‘Call out the name of Parvardigar; with his retinue comes the esteemed thanedar.’ Someone called out.
Chaudhary Fateh Singh turned around sharply with alert eyes and motioned the men present to allow no interruption in the reciting of the glories of Khudavand.
Maulviji spoke on with renewed enthusiasm.
Later, coming out from the masjid, they saw Constable Lal Khan. ‘Lal Khanji, Rabb do good unto all. How come your feet forgot the way to our Jattar area today?’
Lal Khan was used to carrying all the weight of the police station on his shoulders. He twirled his moustache importantly. ‘The police’s job is not forgetting the way, but finding it.’
Seeing Lal Khan’s starched turra, the fanned crest of his turban, unfurled in all its glory, Sikandar Varaich’s heart caught fire. ‘Even a damp squib lit by the police is a cannon shell. As soon as you see the turra on that turban, you can expect explosions. Kyon ji, Lal Khanji?’ he said saucily.
Vazeera nudged him. ‘Shut up, oye. Yes, Lal Khanji, hope there haven’t been complications involving confiscation and things. To our mind, everyone in this village has already undergone the mandatory harassment at the hands of the police.’
Lal Khan’s henna-red moustache bristled. ‘Oye Ranikhan ke, go fly this imaginary kite at your father’s wedding procession! We’ll clear the conspiracy involving the murder of the government official Painda Khan very soon!’
Vazeera and Sikandar pinched their ears. ‘Tauba, tauba, sorry sir, sorry! May you look kindly upon us, we have nothing to do with it, more likely a plot hatched by the rascals of Hattar area.’
‘Once we recover the money given and received, both Hattar and Jattar areas will cough up all their secrets …’
Chaudhary Mauladadji nodded his huge turban. ‘Lal Khan puttarji, the whole village is obediently yours. Gods have mercy, teach these boys some sense. But, Sahib Lal Khan, the Nayab Tehsildar has already surveyed the area for Bairani and Sailab. What is this new complication?’
Like the khaki turra of Lal Khan, the awful might of Taaziraat-e-Hind, the constitutional authority of the Government of India, bristled dangerously. ‘Oye khachcharo, you stupid mules, forget these childish forays into rascaldom. Lift your kurtas and air your hairy chests. Because Article 307 is about to descend upon them.’
‘Lahaulvila kuvvat, Lal Khanji! Our village is blameless.’
‘We don’t need to go to Kabul or Kandahar to find rascals. Have patience, we’ll get them right here!’
Nabiya cleared his throat. ‘Motiyowalo, even that is not difficult for you! Sitting right here, your mind can cross the river and return, and no one dare call you a liar.’
‘Na Ji na!’ Saffu interrupted seriously. ‘Badshaho, you’ll be guilty of wrong statement. Try asking Lal Khanji if that area is beyond his jurisdiction. That area is ruled by some other Khan Sahib!’
Constable Lal Khan stared at them while his mind whirled in angry machinations. If I don’t have you helpless in lengthy police rigmarole, my name is not Lal Khan, he vowed.
As the procession of turbans, shawls and kheses approached, Thanedar Salamat Ali’s style and swagger stood apart, perfectly displaying his richly pleated white salwar, and turban adorned with a Peshawari kullah. When the inspector seated himself, his commanding presence drew spontaneous praise from all around. ‘Salaam badshaho! Salaam Motiyowalo! Salaam Sahib Ji!’
Thanedarji gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement and glared at the crowd in silence.
When Akhiya saw his comrades were to piss their pants, he smoothed things over with his obsequious voice, ‘How long are you going to gawk at the robust cheer of Thanedarji’s face? Fetch some hot milk, let the tiredness seep out of Sahib Bahadur. Sarkar must have been on tour for a long time …’
With one deadly look, Thanedarji’s steely eyes pinned Saffu’s pate and turned the heat on Akhiya. ‘Stop spinning flowery yarns, sister-fucker! On your feet! Just give a straight answer to everything I ask!’
Akhiya’s front teeth looked like they had been gnawed down by a rat. In a voice as floaty as one high on dhatura, he said, ‘Sarkar’s order, it’d be a privilege to answer.’
‘Hmm. What grand celebrations were on at Jahangira’s of Jalalpur last Friday?’
