The Sea Lies Ahead

by Intizar Husain

  I had wandered off in those mornings of long ago. Those mornings had disappeared. Yet I was feeling that this morning was a morning from that same caravan of mornings, one that had wandered off and come here today by mistake. In fact, the next morning seemed to be from the same sequence, except for the fact that the first morning was in the hospital and the next in my own home. Once assured that my life had been saved, Majju Bhai was not in favour of keeping me in the hospital for very long. The operation was over and the doctors had expressed satisfaction over my condition. There was no reason to leave me in the hospital now. He spent the entire day running around, meeting doctors, collecting reports and by the evening, he had taken me out of the hospital and brought me home. I too breathed a sigh of relief on reaching home. No matter how well attended one is in the hospital, a home is after all a home.

  Majju Bhai too breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching home. He constantly looked tense and worried in the hospital. Even when the doctors announced that my condition was now satisfactory, there was only a nominal decrease in his anxiety. But the moment he set foot inside the house, it was as though all his worries were left on the other side of the threshold. He suddenly looked so much at ease as though he was finally assured that I was well and truly safe.

  ‘Jawad Miyan, believe me you have come back from Allah Miyan’s house.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I spoke softly in an assenting tone and stayed quiet.

  ‘It was a very doubtful situation. The doctors were not too optimistic. I tried asking everyone but no doctor gave a clear answer. They kept saying they would know after the operation. It was a tricky operation. The bullet went and hit such a spot! Do you know what I was thinking?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That I would be left all alone, yaar.’

  ‘Alone,’ I smiled. ‘There are rows upon rows of your friends, acquaintances and admirers.’

  ‘Yes, that is true. But yaar … anyhow you won’t understand it.’

  I could well understand this for myself. For, after all, Majju Bhai was all I had. And the other good people from respectable families that I knew were also thanks to Majju Bhai. But was I equally indispensible for Majju Bhai? I could never have imagined this before. I always thought I was one among a horde of his friends, the only difference being that we lived together.

  ‘Anyhow, God has been merciful. Allah Miyan decided to have pity on me. I think Allah Miyan has been kind to me for the first time in my life.’ Majju Bhai said this and laughed. And then suddenly his mood changed. ‘Lahoulwillaquwwat … The doctor had given stern instructions that you must rest as much as possible, and that you mustn’t speak too much. And others mustn’t speak too much either so that the patient may rest. So we can talk about all this later; you must rest now.’ And he called out for Nemat Khan. ‘O Miyan Nemat Khan!’

  Nemat Khan came rushing out of the kitchen, ‘Coming, sahab.’

  ‘Yaar, couldn’t you have cleaned the room a little? Shouldn’t you have dusted and cleared his bed at least?’

  ‘I have done everything; just get him to lie down on the bed.’

  ‘All right, I’ll do that. But keep a table beside his bed. And don’t we have a flower vase? I should have thought of buying some flowers on the way home. And, look here, make some khichdi for Jawad Miyan.’

  And he said several such things in one breath, and went on speaking. Soon, he supported me and made me lie down; then he cast one glance at the room and set about cleaning it up. In no time, Nemat Khan appeared with the khichdi; I ate it under Majju Bhai’s supervision. Immediately thereafter Majju Bhai made me eat and drink several medicines. Then he instructed me, ‘Now go to sleep.’

