by Pran Kishore
The boat touched Malla Khaliq’s isle, and their conversation remained unfinished. Noor Mohammad had seen the boat advancing from a distance. He sent a message to his father through Bilal. Ghulam Ahmed had also seen the boat, but he preferred to hide. He came out through a window of houseboat Gulshan and ran towards his own room. He caught hold of his wife’s arm as she was picking spinach while sitting on the rear prow. ‘You are hurting my wrist – where are you dragging me off to?’
‘Razaq is coming here along with Lala Sahib!’
With a jerk, Zoon freed her wrist. ‘Leave me, I also want to see how he looks in his police uniform.’
Tormented by the fire of jealousy, Ghulam Ahmed shoved her and said, ‘Go die. I am afraid he could get us all handcuffed.’
The chairs were already kept ready on the isle. Malla Khaliq was urging Abdul Razaq to sit in a chair. But Abdul Razaq desisted. ‘How can I ever have the cheek to sit in a chair in your presence? My place will always be at your feet.’
Narayan Joo forced him to sit in the chair. ‘You please sit in the chair, so that he will sit in peace.’
Everyone sat down comfortably, but Abdul Razaq sat on the edge of the chair. Abdul Razaq still considered himself the same old waiter ‘Razaqa’ in the presence of Malla Khaliq and accorded him the same respect.
In the meantime, Bilal ran to his mother who was busy ironing clothes with Parveen. ‘Mummy, Mummy! He has come.’
Zeb left the clothes and ran towards the kitchen. ‘Switch off the iron, Amma is all alone there,’ she said to Parveen. Bilal followed her. Parveen switched off the iron and went near the window. She drew the curtain to one side and looked out towards the isle. Abdul Razaq was sitting in the chair directly facing the window. She could hardly believe her eyes. Was this the same Razaq who used to wear a four-cornered conical cap and serve at their house?
Holding the curtain in her hand, she sat down. Her heart fluttered so fast that she felt it would rip open the cage of the ribs. All her repressed love surged forth again and a torrent of tears flowed from her eyes. She shut her eyes, and held her heaving breast; her lips quivered. ‘Oh my God! Why are you doing this to me? Why did you send him back to add to my pain?’ She heard a big guffaw from Narayan Joo. She wiped her tears and started to peep out to see what had made them laugh so loudly. She saw Bilal wearing Abdul Razaq’s uniform cap and walking round them saying ‘left-right-left-right!’ Abdul Razaq held him close, kissed his forehead and tried to make him sit beside him in his chair. But he stretched out his arm for a handshake and said, ‘Thank you. I will also study a lot and become a police officer, just like you.’
Malla Khaliq was very happy. He said to Abdul Razaq, ‘Now he can speak English better than I can.’
Noor Mohammad caressed Bilal’s hair and said to Abdul Razaq, ‘All this is the result of Zeb’s perseverance.’
Meanwhile, the waiter brought them tea, and Aziz Dyad followed carrying a basket of bread. Seeing her, Abdul Razaq stood up and tried to touch her feet. Aziz Dyad withdrew, saying, ‘Oh no! What is all this for? Please sit, my son. May my Dastagir help you grow more and more.’
While offering a cup of tea to Abdul Razaq, she said, ‘How this Haji Sahib of yours missed you after you left! And when he came to know that you are now a police officer, he was delirious with joy.’
‘How can I repay his favours? It was only his love that showed me the path to make something of myself.’
Malla Khaliq said, ‘But I did not teach you to leave all your possessions here and flee in the night.’
‘Yes, that was my fault for which I could never dare face you. Today I am here to beg your pardon for that mistake.’
Narayan Joo smiled. He said to Malla Khaliq, ‘Do you remember, Haji Sahib, I once narrated the story of the “prodigal son” to you while we were walking on the roads of Bombay?’
Abdul Razaq looked at Malla Khaliq and said, ‘Please forgive all my sins, just as the prodigal son was forgiven.’
‘But I am the real sinner, my dear son. You still came here, that is your greatness,’ said Malla Khaliq.
