Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  After mulling over her question for a few minutes, he replied, ‘An ex-cadre? I think that would be difficult, Thawakkul? Although she has been handicapped, her presence here will lead to arguments and altercations between the residents, victims of the war, and her, an ex-warrior.’

  Although Thawakkul agreed with his point of view, she could not agree that there could never be a compromise.

  But she firmly continued to try to persuade him because her main interest was to make sure that Yoga’s future was made secure.

  ‘If Yoga were still at the battle-front, why would she need to come here?’ asked Thawakkul. ‘If she were still in the midst of bloody wounds, death and graves why would she seek asylum in the home? She has laid down the gun. She was no longer targeting anyone’s forehead, anyone’s throat, the back of their heads or their fleeing feet. She had and discarded her uniform. Her knowledge of warfare tactics has faded away long ago. Now she’s just a woman, a woman called Yoga who was tired of fighting a physical war and now fighting a psychological battle, craving real peace. Isn’t she entitled to wish for peace? Was she solely responsible for having become a member of a group that destroyed the peace of the people? All I want is for her to be able to lead a peaceful and productive life amongst other handicapped people and realize her full potential.’ There’s nothing wrong in her desiring to lead the life of an ordinary woman,’ she paused for breath.

  Ruwan Alagama couldn’t fault her arguments and he seemed deep in thought listening to her.

  ‘That girl, Yoga, has been trained in electronics repair, that is a plus. If we can find a way to set her up to work in that field, she can easily live comfortably. You could use her to train other girls in the future. We should think positively. That is what our work is all about.’

  Thawakkul explained to him that Yoga wasn’t really suited to developing kitchen gardens or tailoring clothes.

  ‘Thawakkul, I cannot give you a reply straightaway,’ he replied. ‘I’ll have to speak to the board about this. According to the Act we work under, I don’t think that it’s possible for ex-cadres to expect any help from our organization. However, I will have a word with them but cannot make any promises mind you.’

  A positive mind provides faith and courage to voyage far and long and attain great heights.

  The next morning, Thawakkul took the train to Colombo. Munasinga, who had reserved the seat for her, came to see her off at the station. He could speak to her alone for a short time.

  ‘You’re the only Muslim girl who works with us, Thawakkul. Ruwan sir has great regard for you.’

  Thawakkul too had great respect for Munasinga and considered him her mentor. He had a Master’s degree in sociology and belonged to an affluent and highly-respected family. As soon as he became the chief co-ordinator in the Forum for Social Alliance, he surprised everyone by marrying a differently-abled girl.

  Everyone considered this a great sacrifice on his part, but only Thawakkul saw it as a love marriage of the most romantic kind.Munasinga’s family were flabbergasted to meet the girl that Munasinga had decided to wed. She was a kind, loving, generous and soft-spoken woman who was born with an affliction that caused a polio-like effect on one leg and a hunch over one shoulder with distended veins spreading over the afflicted area. It had repercussions on her face as well; she had a wide mouth and teeth with wide gaps in them. His parents were most upset by the fact that the only heir to their fame and fortune will have no one to carry on the family name.

  But Munasinga fell in love with her and was able to look beyond her physical shortcomings. He gave her confidence and encouraged her to learn music, go to English classes and also taught her to dress well. He proudly took her to social occasions despite the obvious look of ridicule he got from people.

  Thawakkul was filled with admiration for a man with such a beautiful soul and was proud to work alongside him.

  And whatever a beautiful educated woman can give a man, she had given him.

  At the wedding reception, unlike many of his other friends who praised him for his ‘noble gesture,’ Thawakkul understood his sentiments and did not praise him but just wished the couple well. She genuinely prayed that their children would carry on the work for a change in the society.

  Just before the train whistled out of the station, Munasinga told her how sorry he was for the unpleasant events that had happened at the hotel.

  The train sped through uncharted jungles where the luxuriant exuberance of nature camouflaged the ruins of mysterious ancient temples and all other landmarks.

