Zindaginama

by Krishna Sobti

  Najiba, squatting on the ground, felt his palms itch. ‘Shah Sahib, how long back would this be?’

  ‘This was before the British came.’

  Najiba stood up in agitation. ‘This is sheer injustice. Rabb gives just a few drops of luck to those who sweat and toil, and abundant rivers to glib courtiers and aristocrats. Whatever was Allah thinking?’

  Mauladadji gestured with his hand. ‘Sit down, Najibeya, sit down, have patience! All this was in times long past. These riddles of prosperity and poverty are neither in your hands nor mine.’

  Kriparam sagely said, ‘This is not in the hands of man, Najibeya, there is something called destiny too. Each gets according to his fate. Some get a pinch, some handfuls, and some mounds upon mounds!’

  Najiba’s broad face grew long. ‘Isn’t it incredible, badshaho! If you talk of nature, then you know as well as I that nature gives equally to everyone …’

  Fateh Aliji interrupted, ‘Listen to me …’

  ‘What listen? Rain falls equally on everyone. The sun shines the same on everyone. Moon and stars, they too shine the same. The sun is above us all. So then why did nature draw a different line in the matter of livelihood?!’

  Hajiji frowned, glaring at this illiterate uncouth peasant. ‘O Jatt, you think nature is also Rabb-Rasool! Remember, the sun is not Rabb; it sets! The moon is not Rabb; it too sets. There is no light except Allah! Only Allah shows man the paths to well-being and safety.’

  Hearing this, Munshi Ilmdin’s mind, too, grew bright. ‘Remember, it is Allah’s land! He gives it to heirs whom He deems fit.’

  Najiba dug his heels into the dust. Unable to think of an apt response to silence Munshiji, he hit out, ‘Munshiya, only Allah knows what He thinks. But right now, the ownership of our lands, true or false, rests with the Shahs. Some mortgaged, some in debt, some gone forever.’

  Karm Ilahiji raised his voice, ‘Enough, you dimwit! If you don’t know how to talk, don’t open your mouth in the gathering!’

  Shahji fielded the blow with due seriousness and patiently said, ‘Don’t worry, Najibe, every argument has a counter-argument. Over and done with. As for the rest, I ask you, supposing you were made a tehsildar or a government ahalkar, would you be able to discharge the duties of that office?’

  Najiba sat on his haunches and began to draw lines in the dust. ‘Na, Shahji. I am a lowly, illiterate Jatt. At most, I’ve dug furrows, watered fields, sowed crops, harvested them, and tended to the cattle. That’s it.’

  Shahji spoke with all the refinement of his genteel upbringing, ‘See Najibeya, now your problem resolves itself. The crux of the matter then is that one who works with his brains gets more, and one who does rough work with his hands gets less. Right, Jahandadji?’

  ‘Shah Sahib, this is what one calls wisdom! Milk with milk, and water with water!’

  Munshi Ilmdin was still feeling a little off. He zeroed in on the problem with his two paise worth. ‘The Zila Laat has never toured these villages before. So what is so special all of a sudden?’

  Kakku Khan would leave his hukkah every so often and glance towards the common, fiddle with the end of his turban, push it up a bit, then pull it down. Ganda Singh noticed. ‘God is kind, my friend. Your turban sits well upon your head. But the sahib won’t look at any one face when he gets here. To him, the whole village is one turban, one face and forehead.’

  Mauladadji interrupted, ‘Ganda Singh, these truisms aren’t always appropriate. By Allah’s grace, there are as many foreheads as there are faces to count, and as many turbans as foreheads. So how can it be just one turban and one face for the whole pind?’

  Now the gathering got ready for some fun. Let’s see who wins in cutting a finer point!

  Ganda Singh stood up, stroked his beard lovingly, flamboyantly rewrapped his khes, and, with an army man’s pride, said, ‘Wait, I will tell you. When giving out a decision, doesn’t every Panchayat have just one turban? That is what I mean …’

  Mauladadji threw aside the hukkah, got up and enfolded Ganda Singh in a hug. ‘O long-haired Kanjara Sikkha, you had to rout me after all! There is none to equal you, o yaara!’

  Maiyya Singh called out, ‘Go run and call the dhol players! Let’s have some music!’

