Shame: A Novel

by Taslima Nasrin

  At about midnight, some four hundred people from Boalkhali destroyed the Milan Mandir Temple and temples in the houses of Himanshu Chowdhuri, Paresh Biswas, Bhupal Chowdhuri, Phanindra Chowdhury and Anukul Chowdhuri of Kadhurkhil Union. They destroyed the old Hrishi Dham Ashram in Banskhali subdistrict. They set on fire all the houses and burned all books.

  On the night of October 31 Muslim fundamentalists armed with sticks and spades attacked the Jagannath Ashram at Seetakunda. They destroyed the head of the image of Kali after entering the Shri Shri Kali temple of Battala established around two hundred years ago and looted the silver crown of the image and its gold ornaments. Charsarat is a Hindu-majority village. On November 1 around two to three hundred people arrived and literally looted the whole area. They set on fire whatever they could not carry with them. They left behind heaps of ashes of burned houses and half-burned trees. While leaving the village, they warned that if the villagers did not leave by November 10, all of them would be beaten to death.

  The goats and cows which resisted their attempt to lead them out were slaughtered. Paddy stocks were burned. Nearly four thousand Hindus suffered losses. Seventy-five percent of the houses have been burned, one person died and innumerable cows and goats were also burned to ashes. Many women were raped. The losses amounted to over twenty-five million takas. About two hundred people armed with sticks and iron rods attacked the Jagannath temple of Satberia village at 9:15 P.m. and smashed all the temple idols. All the people living nearby fled for their lives when they heard about the attack and passed the night in the forest or in paddy fields. All the houses were looted. No trace remained of the community Durgabari of Satbaria. They set on fire the temple and the houses of Khejuria village. The peasant families lost everything. They tried to burn alive the wife of Sailendra Kumar. She was badly injured. While the devotees were engaged in prayer at the Shiva temple, some people abused them with coarse language, destroyed the idol and its seat and urinated on them.

  Suranjan's eyes became full of tears and he felt as if he had been bathed in their urine. He threw the book aside.

  Haripada the doctor had taught them the ways Sudhamay's inert limbs were to be exercised for the return of his strength. Both Maya and Kiranmayee meticulously followed his instructions, exercising Sudhamay's arms and feet and giving him medicines. Maya's natural ebullience diminished. She had always seen her father as a very lively person. The same man was now lying still. When he called out, "Maya, Maya" in a slurred voice, she had a feeling of something snapping within her. Sudhamay's helpless, dull eyes seemed to tell her something. Her father would always ask her to grow up to be an ideal person. He himself was honest and courageous. He would invariably resist Kiranmayee's occasional plea to marry her off when she had grown up. His set reply was: She would now pursue her studies, would then get a job, and only after that should she marry, if she wanted to. Kiranmayee would heave a sigh and say, "Or should we send her to my brother in Calcutta. All the girls of her age group, Anjali, Neelima, Abha, Shibani, have left for Calcutta to continue their studies there." Sudhamay would retort: "So what? Is there anything to stop her here? Or have studies been abolished?"

  "She is a grown-up girl now. I feel so concerned that I can't sleep in peace during the night. Wasn't Bijaya harassed just the other day by some Muslim boys on her way to college?"

  "The Muslim girls aren't spared either. Are the Muslim girls immune from rape and kidnapping?"

  "That's true, still ..."

  Kiranmayee came to realize that Sudhamay would never accept her suggestions. His consolation was that if he lost his ancestral home, he at least had the soil of his own country beneath his feet. Maya, of course, never felt any urge to go to Calcutta. She had visited her maternal aunt in Calcutta on one occasion. But she didn't like the place. All her cousin were snobs and never took her into their intimate circles. Sitting all alone throughout the day, she would muse over her own country. She had gone there to spend the Puja festival vacation; before the end of her stay, she requested her uncle to make arrangements for her return home.

  Surprised at her request, her aunt exclaimed, "What are you saying? Your mother has sent you to stay at least ten days."

