Gul Gulshan Gulfam

by Pran Kishore

  ‘No, many of my dreams have come true. I am not scared of death, but I don’t understand the meaning of this dream.’

  ‘It could be that you went near those angels who appeared in the white clouds so that they could carry you along. But when the snow thawed, you came back to the waters of the Dal. You returned to us. Nisar Ahmed told me that you were out of danger.’

  ‘It is a false consolation, I am not stupid. I am telling you that my time to leave this world has come. And I have no unfulfilled desires; you never left any wish unfulfilled. Now please accept my last request. Please forgive Qadir. I want to see him, just one last time. I will otherwise die with this yearning and you will keep repenting.’

  Malla Khaliq covered her hand with his.

  In the meantime, Doctor Andrabi, accompanied by Doctor Nisar, came in and examined Aziz Dyad. After looking at the reports, Doctor Andrabi said to Aziz Dyad, ‘Our mother is much better today. You should continue with the medicine and take the injections on time. Most importantly, you should not worry too much. God will help us, and you will recover quite soon.’

  But this was not acceptable to the Almighty. In spite of the doctors’ unrelenting care, her condition worsened day by day. Her heart was calm, but her body was dwindling. Even in her unconscious state, she muttered, ‘Has he not come yet?’

  Everyone knew whom she was waiting for, but nobody dared to tell Malla Khaliq that he was being unreasonably obstinate during his wife’s last days. Everyone sat in the waiting room, weighed down by a terrible gloom. Noor Mohammad came out weeping from the ICU and said to his father, ‘Abba, her eyes are fixed upon the door.’

  Narayan Joo reprimanded his friend. ‘This is not merely stubbornness, this is sheer foolishness. Don’t you see how she has given up food and water? You may not agree, but I too hold some right over my sister. I will phone Ghulam Qadir right now and tell him to come.’

  Malla Khaliq cast a glance at Zeb, who was softly chanting holy verses for her mother-in-law’s life. She stopped and said to Mukhta, ‘We must do what Lala Sahib suggests, our mother’s spirit will never forgive us otherwise.’

  Malla Khaliq heaved a long sigh and rose saying, ‘It is God’s will.’ Hearing this, Narayan Joo also stood up, and took Ghulam Ahmed along to call Qadir.

  The message that his mother was in the ICU, battling for life, struck Ghulam Qadir like a bolt of lightning. Reeny had moved to Goa because she wanted Sulaiman to go to a good school. She had gone to bring their son from school when Ghulam Qadir received the phone call. When she came to know that his mother was very ill, she immediately called the travel agent and got a ticket on the first flight out for Ghulam Qadir. Sulaiman threw a fit saying, ‘I will also go with Papa! Granny will be happy to see me.’

  Ghulam Qadir tried to make him understand, but he refused to yield. ‘No, if you don’t take me along, I will not let you go. Papa, I have not seen Kashmir, and you grew up there. You have told me many stories about Kashmir. Please, Papa, take me along.’

  Seeing the child’s persistence, Reeny said to Ghulam Qadir, ‘Take him along. This time they have invited you on their own so there is no need to fear. And I’m sure when Amma sees Sulaiman, she will find a reason to live. Your father also change his mind. Take him.’

  Ghulam Qadir thought Reeny was right. He was convinced that when they saw the innocent child, they would not treat him badly. Reeny booked a ticket for Sulaiman as well.

  Ghulam Qadir and his son reached the hospital. The family was gathered in the waiting room when he entered, but no one spoke to Ghulam Qadir except Noor Mohammad. Malla Khaliq was sitting inside the ICU near his wife. Without looking at his face, Noor Mohammad said to Qadir, ‘Come with me and see how her eyes are fixed on the door, waiting for you to walk in.’

  The moment Ghulam Qadir entered the ICU, Malla Khaliq stood up abruptly and Nisar Ahmed also moved away. With her listless eyes, Aziz Dyad looked at Qadir. Ghulam Qadir held her hand. Aziz Dyad tried to speak through the oxygen mask, but her words came out in a faint incomprehensible whisper. Tears flowed out from the corners of her eyes.

  Not able to bear the scene, Malla Khaliq was about to go out when Nisar Ahmed said aloud, ‘Inna lillah wa inna ilaihi raajiuun! ’ (We all are God’s creation and bow to Him.) Malla Khaliq turned back and came running to the bed. Noor Mohammad sank at the foot of the bed. Ghulam Qadir tried to move away when he saw his father coming nearer, but he collapsed on the floor. A nurse came running inside. Malla Khaliq stood still like a wall; his gaze had frozen on the face of his dead wife.

