‘Why?’
‘There is danger.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of an attack.’
‘Attack? Whose attack?’
‘Yaar, don’t argue. You have no idea about anything. I have smelt something; that’s why I am saying it.’
‘All right, so what can we do?’
‘We should not sleep at night. My sense is that the entire neighbourhood will be awake. There is a great danger.’
‘All right, in that case we shall stay up too.’
‘Yes, yaar, we shall stay up all night. As long as we keep getting tea, it isn’t difficult to stay awake.’ And then he called out to Nemat Khan. ‘Nemat Khan!’
He came running. ‘Yes?’
‘We have to be on guard all night; you do know that a curfew has been clamped, don’t you? Things are very bad.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have everything you need for tea?’
‘Yes, I do.’
Interestingly, after broaching the subject of an all-night vigil, Majju Bhai promptly pulled the sheet over his ears and went to sleep. After his announcement, the burden of keeping the vigil fell on my shoulders. In any case, I was not in the least sleepy; sleep was miles away from my eyes under these circumstances. But how long could I read my book? Eventually, I kept it aside. I yawned and went to stand in the balcony. A strange sight greeted my eyes. The street that stayed alive all night long, with small shops doing brisk business selling tea and cigarettes and paan, was silent and deserted. Such silence after such clamour all day long! I was surprised, and also scared. Although the silence of the night is not, in itself, a novel experience for me. I had known it long before I began to live in this city. In fact, that experience is a part of my childhood. I was born in an age when electricity was unknown; I mean to say that electricity had not reached the small settlement where I lived as a child. Night used to start so early there and how long and how dark it used to be. The silence of a dark night is more impenetrable. The sound of jackals coming from the other side of the dharamshala would not break that silence; it would, instead, deepen it.
And the silence I experienced after that was the silence of 1947 and thereabout. I had become a city dweller by then. I had to come and live in the city due to my education. The cities used to be different back then. There would be a hustle and a bustle. The shops would be open. There would crowds of shoppers. The merrymakers would be laughing and joking. The hawkers would be calling out their wares. And suddenly a rumour would course through one end of the market to the other with the speed of lightning. The shops would begin to close down at the same speed. Shutters would be pulled down and doors slammed shut. Shopkeepers would close shops and buyers would gather their wares and run for dear life. Within a matter of minutes, the market would close, the streets would empty out and the very air would become desolate as though it was not a rumour that had rippled down the street but a call from the Mount of Summons.
There was the same silence now, but with an added terror. Every age brings its own silence, its own fear and, yes, its own violence. Darkness lends another colour to silence. But here the lamp posts were standing in their places with their lights intact. The street was filled with light. But there was no trace of life for miles around. Ya Allah, how did the crowds disappear so suddenly? A rush, a stampede, cries and screams and then, all gone without a trace! Not a slogan, not a shout, no sound of shutters coming down or doors being slammed shut – only an empty and silent street bathed in the light of the electric lamps. And scattered here and there were pieces of half-burnt tyres, bricks, stones and the bus that had been burnt to a cinder. The only sign of life was the Kalashnikov-toting policeman who stood in the middle of the flood-lit crossroad, still as a statue. For a long time, I stood looking at him with great surprise. Was he a flesh-and-blood living human being or a statue fashioned like a human being and installed in the middle of the road?
… And then he began to drown in a sea of surprise. Terror engulfed him. Suddenly, an elderly man could be seen coming from up ahead. He leapt to come closer and this is what he said, ‘Please, sir, can you tell me what is going on? Is it a trick or is this a place of calamities? When I had set foot in this settlement, there was much hustle and bustle and there were crowds everywhere. Its streets and alleys were lively and all around there was light and happiness. The quarters of the courtesans were brightly lit. Moon-faced maidens were aplenty. Music wafted in the air. The ogglers jostled on the streets looking up at the brightly-lit quarters and making eyes at the ladies of the night. And now what do I see? The bustle is gone, there is only noise, and in all four directions there is nothing but terror. And there is desolation everywhere. I cannot understand what has happened here. I am in a dilemaa; I don’t know where to go.’