  "I'm feeling homesick," Maya replied unhesitatingly. Tears indeed had welled up in her eyes as she revealed herself. She didn't like the supercharged exuberance of the Puja in Calcutta. In the midst of the city glittering during the festive period, she was feeling utterly alone. Otherwise, she wouldn't have returned within a week instead of her scheduled stay of ten days. Kiranmayee had a vague idea Maya would stay there if she liked the place.

  Sitting near her father's head, Maya was thinking of Jehangir. She had talked with him over the telephone from Parul's place. But Jehangir's voice was devoid of earlier emotion. He said that he was planning to go to the United States. One of his uncles, who lived in the country, had asked him to come. Hearing of his intention, Maya nearly had let out an anguished scream, "Will you go away?"

  "Bah, it's a land like America, why should I miss the chance?"

  "What will you do there?"

  "For the time being I'll have to get some odd jobs; then in due course, I'll get citizenship."

  "When are you going to return home?"

  "What's the point in coming back? Can a sensible man survive in this rotten country?"

  "When have you decided to go?"

  "Next month, my uncle is nagging me. He thinks I'm spoiling myself by getting involved in politics here."

  "Oh!" That was all she could say.

  Not even once did Jehangir mention what was going to happen to Maya if he left the country. Nor did he ask about Maya's plans, whether she would prefer to accompany him to the States or wait for him in this country. How could his craze for America make him forget their love affair of four years, his promise to marry her while sitting in a restaurant by the side of the Crescent Lake. Was his craving for the abundance and splendor so strong as to totally ignore Maya, leaving her for good! As she sat at Sudhamay's bedside, her thoughts would reach out for Jehangir every now and then. Even her best attempts couldn't make her forget him. At the same time she shared Sudhamay's agony of lying inert. Kiranmayee showed no emotion. Yet she would cry out all of a sudden at midnight. She never said why or for whom she cried. She went about her household chores silently throughout the day. Without troubling anyone, she cooked and kept Sudhamay clean.

  Kiranmayee didn't put vermilion at the parting of her hair like other married Hindu women. Nor were there other visible signs of marriage, like the iron and conch shell bangles. Sudhamay, during their period of hiding in 1971, had asked her to take off those signs of her married status. After 1975, she gave them up herself. Sudhamay, too, discarded his dhoti after 1975. The day he had given his measurements to a Muslim tailor to make pyjamas from white longcloth, he told Kiranmayee after returning home, "Would you please see if I have a fever. I feel as if I do."

  Kiranmayee didn't say anything. She knew that Sudhamay always felt feverish when he was upset.

  Maya was surprised at Suranjan's aloofness at such a crucial time. He had holed himself up and remained in isolation, putting on a glum face, never even saying if he felt like taking his meals. Didn't he ever think of asking if his father was alive or dead? His friends came to his room and with them he spent his time in endless cycles of idle talk. He went out of his room, locking it from the outside without telling anyone that he was leaving or the time of his return. Didn't he have any responsibility? No demand had been made of him to contribute to the family's needs. But he could at least perform the minimum filial duties such as calling the doctor, inquiring about his father's condition, buying medicines, and spending a little while by the sick man's bedside. Sudhamay could certainly expect his son to come to him and touch his left arm, which was not quite paralyzed, as a sign of assurance.

  Sudhamay was coming round slowly with the medicines prescribed by Doctor Haripada. His speech had become a little more distinct. But he had no sensation on
his right side. The doctor had assured them that this condition would improve if the exercises were continued. Maya had all her time free. She didn't have to coach her student. A girl called Minati was one whom she coached. But her mother had said that there wouldn't be any more need to coach her since the family was migrating to India.

  "Why India?" Maya had asked.

  Minati's mother had only smiled sadly without offering any reply.

  Minati was a student at Vhikarunnesa School. One day, while teaching her mathematics, Maya noticed Minati was fiddling with her pencil and chanting Alhamdulillahir Rahmanir Rhahim Ar Rahmanir Rahim.

  Rather taken aback, Maya asked her, "What are you saying?"

  Minati immediately replied, "We recite from the Koran at the time of prayer assembly in our school."