  ‘Tayaji, we certainly will, but after sundown. Let the sahib’s visit pass without incident.’

  Once everyone had settled down again, Chhote Shah shared news from the papers. ‘Ultimately, the Sarkar rested only after raising revenues of the canal-serviced lands.’

  ‘Badshaho, if the lands become expensive, so shall the produce. Those in agriculture shall benefit from this.’

  ‘Jahandadji, these days wheat is two rupees twenty-five paise to a maund, Bengal gram one rupee seventy-five paise, maize one eleven. Millet one thirteen …’

  ‘It is worth thinking about – if revenue is more, then crops will also fetch more. If tobacco has twenty-five per cent higher revenue, then with Allah’s grace, the price it fetches is also much higher.’

  ‘Ji, the Laat Sahib must be coming to make an inquiry. Else it is not as if he would be interested in some paltry details.’

  ‘The thing is that the Layalpurias have become a big headache for the Sarkar. Who knows, something may have happened in this area too. Who knows what the good officer might ask!’

  Kashi Shah counselled, ‘Just remember one thing – neither laugh nor cry before a big officer. Just stand and look surprised.’

  The gathering erupted into laughter. ‘Hundred per cent right! Let the visitor talk his head off. You just keep staring like you know nothing, understand nothing!’

  Shahji said, ‘You must know that the British officers understand all our languages. They get promotions for learning Lehandi, Urdu, and Pashto. They even understand the talk of our womenfolk and the crude dialect of the Sansis and Kanjars.’

  ‘Shahji, this British race is most alert and aware, certainly.’

  ‘That is how they are able to govern. Why lie, people admit that the British are good rulers – treat their subjects well, have excellent laws, uphold peace and amity …’

  Kashi Shah interrupted: ‘The papers say that the Sarkar is most anxious about the unrest in the country. Vafadar from Lahore and our own Paisa Akhbar have been publishing long articles on this issue.’

  Nai Ramzan had crossed the line of labourers by going to Lahore. Now he felt emboldened to say, ‘The Muslim League has also been founded.’

  When Mauladadji and Chaudhary Fateh Ali paused after a sudden bout of coughs, they stole glances at Shahji and said: ‘What is it to us! If it has been founded, good, if not, it’s still all right! Understand this, that each to his own field, and each to his own limits.’

  ‘May Rabb do you good, but even the field needs its own hedge to make it clear that this is my field, and that is yours.’

  Shahji kept looking at the ancient banyan tree, then shook his head and said, ‘To my mind, the reach and implications what of Sarkar has floated in the air, are truly beyond anyone’s grasp and control.’

  Kashi Shah clarified his older brother’s opinion. ‘It seems to be a case of sharp solutions and counter-solutions. First the Sarkar encouraged the Congress, lauded its efforts, graced its functions and celebrations. Then it gave a lift to Musalman brothers, that come, you too join the tussle for power.’

  ‘No, Kashiram, this is not an issue of what is mine and what yours. Big issues are neither born nor resolved this way. What really matters is that all these complications and tussles do not touch our region.’

  Jahandadji also read the newspapers now and then. ‘See, as soon as Lord Curzon divided Bengal, strife and tensions rose overnight.’

  ‘Oh Ji, even if the Sarkar did so, why was it such a catastrophe? This reorganization of states has been taking place for centuries. The Khalsas had controlled areas right up to Kabul in Punjab.’

  ‘Why go so far, Karm Ilahiji? Our Kotla, Kakrali, Khari and Khariali were all part of Bhimbar tehsil of Kashmir state earlier.
Later on, the British Sarkar took them under its control. And Shah Sahib, earlier, eight villages of Shahpur district were part of district Gujrat. Then Bajawat and Tawi became part of Siyalkot. Sarkar will do as it pleases. It is the Sarkar after all!’

  Maiyya Singh was tired of this topic. ‘Yes, after all, they own the country. Even rulers have to show that they are doing something. Only if they have work and achievements to show for themselves are they going to make some extra money, some gur-shakkar.’

  Kriparam had nodded off. The mention of jaggery-sugar jerked him awake. ‘Badshaho, who are you treating to gur-shakkar? Patwari Dhonkalmalji, your Zila Laat seems to have got lost midway. God forbid if he’s lying piss drunk in some ditch!’