  Nisar Ahmed helped Ghulam Qadir up and the nurse held him by his arm and led him out.

  The rest of the family began wailing in the waiting room. Doctor Nisar held his grandfather close to his chest. Malla Khaliq said to him, ‘She has flown away, leaving me behind all alone! Will she not return?’

  What could Doctor Nisar tell him? Malla Khaliq cast a glance at Aziz Dyad’s face and said again, ‘This was not our tryst.’ Doctor Nisar could not control himself any longer, and started to sob. The door of the ICU opened and the rest of the family entered.

  Ghulam Qadir sat on a bench outside. Sulaiman kept standing beside him in the deserted waiting room. Looking at his father and then at the door of the ICU, he finally went into the ICU and near the bed of his dead grandmother. He gazed at her face. Aziz Dyad’s face looked so calm that the child thought that she was asleep. Her silver hair framed her face. He had almost reached the bed when Ghulam Ahmed noticed him. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, ‘Come, my son, come with me.’

  ‘Let me see my granny,’ Sulaiman said.

  All eyes turned towards him. Noor Mohammad firmly said to him, ‘Take him, why don’t you take him outside?’

  Ghulam Ahmed led the child out and left him with his father.

  Sulaiman hugged his father and cried silently.

  The nurses came with a stretcher to take Aziz Dyad’s body out.

  The days of mourning were over, but Malla Khaliq was yet to return to reality. He kept sitting outside houseboat Gul, looking vacantly at the lake. The whole family was worried for him. Narayan Joo alone consoled them that time would heal him. He came daily and stayed by his friend’s side. Noor Mohammad had taken charge of the house. Bilal and Mukhtar ran all the errands. Ghulam Qadir had confined himself to a room in Gul, moping over his misfortune, but could not muster the courage to go near his father.

  Ghulam Ahmed and Zoon managed the affairs of the houseboats Gulshan and Gulfam to host the tourists.

  Abdul Razaq was posted at Udhampur. He did not want to take Parveen along, but everyone insisted, ‘How can you stay all alone in a new place?’ He agreed and then the couple approached Malla Khaliq for his permission. He looked at them as if he was seeing them after a long time. Then he said, ‘So you are leaving? You may go, God bless you. Don’t be burdened by worry.’

  He accompanied them up to the ghat. Parveen and Abdul Razaq were struggling to hold back their tears. Noor Mohammad and others followed them to the ghat. Parveen turned around and looked towards Gul. Ghulam Qadir was sitting near the rear window watching them. Seeing this Parveen felt her heart would burst out with pain. Ghulam Qadir waved goodbye. The boat glided away and the family returned to the house. Malla Khaliq went to houseboat Gul where Narayan Joo was waiting for him. Life had worn Malla Khaliq down. Once a tall, strong-built man he now hunched over while walking. Narayan Joo stood up to support him. He said, ‘Stand upright. What is this hunchback all about?’ Climbing the staircase of the prow, Malla Khaliq said, ‘When my greatest pillar of support is lost, how can I help being hunchbacked?’

  Soon everyone got busy with routine chores. Sulaiman alone stood on the isle feeling very lonely. No one in the family had spoken a word with him. Zeb, who had already started living a new life, sat near the window absorbed in her studies; she was preparing to take her BA examination. She looked out for a moment and noticed Sulaiman; seeing him standing all alone, her heart filled with pity. He w
as innocent after all. Poor boy! How forlorn he looked! Qadir should not have brought him along.

  She suddenly realized that she must not think about the boy and his father and immersed herself in her book again.

  Malla Khaliq, sitting at the prow of the houseboat, also looked at Sulaiman. He was also moved with compassion. He said to Narayan Joo, ‘Is that illegitimate boy still here? Why doesn’t he leave now?’

  ‘He will surely leave; he will not stay here.’

  ‘Please send him away as soon as possible. Seeing him worsens my pain.’

  ‘He is your own blood after all. It is only natural that you feel for the child.’

  ‘You want me to go crazy and tear my clothes!?’

  ‘No, no, no. Please don’t think so.’

  Malla Khaliq was getting worked up. He looked towards the isle; Sulaiman had climbed down the stairs of the ghat and reached the lowest step.