  Thawakkul’s heart was filled with warm thoughts. Although the world had not lost all its wonderful people, it was necessary to travel far and wide to find the opportunities to meet such people and develop relationships which make life that much more meaningful.

  Her extensive travels had expanded her horizons far beyond any education at school and university. Ideally a combination of the two would lead to a rounded knowledge.

  This enigmatic environment was shrouded in mystery and it was impossible to understand its true nature. The rotation of the earth does not bring anything to your feet. It is necessary to go and look for what we want.

  What she read in the scenes around her as she travelled brought new thoughts to her. Her imagination soared through the sky-scraping forests that filled most of the trip, through the fields, the rivers and the peaks. She imagined herself transformed into a bird that was foraging for berries in the lush, luxuriant foliage and discovering the secrets of the jungle buried in time.

  As each of the trees that the train passed disappeared from view, an unknown despair gripped her insides. Her bond with nature intensified and she seemed to be communicating with the ancient trees. She realized that sharing cruel memories and the feeling of despair and dissatisfaction in one’s mind with nature and God provided succour to her soul. For some moments she became a tree. Her generous verdure outspread in branches like wide affectionate arms that could embrace tormented hearts.

  Colombo’s cooler climate was a relief from the heat in Anuradhapura when she arrived there at noon.

  The chief of the Widows Rehabilitation Centre, Wanasundara Bandara, beamed at her in welcome.

  ‘Come, Thawakkul, I’ve got some good news for you.’

  Thawakkul couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘We held a Donors’ Meet,’ he said. ‘Only later it occurred to me that I should’ve invited you as well. Come, let’s sit down somewhere and talk about this.’

  The Widows Rehabilitation Centre was located in the amazingly beautiful beach of Galkissa. It was impossible to say whether the music of the sea in the background sounded like wails of despair or mirthful merriment. The clouds brought down sheets of grey rain over the sea. The salt-laden breeze was blowing inward as the evening drew to a close.

  Despite his grey hair, Wanasundara Bandara held himself erect and his face radiated his inner light. He was wearing an oversized, transparent sandal-wood coloured kurta over a tight-fitting vest.

  ‘A Japanese organization to whom we offered two or three proposals has accepted only the Batticaloa project,’ he began.

  Her face lit up. The hope with which these tidings filled her, given her current state of mind, was a sign of life itself.

  ‘I think that we’ll need your help in future. We’ll invite you for the project planning meetings. I do hope you can come,’ he said looking closely at her face.

  Straightening her shoulders, she said, ‘Please let me know about the meetings a few days in advance, sir, so that I make my plans. I’ll give you all the assistance I can for you to launch the project in Batticaloa.’

  ‘I’ve already decided that you’re going to be our partner for the execution of the plans for Batticaloa.’

  ‘I think I’ve already mentioned this to you, sir, you must register the institution there, with the ten or fifteen people who will support the project. Please exclude the ones who merely poke holes and find fault with everything. In due course, everyth
ing will fall into place perfectly.’

  Thawakkul firmly believed that there was no point in dwelling on past failures.

  When she had attempted to organize the women together for the first time, she had faced strong opposition from the women themselves, while others said that Thawakkul was going to ruin the women. Though she felt it might be possible to ride roughshod over all those obstacles, she had chosen to keep away from all such controversies. She had thought of Mother Theresa’s words during that difficult phase and they gave her courage, ‘If you cannot feed a hundred people then feed just one.’

  She had gotten into this line of work hoping to do as much as was possible for her to do and she had now come a long way from those first tentative steps. Sometimes she would feel disheartened thinking that, as the proverb states, ‘A single bangle never jingles,’ and despair of achieving any change working on her own. However, working independently gave her flexibility and a sense of control, which wouldn’t have been possible if she had been harnessed into a team. On the other hand, perhaps if she had worked for an organization, she would have faced less opposition from society and could have worked more swiftly. However, it would have gone against the grain for her to do things which went against what she believed to be just for the sake of adhering to the organization’s rules.