‘Your tea is getting cold, my son,’ Aziz Dyad interrupted. The waiter stood at a little distance, uniformed and ready to obey any command, as Razaq had once stood at the house. Razaq had looked intermittently towards him. He thought that it might be the same uniform that Malla Khaliq had given him many years back. The waiter felt nervous and moved away and stood behind a willow tree.
After an hour or so, Abdul Razaq sought their permission to leave. Walking beside him towards the ghat, Aziz Dyad said to him, ‘Now, remember to visit us whenever you find time.’
‘Why not, for it is his home,’ Narayan Joo seconded Aziz Dyad. Abdul Razaq looked at him and said, ‘Surely, provided they have really forgiven me.’
Holding his hand fondly, Malla Khaliq said to him, ‘In fact, we ought to seek your forgiveness because we did not even try to find you and congratulate you when we heard about your success in the matriculation examinations. The fact is that we were mired in misery at that time.’
‘In case I could be of some help to you, I would consider myself fortunate.’
‘I pray you always be in great health and good spirits.’
‘So, I take your leave now.’
‘God bless you!’ Malla Khaliq led him and Narayan Joo to the steps of the ghat. While walking down the steps, Abdul Razaq looked towards the isle and the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Parveen. She had walked around the back the house and reached the drawing room of houseboat Gulfam. She could clearly see the boats waiting there. She continued to gaze at Abdul Razaq until his boat drifted away behind other houseboats in the lake.
Whenever Abdul Razaq returned from the airport and drew closer to his house, he often called on Narayan Joo. He frequently referred to Ramzan Haji’s son and gave a new list of his offences. This made Narayan Joo infer that Abdul Razaq was actually interested in finding out about Parveen’s fate. So one day he mustered the courage and brought up the proposal. Razaq lowered his gaze with modesty and said to Narayan Joo, ‘This is equal to throwing a rope to lasso the sky. I once worked as an attendant at their house. How will they agree to marry their daughter to a waif like me?’
‘You just tell me if you are agreeable.’
Abdul Razaq nodded. ‘I once longed to say this, but did not have the guts.’
‘It is okay. I shall initiate the subject with Haji Sahib.’
‘They will never reject your opinion.’
‘You just have faith in God for He alone will fulfil your heart’s desire.’
Malla Khaliq could hardly believe his ears. The whole family rejoiced. Zeb went running to Parveen and held her in a tight embrace. ‘See how Dastagir Sahib has blessed you! It is a miracle. I wish you had seen how ecstatic Abba, Amma and Lala Sahib are. Tears flowed from Noor’s eyes, and Ghulam Ahmed who had hid himself on Razaq’s first visit came running and hugged Abba.’
Parveen gaped at her. Zeb said to her, ‘Why don’t you say something? Did you hear what I told you?’
Parveen heaved a sigh. ‘I heard. I heard everything. Oh, I wish it had happened a long time ago. I am not worthy of him any more.’
‘If you were not, why would he come with the proposal? You stupid girl, true love stands every test and triumphs. You just forget your fears and thank God for His mercy. Come on now, Amma is waiting for you.’
‘No, I won’t go there right now. How can I face them?’
‘All right, let Lala Sahib leave and then you come.’
The engagement had taken place. The tourist season was over. Whenever there was a rush of tourists, there was some kind of disturbance in the valley, and the tourist season would suffer losses. The tourism industry had grown used to this fitful nature of the trade. Then autumn set in and as usual weddings were in full swing. Malla Khaliq held the nikah celebrations of Parveen and Abdul Razaq with much gusto. The separated lovers were reunited and everyone was happy. Zeb was so delighted she forgot h
er own miseries. After Parveen was sent off, she silently walked behind the willows and reached her own room. She looked at Ghulam Qadir’s photograph that was fixed on the wall facing the door. She felt pained that Parveen’s brother had missed this important event in her life. She gazed at it. Then she started crying. ‘Where do you keep hiding? Spring is over, summer has faded away, trees are withering – how much longer should I remain waiting for you? If you did not worry about me, why don’t you feel some pity for your parents? Are you not bothered to know about your sister’s plight?’ She sat down with her head between her knees and sobbed.