The elderly man heard this and looked at him from head to toe in such a way that one of his eyes cried and the other laughed. Then, with infinite sadness, he said, ‘Young man, I pity your youth. You poor wretched man, this city is now the City of Calamities. Which tyrant showed you the way to this place? You have been misled to your doom. Listen to me … Leave this place as soon as you can.’ He heard the elderly man, wept a bit and said, ‘Fate has brought me here. The heavens have conspired to bring me here. How can I now take the high road to freedom, for such a course of action defies my sense of honour and yours truly is bound by honour.’
‘Yaar, have you gone mad? Are you bent upon killing yourself? The bullet doesn’t ask if it should come and hit you. Come inside.’
Majju Bhai was awake and was calling out to me from his bed. I tiptoed out of the balcony and returned to the room. In any case, what was the good of staying on outside? Majju Bhai’s loud voice had shattered the spell of the silence.
‘What were you doing outside?’
‘Nothing … I was just looking out.’
‘Looking out? What is there to look at, at this time? The curfew is on. You can’t even see a tiny birdling at this time.’
‘I was looking at the silence.’
‘Nice,’ Majju Bhai spoke with bitterness. ‘You think this silence is a spectacle. That’s because you are sitting inside your house. Ask me, I will tell you the state of the city. Thank your stars that I was able to save myself and get back safely home, or else you would have been scouring the city searching for my corpse … Yaar Nemat Khan, you are awake, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then let’s have a round of tea. A curfewed night can only be passed with the help of several rounds of tea.’
‘All right.’
After Nemat Khan went away, the two of us remained quiet for some time. Perhaps Majju Bhai hadn’t fully come out of his sleep. Only a good cup of tea could do that. And I too hadn’t entirely come out of my own drift. So, when I spoke, I was still on the same track. ‘Majju Bhai, what is happening in this city?’
‘What is happening?’ Majju Bhai spoke carelessly.
‘Do I really need to tell you what is happening?’
It was almost as though Majju Bhai had finally emerged from his sleepiness. He looked hard at me and said, ‘Whatever is happening is not new.’ And then after a pause, ‘Yaar, I had said something to you; you did not think it appropriate to pay any heed.’
‘And what was it that you said?’
‘That if you must live in this city, you must stop thinking; or else, leave this city. I ask you: Can we stop whatever it is that is happening? Then what is the use of thinking and fretting?’
‘That is all very well. But I am wondering: What am I doing in this city.’
Majju Bhai laughed, ‘What am I doing in this city?’ he repeated my words in his sardonic tone. Then he said, ‘Even if you had lived somewhere else, what would you have done? What did you do when you went where you did and where you had the opportunity to do something?’
‘Yes, that’s true, but …’ I don’t know what I was trying to say.
Irritably, Majju Bhai cut me short before I could complete m
y sentence, ‘No buts … All our ifs and buts are of no consequence. So, don’t say anything. Just watch. Therein lies safety.’
‘So, there is some hope of safety? You are saying as though we are sitting in some safe spot, as though whatever is happening will keep happening somewhere far removed from us. And that we will remain safe as long as we sit in our little nests.’
‘As far as safety is concerned, my dear Jawad Miyan, only those who are fortunate will remain safe. No one will be safe because he was more vigilant or more careful. Those who are dying are dying in a muddled way. Whoever lives shall live because Allah has so willed. In any case, there is no logic to life or death. And you and I are, in any case, living a meaningless life.’
‘If that is so, pray tell me why you have been instructing me to be more careful?’
‘Well, we should all be more careful even though whatever will be, will be. Neither you nor I can stop what must happen from happening.’
Meanwhile, Nemat Khan brought the tea and kept it before us. Majju Bhai felt instantly better. He took his first sip and sighed deeply, ‘Aqa Hasan is even more anxious than you. He looks worried all the time. He’s becoming thinner by the day worrying over the state of affairs in the city. He asked me once, “Brother Majidul Hussaini, what do you see ahead?” I said, “The sea.” And he gaped at me as though I was joking. Then he said, “Brother Majidul Hussaini, I had asked you this question in all seriousness.” And I said, ‘Qibla Aqqan sahab, I too had replied with utter seriousness.” And then he was quiet.’
Now even I was quiet. What could I say? Majju Bhai had cut me short in such a way that I did not know what to say anymore.
‘Majju Bhai,’ I finally unlocked my tongue, ‘I keep remembering something my Badi Bhabhi had said to me.’
‘And what was that?’
