stick to the story.
Ghulam Qadir woke up with a start. He stood up and looked all around. The morning haze was gradually thinning and the steamers belonging to the fishermen were fighting with the strong tides of the ocean. He folded the blanket and peeped into the hall; it was all dark inside. He went to the bathroom near the water tap in a corner of the compound, and took a bath. Then he walked towards the shore. The steamers had halted quite a distance away from the shore. The colourful sails on the steamers waved cheerily in the breeze. A fleet of smaller boats rushed towards the steamers. The fishermen, who had toiled in the ocean all night, started filling the boats with basketfuls of fish. Suddenly there was a commotion all around. Ghulam Qadir went closer. He saw heaps of fish at the shore. The middlemen opened their registers and the auction began. There were many marts along the shore, and the din kept increasing. Qadir had never seen anything like this. He got nervous and walked back fast towards the bungalow.
The door opened just in time. He kept his bag in a corner near the window and covered it with the blanket that Reeny had given him. He began to think about his next course of action. Soon, Reeny came out with a basket in her hand. Ghulam Qadir greeted her, but she responded with a frown. She took out her bicycle and rushed to the market.
Qadir went into the hall where he found a pile of chairs in a corner. There were some tea-tables scattered in the hall, all seemed to be wailing over their bad luck. Qadir tidied the furniture by placing four chairs around each teapoy. Then he entered the kitchen where he found a cloth to dust and clean the furniture with. Hearing the sound of furniture being moved, Reeny’s father, who was sleeping in the room adjacent to the kitchen, woke up.
‘Reeny dear!’ De Souza called out to his daughter.
Qadir hurriedly wiped the last chair. He heard De Souza calling his daughter again. ‘Reeny, come, I need your help.’
Qadir hurried into the room. De Souza cast a glance at Qadir. ‘Who? Who are you?’
Qadir forced a smile on his lips while saying, ‘I got you tandoori chicken yesterday. Remember?’
De Souza’s eyes bulged and stretched his eyelids. ‘Oh, is it you? My angel! That means Reeny has not forced you to run away from here! Where is she?’
‘She went away on her bicycle,’ Qadir replied.
‘Poor girl!’ Heaving a long sigh, De Souza said. ‘She must have gone to borrow more provisions. Come on, help me.’
Qadir held his hand, and De Souza walked towards the dressing table. He saw his face in the mirror. He straightened his tie and turned to Qadir, ‘Come, let’s go.’
Holding on to Qadir shoulder with one hand and the wall with the other, he managed to reach his armchair, sitting in which he could look at the ocean and pass his days. He observed the hall. He was amazed to see the hall and all the furniture neat and tidy as it had once been. He cast a look at Qadir and then surveyed the hall again which looked like a good restaurant, as it had once been.
‘How does it look?’ asked Qadir.
‘Did you do all this?’
Qadir nodded.
‘Good, very good. It looks like it used to during the good old days.’ De Souza’s eyes filled with tears that rolled down his swollen and stubbled cheeks. ‘How well our business ran! And then she left this world.’ He remembered his wife whose death had devastated him, as if she had taken away all his joys and comfort with her. While he narrated his tale of woe to Qadir, Reeny’s bicycle bell was heard. Qadir tried to run out, but De Souza stopped him, saying, ‘Just keep standing here.’