Between Clay and Dust

by Musharraf Ali Farooqi

  Even on the rare occasion when Ustad Ramzi saw Tamami get to the akhara early, he did not seem to exercise any control over the place. And yet, Tamami’s exaggerated sense of self-worth seemed to have increased after Ustad Ramzi delegated many of the akhara’s duties to him.

  Ustad Ramzi witnessed his brother’s fecklessness at every stage, and regarded Tamami’s swagger and affectations as a contemptible substitute for character. The sight revolted him, and he bitterly regretted his decision to delegate the duties, notwithstanding the fact that he had been forced to do so by circumstances beyond his control.

  Ustad Ramzi’s inability to come to terms with this predicament, and the growing dread that he would now be at the mercy of others in matters that concerned him dearly, frequently made him despondent. The thought that the defense of the title of Ustad-e-Zaman and the future glory of his clan would fall on Tamami greatly disturbed Ustad Ramzi: in view of his brother’s fickle nature and heedless ways, he doubted Tamami’s ability to defend the title that was his clan’s pride.

  Reflecting on his many misfortunes Ustad Ramzi sometimes feared that, in the continuing decline of his art and clan, he may not have seen the last setback. As the custodian of his ancestors’ akhara and clan’s honor, he vowed to uphold his self-appointed destiny resolutely and at all costs.

  Kotha

  Gohar Jan’s stately and austere beauty had been mellowed somewhat by age. Her hazel green eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, and time had begun to cast her features in its soft, cruel mould. Her kotha still attracted patrons but the number of its visitors had dwindled.

  That sudden and radical turnabout in life after Partition had created a deep feeling of uncertainty. A growing sense of frugality in all affairs had followed. It had adversely affected the fortunes of the tawaifs’ enclave—a world that thrived on extravagance, and where people traditionally flaunted their wealth and fine taste.

  The mehfils ended in many kothas. The drapes in the kothas remained drawn. The wooden staircases smelled of dampness. The carpets had not been aired in a long time and were musty. In the music rooms, tanpuras gathered dust under their silken wraps and their necks became bent from the humidity. The silence of the sarangis continued unbroken and the heads of the tablas and pakhavajs became wrinkled and dry. The quiet of the music rooms was broken sometimes by the sound of a string snapping.

  The neighborhood seemed more alive in daytime than at night. Most of the nayikas had moved out from the kothas to find a trade in which their musical training could advance a career. Many had joined the fledgling film industry. In the last year, two nayikas had left Gohar Jan’s kotha. One had migrated. Another tried to open her own kotha in another neighborhood, but failing to attract new patrons closed it down. Only one nayika, Malka, remained with Gohar Jan.

  The only other occupant of the kotha was Gohar Jan’s old retainer, Banday Ali, who had been associated with it for nearly three decades. He was in charge of the mehfils and also looked after the kotha’s finances. Every evening he made sure that the paandans were stocked, the drinks ready, the white floor coverings spread in the Music Room, and bolsters placed for the guests. Two servants were also on hand to fill the hookahs for visitors, refresh them at regular intervals, and run errands if the guests wished to send for food from the bazaar or call a conveyance at the evening’s end.

  Banday Ali usually finished his preparations an hour before the mehfil started. Then he had his customary cup of tea before opening the doors of the kotha. After the musicians arrived he sat on his sofa at the entrance where he greeted visitors. Malka received the guests at the door of the Music Room, offered them paan, and ushered them in where the musicians were already seated and awaiting Gohar Jan.

  At the end of the mehfil the guests left their payment in a moneybox. While the servants cleared up the room, Banday Ali did his accounting. After the house staff left he closed the kotha doors and retired to his room on the top floor of the building to sip his cup of opium.

  Banday Ali regularly gave an account of the kotha’s finances to Gohar Jan on the fifth of every month. But in recent days the exercise made him uncomfortable. Having been associated with the kotha and its finances for so long, he felt he was himself somehow to blame for its declining income.