‘I have a cousin; his name is Pyare Miyan. When my grandfather died, he sold off all our ancestral lands and property – in fact everything except an old haveli – for a pittance. He took his share – or rather more than his fair share – and came away to Pakistan. Once here, he spent all the money he had made from the sale and could never quite settle down here. When he returned to India, he described his plight and said, “Badi Bhabhi, your curse has ruined me.” Badi Bhabhi replied, “Bhaiyya, I have never cursed you. But whether I wished you ill or not does not really matter. You ruined your land; of course, the land will call down curses upon you. Those who have been cursed by the land can never be happy …”’
‘Yes, that’s a thought,’ Majju Bhai actually looked serious.
‘Majju Bhai, I feel this is not applicable to Pyare Miyan alone … and whether it applies to anyone else or not, it certainly applies to me.’
‘What had I said to you?’
‘What had you said to me?’
‘You should have remembered. I had said to you that either one should not travel; or if one must travel, then one should not leave midway. You undertook the hardships of travel and yet you did not bring it to its logical culmination. You left your journey incomplete. This incomplete journey will trouble you. And, my dear, my sense is that it has already begun to trouble you.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Not perhaps but certainly! My dear, you are reminded of what your Badi Bhabhi had said. Soon, you will remember other things said by other people,’ Majju Bhai said and yawned. ‘Yaar, I am sleepy.’
‘You are feeling sleepy even after the tea?’
‘Yes, that’s really strange, isn’t it? Usually I can be up all night as long as I have enough tea. I don’t know what is wrong today; in any case, you are awake, aren’t you?’
‘Sleep seems to have fled from my eyes.’
‘Fine, so stay awake then; I am going to sleep,’ and with these words, Majju Bhai – who had woken up just a short while ago – lay down on his bed again. And strangely enough, began to snore almost immediately.
There was no trace of sleep in my eyes. There was a clamour in my mind. There was a mixture of surprise and anxiety: So is this really the same city? Has it changed so much? Do cities change like this as though a sea change has come over them? Alive, bustling, teeming, and then as though the entire city underwent a transformation. I was reminded of what I had said to Majju Bhai the other day. And suddenly a doubt arose within me. It seemed as though the Mount of Summons was somewhere close beside me. It had been hiding somewhere all this while; now it had suddenly revealed itself.
… And it so happened that when a month passed and the date came again, then everything happened in the same way all over again. And he was surprised at the voice and where it came from. Why were people so terrified? Why were their faces pale and why were their eyes wide open with terror? And why had he forgotten everything in his haste to get back home? He was thinking of this when suddenly he saw a young man coming towards him, almost falling in his haste. And behind him ran an old woman, crying and shouting, ‘My son, my son …’ He tried to reach out and catch the young man and chide him as to why he was troubling his old mother, but the young man freed himself from his grasp, wriggled away like a fish and ran in the direction of the mountain. And he too followed him in hot pursuit. But within the flash of an eye, he reached the mountain and disappeared from sight. Saddened and disappointed, he turned back. He thought he would console the old woman, but he found that she too had disappeared. And all traces of that terror had gone. Once again there were the same crowds and gaity, the gatherings big and small as well as the buying and selling. Jewellers, bankers, money lenders, sellers of perfumes and flowers – they were all in business once again, getting the best prices from their customers. The hustle was back. The alley was once again as fragrant as a perfumer’s tray. Seeing this, he was even more surprised and terror mounted within him. Ya Ali, what was going on? What was that? And what is this? The sight that his eyes had seen – and were now seeing – was it reality, or was it nothing but a place of illusions?
‘… either one should not travel; or if one must travel, then one should not leave it midway … This incomplete journey will trouble you. And, my dear, my sense is that …’ And once again, I became restless. There was no tranquillity for me after what Majju Bhai had said – though he had said the same sort of thing using different words several times before. Sometimes something has no effect on you and yet the same thing is said again in such a manner and at such a time that it penetrates deep within you and touches some chord in such a manner that it creates a commotion inside you. God knows at which moment of that silent night – perhaps it was the middle of the night or past midnight – when Majju Bhai made those remarks. I could not sleep not only that night but also for a long time thereafter, I could not rid my mind of those remarks. A strange restlessness came over me. And indeed that journey began to trouble me. I began to remember all sorts of things – from here and there, sometimes a half-finished sentence and sometimes a mere sign. And my restlessness began to increase. Majju Bhai had been so right when he had said, ‘My dear, you are reminded of what your Badi Bhabhi had said. Soon, you will remember other things said by other people.’ That time had come and I was in the net.