  Perhaps there was a sleeping pill in those medicines, for I went to sleep so quickly. Or perhaps it was because tonight I was sleeping in my own house. It felt as though I had returned home, broken and bruised, after an age. My room, its doors and windows, my bed – how contented I felt! Soon my eyes began to droop. No matter how much one spends one’s life in the comfort of silk and velvet, soft and warm beds outside one’s home, nothing can match the satisfaction of sleeping in one’s own bed. So I slept soon enough and that too such a deep sleep that I woke up only the next morning. Though, yes, I did get up rather early. The muezzin had just about cleared his throat on the loud speaker when I woke up, and woke up with such a start that I could not go back to sleep. For a long time, I lay there with my eyes closed hoping that sleep may return. After all, what could I do so early? It was still very dark. There wasn’t a glimmer of light. Anyhow, I didn’t have to wait for very long. The dense blackness kept dissipating. And the birds too began to speak up. That day I realized there were so many birds around our house. It seemed as though there were hordes of birds somewhere nearby that had woken up suddenly and begun to clamour simultaneously. And, yes, the sound of the koel too could be heard from somewhere far away. It was faint, but it could be heard. I was happy to know that it could be heard in our house, and that in this city, this sound was not limited to a season. Out there, it was only heard in the summer months. The moment the last of the rains were over, the koel’s sound disappeared. Phuphi Amma used to say that the koel had gone back to the mountains. According to her, the koel was a native of the mountains; it came down to our groves when the mango flowers bloomed and there she cooed from the beginning of summer till the end of the rains. She would bid farewell to the rains with a last coo and go back to the mountains. But in this city, one felt that the koel did not come from anywhere, nor did it go away anywhere. And so its cooing could be heard in any season.

  I slowly turned from my right to left side and then from the left to right side. But nothing brought relief. I had completed my cycle of sleep and now it was tiresome to lie in bed. I sat up and glanced towards Majju Bhai’s bed; he was sleeping dead to the world. I finally gathered my courage and slowly got out of bed. Walking cautiously, I went to stand in the balcony. I couldn’t tell in the room, but here I saw there was enough light. A hazy whiteness had spread in all directions. At the crossroad in the distance, I couldn’t see anyone about – neither people nor transport. Though I did see a dog flirting with a bitch, and the bitch too was being coquettish. But soon enough, the sweepers appeared on the scene and interrupted their little romance. And then another dog appeared from somewhere … yet another obstacle! Soon the dog and the bitch gave up and went away.

  The street light that was planted in the middle of the platform on the crossroad was switched off now. The shops were still closed, though the tea shop that was clearly visible from our balcony had opened. A fire had been lit though no customers had shown up yet; the shopkeeper could be seen pottering around.

  Suddenly a car appeared from one direction and, with its horn blaring, disappeared at the other end. And that was enough to make me realize that scores of rickshaws, taxis, buses and cars must have appeared on the distant roads and must be racing about noisily.

  Nemat Khan came with a chair. ‘Sahab, you will get tired standing; you shouldn’t tire yourself out. Please sit down on this chair.’

  I sat down. My eyes were still trained on the crossroad in the distance. The crossroad was no longer quiet and empty; I could see people moving around. A short while ago, a bus had come to a halt at the bus station on the right side of the street light, picked up the passenger who had come to stand there a short while ago, and sped away. Several people could be seen standing at that stop now. A rickshaw came from somewhere and stopped; a man jumped and sat down in it. The rickshaw started with a loud noise and went off raucously in the direction of the main road.

  School-going children, college-going girls, men going to

  offices – all kinds of people were coming out of the streets and alleys. Some were standing at the bus stand waiting for a bus, others in search of a rickshaw and, yes, the boys and girls going to school and the young women going to college were waiting for their vans; all of them were looking fresh and radiant in their school and college uniforms.

  So
now the morning was at its peak. And I was both surprised and happy that a morning could be so pleasant and so fresh even in these bad times, as though nothing had happened to the city and it was still the same living city of those good old days with the same lively mornings. So this meant that the mornings of this city were still alive and well and that they were dawning and ending like all other mornings till now. This is a good sign, I thought. Birds still break out into song at the crack of dawn in this city, girls in sparkling white uniforms still go to their colleges crammed into their vans and children with their satchels slung around their necks can still be seen going to their schools. And so many others can be seen on foot or crammed into buses, wagons and rickshaws. Surely one can then expect this city to regain its health. Or perhaps like I had survived a prolonged struggle between life and death and endured much pain to stand here happily, this city too had endured its torment and made a full recovery. Anyhow, even if it wasn’t so, I thought at least there was no threat to the purity of its mornings. The other parts of the day and night may be in any state, one must save the mornings. A pleasant morning is the last saving grace of a drowning city. When even the mornings have drowned, then …

  ‘Yaar, what are you doing sitting here?’ Majju Bhai came and stood right beside me. ‘I thought you were in the bathroom. I was surprised and worried that you were taking so long in the bathroom. What happened? Come on … get up, wash up and eat your breakfast; we can’t be late with the medicines.’