  "Is that so? You have to recite these suras from the Vhikarunnesa school?"

  "We recite two suras followed by the National Anthem."

  "What do you do when sura is recited?"

  "I recite, too, covering my head like other Muslim girls."

  "Is there no separate arrangement for the prayers of Hindu, Buddhist or Christian students?"

  "No."

  Maya was jolted on hearing this. In one of the largest schools in the country, Muslim prayers were offered during assembly. And the Hindu girls were also to take part in that prayer silently - this must be one sort of persecution.

  Maya coached another girl, Sumaia, who was a relative of Parul. She told her one day, "Didi, I won't take coachings from you anymore."

  ""Why?"

  "Father has said he will engage a Muslim tutor for me."

  "Well, if you want it that way."

  Maya informed no one of her loss of these two coaching jobs. Suranjan took his pocket money from the family. Now, if Maya also made the same demand, how would Kiranmayee manage the family budget? After such an accident in the family, she felt hesitant about revealing her own financial problem.

  Kiranmayee had of late turned unusually calm. She quietly cooked the simple dal and rice. She should have made fruit juice and soup for Sudhamay. But who would bring the fruits for him? Suranjan preferred to stay stretched out on the bed. He could stay in that position for incredibly long periods. Maya, too, nurtured a grudge against her brother. He ignored her persistent pleas to seek shelter on the seventh. But was the danger over now? Seeing the nonchalance of other family members, Maya also became somewhat detached. She, too, began to think: let things take their own course; she was not at all concerned. If Suranjan could stay aloof, what could Maya do by brooding? She had no intimate friend to whose house the whole family could move. Even during her stay at Parul's house, she felt quite uneasy, even though Parul was one of her close friends. Her presence at Parul's place on several occasions did not raise any questions. But that day when Maya went to the house, all the people who knew her there looked at her strangely. Although she had been a frequent visitor, her presence that day evoked silent questions in the eyes of Parul's relatives. Only Parul said it was unsafe for Maya to stay in her own house at this time.

  The question of security arose only in the case of Maya, not Parul. Would Parul ever face such a situation when she would be forced to take refuge at Maya's place? Maya was hesitant and somewhat cringing, yet she latched on to Parul's house like an unwanted guest. Parul didn't hold back her hospitality. Yet Maya had to face awkward situations when Parul's visiting relatives asked her name.

  She replied, "Maya."

  "What's your full name?" the questioner insisted.

  Intervening before she could say anything, Parul said, "Her name is Zakia Sultana."

  Maya had been startled at the dropping of a Muslim name. Later, after the relatives' departure, Parul had explained, "These people are religious. I was forced to tell a he. Otherwise they will be circulating the news everywhere that we are offering shelter to Hindus."

  "Oh."

  The point was driven home. But Maya felt the agony of humiliation. Was it wrong to offer shelter to the Hindus? Another question that had disturbed her sleep at night was, Why should Hindus be forced to seek protection outside their homes? In the undergraduate exam, Maya had scored very high first-division marks against Parul's mere second division. Yet she got the impression that Parul was pitying her.

  "Baba, try to flex your fingers; just try to raise your hand a little."

  Sudhamay raised his hand just like an obedient boy. Maya thought Sudhamay was slowly gaining back his strength in his fingers.

  "Will Dada not have his meal?" asked Maya.

  "Who knows? I found him sleeping," said Kiranmayee gloomily.

  Kiranmayee didn't take any food. She served a meal for Maya. In the room with its closed doors and windows, darkness reigned. Maya, too, felt sleepy. As she was dozing off, she was suddenly alarmed at the noise of an approaching procession. The procession passed, shouting, "Hindus, if you want to live, leave this country!" Sudhamay also heard. The hand held by Maya sent out tremors which she could also feel.

