This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (56 page)

Sometimes women neighbours came to visit Khursheed and the begum. Tara did not know any of them. She went to another room on such occasions, especially because she did not want to overhear any talk concerning herself. These visitors had rather loud voices. Once some words drifted to Tara’s ears, ‘She’s from a good Khattri family, well-educated. A bit pale and weak, but looks just like any girl from a good respectable Muslim family. The boys these days like to marry a girl who’s educated and knows English. Not a bad match for Amjad. Yes, let’s fix her up with Amjad. Why not get the two married!’

Tara heard as she strained her ears, ‘Wah, is she the only one left for my Amjad? We’ve been hearing of some very lucrative proposals for him.’ Amjad’s mother objected, ‘We spent so much money and gave such huge dowries when we married off our three daughters. When it’s our turn to receive a dowry, all you can suggest is a runaway Hindu widow?’

Tara was stung by the contemptuous tone of her words. But at the same time, she felt relieved that there was no hidden motive at work.

Tara addressed Hafizji as ‘tayaji’, his wife as ‘maanji’, and Khursheed as ‘bhabhi’. One day in the course of conversation with Khursheed, she expressed her indebtedness to the family for their kindness and sympathy, and said, ‘How long can I remain a burden on you? Have me sent to my parents. Let destiny decide what is to become of me.’

Khursheed had been asking Tara about her family and about the neighbourhood she lived in before her marriage. She conveyed Tara’s wish to her in-laws.

Later that evening Hafizji was sitting as usual on a charpoy after ending his fast. He asked his wife and Tara to come and sit beside him on the chatai. He said, ‘Beti, what’s all this you’ve been saying to your bhabhi? How can you be a burden on us? If any of my daughters came to live here with me, would that be a burden on us? If you like, I’ll make enquiries about Bhola Pandhe’s Gali. But we all know that all the Hindus living in those mohallas have carted off their valuables and their belongings to cities to the east, because they did not want to remain in Pakistan. There are no Hindu families left in Shahalami, Bajaj Hatta or Machchi Hatta.’

He continued, ‘The newspaper reports say that Quaid-e-Azam Jinnah said
pointblank to Lord Mountbatten that after Pakistan comes into existence on 14 August, the British will have no jurisdiction over this country. Quaid-e-Azam himself will become the Governor General of Pakistan. And just look at those Hindu banias, they’ve decided that in Delhi, the Governor General of Hindustan will be Lord Mountbatten. You call that independence? Hindus don’t know the meaning of independence, nor do they want to be independent. They just want to express their hostility to Muslims and their opposition to the creation of Pakistan. Hindus don’t have what it takes to rule. Allah created Muslims to be rulers.’

Hafizji held out his hollowed hands in supplication and closed his eyes for a moment, mouthing a silent prayer. He held his clipped beard in one hand. When he spoke, his face had taken on a benign expression, ‘The Hindus are heartless when it comes to the rights of their women. Hindu males are oversexed because they can’t control their sex urges like civilized human beings. Our Islamic law stipulates four wives for a man at one time, but the Hindu religion imposes no such limit., ‘The Hindus consider Krishna to be a god. They also call him jogiraj, the king of ascetics, and he consorted with sixteen thousand women at the same time. A Hindu woman can’t remarry within her community after she becomes a widow. If a daughter, sister or wife from a Hindu family strays from the fold, even for one day, if she gets separated from her husband or father even for a short time, she is considered as having been tainted. She is treated like a
kulhar
, an earthenware cup, which is thrown away after just one person has used it.’

Next day, after the morning namaz, Hafizji repeated before Tara the promise of eternal peace in
bahishta
, heaven, to those who believed in Islam and in the wadahul mutwakkill Allah and his prophet, Hazarat Mohammed, and assured her that in the afternoon he’d try to get some news from Bajaj Hatta and Bhola Pandhe’s Gali.

Eid-ul-fitr was now only a week away. The begum and Khursheed sat on the dhurrie, making new clothes for the festival on a sewing machine, with Tara helping them in their work. Khursheed said to her mother-in-law, ‘This poor creature fasts everyday with us. If she accepted the true Faith, it’d be such a blessing to her.’

Tara felt that Khursheed had some hidden design behind her expression of sympathy, but she kept quiet.

