Lajja

by Taslima Nasrin

‘It’s difficult to get a job in this country of Muslims. And it’s also difficult to work under these bosses who know nothing.’

  ‘You’re saying such awful things about Muslims, Suronjon!’ exclaimed Pulok as he moved very close to Suronjon.

  ‘Why’re you scared? I’m calling them names in your hearing, not in theirs. Is it possible to abuse them to their face? Will my head remain on my shoulders?’

  Suronjon gritted his teeth and gripped the handle of the sofa. Pulok sat stunned. Neela warmed the rice and vegetables and put the food on the table.

  ‘Suronjon da, haven’t you eaten anything all day?’ she asked in a voice filled with pain.

  Suronjon smiled wanly. ‘Who cares whether I eat?’ he asked.

  ‘Get married.’

  ‘Married?’ he almost choked. ‘Who’s going to marry me?’

  ‘You’ve ruled out marriage because of Parveen? That’s not right.’

  ‘No, that isn’t it, really. I’d actually forgotten that I need to get married.’

  Pulok and Neela laughed despite their troubles.

  Suronjon did not really want to eat. However, he needed to quieten his hunger.

  ‘Can you please lend me some money, Pulok?’ he asked as he was eating.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Whatever you can. No one at home is telling me whether they need any money. However, I can figure out that Ma has nothing more left.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll give you money. But do you know what’s going on in the country? In Bhola, Chottogram and Sylhet? In Cox’s Bazar? In Pirojpur?’

  ‘You’ll tell me that they’ve ground the temples to dust. Or that they’ve plundered the homes of Hindus or burnt them down. That they’ve beaten up the men and raped the women. Tell me if you’ve anything new to report.’

  ‘Do you think this is normal?’

  ‘Of course, this is normal. What else do you expect in this country? Our backs are not covered and therefore it isn’t right to get upset if people stab us.’

  Pulok sat at the dining table, facing Suronjon. He was quiet for awhile, and then he began: ‘They’ve burnt Choitonyodeb’s house in Sylhet. They haven’t spared the old library either. My older brother is here from Sylhet. The Kalighat Kalibari, Shibbari, the Jogonnath Akhara, the Chali Bondor Bhoirobbari, Chali Bondor Shoshan, the Jotorpur Mohaprobhu Akhara, the Meera Bazar Ramakrishna Mission, Boloramer Akhara at Meera Bazar, the Nirmolabala Students’ Hostel, the Bondor Bazar Brahmo Mandir, Jogonnather Akhara at Jinda Bazar, Gobindji Akhara, Norosingher Akhara at Lama Bazar, Noya Sorok Akhara, Debpur Akhara, Tilagorh Durgabari, Biyani Bazar Kalibari, Mohaprobhur Bari in Dhaka Dokkhin, Gotatikor Shibbari, Mohalokkhibari Mohapeeth, Fenchuganj, Sorkarkhana Durgabari, the Sajibari at Biswonath, the Boiragi Bazar Akhara, the Chondogram Shiva Mandir, Akilpur Akhara, Companiganj Jibonpur Kalibari, Balaganj Jogipur Kalibari, Jakiganj Amolshi Kali Mandir, Barhata Akhara, Gajipur Akhara and Birosree Akhara have been completely destroyed. Benubhushon Das, Sunil Kumar Das and Kanubhushon Das have died in the fire.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Suronjon, all kinds of awful things are happening. I don’t know whether we can possibly continue living in this country. The Jamaat and the BNP have together burnt Hindu homes and temples in Chottogram. They are taking away even the pots and pans of the Hindus, along with fish from their ponds. Many Hindus haven’t had anything to eat for seven or eight days now.

  ‘The people from the Jamaat-Shibir threatened Kanubihari Nath and his son Arjun Bihari Nath in Khajuria village of Sitakundo. They held guns to their chest and said that they wouldn’t be allowed to carry on living in their own home if they didn’t give them twenty thousand takas. They have left home since. They picked up Utpola Rani Bhowmik, the daughter of a professor at Mirerserai College, at midnight on Thursday and brought her back in the wee hours. Tell me, are we not going to protest all these things?’

  ‘Do you know what’s going to happen if we do? You remember that poem by D.L. Roy, don’t you?

  I may have landed just one kick on your back in anger,

  If you say it hurts, I find your words too arrogant to bear.

