This picture too disappeared from my eyes. A third picture emerged, this time of Dada Miyan in Dilkusha where he was never ever seen sitting and talking to Bande Ali in quite the same manner. It was almost as though he had been uprooted from his spot. He was lying in bed, enfeebled and debilitated. He opened his eyes and looked at Phuphi Amma who was sitting beside his bed, reading from the Surah Yaseen for the past several days. His entire family was gathered around him. Those relatives who had gone away too had come to be close to him in these last moments. Those days Death used to give the dying person ample time to say what one wanted to, to see whom one wanted to. Dada Miyan had gone into a stupor, but he opened his eyes now and said softly, ‘The Amir has come.’ And with these words, he closed his eyes for ever and Phuphi Amma began to cry loudly. Everyone was crying …
‘Let me go and tell Chhote Miyan,’ and Bholu went past the gate like an arrow and, at the same speed, I too returned from the thoroughfares of days gone by. And a strange sense of surprise came over me. Rows upon rows of girls with satchels full of books on their shoulders were coming out of the gate. Has a school opened here? I asked myself; after all, who else could I ask? Bholu had already gone in. He came back at the same speed that he had gone in. ‘See, Chhote Miyan is coming out himself.’ And I saw an elderly gentleman, tall, slimly built, fair, with a slight white beard, dressed in a white mulmul kurta and a narrow-legged white pajama, a black Rampuri cap on his head – in short, a complete picture of my departed father – was coming towards me with a walking stick in hand. I was amazed. Chhote Miyan had grown so old! How quickly I had forgotten so many years had passed by. I stepped forward and offered my Salaam. How affectionately he embraced me! Badi Bhabhi embraced me with the same affection when she welcomed me at the entrance to the women’s quarter. ‘Ai Bhai, where did this Eid moon9 come out from? How can anyone come so suddenly? Arre, you should have at least informed us on a two-paisa postcard and we would have come to the station to get you.’
‘Shankar had reached with his car.’
‘Yes, yes, he is your sole relative. We are outsiders. How did you come here? You should have stayed there with him … in the kothi of Seth Mahinder. After all, they have servants, cars, everything … the comforts you will get there you won’t find here.’
‘These complaints and grievances, these taunts and excuses can happen later. Let him at least draw his breath.’
‘I have let him draw enough breath! Now I will trouble him all I want. He has tasted the easy life in Pakistan; let me deal with him my way. Arre Miyan, tell me: is there a shortage of post offices in Pakistan? After all, what is the price of a postcard? Would it have lessened your wealth if, every six months or so, you had written a few words about your wellbeing on a postcard and sent it to us?’
‘He would have written had he considered us his own,’ Chhote Miyan added.
‘Bhaiyya, I want to know what is mixed in the water of Pakistan that whoever goes there loses all interest in blood relations.’
‘Badi Bhabhi, let me ask something too. I cannot understand how you all came to live in the old haveli again. And Dilkusha …’
‘Bhaiyya, don’t ask,’ Bhabhi said in a heart-wrenching tone. ‘Why do you sprinkle salt on our wounds? We have been ruined by those who went away to Pakistan.’
I was abashed. All I could say was, ‘And now we are ruining ourselves there.’
‘It isn’t good to cause distress to others. I had told Pyare Miyan, “You are ruining us by going there. If Allah wills, you too will not rest content.” And that is exacty what happened. He had come last year. He said, ‘Badi Bhabhi, you gave me such a curse that I am still without a roof over my head.” I said, “Bhaiyya, I did not curse you; your land did. It isn’t good to turn inhabited land into a deserted wasteland. Pyare Miyan, the land also curses. You should not have ruined us in your desire to go and live in Pakistan, and made a mockery of your family.”’
‘I did not know anything. I went straight to Dilkusha. There is nothing there now. It is a good thing I met Bholu who brought me here. So we can thank Pyare Miyan for this turn of events?’
‘There were others who agreed with Pyare Miyan. And chief among them was your Chhote Miyan.’
‘That deceitful fellow,’ Chhote Miyan burst out in tones of extreme distaste, ‘inveigled his younger brother in his schemes.’