  Suranjan's stomach was cramped with hunger pangs. Earlier, whether he ate or not, his food was kept under a cover on the table. But he wouldn't tell anyone today of his hunger. Going to the tap on the side of the cemented courtyard, he washed his face and wiped it clean with a towel. He changed his clothes on coming back to his room and went out again. Once out of the house, he couldn't decide which way he should go. Should he go to Hyder's? But he would not be home at this hour. Then where could he go? To Kamal's or Belal's? But they might think that he had come to seek shelter with them in sheer desperation. Or to crave their sympathy. No, he wouldn't go. He would roam around the city on his own. After all, it was his own city. At one time, he hadn't wanted to leave Mymensingh. He had plenty of friends at Ananda Mohan College. Why should he depart from them to move to a new city? But Sudhamay sold his house in the dead of night to Raisuddin. Even the next morning, Suranjan was not aware that their ancestral home, known as "Dutta House," along with its fragrance of white kamini flowers and memories of swimming merrily in the clear waters of its adjoining pond, was theirs no more. When Suranhan came to know that they would have to vacate the house within seven days, he was so distraught that he didn't return home for the next two days.

  Suranjan couldn't understand why he felt so offended. He had no less a grievance against himself than against members of the family. He felt a regret tinged with sorrow also for Parvin. This girl loved him. Often she would come running to his room to say, "Come, let's run away."

  "Where to?"

  "Far away, to the mountains."

  "Where will you find hills. You'll have to go to either Sylhet or Chittagong to find them."

  "Then we'll go there and build a house to live in."

  "What will you eat? Creepers and leaves?"

  Parvin would roll with laughter and lean against Suranjan. She said, "I'll die without you."

  "Girls say such things, but they actually never die."

  Suranjan proved to be correct. Parvin didn't die. Rather, like an obedient girl, she married the man chosen by her family. Just two days before her marriage, she revealed to Suranjan that her family was insisting on his conversion to the Muslim faith to marry her. Suranjan laughingly said, "You know quite well, I don't believe in religion."

  "No, you must become a Muslim."

  "But I don't want to be a Muslim."

  "That means you don't want me."

  "Of course I want you. But why must I become a Muslim for that reason? What's this nonsense?"

  In a moment Parvin's fair face had reddened with anger. Suranjan knew that she had been under constant pressure from her family to sever her relationship with him. He, too, was keen on knowing which side Hyder supported. Hyder was Parvin's brother, but he was Suranjan's friend, too. However, he had maintained a deliberate silence about their affair. His aloofness was not at all to Suranjan's liking. He should have taken one side or the other. During his long talks with Hyder in those days, no reference was ever made to Parvin.
Since Hyder was reluctant to raise the issue, Suranjan didn't either.

  One day Parvin was married off to a Muslim businessman. Suranjan's refusal to convert possibly made Parvin give up her dream of living in the mountains with him. Could the dream be immersed in water the way an image was at the end of merry festival days? But Parvin did exactly that. Parvin's family was not resigned to Suranjan's religion.

  This morning Hyder told him Parvin was perhaps going to divorce her husband.

  Divorce after only two years of marriage? But Suranjan preferred to remain silent. He had almost forgotten Parvin, yet the mention of her name acted as a shock to his heart. Had he kept the name of Parvin gently, ever so carefully, wrapped in the safety of mothballs in the vault of his heart? Perhaps. How long it had been since he had seen Parvin? He felt a wrenching agony within him. He tried to smother it by recalling Ratna's face. Ratna Mitra. She was a fine girl. She would be a good match for Suranjan. How could it concern Suranjan even if Parvin divorced her husband? She had married a Muslim, someone her family approved of. And everyone had expected everything to take off smoothly from there, almost as it it were guaranteed that if marriages were matched in terms of religion and caste, they would last. Why, then, was she planning to leave that marriage? Didn't her husband take her to the mountains? Hadn't her dreams been fulfilled? Suranjan was an unemployed Hindu boy. He just wandered about here and there. Could he be considered a good bridegroom?

  Suranjan hired a rickshaw at Tikatuli crossing. But Parvin's face kept on flashing in his mind. Parvin would kiss him and he would hold her in a firm embrace and say, "You're a bird, just a small sparrow."

  Parvin would roll down in laughter and retort: "You are a monkey."