The Black Album

by Hanif Kureishi

  Riaz So did Barbara Cartland. (Addressing the others.) See how calm I am?

  They laugh.

  Shahid (continuing) History shows that books can’t be suppressed. Dr Brownlow, surely you see how this is the road to dictatorship of the mind, like in those Communist states.

  Riaz That is presumption and arrogance.

  Shahid I am asking the brothers to consider that the telling of stories helps us all. It starts a conversation, however hard that may be.

  Chad You agreeing with that blasphemer?

  Shahid I am talking of what we need to do. As a poet yourself, brother Riaz –

  Riaz This is not about us but the mind of the author –

  Shahid And that mind you should defend!

  Riaz This is the presumption I am talking of, brothers!

  Shahid (powering on) He has said time and again he has your view of the world – the migrant’s view. He celebrates what you are because out of you come new things.

  Riaz There is nothing new after Allah’s revelations.

  Shahid But even these are not without dispute.

  Riaz (angry) What do you mean?

  Shahid (overlapping Riaz’s question) I have read the history. There were verses added to the Koran –

  Riaz (interjecting) – and refuted by Allah himself as the work of Satan!

  Shahid But the fact of those verses remains. And if these were the work of Satan, you have to agree his mischief made the faith stronger.

  Riaz It enabled Allah to warn us about Satan, agreed.

  Shahid Then can’t you accept that the writer is also being playful, and his new work will only make the faith stronger?

  Riaz When there is so little known about us Muslims in public, we have a right to ensure the ummah – the Muslim community as a whole – is represented in ways that promote all of us.

  Brownlow (to Shahid) This is a n-n-new form of racism here, when the Muslim working class is persecuted by middle-class, Cambridge types.

  Shahid Aren’t you being hypocritical, Dr Brownlow?

  Brownlow I have never subscribed to the British obsession with class loyalty. We should seize this moment – for the first time under Thatcher, there is the real possibility of persecuted classes making a difference. You have a cause, a passion that could place you in the vanguard of changing this country!

  Shahid Isn’t it even more crucial then that the cause is a right one?

  Brownlow What matters is the commitment to kick the old order out of its complacency. Stand firm, Tariq – the new world order will be created by your class!

  Shahid Literature is not a political party! Brother Riaz here is asking us to become policemen of storytellers.

  Riaz In these times, it is the duty of every Mussulman to become a policeman for his faith. The Ayatollah has made that very clear in his fatwa. He who does not act is not a true Muslim.

  Shahid Brother Riaz, you asked me to prepare your poems for print. You even accepted I could play with the words a little to make them fit today’s way of speaking. Will playing with your words make me satanic in your eyes?

  Riaz Forget this literature-shiterature talk. Let me ask you directly – if a character comes to your home in Sevenoaks and abuses your mother and sisters, what will you do?

  Chad You got a problem, brother?

  Shahid (snaps) Don’t call me brother! Why should you be more of a brother than any other man in the street?

  Chad You confused, brother – (To the others.) Or he hiding something.

  Riaz This writer has abused us in the same way that racist abused the old man and his family in the East End.

  Shahid Do we have a monopoly on hurt? Why should our feelings of hurt be greater than his? If we attack him we become no better than the racists we oppose! We should debate with him. Censoring him will only limit what we can be, when the whole world could be ours.

  The door opens and Zulma enters.

  Zulma Shahid – come. Attend, darling.

  Shahid Auntie? This is a meeting!

  Zulma I’ve told you before, don’t call me Auntie! Sometimes censorship is necessary! Who is in charge? (To Riaz.) What are you doing, having a political meeting?

  Riaz This is a private meeting, madam.

  Shahid We’re discussing the fatwa.

  Zulma And you’re going to demonstrate in his favour?

  Shahid No. Not in his favour, I don’t think.

  Zulma (appalled) Students are supposed to have bloody brains, aren’t they?

  Riaz Have some respect, madam.

  Zulma Don’t raise your voice to me! Religion is for the benefit of the masses, not for brainbox types like you. Those simpletons require strict rules for living, otherwise they would still think the earth sits on three fishes. But you mind-wallahs must know it’s a lot of balls.

  Riaz (controlling his ire) I am a peaceful man. I urge all to love those of other religions, yes, even the wretched Christ-killers who lack faith in their own faith. But we need to send a clear signal to everyone, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, that our faith is not a matter for fictional debate.

  Zulma Arey, practically the whole world is ringing me about this hullaballoo, as if I wrote the novel personally. Darling, things are getting so extreme I may have to read it, and I only read on the toilet.

  Riaz (to the others) Come, brothers, we have work to do.