  Gohar Jan had been quietly selling her gold since the previous year to maintain the kotha on the same lavish scale as before. Banday Ali was the only person who knew about this. Gohar Jan had forbidden him from discussing it even with Malka. He had quietly suggested to Gohar Jan a few times that she could rent out the kotha’s western wing which had a separate entrance and was no longer occupied by the two nayikas. But each time Banday Ali made his suggestion Gohar Jan declined it with the same equanimity with which she received the account of her diminishing income.

  Malka

  Gohar Jan’s relationship with her nayika, Malka, was an unusual one, perhaps because of the special circumstances of her presence at the kotha. Unlike other nayikas who joined kothas in their youth or were sold to the mistresses of the establishments, Malka had arrived at Gohar Jan’s kotha as a foundling. One winter morning—twenty-three years earlier—Banday Ali had discovered the baby wrapped in a piece of felt cloth lying at the kotha entrance. Gohar Jan made every effort to find the mother, but had no success despite all her contacts and influence with the city administration. As Gohar Jan had feared, the orphanage refused to take in a child sent from the tawaifs’ enclave.

  Gohar Jan decided to raise the girl at the kotha.

  But she never showed her any fondness. Banday Ali, who saw no emotional bond between the two, mentioned to Gohar Jan a few times that the child needed more affection from those around her. He never received a response from Gohar Jan.

  It was perhaps a result of Gohar Jan’s frosty demeanor towards her that Malka herself grew up cold and reserved. She was pretty and her sharp features finely balanced her natural, graceful air but her manner was quiet and aloof. Even Banday Ali who nursed a filial feeling towards Malka saw that she did not return his affection with any warmth.

  In view of Gohar Jan’s impassive attitude towards Malka, Banday Ali could not understand why she gave her a room near her own living quarters instead of in the kotha’s west wing reserved for the nayikas. The other nayikas saw that as an unfair privilege for Malka and it laid the foundations of constant animosity between them.

  These were not the only contradictions Banday Ali saw in Gohar Jan’s behavior towards Malka. Gohar Jan did not impose the same strict discipline on her that she imposed on the other nayikas. In this instance, perhaps, it was also unnecessary. Malka submitted herself to the hard training in music and dance without persuasion. Either from a sense of loneliness or competition with the other nayikas, she excelled at what she was taught. Gohar Jan offered encouragement to the other nayikas over their least achievements, but ignored Malka’s hard work.

  One day in the Music Room, Banday Ali witnessed yet another moment in the continuing drama as Malka underwent a training session with Gohar Jan.

  “Straighten the left foot. Put the right hand…” Gohar Jan was explaining.

  It was probably Gohar Jan’s detached manner that made Malka restless. In the middle of her steps she did a pirouette.

  Gohar Jan looked up.

  “Why don’t we begin with the pirouette?” Malka asked her.

  “Does make-up start with the eyes or the feet? Do you put on the ankle-band before the head adornment? That is why you start with the salutation and end with a pirouette. Like the sixteen adornments, the movements too follow a sequence…”

  Even as she explained, Malka was moving her fingers in the imitation of a bird in flight.

  Gohar Jan cast a reproving look at her and continued, “All right. Put the right hand above your head in the shape of the half-moon. Stretch forward the left hand in a half circle… More composure!”

  Malka kept looking straight at the wal
l in obstinate silence. There was a brief pause as Gohar Jan looked at her again.

  “Very well,” Gohar Jan said. “That is your lesson for today. Go and rest.”

  Instead of leaving, Malka sat down and began strumming on the tanpura.

  “What is this now?” Gohar Jan chided her. “You won’t rest, nor will you let me have any peace!”

  Malka did not answer.

  “Play it then if it is your wish,” Gohar Jan said half-heartedly.

  Malka got up and left the room.

  Banday Ali sometimes tried to compensate for Gohar Jan’s disregard by praising Malka’s talents to her. Malka would listen politely with her head lowered, without expressing any joy. He could see that after being denied Gohar Jan’s love as a child she now sought her praise as an adult. The more Gohar Jan ignored her, the harder Malka tried to win her attention. Banday Ali realized that no matter how much he might praise Malka it would never equal even a glance of appreciation from the one whose approval she sought.