  ‘No. The Zila Laat will have lunch with Doctor Tailor of Jalalpur and then come.’

  ‘These firangis have awful food habits. A bit of bread, a tiny spoonful of butter, eggs and tea, a cupful of black kehva! But Shahji, those monkey faces have blood-red skins! They must secretly be drinking almond oil!’

  ‘Na ji, not badam roghan, firangis drink red roghan!’

  Kashi Shah shook his head. ‘That’s not the thing, Tayaji. The world has two races of man. One surkh-ru or red-skinned, and the other syah-ru or black-skinned.’

  ‘O ji, some skins are white and others are black!’

  Guruditt Singh’s entire clan was fair-skinned. ‘Leave the firangis aside, anyone who is fairer than a Mughal, only he wields the whip!’

  Munshi Ilmdin got his chance. ‘Our people are wheatish. Some are dark as well, but mostly they are …’

  Who knows what Shahji thought and saw but, as always, he capped the topic with his very own stamp of wisdom. ‘Just as races are fair-skinned and dark-skinned, the same way, people of the world are also of two types – informed and ignorant.’

  Just then, Sanwal Khoji’s son, Toto came running from somewhere and told Patwari, ‘Zila Laat has reached the well under the pipal tree. Thanedar is with him, followed by his retinue!’

  Mauladadji put down his hukkah. ‘That is the way it is, my son. Many friends, followers and ministers to accompany the rulers! They are most welcome! Shah Sahib, let us go part of the way and meet Sahib Bahadur by the kikar tree.’

  A crowd of spectators had gathered for the swaang performance:

  ‘May Goddess Durga-Bhawani ease our troubles! So tell me, Jamooreya, is there no difference between Lakkhi Sansi and Jamal, the birdcatcher of Siyalkot?’

  ‘Of course there is, Ji!’

  ‘Think and speak – is there no difference between the danseuse Baharan of Jamalpur and Lalain, the one-ton-assed wife of the shopkeeper?’

  ‘Of course there is, Ji!’

  ‘All right, then tell me, is there no difference between Bibi Phoolan Khatrani’s garden and the sweeper’s hut?’

  ‘Certainly, there is, Ji!’

  ‘Then tell me more, is there no difference between Dinga’s officer Chaudhary Walidad Khan and Musalla Kamaley?’

  ‘Why not, Ji, one is resplendent in his official turban, the other stands with a broom in his hand.’

  ‘Balle O balle! You’ve proven that you have some intelligence in your head. Now use your discerning powers to answer what I ask.’

  ‘As you command.’

  ‘Whom should a man choose for a hard-working wife?’

  ‘A native of Khurasan, Khurasani.’

  ‘Waah-waah! And which wife to nurture and nourish children?’

  ‘Rabb bless us all, for raising children, a Hinduani.’

  ‘Now think hard, Jamooreya! Which one to please a man?’

  Jamoora put a hand on his chest. ‘Yaaron, to tease and please a man’s heart, Hoor Irani.’

  ‘Wonderful! Wonderful! If you have said this much, then say one thing more. Which wife to strike fear in the hearts of all three?’

  Jamoora threw off his sheet and started slapping his cheeks, hiccoughing and beating his chest. ‘People, to scare and threaten – a Jalladani Turkani!’

  The boys standing around tickled Jamoora. ‘Get up, oh get up, Dodeya. Hoors and beauties are better lying down, and you, standing up.’

  Doda pretended to rub his eyes and pouted, ‘Na, ji, na, I won’t get up. I am adamant. I want a bride from Bukhara.’

  At this point, Nadir of the Khojas pushed through the crowd of spectators and administered two tight slaps on Jamoora’s temple. ‘Oye Mirasiya, what kind of silly farce is this? How long can a man admire your pretty mug and our laughter remain locked in our chests? Get up! Brush the dust off your ass and leave the stage!’ The men and boys standing around started to snigger. ‘Good-for-nothings, even transvestites are better than you. Being a Mirasi, and such a bore! Go, bugger off!’

  Shurli tried to reason with Nadir. ‘Ustaad, come on, the woman with the one-ton ass was not too bad.’