  They leave, casting murderous glances at Zulma.

  (To Shahid, as he leaves.) I will pray Allah guides you to the true path, Shahid.

  Zulma As if my head weren’t burning up in flames with the problems your entire family has given me, thank you very much.

  Shahid and Zulma are left alone.

  Why are you in with those people? Oh, Shahid, what has happened to you?

  Shahid Please, Auntie, I need to think.

  Zulma You will certainly be needing to cogitate after I give you one tight slap.

  Shahid You can’t hit me.

  Zulma Well, I’m in the mood. (Tuts.) You had a decent upbringing. And now I see you hanging round with beardies who’ve already messed up Pakistan. I can’t tell you the problems darling sweet Benazir Bhutto is having with these tufty cunts.

  Shahid The problem is not people like Riaz, but your class, Zulma. You and your school friend Benazir, with your foreign bank accounts, doing nothing for the country but leeching it for yourselves.

  Zulma It’s people like her who help maintain some decent image of the country abroad, darling. If it weren’t for us, you’d see ZZ Top on TV, and then where would we be?

  Shahid Can you hear how arrogant you sound?

  Zulma How dare you speak to me in that fashion? I thought you were one notch better than that brother of yours. You don’t go in for prayers as well, do you? With that girl who should cover her whole bloody horse-face?

  Shahid At least Tahira is not materialistic like you and Chili.

  Zulma Let me tell you, next time I’m going to be demanding an arranged marriage. These free marriages – what are they but bad manners in the day and bad smells at night? Oh, Shahid, we’ve not always been the best of friends, but it makes me feel rotten to know you’re running in that direction. They will slaughter us soon for thinking. Have you stopped thinking, Shahid?

  Shahid No.

  Zulma Good. Then go back home at once and help your poor ammi.

  Shahid I’ve got to finish my course! Papa wanted me to be educated.

  Zulma Yes, he did. But you are spending all your time with those religious fools. Now you have to take charge of the family. When you see that wasted brother of yours, be kind enough to inform him that his place will be taken by you. Ring me when you get to Sevenoaks – I’m going back to Karachi soon.

  Shahid You can’t put the mess of your married life on me, Auntie!

  Zulma It’s your family I’m thinking of – you have a duty to your ammi.

  Zulma storms out. Shahid sits at his desk, finally alone. Puts up Riaz’s poem on his computer screen.

  T
HE MARTYR’S IMAGINATION

  by Riaz al-Hussein

  The windswept sand speaks of adultery in this godless land,

  Here Lucifer and colonialists dance and Ibrahim weeps when the sun sets.

  Wet bodies and captivating tongues reek of Satan’s hot breath,

  But Gibreel’s fragrant green sword will veil the unveiled on the day the sun finally sets.

  As he starts editing, we hear the sound of his fingers tapping on the keyboard. This segues into sounds of fists pounding on desks.

  SCENE ELEVEN

  The canteen at college. Fists pounding on desks and tables. Shahid enters, sees Hat, who is with Tahira.

  Shahid What’s happening?

  Hat Democracy in action. Student protest full on.

  Shahid What about?

  Hat This morning, that woman, Miss Osgood – she hold up the book.

  Tahira That book. You hear?

  Shahid (sarky) A book, in a college?

  Hat I say, ‘Put down that book before I … You know what I’m saying, Miss Deedee Osgood?’ I say straight out, our parents pay taxes, here should be British scholarship and brainwaves, not curses. She keep going, ‘This is a classroom. There must be discussion, debate, argument!’

  Shahid She’s right …

  Tahira Then we start fisting the desk.

  Hat All the class take it up, smashing down together.

  Tahira Dr Brownlow say we have to be listened to. Our voices suppressed by Osgood types with the colonial mentality. To her we not cool, we coolies.

  Hat So Miss Deedee has to stick the book away before someone sticks it –

  Tahira That pornographic priestess encourages brothers of colour to take drugs. Then she force them into orgies. They tattoo one another.

  Hat (curious) With what?

  Tahira Tattoo equipment.

  Hat (understanding) I see.

  Deedee enters in a rush.

  Deedee (to Hat) Thanks for the protest, Hat. It’s given me an idea for a new course. (To Shahid.) ‘The History of Censorship and the Importance of Immorality.’

  Shahid Just what we need. How do we sign up?

  Deedee Help me circulate these leaflets.

  She hands over some leaflets.

  We’re going to look at everyone from Plato to Brecht –

  Tahira (to Hat) Yeah, the whole white doo-dah.

  Deedee If anyone from your Nation of Islam’s made a contribution to world literature, add them to the list. Can you think of anyone, Tahira?