  She had had a heart-to-heart with Wanasundara Bandara and had handed over the complete accounts of Theivanai’s grant.

  ‘As you requested, I’m looking at ways and means to increase our ambit of providing rehabilitation. I will talk to you soon about this,’ he told her reassuringly. Thawakkul began to feel that the humiliation she had suffered in Anuradhapura had been erased by this happy meeting in Colombo.

  ‘Thawakkul, it’s been ages!’ Qudsi Ahamed invited her in with affection.

  ‘But you’re never in the country, sir,’ she protested, smiling. ‘When I came to Colombo last month, they told me that you had gone to Singapore.’

  The philanthropic founder of Basheer Foundation, Qudsi Ahamed, was willing to help people in educational matters alone. Qudsi Ahamed had started this foundation in the name of his father and had no reservations about spending a large part of his hard-earned fortune to help people.

  Basheer Foundation had been financing the schooling of twenty under-privileged children in Eravur for over three years now.

  ‘How is your work? You never come here without a reason!’

  ‘The same reason as before, sir,’ she said wryly. ‘With your help, twenty children are studying in Eravur. We have to increase that number. There are hundreds of children who have been orphaned in the war. Surely, sir, you could help at least fifty children.’

  ‘I’ve already okayed this, Thawakkul. Shall we start it from the beginning of next year?’

  She was delighted at the number of positive results she had managed to achieve on this trip. This green signal was certainly a good omen.

  During the previous year, she had arranged for poor students from selected schools in Eravur Pattu to be given school shoes in a special ceremony. However, at the end of the ceremony, she was dismayed to learn that, not only did the children not have shoes, there were some who couldn’t afford toothpaste. Thinking about how far removed her own life was from the plight of these people, she felt very sad.

  In the face of acute penury, these widows who were the sole heads of their households struggled hard to educate their children.

  ‘My son fainted at school. The doctor in the hospital said that he does not get enough nourishment. How can I afford nourishing food? Some black tea, a rusk, some rice with a curry if there is one, that is all I can give him. It is ten years since his Vappa, who was in the cattle business, was taken away by the LTTE. This child is growing up on what I make from pounding rice at home. But I want to educate him, I send him to school … I want to educate him, however hard I may have to work for that. If he does manage to complete his studies, I am sure good times will come. ’

  Every mother’s story was like a festering wound that even time wouldn’t be able to heal, however, the women were confident that their children’s future lay in education.

  Thawakkul admired and loved Qudsi Ahamed with his intelligent face and unassuming ways, whose altruistic efforts had helped so many economically backward children. ‘Al Hamdulillah! I’ll send the information about the children to you, sir.’

  ‘A Qatar organization has contributed over a thousand school bags, Thawakkul. I could give you a hundred of those if you could send me your request in a letter addressed to my secretary. As soon as the bags arrive, I will let you know.’

  ‘I’m extremely grateful to you, sir!’ said Thawakkul. ‘I’ve had nothing but good news in this Colombo trip.’

  ‘Allah always protects those with good thoughts, pure aims and unselfish deeds. I’ve noticed, ma, that you always seem to be shouldering someone else’s burden and doing your best to help them. Allah will fulfil all your wishes.’

  His words rang with an auspicious augur and reinforced Thawakkul’s enthusiasm and optimism for a brighter and better tomorrow.

  8

  As the wedding preparations grew more hectic, everybody but Yoga was very busy.

  The construction for their new house was finally complete and Vathsala and Senthooran were making arrangements for the housewarming ceremony in addition to Kala’s wedding arrangements.

  ‘Don’t move into the new house before Kala gets married,’ pleaded Pathma tearfully. ‘I’ll never be able to manage the wedding on my own.’ Pathma, as was her wont, blew her nose and wiped her tears.

  ‘Why do you moan like this, Amma? It’s not like we’re going across the oceans, are we? It’s just a short distance from here and we can come running here at any time. When Kala gets married, you won’t have enough space in this house. Why don’t you think about that?’