‘Ji, motiyowalo, when I was returning from my aunt’s at Shadiwal, it grew dark at Jalalpur. I stayed at Jahangir’s place …’
‘Hmm. Recount the antics and bastardly deeds of that chandal-chowkdi, that lowly gang of four. I know one-legged Faggu and Bhoora Siyalkotiya were gambling with a fistful of kowries. And both you rascals …’
‘Janaab, first, there was no one there besides me. Second, even if there was, I didn’t see him. The night was dark. It was overcast. One hand couldn’t see what the other …’
Salamat Ali’s voice was a whiplash, ‘Spilling the beans without even being asked? Tell the truth, how many times have you been a false witness?’
Akhiya agreed with ease, ‘Janaab is right. We cussed ones do nothing else but this every second day.’
‘Constable Lal Khan, these boys are getting as hot-blooded as menstruating women. Let’s thrash it out of them,’ the inspector commanded.
Lal Khan immediately started caning Akhiya’s back and with every lash, Akhiya called out, ‘Amazing! Waah o waah! Waah! Khuda, with your merciful acts, may the star of the police rise still further in the sky!’
Chaudhary Mauladadji considered the consequences of Akhiya’s bloody nerve and looked at Shahji, and Shahji tried to catch Salamat Ali’s eye by nodding his head.
‘Thanedarji, when you want to find a culprit, he is right before your eyes. There is no doubt that this unfit one is the culprit. Just one request: please oblige us by telling us his crime so that his mates also learn a lesson.’
Salamat Ali’s red-veined eye twitched and Lal Khan’s cane stopped.
‘Let them just remember, Shah Sahib, the police wears the crown of British justice. We shall dispense justice, whatever the circumstances.’
The wise ones of the village started blinking in confusion. Miyandadji said softly, ‘Puttarji, you are yourself wise. If you explain the motives of these rascals, that would help clarify the matter.’
Salamat Ali looked at Karmdinji and landed a couple of quick thwacks on Akhiya’s temple. Then explaining with exaggerated patience, he said, ‘Chacha Karmdin, if you can’t bear to watch your grandson being thrashed, then explain to this unreined one that no one can get away with lying to the police. If your barkhurdar was present in the village, how come he reached Jalalpur when the police threatened him?’ Thanedar cocked his turra with stately arrogance and cast a contemptuous glance around. ‘All you rascals, open your ears and listen, this will be the consequence of false statements!’
Akhiya pushed away the hair falling into his eyes with one hand and touched his back with the other. When he brought it back, his fingers were smeared with blood. Catching the thanedar’s eye, he roared with laughter. ‘Balle balle! The government is good. Officers are good. The whipping was good.’
Chaudhary Fateh Singh called out loudly to Najiba, ‘Go, get hot milk with a lump of pure ghee for Akhiya!’
When Akhiya saw Dulla coming from behind the courtyard, he called out fearlessly, ‘Come yaara, you too indulge yourself in front of Thanedar.’
Dulla took in the crowd, looked at Akhiya’s blood-sodden back, then called out challengingly, ‘You men in uniforms, you think our strong youth are lumps of sod? Open your ears and listen! This village is not home to plate-thiefs and cattle-thiefs. It is home to the fearless and the brave, whom the police itself calls rascals out of fear.’
Salamat Ali ignored his windbag tactics. Then he turned to Shahji and thundered, ‘Lal Khan, let them sun themselves for the time being. Present them at Shahji’s haveli at sundown.’
Karmdinji’s intestines had caught fire as he helplessly watched his grandson being whipped. But when he heard of a second round, he stood up and said, ‘Mash’allah, what an impressi
ve mien. Thanedarji, please accept my salaam.’
Salamat Ali looked up inquiringly and nodding his head said, ‘You still have one or two good habits, Karmdin chacha. This has made me happy.’
Then off he lumbered, negotiating his great weight and girth towards the haveli.
Watching both in step, Maulvi Kurban Ali grew intelligent in Persian:
‘Alike in kind, alike in that they both fly
Still a pigeon is a pigeon; a falcon, falcon.’
Come evening, the Uttari Vand resounded with the beat of drums. Drum-rings and other decorations shone brightly around the fire. The men had different kinds of drums – one held a duff, one a tandi, and another a shutri.
Mamoo butcher looked at them worriedly and said, ‘Oye you rascals, what are you celebrating today? Neither Holi, nor Diwali and you have taken up the shutri and sharna.’