  Whenever Malka expressed a desire to perform before an audience, Gohar Jan summarily rejected the request, saying that Malka still had to learn a great deal.

  For a brief period after the two nayikas left Gohar Jan’s kotha, Banday Ali saw Malka happy. He felt, as did Malka, that she would finally have Gohar Jan’s complete attention and be given an opportunity to perform. But even the departure of the other nayikas did not bring about any change in Gohar Jan’s manner.

  Banday Ali could not understand why Gohar Jan would not prepare Malka to take her place as the mistress of the kotha. Before the nayikas left Gohar Jan, she often told Banday Ali that she would soon appoint her successor. But since their leaving she had never brought up the subject again.

  While Banday Ali could not always understand Gohar Jan’s motives in her treatment of Malka, he knew that she never acted without careful thought. Banday Ali felt that even if Gohar Jan did not think that Malka had the talent or the acumen to become renowned in the musical arts, she should have at least allowed her an opportunity to prove herself. Why she denied Malka this chance remained a mystery to him. And while Malka regarded Gohar Jan with a mix of awe and reverence, Banday Ali felt that sooner or later her feelings toward Gohar Jan would turn sour.

  Coveting and Anxiety

  Ustad Ramzi’s long reign as title holder had built an aura of infallibility around him, and Tamami had grown up in its shadow. Tamami remained in awe of his brother even when time began to take its own toll on Ustad Ramzi’s legend and not many outside his neighborhood remembered him as the champion who had defended his title consecutive times.

  Grown accustomed to the taste of celebrity, Tamami coveted the title of Ustad-e-Zaman. He knew that upon Ustad Ramzi’s retirement his title would be open to challenge. He felt confident about holding his own against the pahalwans of the rival clan. As Ustad Ramzi grew older Tamami expected him to step aside in order to allow him to take his place.

  But he could see no signs of Ustad Ramzi hanging up his fighter’s belt. Even after he had handed over some of the responsibilities at the akhara to him, he hadn’t said a word about his plans to retire. Tamami asked himself why he should remain an underling, and feared that if Ustad Ramzi sensed that he had accepted his inferior standing, he might abandon his retirement plans altogether.

  Tamami was beginning to tire of the wait and was losing interest in the akhara when one of Ustad Ramzi’s old rivals, Imama, unexpectedly sent Ustad Ramzi a challenge.

  Tamami felt Imama’s challenge had given him an occasion to prove himself. As the titleholder, Ustad Ramzi had the privilege to demand that his challenger fight one of his blood relations first. Tamami hoped that by nominating him, Ustad Ramzi would convey to everyone that the clan’s honor was safe with Tamami, and he was equal to defending the title. It would be the turning point, Tamami thought, which might clear the way for his brother to step aside in his favor. Tamami was confident, too, of defeating Imama who was much older than he, and who, in Tamami’s view, could not match his strength. Ustad Ramzi had defeated him three times in succession in defense of his title.

  Ustad Ramzi was to declare his intent at a council of the elders of the clan. When it was held, Tamami learned that Ustad Ramzi had made the decision to accept Imama’s challenge and fight him himself.

  ❖

  Imama’s challenge had surprised Ustad Ramzi because it was not the usual practice for senior pahalwans to challenge someone who had defeated them three times.

  Ustad Ramzi suspected a motive and remembered Imama’s son who had been in training for some years. He had not seen him fight recently, but Ustad Ramzi had heard that he sparred with four trainees at a time. The elders of his clan considered him a natural fighter. If Imama were to defeat Ustad Ramzi, he could use the titleholder’s privilege to ask any challengers to first fight his son. Knowing that Ustad Ramzi would not fight a pahalwan who was low in the profession’s hierarchy, Imama would make sure that the title remained with his clan.

  The thought never crossed Ustad Ramzi’s mind to nominate Tamami to fight Imama. Ustad Ramzi could not countenance appointing someone unworthy and imperfect to represent his clan. But people who only looked at the apparent age advantage Tamami would have had over Imama wondered why Ustad Ramzi had missed the opportunity to raise Tamami’s profile and nominate him to fight Imama. As they knew Ustad Ramzi’s actions to be beyond reproach and in his clan’s best interests, they surmised that as a pahalwan Tamami must be too incapable and weak, and concluded that he would, then, have even less chance against Imama’s son in the future. And so it began to be said that the bout’s outcome would be a clear indication of how Ustad Ramzi’s clan would fare in the future. This only increased Ustad Ramzi’s apprehension about the vulnerability of his clan’s honor.