  She stares at Tahira. A stand-off. Chad enters, carrying a copy of The Satanic Verses. A beat. He exchanges looks with Deedee. And sees the leaflets in Shahid’s hand.

  (To Shahid.) Get as many students as you can, Shahid.

  Deedee exits. Chad snatches the leaflets from Shahid and flings them after her.

  Tahira Isn’t it funny that nudists always keep their shoes on?

  Chad Give me the stick, Hat.

  Shahid You’re a joker, man, if you think you’re going to start beating people!

  Tahira Yeah, just what she needs!

  Chad (to Hat) The string, too! What you waiting for?

  Shahid (to Chad) Listen Chad, that man, whatever he’s done, he never called you Paki scum, did he?

  Chad (wound up) Shahid, I mean it – where are you spiritually, man?

  Shahid (considers. Pause) Chad, brother – I try never to do anything Prince wouldn’t do.

  Chad (in his face) Where’s the typing we entrusted you with?

  Shahid I want to talk to brother Riaz.

  Chad We had a talk and you left with that air hostess! Brother Riaz more annoyed with you than ever.

  Shahid Without Riaz, you’re nothing.

  Chad I agree with you.

  Shahid You’re a dog without a master.

  Chad A dog, yeah?

  Chad chucks the book to Hat and pulls Shahid down by the wrists.

  Shahid A dirty dog.

  Chad Least I recognise that a master is required. Did I make the world? But I do know that I not a coward. Because you are always talking, never taking action! Because you always had a sitting-down life! That shit you told me the first day, you invent it to make yourself interesting! Actions will be taken!

  Shahid Make sure they’re the right actions.

  Tahira (intervening) This isn’t the time for giving up, Shahid. Otherwise they’ll put us in camps and turn on the gas.

  Chad Don’t forget the paraffin, Hat.

  He pushes Shahid forward.

  You in front with me.

  He leads Shahid off into the courtyard. Hat has strung the book up and pours petrol on it. Riaz enters, followed by Brownlow, then Deedee.

  Deedee My God. What is happening to us? Shahid! Andrew! What’s going on?

  Brownlow’s stutter prevents him answering.

  Riaz Fellow students!

  Deedee Are you going to burn that book, Riaz?

  Riaz If you will permit me, in one moment I will explain.

  Deedee Do you even know what that means?

  Riaz Is the free speech of an Asian to be muzzled by the authorities?

  Various cries from the crowd around Riaz: ‘No, no.’ / ‘Let the brother speak!’ / ‘His turn on the spot!’ / ‘Say it, brother!’

  You understand? This is democracy!

  Deedee (incredulous) Democracy!

  Riaz Are the white supremacists going to lecture us on democracy this afternoon? Or will they permit us, for once, to practise it?

  Crowd cries: ‘Get off, white bitch! ’/ ‘Punk priestess!’

  Deedee Why? Just explain why, Riaz?

  Riaz To uphold values in our new society.

  Deedee God save us from values!

  Riaz You see? You see how feeble Christians are? A religion that’s lost its hatred is not a religion – it is empty!

  Deedee Then hooray for emptiness! My emptiness is the value. We’ve had too many values in Europe already. Doubt is our greatest need.

  Riaz It’s the sure road to filth! Filth like this book that people like you use to laugh at us. Well, it is time for your Western arrogance to understand it cannot interfere with God’s decree.

  Chad Jihad!

  Riaz Come, Shahid, take up your brother’s cry. Look – the TV-wallahs are here.

  Shahid You called the press?

  Riaz I listened to your advice.

  As the crowd chants ‘Jihad! Jihad!’ a Cameraman and Reporter take up positions, filming the action.

  Let loose the piercing sword of truth!

  Chad Allah-u-Akbar!

  Crowd Allah-u-Akbar!

  Chad Don’t mess with Muslims and their religion!

  Deedee This can’t happen!

  Deedee rushes out.

  Riaz (to Shahid) Consign this filth to the fate it deserves! Let the whole world see we shall not be overcome!

  Reporter (to Riaz) Can you get a bit closer to the book?

  Riaz complies. He signals to Chad, who tilts the book while Hat thrusts a lighter into the pages.

  Shahid No, Riaz!

  Hat repeatedly tries to get the book to catch fire.

  Hat The book too thick – he written too much.

  Riaz Put more paraffin!

  Shahid No!

  Shahid rushes out, returning to his room, where he furiously starts pounding on his computer.

  In the background, the book can be seen going up in flames. Police sirens are heard, and Riaz and the gang scarper. Deedee is seen dousing the burning book.

  Shahid’s typing gains in volume.