‘Chacha, the rising tide within the heart admits no control. If you don’t like colourful songs and merry music, plug your ears and go to sleep. If Chachi Taamba feels like it, she will come and do sirwaarna of these heads.’
The families of the sansi-mirasis, the caste of wandering entertainers, came and sat around the fire.
‘Sing ji sing, sing some jass, the songs of high praise.’
‘Oye, whose jass? Of our respected police guests?’
‘Not to worry, badshaho, we’ve dealt with many turras, and also those who sport these turras!’
Kartara, Heera Sansi’s cousin, put in an appearance with Machhi Sultan. When he said something in Shurli’s ear, Khushiya sang out gleefully:
‘Posta, dil dosta –
Opium, dear friend,
You promised a thousand-buck high
From your gilded seed
But a mere hundred’s
Is all it would concede.
‘Posta dil dosta –
Opium, dear friend,
I’ll uproot your gilded lie
For leaving us with begging bowls,
For leaving us to die.’
Groups of Mirasis and Kanjars gathered and started singing songs in praise of bhang.
When Ilachi Kanjar clapped a beat on the shutri, the village night reverberated to each couplet.
‘The sisters Gung and Bhang
Went in the mountains to a sacred place
One bathed in the water to wash her sins
The other drank the same to expiate them …’
Gullu butted in, ‘O cheeky Mirasio, shame on you. Songs of praise on an empty stomach, that too of pot and weed – of bhussi and bhang!’
Lakkhi Mirasi’s cock was doing the talking. He thumped Gullu on the back. ‘Gullu badshah, it’s not just your manhood that is dying to feel the highs. Let the scent of our fame spread. If our songs-stories and drums don’t reach Inspector Salamat Ali, who is staying at the Shahs’, then our gathering is of no use.’
Kartara giggled and tapped Khushiye’s bald pate. ‘Oye, want to get your neck snapped by the police? Your talk says, throw me out, I’ll get you thrown out from the village!’
‘Lo ji, we do what our heart says. If not tappa, then thumri – in one verse or the other. If not the couplet, then the poem.’
Sultan Machhi was punch drunk. ‘Ustaad, sing to shut up the opposition!’
‘Lo ji badshaho, on your demand!’
Phaggu raised his pug-face and cautioned Lakkhi, ‘Here come the paapi policiyas, the eternal sinners.’
Lakkhi at once burst into a kavitt:
‘Oceans of talent,
The glory of our caste,
Beggars to kings
Praise-singers of God
Bards to the Singhs
Qawwals to seraphs
Servants to the rich …’
‘Enough!’ Lal Khan thundered. ‘Your gathering is over. Hazoor has called for you.’
‘Kyon ji, Police Bahadur, do we appear before the thanedar along with our music and instruments?’
‘Oye, be careful, Mirasia! These louts will reach the Shahs’ baithak – Bhaggu, Lakkhi, Gonglu, Kartara, Sultan!’
Khairu, the baby of the Kanjar group, sidled up to Lal Khan and asked, ‘Sipahiji, will Akhiya have to be present again?’
‘Let him do hot fomentations of his wounds. Then his mother …’
Dulla Mirasi got up and spun like a top.
‘Here we go remembering ji,
Curses on remembering
Hai hai, here we go remembering again!’
Watching the darkening anger in Lal Khan’s eyes, Dulla turned innocent:
‘Lo ji, they thought they were going to be the life of the gathering,
Instead they got whippings and lashings.’
Gullu begged with folded hands, ‘Bahadurji Lal Khan, wet your throat at least, you who have claim to honour.’
Lal Khan stood his ground arrogantly. Neither budged. Nor took a step.
‘La o la, bring a cupful from the aftaab.’
Lal Khan waited till it came. Drained the cup in one swallow and shaking his cane in the air, said, ‘Mayavho, desist from illegal caperings. So you keep fermented liquor in the aftaab? If this news reaches the government, you are finished.’
‘We are under your protection, and your mercy is on us. When the Khas-ul-khas, higher than the highest, Sitara-e-Hind, the star of Hind, Lal Khan is here, then who gives a fuck about the blasted Penal Code of India?’
Lakkhi Mirasi touched his sharna and consoled his friends. ‘Why fear the police also, yaaron? They’ve already taken pictures of your cocks. Go for the hearing in merry sport. God willing it will be good.’