  Suronjon leant back on the sofa and shut his eyes. Pulok went on: ‘Several thousand homes have been plundered in Bhola and several thousand burnt to ashes. This morning there was a respite in the curfew for twelve hours. Three hundred people took spades and axes and attacked the Lokkhi Narayan Akhara for the third time. The police just stood by. More than fifteen hundred houses have been burnt in Borhanuddin. Two thousand have suffered some damage. Two thousand and ten houses have been destroyed completely in Tojmuddin. Two thousand are partially damaged. Two hundred and sixty temples have been destroyed in Bhola.’

  ‘You’re talking like a reporter,’ said Suronjon, laughing. ‘Is all this very painful for you?’

  ‘Isn’t this bothering you?’ asked Pulok, astonished.

  ‘Not a bit,’ said Suronjon, roaring with laughter. ‘Why should it upset me?’

  Pulok was alarmed. ‘You see, I have many relatives there,’ he said, ‘and I’m worried about them.’

  ‘The Muslims are doing what they have to do—they’re burning the homes of Hindus. But that doesn’t mean it will befit Hindus to burn the homes of Muslims, does it? I can’t say anything to console you, Pulok. I’m sorry.’

  Pulok went inside and came back with 2000 takas, which he gave Suronjon.

  ‘How is Alok? Are they including him in their games?’ Suronjon asked, after he had put the money in his pocket.

  ‘No. He sits moping at home all day. There’s nothing to do. When he looks out of the window, he can see his friends playing in the field. He’s suffering alone at home.’

  ‘Pulok, understand this, all the people whom we consider non-communal, our friends, are all communal deep inside. We have mingled deeply with the Muslims of this country and now our speech is peppered with ‘as-salamu alaykum’ and ‘khuda hafiz’. We say pani for water instead of jol, and for a bath we say gosol instead of snaan. How close are these folk to us—for whom we give up tea and cigarettes during the month of Ramzan, and for whose sake, through that month, we can’t even eat at a restaurant during the day?

  ‘Tell me, for whom are we making these sacrifices? How many days of leave do we get during the Puja? And in government hospitals, Hindus are forced to work through both the Id holidays!

  ‘The Eighth Amendment was brought in and the Awami League screamed and shouted for a while and that was it. And now, Hasina herself has covered her head! After she returned from hajj, she covered her head so that even her hair does not show. All of them are the same, Pulok, everyone of them. We have to either kill ourselves or leave the country.’

  Pulok stood leaning against the wall. Suronjon walked towards the door. Kironmoyee had suggested that he go to Mymensingh and speak to Roisuddin—after all, he’d taken their house for a paltry sum of money and so, maybe he could help them during this crisis. Suronjon had never borrowed money from anybody. He always cleared his credit with the grocer at the end of the month. However, he had been able to comfortably ask Pulok for money. It could be because he had once helped out Pulok, or because he was Hindu and very few could understand the trials people belonging to the minorities were facing. Other people might give if he asked but they would not be giving from their hearts. Suronjon had decided that this time he would not ask any Muslims for help. Of course, people at home were not asking him to take any responsibility. They were probably thinking that he was devoted to his country and had, after all, spent hours and days thinking and working for his country, and had not even cared whether he had food to eat or even the most basic amenities, and so, there was no point in harassing him now. He would give this small sum of money to Kironmoyee. How was she managing to keep their family afloat? She never grumbled. She never even said anything against her errant son. She had never shown any irritation despite the t
errible poverty she had had to endure.

  He left Pulok’s house and walked very fast towards Tikatuli. He suddenly wondered about the purpose of human life. What was the point of Sudhamoy’s life? He was struggling—others had to help him urinate, defecate and also eat. What was the point of staying alive like that? And Suronjon! Why was he alive? Since he had money in his pockets, he felt buying a few ampoules of pethidine and injecting them into his veins might be the right thing to do. He played with the thought of dying. Suppose he were to die in his bed, his family would not know, they would think that he was asleep and should not be disturbed.

  Perhaps Maya would come to call him. ‘Wake up, Dada,’ she would say. ‘Please make some arrangements for Baba and for us.’ And Dada, her older brother, would not respond.

  As he was having these thoughts, he saw a procession for communal harmony—a rally with slogans like ‘Hindus and Muslims are brothers’. Suronjon could not help but smile a mocking smile.