In the evening, when Hafizji came upstairs to end his fast after the
magharib
prayer, he sent for Tara. He told her, with concern and anxiety
that all Hindu families that lived between Rang Mahal and Shahalami had left, and their houses had been taken over by Muslim families coming from the east.

Tara, her eyes downcast, uttered a sigh, and remained silent.

Hafizji again mumbled a
dua
to Allah the All Merciful, and tried to convince her, ‘Beti, we humans should have faith in Allah’s will, and in the mercy of that
kadirmutwakkill
. Everything He does is for the good of us humans. He keeps track of the sun, the moon and the rest of creation. He does not neglect to take care of the beetle that lives inside a rock; so how can He forget you? No doubt He sent you here so that we might look after you. The holy
parawardigar
, Heavenly Provider, blessed us with three daughters, and we fulfilled our obligations to them. He has now brought you to shelter in our home. We humans are always ignorant of His ways. In His infinite mercy, He found a way to send you here so that you might have faith in
la ilaha ilillahu, muhammedur rasoolallah
and that we should acquire the
sawab
of causing you to come over to the true belief.’

The begum, Khursheed and her two daughters were sitting behind Tara. When Hafizji uttered the
kalmah pak
(There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is the Prophet of God), they all kissed their fingers, touched them to their eyes, and said ‘amen’ in one voice.

Hafizji straightened his back, recited in a louder voice an
aayat
, verse, in Arabic from the Quran, and said, ‘Those who do not have faith in Allah, the sole creator of this world, and in His prophet who brought His message to mankind, will burn eternally in the fires of
dozakh
. You,’ he added, ‘have been rescued from that punishment by the
rahim-karim
, Most Merciful God, and have been sent to us so that you may live in the lush gardens of heaven, beside running springs of milk and honey, and under the shade of date trees. You should be thankful for the mercy He has rained down upon you.’

Tara heard his sermon out, but said nothing. At night she lay thinking on her charpoy for a long time. It was now obvious that Hafizji and his family had been kind to her because they hoped to have the reward of converting her to Islam. That’s why they had not let her starve to death. Tara did not want to change her religion. Although she had no place to go in the whole wide world, she still did not want others to treat her with pity and condescension. It was also clear to her that whether she had a place to go to or not, Hafizji would keep her in his house in the hope of some day converting her to Islam. What should she do?

After she had begun attending college, and especially after she became friendly with the members of the Student Federation, Tara had little interest in, or inclination towards the religious beliefs of Hinduism. She found the talk of hell and heaven and of various incarnations of deities, and the ritual of praying in temples or for the spirits of deceased relatives quite ridiculous, but the pressure to convert to Islam was equally abhorrent to her. She remembered Asad’s words, one day when they were with Narendra Singh, Zubeida, Surendra and Hamid, ‘…Hinduism is not a religion or faith. It is a social culture and a way of life. It does not restrict itself to any one set of beliefs. You are a Hindu if you believe in God, but you can still call yourself a Hindu if you don’t. You can believe in the god of your choice, a Supreme Being with a face or without any form, in one god or in a pantheon of gods. You may or may not believe in divine incarnations. You can either say that the brahman, world and illusion are one, or separate entities. You are free to believe whether you are reborn or not, and act accordingly. Islam does not allow you this kind of intellectual freedom, either you are a believer, or you’re not. You can’t deny the existence of God. If you do, you’re a kafir, an infidel. And you can’t believe in an Allah of your own choosing. There is only one Allah,
wahadul mutawakkill, wahadul shreik
, and you have to have belief in Him. And restraints don’t end there. You have to believe that Allah had a final prophet, and that prophet was Hazarat Mohammed. And you can’t use logic and science to question your belief, because at the time when the message of Allah was revealed to the Prophet, the science of today did not exist.’

So as not to be bothered by heat and hunger pangs during the days of fast, Hafizji liked to have a nap between 11.30 and 2.15, just before the time of the
zohar
namaz. On the eleventh, his nap was interrupted by a blast from the bugle announcing the beginning of the curfew. His first thought was that the kafirs had attacked during the holy period of Ramadan, and that Muslims observing the fast would be inconvenienced if the curfew continued beyond sunset. He also thought of going to his neighbour, the honorary magistrate Mian Nizamuddin Kasuri, and telephoning the police station to find out the reason for curfew beginning at this time, but decided to wait until after the prayer.