  Zeb looked at Sulaiman again. ‘What sort of a woman is his mother! She knew that the child’s grandmother was dying. She should not have sent the innocent boy here. Women of other lands hardly think about others.’

  Sulaiman was watching the waters lapping gently against the step, and also the small fish at the bottom of the lake chasing one another through the weeds. He dipped his arm into the water and tried to catch the tiny fish. He suddenly lost his balance and fell headlong into the lake. Seeing this Zeb screamed out, ‘Bilal, the boy is drowning! Bilal!’ And she ran out towards the ghat. Hearing Zeb’s screams, Bilal, Mukhtar, Ghulam Ahmed, Noor Mohammad, Mukhta and Zoon rushed out. The din made Malla Khaliq and Narayan Joo come out. Bilal jumped into the water and brought out Sulaiman who was struggling for breath. Mukhtar caught hold of his hand and pulled him on to the ghat. Ghulam Qadir also came running. Bilal flung a venomous barb at him, ‘If people don’t know how to take care of their children, they should not beget them.’

  Hearing such harsh words, Ghulam Qadir did not dare move ahead. Bilal and Mukhtar laid the child on the ground and pumped Sulaiman’s chest to squeeze out the water from his lungs. Zeb rushed in and got a towel. Then Bilal took the boy in and changed his clothes.

  Ghulam Qadir, like a smoked rodent, went away without being noticed. He phoned Narayan Joo’s office to book his return ticket.

  The mishap shook Malla Khaliq out of his gloom, and he came back to the world of possible contingencies.

  After changing Sulaiman’s clothes, Bilal and Mukhtar took him to the deck of the houseboat and made him sit in the sun. Malla Khaliq was also sitting outside in an armchair after Narayan Joo had left. He looked at Bilal and Bilal said to him, ‘He is shivering. Needs some sun.’ Malla Khaliq did not reply. Sulaiman, shrunken with fear, squatted before Malla Khaliq and said to him, ‘Sorry, Grandpa!’ Malla Khaliq stayed silent.

  Subhan got a samovar of qahva and poured it into the cups. He held out the first cup to Malla Khaliq. He said to Subhan, ‘Pour some qahva for this boy as well.’ Sulaiman dithered, but Malla Khaliq said to him, ‘Have it. You are cold.’ Sulaiman looked at Bilal who with his hands indicated that he could take the cup. While sipping the qahva, Malla Khaliq’s gaze kept returning to Sulaiman. He could no more hold his emotions in and said to the child, ‘Don’t you know how to swim?’

  The cup in Sulaiman’s hand shook, as he said, ‘No.’

  ‘You are the son of a boatman and yet you don’t know swimming!’

  Sulaiman started sweating; he lowered his head and said, ‘Mummy does not allow me to step into water. One of her cousins drowned, so she is afraid of water.’

  Having said this, he put the cup aside, wiped his mouth and looked all around at the vast expanse of the Dal. He said to Subhan, ‘Uncle, does this lake stretch up to those mountains?’

  ‘Yes, from the foothills of Zabarwan to those mountains in the distance,’ Subhana replied.

  ‘It is beautiful!’

  Malla Khaliq felt something stir in his heart. ‘Has nobody taken you on a trip of the lake?’

  ‘Papa does not come out of his room. He keeps weeping. He must be missing Granny.’

  ‘You take him for a trip in the shikaarah tomorrow,’ Malla Khaliq said and stood upto leave.

  The next day Subhan returned to the houseboat after having taken Sulaiman for a trip of the lake. Yet no one in the family showed him any warmth. Ghulam Qadir got ready to leave. After begging for forgiveness from all his family members, he and his son crossed over to the Boulevard where a taxi from Narayan Joo’s travel agency was waiting. As they were leaving, everyone began to feel overwhelmed with sadness, but no one dared tell Malla Khaliq anything or to look towards the ghat at the time of Qadir’s departure. Bilal alone followed them up to the ghat and said to Sulaiman, ‘When you are home, you should learn swimming or you might drown.’ This sarcasm felt worse than death to Ghulam Qadir, and he vented all his anger on the boatman. ‘Why don’t you leave, Habba?’ Habba rowed the boat quickly. Ghulam Qadir did not look back even once. But poor Sulaiman continued looking back at his grandfather’s houseboats until they were out of sight.