‘Don’t think Achche Miyan was any less clever. In fact, it was he who put the idea in Pyare Miyan’s head. It was he who first came up with the plan of moving to Pakistan. They changed colours as soon as Miyan Jaan passed away. First they set up a clamour for going to Pakistan. Then they let loose the firecracker about dividing the property. And your Chhote Miyan … he agreed to their plans. You know what is the worth of the property of the Muslims these days? They sold it for a song, took their share and went away to Pakistan.’
‘It is a good thing they left. What would they have done here had they stayed?’ Chhote Miyan asked, lending the stamp of legitimacy to their decision to leave.
‘Yes, it is good they went. Of course, they should have gone. But they should not have ruined us. They were about to sell the haveli too. It was I who stood barring their way with my shoe in hand. I said to them, “You scoundrels, you will go to Pakistan and live the good life, where will we poor homeless souls go?” And when he tried to throw his weight around, I told him clearly, “This haveli is family property. The children of Deputy Dil Husain are not the sole owners of this haveli. Munnan, sitting in Karachi, has a share too; ask him. Go to Aurangabad and persuade your younger Phupho. And then there is Maimuna – the only heir of Phuphi Amma; get her signature too.” That was enough to fob them off.’
She entered: tall, slim, wheatish complexion, a lock of hair that had turned completely silver, dressed in a white sari. I gaped at her.
‘Ai hai, why have you stopped? It isn’t some outsider who has come into the house. It is Munnan. Didn’t you recognize him?’ And then Badi Bhabhi turned towards me. ‘Bhaiyya, you didn’t recognize her either? It is Maimuna.’
All I could find to say was, ‘Oh, you have become so big.’
‘So, could she have stayed that little! Who could have known then that she would become so tall.’
‘Yes, she was tiny then,’ Badi Bhabhi laughed at my words. Maimuna showed no reaction whatsoever.
‘Is the school over?’ And then after a pause, Badi Bhabhi said, ‘Now look after the kitchen. Munnan Miyan is here, too. I don’t feel like getting up.’
Maimuna quietly turned towards the kitchen.
‘Those two have been in Karachi from the start; don’t you meet them?’
‘I am hearing for the first time from you that they are in Karachi.’
‘I have heard that this is what happens to people when they go to Pakistan,’ Badi Bhabhi started off again. ‘People leave together from here. But as soon as they reach there, they scatter to the winds and have no knowledge of each others’ joys and sorrows; they join in neither each others’ good times nor bad. I have heard that even their marriages are now with outsiders.’
‘That is what happens when people are uprooted from their place,’ Chhote Miyan interjected once again.
‘By the way, what are they doing there? If I get their address, I can try and meet them.’
‘You know what Pyare Miyan is like,’ Badi Bhabhi said. ‘What has that God’s own child done in his entire life? He had his father and grandfather’s wealth, which he was used to spending lavishly. He always spent money like water. He did the same there. And he possibly found someone who hastened the ruin. And so he was spent. There was no ancestral property there to shore up his downfall. He was completely ruined. Thankfully, God has given him a son. I have heard that he has become an engineer. The boy is his sole support in his old age. That leaves Achche Miyan; you know he was always the clever one. He has heaps of money, but his state is such that even if he spots a coin in a puddle of filth, he will pick it up with his teeth. Bhaiyya, obviously I haven’t
seen any of this with my own eyes; I am only telling you what I have heard. Achche Miyan apparently is a great one for keeping the officers in good humour. And that is how he gets his tenders.’
‘Why blame him? It is the way things are done in Pakistan.’
‘Arre, who am I to blame anyone? A person makes himself blameworthy with his own actions. I am saying, no one should walk around with his head held high under this wretched sky. Achche Miyan had come recently with his wife. And, Bhaiyya, she wouldn’t set foot on the ground. I said, “May the good Lord keep you as white as pearls and as bright as gold, I am your elder sister-in-law. Whatever I say will be for your own good. Your husband was born as a result of many prayers and entreaties. On the night of eighth of Muharram, he would be dressed as the the cup-bearer of the martyrs who died of thirst in Karbala.10 My mother-in-law, may Allah grant her a place in paradise, had made a vow that when her child grows up and begins to earn, the offering to Chhote Hazrat on the evening of the eighth of Muharram would be made from his side. And now, by the grace of God, Chhote Miyan is earning. You send a money order each year and we will do what has to be done here; and as far as the giving of water is concerned, for that Chhote Miyan can go to the Shah-e Khurasan and offer water on the night of the eighth of Muharram.”11 Ai Bhaiyya, she turned livid. She turned on me and said tartly, “We live in Pakistan; why should we make our offering here? Maula Ali is here as much as he is there. The offering can be made there too.” I was left feeling foolish for opening my mouth. After that, I didn’t say another word.’