After her father’s death, Reeny had never trusted anyone as she trusted Qadir. She felt that she had been born again. She only nursed the grouse that Qadir was so busy with work that he hardly spent any time with her. She did not know that Qadir did it on purpose because he did not want to have the time to face the truth. He wanted to stop thinking about his past. It haunted him doggedly. Whenever Reeny asked him why he couldn’t relax a bit, he would say he wanted to make her Hotel Solace the best hotel in Daman.
One day she got irritated and said to him, ‘Why do you always call this only my dream? You know this hotel belongs more to you than me. You are the one who sowed the seed of this dream in me. This belongs more to you than me. Be honest, is it not so?’
Ghulam Qadir squeezed her arm and said, ‘Yes, it is. That is why it is necessary that we work hard so that we are able to live a comfortable life.’
‘Then you can finally take me along to Kashmir and proudly introduce me to your family,’ Reeny said with much enthusiasm. The words struck Ghulam Qadir’s heart like a dart, and he stood up. ‘Oh God! I have to go to the market and arrange for things needed for tomorrow’s party.’ Having said this, he entered the garage and reversed their new Maruti car.
Instead of going to the market, he drove behind the hotel and stopped at a secluded place on the seashore. He started reprimanding himself, ‘What a perdition you are marooned in! Now there is only one exit from this mess and that is to be so rich that no one will have the courage to ask you why you married a second time.’
He looked at the ocean extending far and wide before him. He saw a small boat battling with the tides to reach the shore. The boat was sinking and rising again; but the boatman did not lose his resolve. When the boat got closer to the shore, Ghulam Qadir thought the boatman seemed to resemble his father; the same upright back, the same arms with thick brawn. He began sweat heavily. He started the car and drove fast to the market.
Having finished shopping, he returned to the hotel. Reeny was in the backyard, discussing something with her advocate. Seeing the advocate, Qadir grew nervous. He asked the chief chef to take out the goods from the car, and strode over to Reeny. Reeny said, ‘We were waiting for you. See what a good proposal the advocate has got us.’
The advocate shook hands with Qadir and said, ‘One should not lose this golden opportunity.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Qadir said.
‘A big hotel at Panjim in Goa is on sale. It was constructed just last year. With very little effort, it can be transformed into a five-star hotel.’
‘That is all right, but why are you here?’
‘We were just considering the proposal,’ Reeny replied.
‘But why here in this barren backyard?’
‘Let’s go inside and talk about it.’
They went into the drawing room where the advocate explained every detail of the proposal to Qadir. Having assessed all the aspects of the proposal, Ghulam Qadir’s desire to acquire more property was kindled, yet he felt like he was building castles in the air. He said to Reeny, ‘The proposal is excellent, but how will we manage to get all this money?’
‘That is what we were discussing in the backyard before you arrived. You know the whole stretch of land is lying without any use, and there are many people who have their eyes on it.’
‘Some traders have started offering me a handsome amount for the land,’ the advocate added.
‘We can sell this piece of land and purchase the hotel,’ Reeny said. ‘You don’t know how keen I am on extending our business to Goa.’
Ghulam Qadir started making calculations and he knew that even if they sold the land, they would fall short of money. The advocate suggested that he could easily arrange for the remaining money on loan from a bank.
After a few visits to Goa, the deal was finalized. The hotel had been constructed by some Marwari who had died along with his son and wife in a car accident. The company that had financed the businessman had no option but to put the hotel’s up for auction.
After having purchased Hotel Sea Waves, Ghulam Qadir grew oblivious of everything other than managing it. He worked day in and day out and succeeded in reviving the hotel’s old glory. Upon seeing the success of the hotel, Reeny went back to Daman because the tourist season was about to begin over there. She would come to Goa to spend a few days with Ghulam Qadir, or he would go to Daman. And so both hotels continued to flourish.
It was a record tourist season in Kashmir. Malla Khaliq, Noor Mohammad and Ghulam Ahmed worked relentlessly to serve the tourists and hardly found time to think about Qadir. But how could Aziz Dyad and Zeb forget him who lived in some unknown place! Only the money that he regularly sent to Malla Khaliq from Madras, Kochi, or some other place in the south vaguely hinted at his location. Whenever Malla Khaliq received the money, his anger knew no bounds, and he quarrelled with his family members on every trivial issue.