  Two months had passed since Qadir returned from home after getting humiliated again. All this time, Sulaiman never stopped talking about Kashmir and the Dal Lake. Reeny was tired of listening to him. Something was eating her from within.

  Ghulam Qadir seemed like a shadow of his former self; he had left behind his heart and mind in Kashmir. He as usual rose early in the morning, got ready for work and worked like a machine. The private time he spent with Reeny was no more than an obligation to him. Every day after completing his work, he returned to his room, sat in the balcony and drank until the bottle was empty. But it was impossible to get rid of his yearning for the lost days. His nostalgia sometimes assumed the melody of the songs of the nymphs of Parimahal and gave him wings to soar over the summits of the Zabarwan hills or to glide through dense pines. But many times it appeared like venomous serpents which stung him and caused terrible pain. The days kept drifting.

  In Kashmir the dust had somewhat settled and life had returned to its normal pace. All three of Malla Khaliq’s grandchildren, Nisar Ahmed, Bilal and Mukhtar, had helped him forget his sorrows and pain. Whenever the memories of his wife grew intense, he, despite Doctor Nisar’s protests, quietly climbed up the Sulaiman hill and reached the level land where his Aziza was buried in the family graveyard. He would sit for a long time near the gravestone and pour his heart out to her departed soul. He was sure that his Azi heard everything.

  The nature of his business, like that of the weather of Kashmir, was whimsical, now hot and then cold again. And everyone had finally forgotten Qadir Damanwala as well.

  Bilal had even removed the photograph of his father from his mother’s room and buried it deep amidst a heap of old waste paper. Zeb never asked him where the photograph went.

  Whenever she was free from domestic chores, she either read or enjoyed the songs of mystic poets. She sometimes wrote a diary. She hid it from the family. But one day when Bilal was rummaging around in the trunk, he found her diary. He read the songs one by one. He could hardly believe that his mother was such a good poet. He could not hold himself back and took the diary to show it to his grandfather.

  Malla Khaliq was changing the covers of the sofa in houseboat Gul, but Bilal made him drop the work. ‘Why are you so happy? Have you dug up some treasure?’

  ‘This is definitely a treasure! Sit down and I will show it to you.’

  Malla Khaliq sat down and patiently waited for Bilal. With a flourish, Bilal took out the diary and showed it to his grandfather. ‘Here is the treasure that made me so happy.’

  ‘What is all this about? What is so special? Is there some old tale written in the diary? Or is it some rare manuscript?’

  ‘You just listen to this.’

  He read out the songs written by Zeb to his grandfather. Malla Khaliq, who loved poetry and art, heard every verse intently. He finally stopped him and asked, ‘Tell me, when did you write these poems?’

  ‘You
first tell me honestly what you think of them, Abba. Please be very frank!’

  ‘They are just beautiful! I am not a connoisseur of poetry, but your words are really soulful. Tell me what inspired you to become a poet?’

  ‘Abba, these are not mine. These are my mother’s.’

  ‘What, these are Zeb’s?’

  ‘Yes, Abba.’ Then he told him that his mother had hidden the diary under clothes in her trunk. Hearing this, Malla Khaliq was filled with pride. He hugged Bilal and said, ‘This is also a result of your hard work. Had you not helped her walk towards the truth, she might have been still living a life full of tears.’

  Malla Khaliq then touched the diary to his forehead and said, ‘My dear, you take this diary and keep it where you found it. Don’t let her know that you have seen it; that might hamper her creativity. There will come a time when she herself will recite these to us.’

  In Goa, Ghulam Qadir and Reeny’s business continued to expand, and they rented out their hotel at Daman on lease. This made it possible for Reeny to move to Goa. Many businessmen approached Reeny to rent the showroom they had given to Ghulam Ahmed and they offered an attractive rent, but hoping that Ghulam Ahmed would return, she did not let anybody have it.

  Ghulam Qadir avoided passing by Ghulam Ahmed’s showroom because whenever he did, he felt his old wounds hurting again and it also reminded him of the bitterness of his failure. Even Ghulam Ahmed, who was considered the most ungrateful and worthless son by Malla Khaliq, had rejected help. The showroom became a bone of contention between Ghulam Qadir and Reeny, yet she did not let any businessman occupy it. She made Sulaiman repeatedly write letters to Bilal so that the severed relations between Ghulam Qadir and his family could be restored, but they never received a reply. She was helpless because with every passing day, Ghulam Qadir was becoming more and more aloof. He worked all the time like a soulless robot.