Actually, one should not let one’s self flow like that; for, one can drift away. And so I made an attempt to control myself. I began an academic assessment of my travel as though I hadn’t gone on a journey but written a poem and I was now reviewing it to see what flaws remained and why it had not become a successful poem or had fallen short of being a successful poem. Though it is also true that the thought of going on this journey had come to me all of a sudden – like the subject for a poem occurs to a poet and makes him restless and, till he has succeeded in giving it some poetic form, he knows no peace. Similarly, the idea of the journey occurred to me suddenly and, day in and day out, all I could think was that I must go there one day. I could no longer deny that I wanted to and the thought that I might not be able to go gave me palpitations and a feeling of near-hysteria. At that time, Majju Bhai did me the greatest kindness by lending me his supp
ort. He helped me get the visa and made all the arrangements for my travel – just like a child is held by the hand and brought to a road where he is pointed in the right direction and told to keep walking straight ahead. And now it was his sharp and acerbic criticism that was forcing me to make this assessment as to where the sickness lay. And I realized that what had happened to me was exactly what happens to that incompetent practitioner who launches into a prayer but at the penultimate stage – just when the prayer reaches its crescendo – he stumbles. ‘My dear, the journey began to acquire real meaning only from the point when you ran away’.
In a poem, a story or a journey, a turn always comes when that turn becomes a challenge for the traveller, or you can say for the person undergoing that experience. If one accepts the challenge, if one resolves to face it, then the experience manifests itself in some form or the other. And if one runs away then the entire exercise gets washed away in the blink of an eye. Majju Bhai was right when he said, where you thought the matter had ended and when you ran away, that was the starting point. The snake had long since emerged from its burrow; I was sitting there and going over its tracks and wondering where I had fallen short and this journey – upon which I had embarked with such excitement – what was its net result? Now all I could see in this journey were potholes and quagmires. It began to appear as though the entire journey was wasted due to my haste and impatience, or you may say my stupidity and clumsiness. To mistake an instant reaction for a final or last word was hardly an intelligent way to react. And then to run away like that thinking there was no point in staying back! ‘Arre wah, Subhan Allah, as though you are doing anything very important after coming back,’ as Majju Bhai rightly pointed out. Truly, what had I done since my return? In any case, what was there for me to do here, considering I did not know how to use the Kalashnikov?
So now I was beginning to realize that my entire journey had come to naught. My haste had ruined everything. I had been able to go back to that place after an age. How could that land reveal itself fully to me in such a short time? The curtain of separation had fallen between us and it would take some time for it to recognize me again. And then sometimes, it is known to get angry too. Once the land gets angry, it takes a long time to cajole it. The wretch becomes as hard as rock and it does not melt easily. And it had only just begun to get to know me when an obstacle came up. I could now remember who had first recognized me: it was the trees. Actually, it is always the trees that are the first to recognize you, then the birds, then the four walls. Human beings recognize you much later; perhaps they are the last to recognize you. When I talk of the trees, I don’t mean the banyan for the banyan has a distinct place; the banyan stands removed from the others, apart and aloof from the world. It pays no heed to who comes and who goes. A person has to undergo strenuous preparation to forge a relationship with the banyan. The fruit-bearing trees possibly recognize a person sooner than others; they are also among the first to get angry, and are equally quick to be pleased. In the barter of fruits, several good and bad things happen and sometimes there is good behaviour, and sometimes bad behaviour. In the process, a relationship is forged. And I had, after all, spent an age here, that too an age when a hundred different issues besieged the trees. Of course, the usual way to tease the tree was to pluck a half-ripe fruit; or else trample all over it to reach a bird’s nest nestled among its branches. And if one had a slingshot in one hand and one wished to take aim at a bird sitting on a branch, of course the poor tree too would get hit along with the bird. I had already played all these cruel tricks upon them. And so the bond I had formed with them in the good old days was by no means a weak one. Time had not been able to harm that bond. They had recognized me rightaway when I was still in the train. They caught a fleeting glimpse of me in the moving train and recognized me. No, they began to run heedlessly alongside the train.
The Sea Lies Ahead Page 22