Bholu knocked at the door. ‘Bibi-ji, shall I go? Does Munnan Miyan want to go somewhere?’
‘Ai hai, let Munnan Miyan draw a breath! And you, where have you been all this while, you accursed creature? We are seeing your face after ages. And, after all, why not? You have also seen that there is nothing but dust here? And what good is that to anyone?’
‘No, Bibi-ji, it isn’t so at all.’
‘Of course … what else is it? If Bhupat had been alive, he would have been here with us whereas you are an ungrateful wretch. Your new masters must have promised you the sun and the moon. Naturally, you will do nothing but praise them.’
‘Bibi, one praises the masters only if they have any praiseworthy qualities. I am myself so fed up of them that I am looking for a way to get away. But what to do … I am holding on to a piece of land there.’
‘I have heard that the Seth has had all the trees cut down,’ Chhote Miyan asked.
‘He has ruined everything. That Seth has turned out to be a damnable fellow.’
‘What does he plan to do?’
‘He wants to set up a mill.’
‘What do we want with the Seth? What do you do?’ Badi Bhabhi asked.
‘I drive a tanga. The tanga that used to belong to Bade Sarkar … that is with me, you know.’
‘The tanga had been bought with such joy! How grand it looked! But how many days did he live to sit in it?’ Badi Bhabhi sighed.
‘It still gleams like new. I have taken very good care of it.’
‘Come with the tanga tomorrow. We will go and meet some friends and relatives. In any case, there are hardly any friends or relatives left. Dulhan Khala, Nanhi Chachi, Murad Ali Taya … and that is it. That is the sum total of our relatives. How large the family used to be once! It has scattered now like seeds.’ And Badhi Bhabhi sighed once again.
‘All right, then, I will come early in the morning.’ Bholu went away.
‘Let me go and see what is happening in the kitchen. Poor Maimuna is managing all by herself. That wretched girl, Gulshan is of no use; she does nothing till you stand on her head and get things done. And she can do no cooking at all whatsoever.’
‘So Maimuna lives with you?’ For how long the question had been bubbling inside me. Finally, though still hesitantly, I managed to ask it.
‘Who else would she live with? Does she have any brothers or nephews sitting around here? The ones she had have all flown the coop.’ And after a pause she said, ‘Perhaps you are trying to ask why she has not married. Bhai, you should first look at your own conscience, and then ask this question.’
‘He asked a simple question. You love to go off on a tangent, don’t you?’ Chhote Miyan interrupted her.
‘Aji, I have also given a simple straightforward answer. In any case, I remember Phuphi Amma almost all the time. What did she have left in her life to live for? She had nobody left except her daughter. How dearly she wanted her daughter to get married! And her dearest wish came to nothing. How she used to chatter and chirrup earlier! But she became so quiet after Munnan went away. And then her decline set in. And Miyan Khan too fretted and fumed at her state. His sorrow was doubled. After all, the nephew that he loved more than any father would love his own child went away and left him to fend for himself in his old age. He used to say, “What will the world say? That his nephew was such a burden on him that he pushed him away to Pakistan! And look how tightly he has held on to his own children!” And I would say to him, “Miyan Khan, if that were so, why did you not rebuke him when he first raised the subject of going to Pakistan? Would he have had the temerity to set foot outside the house?” And he sighed and said to me, “He was my brother’s child; after all, he wasn’t mine.”’
‘Why are you raking these old stories?’ Chhote Miyan interrupted her. ‘Why pick on Jawad Miyan? It was a wave that was sweeping people off their feet. Now, when you think about it, it seems strange that those who went did so thinking what they did, and those who stayed back did so thinking what they did.’