  I had had my fill of the morning’s entertainment; I got up, went to the bathroom, and washed myself slowly and carefully. Refreshed, I came to the breakfast table where Majju Bhai was already seated, waiting for me. How refreshed I felt after my encounter with the morning. By my own reckoning, I was healed. And with me, so was the city.

  Majju Bhai looked at me and seemed satisfied. He asked, ‘So how do you feel now?’

  ‘I was restored by the morning. I am perfectly all right now, Majju Bhai. You can consider yourself free.’

  ‘When was I restricted?’

  ‘Why, your feet were bound with chains because of me!’

  ‘Who says so?’

  ‘I do. Have you ever stayed put in one place for so long? You had to cancel so many of your programmes and meetings.’

  ‘What programmes and meetings do I have? If I had made a programme and lived my life according to it, I would have led my life in a totally different way.’

  ‘I meant all those philanthropic tasks that you have taken upon yourself. Aqa Hasan’s problem is far more important than mine; after all, it is about a daughter’s marriage.’

  Majju Bhai sighed. ‘Jawad Miyan, don’t even ask how I have been humiliated on that front. Though it had its silver lining!’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I have come to know the true worth of both Lucknow and Meerut. And these Meerut-walas of yours turned out to be not just Meeruti but also Kamboh, like the bitter gourd that grows on the neem tree! Hats off to them!’

  ‘What did I tell you? Anyhow, tell me: what are they saying now?’

  ‘The brother and sister duo are impossible to talk to and Baji Akhtari … that woman is getting harder and tougher by the day.’

  ‘And the Lucknow-walas?’

  ‘First ask me how I am coping with them. At first, they were finding faults with the Meerut-walas and I was forever trying to draw a curtain over things. Now I am the one picking out these faults and they are drawing a curtain over everything. The more I bring the subject around to highlighting the fact that these people are actually Kamboh and truly they used to be knife-sharpeners, Basho Bhabhi hears me and out it goes from her other ear. Now even Aqqan sahab can see nothing but fine qualities in Tausif.’

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘What will happen is that one of these days, I am going to tell them clearly that we had laid the bait but the bird pecked at the grain and flew away.’

  Meanwhile, Nemat Khan showed up. He laid out the breakfast quickly and then stood on one side. Majju Bhai looked at him closely and said, ‘What is it, Nemat Khan?’

  ‘Majju sahab-ji, I have two requests.’

  ‘Not one but two … All right, tell me what are the two requests.’

  ‘The first one is that please have a small netted window opened in this door of ours.’

  Majju Bhai looked meaningfully at Nemat Khan and asked, ‘Fine, we’ll have it made, but what good good will it do?’

  ‘We won’t be caught unawares, then. At least we will know who is coming in.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Sahab-ji, you know how bad these times are. These attackers have come up with a new modus operandi. They come and ring the door bell. When you open the door, they barge in, round up everyone in the house at gunpoint and tie them up, collect everything in the house, shoot a few bullets and off they go. So, at least we will be able to see who is at the door before we open up.’

  ‘Nemat Khan, where do you hear all this nonsense?’

  ‘It isn’t nonsense, sahab-ji. You know the Haji sahab who lived in the next alley? They came into his house like this.’

  ‘Haji sahab is a wealthy man. Robbers had to come to his house someday through some means or the other. Nemat Khan, robbers are not fools; they know our worth. Why will they come here and waste their time?’