The group of four got up for the hearing before the thanedar, then Lakkhi raised his hands heavenwards to remember Allah:
‘Allah willing, the Nabi will grant you justice on earth too;
And only by the grace of Hazrat, do you glimpse Allah.’
Casually wrapped in khes-dottahis, the strapping young louts strutted into the night, walking so audaciously that Lal Khan’s own heart grew restless! If only my police fleet had the swagger and self-belief of these uniformless Kanjars!
Then remembering his belt and turra, he spat away this wish. ‘Scoundrels, motherfuckers, they will all suffer the consequences of their own misdeeds!’
There was an uproar at the news that the police camp was going to remain in the village for a third day. Children small and big ran to tell their mothers and bhabhis that the big, fat, moustachioed thanedar would be camping in the village that day too. Upon hearing this, housewives quickly kneaded dough and heated their tandoors. Who knew which way fortunes might swing – good, or bad? If their men went out on a full stomach, it would stand them in good stead.
In Shahni’s kitchen, black daal cooked on slow simmer since the night before. She made some corn on the cob, smeared it with ghee, put butter and buttermilk in clay pots, and sent it all to the policemen at noon.
Chachi Mehri had just returned from the prayer hut nearby. Breathing in the scent of roasting sooji, she said, ‘Bachchi, Thanedar Salamat Ali loves phirni. If you say so, I’ll grind some rice in a jiffy!’
Chhoti Shahni started laughing. ‘Chachi, what does Thanedar lack? There are new delicacies for him every day. If he doesn’t get phirni today, he won’t grow thin.’
‘Leave it ri, I’m saying this because my heart wants to. One, he is the thanedar; two, he’s the Shah’s friend, their dost-yaar, so more hospitality would still be less.’
‘Then cook chicken in karahis. Let there be chicken-roast, turkey and rice cooked in yakhni …’
Chachi, ignored her and started grinding rice. Made such a fine powder of it that her phirni would be the only name in sweets.
When Mabibi saw Shahni fill the clay pot with buttermilk yet again, she exclaimed, ‘Shahni, two pots have already been sent down. So much buttermilk! Won’t they get colic?’
‘Na ri na, don’t worry about men full of bombast. At night their livers are a furnace, and during the day they quench their fire with buttermilk. Ari, what is
a policeman if he doesn’t stoke his ego with a peg or two?’
As it turned out, the whole day was spent head-banging on about thieves and thievery. One couldn’t tell if the police had stayed on to investigate the murder, or to avenge the young studs’ angst.
Come evening, Bagga went to the haveli to request, ‘Shahji, Shahniji wants to meet Thanedarji. Please, can he pay a visit upstairs?’
Salamat Aliji smiled at Shahji. His crested turban dipped as if he were presenting himself before a higher officer. He laughed. ‘Please excuse me for a little while, Shah Sahib. Whether I consider Shahniji my friend’s wife, or my wife’s sister, it’s not in Salamat Ali’s favour to ignore her summons in either case. I must report for the hearing.’
‘You give commands, badshaho, do what you like.’
Salamat Ali ran a hand over his mouth. Adjusted his turban. ‘Shah Sahib, in relation both of us are humzulf, brothers. Both our wives are daughters of the same village. These Alamgarhias are tough nuts to crack.’
Climbing the steps impressively, Salamat Ali grew taller by two inches.
He called out, ‘Khair-sukh, Shahniji!’
The women bustled about when they saw the thanedar. Mabibi pulled out the cot and spread a chequered khes on it.
Salamat Ali touched Chachi’s feet in pairipauna.
‘Long life to you. Stay young forever. La ri Mabibi, bring the lamp!’
Covering her forehead Shahni came and sat on the peedhi.
‘Salamat Aliji, how’s my sister Feroza?’
‘Happy and prosperous! Give or take a few inches, she’s expanded to my girth. Thanedarni has expanded like a seasonal river.’
Chachi admonished, ‘Bas, puttarji, don’t invite the evil eye on my bahooti.’
Thanedar cast an interested look at Mabibi who was standing nearby. ‘Mabibi, that besotted husband of yours, is he still spinning around Kunjawali?’
Chachi Mehri seized the moment. ‘Puttarji, use your sharp brain and heavy influence to get this poor woman’s cart moving. Let this ripe one also enjoy the flowers of spring. Her own husband went and sold himself to a prostitute.’
Zindaginama Page 7