Hafizji returned home a few minutes after the muezzin had given the call for breaking the fast, seeming very nervous and agitated. The begum
and Khursheed were awaiting his return, a plateful of dates at the ready. It was a custom in their house to end the fast by eating dates. This practice was
sunnat-ul-rasool
, because Hazarat Mohammed also used to end his fast by eating dates. It increased the sawab one earned from observing the fast.

Hafizji was so upset that he could hardly eat, but it would not have been propitious to refuse to eat at the stipulated hour. He bit a piece off one date, and said, ‘May the wrath of Allah fall on these kafirs. Rioting and deceit is second nature to a kafir. The Hindu superintendent of police in Amritsar has made all Muslim police personnel surrender their arms under some trumped-up excuse, and ordered them to take off their uniforms. They were then given their discharge, and told to go to Pakistan. I have a sinking feeling. How could Amjad travel in safety without his arms and uniform? The situation is very delicate in Amritsar. It was the duty of the new administration to transport him and other Muslim officers safely to Lahore.’

When Amjad’s mother and sister-in-law heard the news, neither could swallow the dates they were chewing. Tears flowed down their cheeks. They began to curse the kafirs for their atrocious and provocative actions.

Hafizji said, ‘I also heard that an angry mob of Muslim police personnel rioted when they reached Lahore station. Who can blame them? There was ample reason for them to be upset. These two-faced Hindu Congress leaders declare in public that Muslims will have full freedom and civil rights in Hindustan, but the reality is just the opposite. It’s clear what turn things will take in the future. These Hindus know nothing but deceit and fraud.’

The magharib prayer was over, but Hafizji did not rise, and continued to sit and say prayers for his son. The face of Amjad’s mother when she got up after the prayer was streaked with tears. Khursheed too dabbed her eyes with the end of her dupatta. It was time to begin cooking food. The begum and Khursheed often gave Naseeban a hand so that the dinner would be ready sooner. Naseeban first chopped onions and garlic, and began to mix spices and grind them into a paste. The begum asked her to bring a knife and potatoes, but her eyes were filled with tears, and the vegetables lay untouched in front of her. Tara picked up the potatoes, and quietly began to cut them up.

Hafizji went back to Kasuri’s house to telephone the police station for more news. Vilayat Ali, his other neighbour, had also found out about Amjad being in danger in Amritsar. Two women from that household had come
to commiserate, and the begum and Khursheed were attending to them. Tara took over in the kitchen.

Hafizji returned after over two hours, more distressed than before. He said, ‘I couldn’t find out anything more. Many constables and officers from his section are back in Lahore. Some arrived by rail, others in buses. No news yet of Amjad. Only Allah can help us.’

Amjad’s mother and Khursheed began to cry again. Hafizji told them to have faith in Allah, and to say a prayer for the safety of Amjad. He removed his turban, hung it on the corner post of the bed, and as a proof of his faith in Allah, lay down to rest for a while.

Qamaroo was hungry, and seeing Tara in the kitchen, asked her for food. Tara gave her a chapatti and some vegetables to eat. When Khursheed got up after saying her prayers, Tara said to her softly, ‘Bhabhi, why don’t you serve Farzana and tayaji?’

Khursheed asked her father-in-law to have something to eat.

‘I’ll wait for a while, beta. I’m not feeling up to it.’

Someone rattled the chain on their outside door. Since only Muslims lived around Teetarvali Gali where Hafizji’s house was, there was no cause for alarm. But to be on the safe side, Hafizji told Naseeban to check who it was by looking out from the window before going downstairs to open the door.

‘It could be that bhai has arrived,’ said Tara, out of sympathy to the worried family.

‘Amen! May your mouth be full of sugar and ghee, sister!’ Khursheed said.

‘Bless your heart! May you live forever! May Allah be kind to you!’ The begum too gave Tara her blessing.

‘Chachaji! Chachaji!’ shouted Qamaroo, who had gone to the window with Naseeban. The child ran downstairs, yelling with excitement.

Hafizji sat up. The begum and Khursheed too stood up as if they had been given a new lease of life. The begum again gave Tara her blessing, ‘Have a long life! May you prosper! You’ll be rewarded for your good intentions. May Allah’s mercy and His grace be with you.’