  ‘Majju sahab, there is no knowing with these robbers. It isn’t always necessary that they come to rob a house. Sometimes they don’t rob. Sometimes they come, make the victim recite the kalma, shoot and go off. That has happened several times too … And I have a second request too.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Please correct my kalma.’

  ‘So you think that if you recite the kalma correctly, they will spare you. Bravo, Nemat Khan, well said!’

  ‘Let them not spare me. In any case, life and death is in the hands of Allah. But a man’s kalma should be correct. We all must go, but at least we should go with the correct kalma on our lips.’

  ‘Nemat Khan, talk sense. People come and tell you all kinds of nonsense and you believe everything.’

  ‘No, sir, that isn’t true. You have been in the hospital for the past several nights. Ask me: I was all alone and several times I felt that someone was at the door; in fact, someone even rang the doorbell. But I am not a fool. I lay quietly; I didn’t so much as breathe, let alone open the door.’

  Nemat Khan was prattling on and I was looking at his face. How scared he looked. My own beaming freshness was also gone. How pleasantly the morning had dawned – both outside and inside me. And how quickly it was sinking.

  ‘Majju Bhai,’ I hesitated, but then finally I asked, ‘did the bullet actually come out?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Majju Bhai stared at me. ‘Do you think the bullet is still sitting somewhere inside you? That’s a really stupid thing to say!’

  ‘I was only asking for my own reassurance.’

  ‘My dear fellow, what was the operation for? It was to take it out.’

  ‘Okay; all right.’

  ‘What do you mean by “all right”? It seems that you are still not convinced. Shall I write it on a piece of paper and give it to you? Or shall I get it written by the doctors?’

  ‘No, Majju Bhai, I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘What did you mean, then?’

  ‘I was thinking that if the bullet has come out, what is it that is constantly throbbing inside me?’

  ‘You will have that sensation for some time; after all, it was a bullet and not a seed of sesame. You must rest. You will be fine. In a few days, you won’t even realize that you were hit … provided you rest! That too, complete rest! The doctor has given strict instructions that you must not go to the office or go out.’

  ‘I am resting; it isn’t as though I am fond of going out. You are the one who used to take me around. As far as office is concerned, I have taken leave from there.’

  ‘Yes, just rest.’

  ‘That is the strange part:
I am resting, yet there is something that is throbbing inside me, as though the bullet penetrated deep inside me.’

  ‘Do you know what is throbbing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your brain.’

  ‘Brain?’

  ‘Yes, it is your brain that is throbbing away. My dear fellow, even the brain needs rest. If you don’t let it rest, it will keep troubling you. Rather, it is troubling you. At least in your present state, you should have abstained from thinking. But even when you were lying unconscious, you were not desisting from this bad habit.’

  ‘Majju Bhai, was I in any condition to think then? My brain was as helpless as my body. Idle thoughts and memories had made an assault on my poor brain.’

  ‘Do you know what you were mumbling in your unconscious state? It was as though all the deserted cities of the world had entered your mind and were creating a ruckus.’

  ‘Really? What was I muttering? I don’t rememember anything.’

  ‘Yes, you don’t remember it now; at that time, you remembered a lot; in fact, all sorts of things from long ago. Yes, I remember now. In the course of your rambling, you said, “Yes, Majju Bhai, I now remember the thing that I had forgotten from the middle. That thing was …” But the doctor’s instructions were that you mustn’t be allowed to talk too much and so I stopped you. I told you to sleep and say it some other time.’ Majju Bhai laughed, ‘So tell me now, what was that thing?’

  ‘Is that what I said?’ I fell into deep thought. I was also a bit worried in case I had said something inappropriate again. Majju Bhai tends to latch on to certain things. I tried my best to remember but I couldn’t think of what it was that I had remembered and wanted to tell Majju Bhai. “Majju Bhai, at that time I could remember all sorts of things but now …’