One day when the postman delivered the mail, there was a big envelope addressed to Ghulam Ahmed. It was a pretty envelope which bore stamps that showed sea waves and children playing in it. In a corner at the bottom was the name of a firm, ‘Kashmiri Carpet Museum, Panjim, Goa’. The name piqued Malla Khaliq’s curiosity, and he thought to himself, so there is a branch of our Arts Emporium in Goa too. But Ghulam Ahmed never mentioned this. Maybe he did not remember. But who had sent this letter to him? He called Ghulam Ahmed and passed the letter on to him. ‘The people from the Emporium have sent you this letter. Have you ever delivered any carpets to them?’
‘When will you start trusting me, Abba?’ Ghulam Ahmed asked him while opening the envelope. ‘I hardly have anything to do with the Emporium.’ Then he suddenly yelled, ‘Abba, this may be a clue of Qadir’s whereabouts!’
‘What?’ Malla Khaliq was alert to hear more.
‘It is a letter from Mohammad Ismail of Gojwara. He has a big shop of carpets in Goa. When I once went to Goa to inquire about Qadir, he took me to each and every Kashmiri businessman working there to get some clue about Qadir.’
‘Tell me what he has written.’
‘He writes, “There is hot news in Goa that a Kashmiri has purchased Hotel Sea Waves of Goa. His name is Qadir Damanwala as he has a hotel in Daman as well. He might be your brother Ghulam Qadir. They say that he usually remains confined to his hotel premises. It is better you come and ascertain for yourself.”’
‘All nonsense! Maybe there is a big businessman with the same name Qadir Damanwala! If our loafer Qadir had that much talent, why did he waste it all here?’
‘Abba, there is nothing wrong in going to Goa to find out the truth. I have a feeling that he might be our Qadir. Otherwise how is he managing to send you so much money every month?’
Malla Khaliq’s suspicion was stirred. He consulted Noor Mohammad and also called Doctor Nisar. They decided to send Ghulam Ahmed to Goa.
When Abdullah Shah heard about Ghulam Ahmed’s going to Goa, he felt delighted. Ghulam Ahmed called at his house and he said to him, ‘See how God has paved the way for your benefit. If Ghulam Qadir really has such a big hotel in Goa, we can rent a showroom in the hotel and start our carpet business there.’
Ghulam Ahmed’s greed too raised its head. ‘How can I be in such luck? How can an empty-handed person like me strike gold so easily?’
Abdullah Shah was such a deft businessman that he could count even the feathers of a flying bird. He knew
well that Ghulam Ahmed had purposely come to his house. He looked at him. Ghulam Ahmed wished to take full advantage of the opportunity and continued to say, ‘It may take me a week to reach Goa and all the showrooms will have been booked by then.’
‘No. Why? You better travel by air. I will book you a ticket today. You should take some sample carpets along with you.’
After travelling partly by air, and partly by train, Ghulam Ahmed reached Panaji. He went straight away to Mohammad Ismail of Gojwara. He showed him the road leading to Hotel Sea Waves and advised him, ‘Please go inside cautiously for they do not allow vendors to enter the hotel. You should first make a thorough inquiry about this Qadir Damanwala before going ahead.’
Ghulam Ahmed took a turn and got his first glimpse of Hotel Sea Waves, and he was stunned. He stopped at a distance from the gate. He waited for the right time to enter. He pleaded to his Saint Dastagir that the owner of the hotel might come out to the lawns so that he could see whether Qadir Damanwala was really his brother or someone else. Just then a big car came from the market side, and the gatekeeper opened the gate immediately. Ghulam Ahmed could now see clearly up to the porch of the hotel. He moved closer. The car stopped at the portico. The gatekeeper went running and opened the door of the car. Ghulam Qadir’s heart pounded in his chest when he saw his brother getting out from the car. Unable to control himself, he ran across the lawn calling out to his brother. The gatekeeper tried to stop him. Ghulam Qadir turned around and saw his brother weeping and running towards him. Even he could not hold himself back and welcomed his brother with open arms.
The two gatekeepers looked at each other with surprise. Ghulam Qadir held Ghulam Ahmed’s hand and took him to his room. He closed the door behind him, and made his brother sit down. The two brothers sat nervously before each other, each about to burst forth with words but each anxiously waiting for the other to start the conversation.