  ‘All that is true, but what I mean to say is, I don’t mind even if you leave immediately on the day after the wedding, only don’t go now.’

  Senthooran, who had been inside his room and listening to this long-drawn discussion, shut his ledgers and came out to join their conversation.

  ‘What Amma says is reasonable. Why don’t we move to the new house after Kala’s wedding? It is important that both of us are here at hand until Kala’s wedding ceremony is completed because unexpected things could crop up. If we move out now, our preoccupations with settling into our new house will take up almost all our time.’

  Thus backed into a corner by both her mother and her husband, Vathsala reluctantly agreed to postpone their move.

  ‘We’ve waited for so long, I suppose a little longer won’t make a difference,’ she said to herself and took a deep breath.

  Pathma was pleased, although she realized that it was only because Senthooran intervened that Vathsala had given in. Even when Yoga was to be brought home from Vavuniya, it was only when Senthooran had interjected with, ‘When Amma wishes it, why should we stand in her way?’ Vathsala finally conceded.

  Nevertheless, Vathsala had argued, ‘Even as a little girl, Yoga was very clever at manipulating Amma and Appa. She broke Appa’s heart when he went to fetch her from the camp, and she told him that she wouldn’t come back even dead.’

  Amma had been determined to keep her promise to Appa and Kala had pleaded for Yoga to be brought home. Her husband’s ruling clinched the argument and Vathsala had to agree to bring Yoga home.

  When Senthooran acceded to Amma’s request that their grihapravesam or house-warming ceremony should be performed after Kala’s wedding, Vathsala nodded in acceptance and then started the preamble for her next campaign.

  ‘I have a thought…’ she said as she sorted out the laundered clothes and put them away tidily. ‘Until Kala’s wedding gets over, why don’t we take her – I mean the crippled creature – and park her in Siththandi Maama’s house?’

  There was a dead silence for a while after Vathsala had flung this poisoned arrow.

  Kala had been sitting with Yoga
in the inner room and although she could hear every word of the conversation, she really didn’t care what they decided either way. But at this point Kala flounced out of the room tempestuously. Yoga, who was feeling too defeated to stop her, simply sat there feeling numb.

  ‘Why Akka,’ she flung at Vathsala, ‘this is going to be a happy event in our house. Yoga Akka hasn’t seen any festivities in this house, so please let her stay here. She is going to sit just like this in a corner!’

  Yoga snapped out of her abstraction with a start. Her mother and sister would accuse her of having incited Kala into pleading her cause, and prayed desperately to Lord Vinayaka to stave off the allegations.

  ‘Come on, Kala. I was wondering where you had gotten to. Where were you when we were discussing the date for moving into our new house? How come no “Akka, please stay here, you’re crucial for my wedding arrangements, so please don’t go”? No. But the moment something is said about that wretched creature there, you come barging in to poke your nose!’

  As Yoga had expected, the conversation had taken a bad turn.

  ‘Good God, Kala!’ fumed Yoga, ‘Why butt in like that? Don’t you know that ultimately it’ll be my head on the block?’ Whenever Vathsala was in the house, Yoga avoided venturing out of her niche in the house unless it was absolutely urgent, and even then crept around as unobtrusively as possible.

  The mere sight of Yoga would set Vathsala off. Therefore, as long as Yoga maintained a low profile and remained invisible, peace reigned in that household.

  ‘Why do you always react that way to everything I say, Akka? In any case, how has Yoga Akka wronged you that you resent her so much when she has so much affection for all of us? Even if she has done something wrong, why should we punish her every single day?’ As Kala continued pleading, Yoga’s heart quivered like the wings of a trapped bird.

  Wiping the crocodile tears from her eyes, Vathsala declared histrionically, ‘The perfidy of this girl! That cripple has become more important to her than we who have looked after her all her life. Should we stay and organize her wedding? Let that cripple do it. We’ll go!’