  Ustad Ramzi made his preparations to defend the title and hoped that his waning strength would not belie his skill. When he had last fought Imama five years ago the contraction of his muscles had been hidden under layers of fat and taut skin. There were wrinkles now on Ustad Ramzi’s kneecaps, and his joints constantly gave him trouble. His stamina was also far inferior now. Imama was six years younger than him, and at their age, this made a considerable difference.

  As the day of the bout approached and the severity of his exercises increased, the thought often crossed Ustad Ramzi’s mind that he would have been spared the ordeal if Tamami had not been neglectful of his responsibilities. As he struggled to meet the hard standards he set for his training, Tamami’s disregard for any duty towards his clan became ever more manifest to Ustad Ramzi. When he saw Tamami near the akhara he felt he was only there out of concern for whether or not he would continue to bask in the glory of the clan’s title. Tamami’s presence began to annoy him and as the days progressed, his rancor towards his brother gradually increased.

  ❖

  The talk of Ustad Ramzi’s distrust of his brother’s ability reached Tamami—although nobody ever spoke directly to him. When asked about Ustad Ramzi’s decision Tamami said that his brother was neither so weak nor so old as to need someone as a stand-in for his title defense. He thought this was all he could say without compromising his pride. He felt that Ustad Ramzi had wronged him, and his decision had made others think less of him—not only as a pahalwan but also as a brother.

  Tamami sensed Ustad Ramzi’s unhappiness about his presence in the akhara during his preparations. He found it hard to read his older brother’s mind just as he had found it hard to come up to his expectations. But he knew that he would feel grievously insulted if Ustad Ramzi told him some day to keep away from the akhara during his preparations. Tamami kept out of Ustad Ramzi’s way, although he did not wish others to think that at a time when his clan’s title was at stake, he was not there to support his brother. He saw the injustice of his situation but could do nothing to change it, and his pride did not let him confide his feelings to any of his friends.

 
As the appointed day for the challenge bout approached, Tamami’s feelings of self-pity were overcome by compassion for his brother, whom he saw exert himself daily despite his ebbing strength. Tamami forgot both his grievances and the fact that his brother had brought those rigors upon himself.

  Newcomer

  Lately, a new man, Hayat, had been seen at Gohar Jan’s kotha. His aspect and manners revealed someone absolutely unfamiliar with kotha etiquette. Gohar Jan sensed that he was ill at ease among the kotha’s habitués who made no effort to welcome him into their small group. Hayat’s inattentiveness to the recital did not escape her notice either. His gaze often travelled toward Malka who sat beside her and across from him.

  Hayat did not linger at the end of the mehfil. He returned the following night and the next night as well.

  After Hayat’s third visit to the kotha, Malka approached Gohar Jan. Speaking softly and with lowered eyes, she said to her, “The newcomer makes me uncomfortable.”

  Gohar Jan did not answer. She had made her inquiries about the man and his background. Hayat was a real-estate developer who had come to the inner city to survey and bid on the newly introduced residential development schemes. He was not known in the tawaifs’ enclave. She assumed curiosity had brought him there.

  Another week passed. Hayat still paid little attention to Gohar Jan’s recital, but he did not stare at Malka impertinently as he had done on the first few occasions. When he came upstairs he sometimes attempted to make conversation with Malka on the way to the Music Room. During the mehfils he seemed preoccupied and thoughtful.

  Gohar Jan continued to countenance Hayat’s behavior, but she saw that the other visitors who noticed Hayat’s interest in Malka and Gohar Jan’s indulgence of it were gossiping about it. The men could not solicit Malka’s favors as she had not started performing yet. They saw in Gohar Jan’s tolerance of Hayat’s breach of kotha etiquette an unjust show of favor to the newcomer.