‘Ai hai, the poor girl,’ and once again Badi Bhabhi was reminded of the kitchen. ‘She is bent over the stove all alone. She comes back exhausted from the school and once here, she sets to work on the skillet and the fire.’
‘School.’ Now I understood why rows upon rows of girls were coming out of the haveli.
‘Yes, my dear, we have started a school in the haveli,’ Badi Bhabhi clarified. ‘It has killed two birds with one stone. For one, such a large haveli would not have stayed in our possession otherwise. Would the wretched god-forsaken government have let us keep it? Opening the school has allowed us to keep this haveli, thank the Lord, and it has also given a hobby to Maimuna. Now she is neither a burden on herself nor on us. And Munnan Miyan, what shall I tell you, how efficiently she is running the school!’
‘Badi Bhabhi, the food is ready.’ Maimuna came and announced, and went back immediately. Badi Bhabhi’s description was left incomplete. Everyone stood up to eat.
1 Literally meaning, ‘that which pleases the heart’ but used in the sense of ‘charming’ or ‘attractive’.
2 In the original, Jawad and Shankar address each other as ‘tu’; the casual form of address used by children. Unfortunately, the English ‘you’ does not convey the affection, informality, ease and equality of ‘tu’.
3 Parikshit was the grandson of Arjuna, and the son of Abhimanyu from his wife Uttara. He succeeded his uncle, Yudhishtira, to the throne of Hastinapura, but he died of a serpent’s bite.
4 The index finger of the right hand is raised as mark of bearing witness during prayer.
5 Dillu Ram was a Hindu poet who wrote quatrains in praise of the Prophet Muhammad; he lived in Delhi.
6 There is a play upon words in the best tradition of Urdu poetry here. Kausari is the poet’s pen name; Kausar refers to a spring or fountain in paradise.
7 Legendary mountain said to be in the Caucasian region, it is evoked as a metaphor for a fairyland.
8 According to Islamic eschatology, there is a Guided One, a prophesied Last Prophet who is concealed at present but will appear to rule over the world for seven, nine or nineteen years (according to different interpretations) before the Day of Judgement. Differences exist in the concept of the Mahdi between Shia and Sunni Muslims. For Sunnis, the Mahdi is Muhammad’s successor who is yet to come. For Shias, the Mahdi was born but disappeared and will remain hidden from humanity until he reappears to bring justice t
o the world and rid it of all evil.
9 The proverbial Eid moon is a rare sighting because it is a mere sliver and visible for only a short while. Its sighting heralds that the next day will be Eid-ul Fitr.
10 As one who was born after a mannat or vow, the child would offer water in memory of the martyrs who died of thirst in the Battle of Karbala. The child would be dressed in a green kurta and carry a small mashaq filled with water; he would either go to people’s homes to offer water or stand by the road and offer water to wayfarers. The child is called Bibi ka Saqqa, he who gives water to Bibi Sakina, daughter of Husain. The Chhote Hazrat is a reference to Abbas, son of Ali, bother of Husain and paternal uncle of Sakina.
11 A mosque and Imam Bara in Karachi.
Now I was in my own surroundings. It felt as though all my scattered parts had come and joined me, including Munnan. And now I was together and whole. The feeling suffused me with tranquillity. This sea change had come over me in one night. I cannot say what had changed within me while I slept or who had whispered which magical chant over me, but when I opened my eyes in the morning, I was whole and alive. It was difficult to say when I woke up. For a long time, I kept trying to understand if the sound that was coming from afar was that of a koel. Was this a dream? I kept lying there, with my eyes closed, motionless, lying on my side, fearful that if I were to turn the sound of the koel would be lost. And my dream would break into smithereens. It was as though a koel sitting on a twig of some distant tree had sensed it. She fell silent. Then I opened my eyes and then I came to know that I was awake. I looked up as I lay on the bed. A sky filled with serenity and pleasure was above me. I had slept under the open sky after such a long time. As I lay, I gathered as much of the sky as I could in my eyes. How fresh the sky looked, and how familiar! I was seeing the sky of Vyaspur after ages.
The Sea Lies Ahead Page 15