  He dropped in at Goutom’s before he went home. Goutom was in bed. He had recovered somewhat but his expression still reflected apprehension. The slightest noise startled him. He was a straightforward young man, studying medicine, not involved in politics, and had no enemies in the neighbourhood. And yet, someone like him was set upon because some others had destroyed the Babri Masjid in India!

  Goutom’s mother was sitting close to him. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘Suronjon dear, we’re going away.’

  ‘Going away?’ Suronjon was shocked.

  ‘Yes, we’re making arrangements to sell our house.’

  Suronjon did not want to know where they were going. He did not even ask. Would they be leaving the country? Suronjon pushed back his chair and got up suddenly because he felt that if he stayed on he would have to learn the terrible details of their move.

  ‘Let me go now,’ he said.

  ‘Please sit awhile, son,’ said Goutom’s mother. ‘I don’t know whether we’ll meet again before we leave. Let’s talk for a bit.’

  He could hear the tears that lay inside her.

  ‘Mashi, I have stuff to do at home,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back another day, maybe.’

  Suronjon left without looking at either Goutom or his mother. He left with his eyes downcast. He also tried to suppress his sigh of despair but it escaped.

  Part Five

  One

  Birupakkho was from Suronjon’s party. He was a new member and an intelligent young man. Suronjon was still in bed when Birupakkho walked into his room.

  ‘You’re still asleep? It’s ten o’clock.’

  ‘No, not asleep. Just lying in bed. I may as well stay in bed because I have nothing to do. After all, we don’t have the gumption to break mosques, so what can we do but stay in bed.’

  ‘You’re right. They’re breaking hundreds of temples. Yet, if we so much as throw a stone at a mosque, all hell will break loose. The Pakistanis ground the four-hundred-year-old Romna Kalibari to dust but no government has offered to rebuild it.

  ‘Hasina has repeatedly spoken of the rebuilding of the Babri Masjid. Yes, she has talked of compensation for the Hindus of Bangladesh but not once has she talked of rebuilding the broken temples. The Hindus of Bangladesh cannot be treated like they’re undeserving garbage. They are citizens of the country. Like all other citizens, they have the right to life, the right to property and the right to protect and maintain their places of worship.

  ‘Is it only the issue of the Babri Masjid that is making them destroy and plunder everything? On the morning of 21 March 1992, Putulrani, the daughter of Kolindronath Haldar of Bisharihata village of Bagerhat, was kidnapped by two local men, Mokhlesur Rohoman and Chand Mian Talukdar. The families of Moni and Kanai Lal were forced to leave the country because of the terror they faced from Yunus Mia, the chairman of the Union Porishod of the Potuakhali Boga Union and Nobi Ali Mridha, another UP member. In the village of Rajnagar they wanted to grab Biren’s land and so they took him away and since then there has been no news of Biren. They began to torture Sudhir so that they could grab his lands and Sudhir left the country. The chairman himself abducted Chondon Sheel of Sabupura village and Chondon has not been heard of since. Dinesh of Bamonkathi village was compelled to sign on blank sheets of paper that had legal stamps. In a village called Boga, they stole all the paddy from the fields of Chittoronjon Chakrabarty. When Chitto babu went to court, they pressured him to withdraw his suit. They also threatened to kill him.’

  Suronjon lit a cigarette. He did not really feel like getting into a discussion with Birupakkho, yet he found himself drawn into it.

  ‘On 1 April, seven or eight people entered Sopon Chondro Ghosh’s food shop New Jolkhabar, brandished pistols and asked for a “contribution” of ten thousand takas,’ said Suronjon, with his cigarette clamped between his lips. ‘They started beating up the workers in the shop when they didn’t get the contribution. They beat up the workers, broke the till and took away twenty thousand takas. Of course, these things happen to Muslim shopkeepers too. These “contribution collectors” are getting more and more aggressive. Sahabuddin, Siraj, Parvez and Salauddin of Siddik Bazar have grabbed almost half the property that Manik Lal Dhoopi had there. Now they are trying to grab all of Manik Lal’s property.’

  ‘There’s no point in giving example after example of instances of crops being looted, girls being abducted, of rapes, usurped land, death threats, people being attacked and beaten, and forced to abandon their homes and even leave the country,’ said Suronjon, sighing. ‘These things are happening all over the country. How much information do we have about the attacks that are occurring all around? Do we have any idea of the number of people leaving the country?’

  ‘In Senbag in Noakhali, Abul Kalaam Munshi, Abul Kashem and a few others kidnapped Shornobala Das, wife of Krishnolal Das, raped her till she was unconscious and then left her in the rice fields by her house,’ said Birupakkho.

  Suronjon left his bed and went to the bathroom. As he washed his face, he also asked Kironmoyee for two cups of tea. He had given her 2000 takas the night before. Hopefully, she would not say that her son was completely irresponsible. Kironmoyee was looking fresher than she usually did, maybe because her financial anxieties were taken care of.

  Birupakkho was sitting on a chair in Suronjon’s room, looking pale. ‘Cheer up, cheer up,’ said Suronjon as he came back to the room.

  Birupakkho smiled weakly. Suronjon felt a new energy in his limbs. He thought of paying a brief visit to Sudhamoy’s room. In the meanwhile, Maya came in with two cups of tea.

  ‘You seem considerably thinner. Didn’t they feed you properly at Parul’s?’ asked Suronjon .

  Maya left without replying. Suronjon’s attempt at humour cut no ice with her. Sudhamoy was ill. It was probably not seemly for Suronjon to make jokes. Maya’s silence made him stop and think. However, Birupakkho’s words took him away from those thoughts.

  ‘Suronjon da,’ said Birupakkho, ‘you don’t believe in religion. You don’t pray, you eat beef, so tell the Muslims that you aren’t a true Hindu but half a Muslim.’

  ‘The problem is that I am a human being with integrity. There is no conflict between aggressive fundamentalists—Hindu or Muslim. Don’t you see the friendship between the leaders of the Jamaat of this country with the leaders of the BJP in India? Fundamentalist parties want to come to power in both countries. At the meeting in Baitul Mukarram, Nizami has clearly said that it is not the BJP but the Congress which is responsible for the riots in India.’

  ‘A thousand people have died in the riots in India. The VHP, the RSS, Bajrang Dal, Jamaat and the Islamic Sevak Sangh have been banned there. Here too, there are strikes in Sylhet, Section 144 has been enforced in Pirojpur, there’s curfew in Bhola, and there are several peace processions in different places. A popular slogan at these peace processions is “Nizami and Advani are brothers / We want them hanging from the same ro
pe”. There is an all-party meeting against communalism today. Apparently temples in Britain have also been attacked. After his trip to Bhola, Tofael Ahmed has said that contingents of the Bangladesh Rifles [BDR] must be sent to Bhola. Things are very bad there.’

  ‘What will the BDR do once everything is burnt to ashes? Build mountains of ash? Where was Tofael on the night of the sixth? Why didn’t he make any arrangements for protection that night?’

  Suronjon got very agitated. ‘Don’t think that the Awami League is pure as the driven snow!’

  ‘Is it possible that the Awami League did not try to stop the riots because they wanted the government to be blamed?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s possible. You see, everyone needs votes. In this country you have the politics of the vote bank. No one really cares about ideals and such things. You need to get the votes whether by hook or by crook. The Awami League is sure of getting the Hindu votes. You know what it’s called—“reserve vote bank” or some such. And apparently in some places they have been involved in the attacks.’

  ‘Apparently in some places, where the Awami League usually wins elections, BNP people have plundered Hindu houses, burnt and damaged temples and then asked, “Where are the people you vote for?” The Awami League has done similar things in the localities where the BNP wins. BNP folk have done such things in Bhola but it’s the Awami League people who have created mayhem in Moheshkhali, Ghior and Manikganj.’

  ‘Yes, there are political disputes. However, nothing has happened without the fundamentalists. Is it true that almost all the newspapers have the same editorial today? Apparently they have all appealed for communal harmony?’ asked Suronjon.

  ‘Don’t you read the papers?’

  ‘No, don’t feel like it.’

  Maya came into the room.

  ‘Ma’s returned this. She doesn’t need it, she said,’ and Maya left an envelope on the table.

  Maya left before he could ask what their mother had returned. Suronjon opened the envelope and found that it contained the 2000 takas he had given her the night before. Suronjon turned red-faced with humiliation. Was this Kironmoyee’s pride? Or did she think that her unemployed son had stolen the money? Suronjon was hurt and ashamed and did not feel like talking any more. Not even with Birupakkho.