  Sharifu taunted further, ‘Not too bad?! If talking of an ass he can’t make a man see ass, then spit on the Mirasi’s art.’

  Nadir shoved him aside. ‘We may be Jatt fools in our own homes, but do you think such a crude tamasha is all we’re worth …?’

  Bodda added sauce by saying, ‘And counting the different kinds of women! Are we going to use these different kinds of women to make pickles? Khurasani, Irani, Turkani, Hinduani … Oye Mirasiya, the well-built Punjaban of the milk-fair race is good enough for us.’

  Geenda came up from behind and hugged Bodda. ‘O well said, you masturbating quilt-fucker! And the one I get under my hands, she’s mine!’

  Bodda rapped him sharply on the head. ‘Not under your hands, you beast, under your chest.’

  Geenda hopped about like a frog and howled, ‘O look people, the holy pot of my head is broken!’

  Bodda cajoled, ‘Come here, son! If it is broken, we will get you a brand new one from the potter. O Phaggu oye, make a pot the size of his head.’

  Suddenly Doda got an idea. He quickly drew a sheet over Kokla Mirasi and waved a stick around his head, chanting the names of the mother goddess, ‘Kali Durga, Chhinn Mastaka, Sati Ambika Bhawani Uma Parvati, Gaura Chamunda! Kokla, take the Devi’s name, and remember all those ancient times when heads were heaped upon mounds of heads!’

  ‘Who all do I name! Shah Sikandar, Shah Ghauri, Shah Ghazni, Shah Babur, Shah Nadir, Shah Abdali, and shah of the lionhearts, Maharaja Ranjit Singh!’

  Chacha Guruditt Singh’s little son, Deedar Singh called out the jaikara, ‘Jo Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!’

  Kokla Mirasi thundered even as he lay prone, ‘Oye kaun hai? Who is itching to conquer the city of Kot? O Deedar Singha, be at peace. No more will you muster armies to conquer Multan. Nor win the high fortune of bringing Kashmir down to its knees. O fresh-faced little Sikkha Sardara, now it is firangi law that rules. Go plough your fields merrily and nurture your lands. And if you have the biceps and a broad chest, go join the army.’

  Bodda, Geenda, Shurli and Sharifu leaned over Kokla. ‘O Mirasiya, may your hungers rise and awaken!’

  Kokla threw a tantrum. ‘Gentlemen, the hunger of marriage, the enemy’s knife, the landlord’s sentence, Ma Maitreyi’s thrashing …’

  Doda cut in, ‘O why this searching for a straw in a thief’s beard?’

  ‘If I speak of Shah or his mount, of thief or of landlord, of enemy or of friend, what’s it to you?’

  ‘Le, here’s more: Stick to dog, shop to thief, toil to woman, harvest to husband.’

  ‘Enough, yaara, enough! Now ask no more! My brain is more active than usual. Come, give us a pinch of opium. Now we shall sleep!’

  Doda promptly sang out a warning, describing the dire consequences of taking opium.

  Kokla returned the fire by saying, ‘Why, haven’t you heard what the pirs-fakirs say? “When high on charas, there is neither craving for life, nor fear of death.”’

  Fattu and Sikandar Varaich clamoured, ‘Oye Mirasiya, this life upon your death! Take up some fresh and pleasant topic of life. Why talk of the grief of death already? When death comes, we will die. Why get palpitatio
ns beforehand?’

  Kokla offered salaam. ‘Forgiveness, my princes, forgiveness. I pinch my ears. These fools didn’t notice that the elderly wise of the village are not even present here!’

  Doda changed the tamasha. ‘Offsprings of Mr Search Shah and Find Khan, children of his Lordship Sir Seeker, please move back! A little more, and a little more! A tiny bit more, move back just a little more!’

  Kokla lifted his head and admonished, ‘What move back, move back? Oye Dodeya, what is your intent? As I see it, it looks like you want the entire state of Punjab to move back bit by bit and become part of Hindostan!’

  ‘All right, so I do. Do what you will!’

  ‘Oho brother, what is there to do!’

  ‘If you won’t, then check your purse. Have you a coin, a soapnut, a silver, a sliver, or a slipper to lend? Not even that? Never mind. May Rabb send you a sweet friend!’

  ‘Oye you son of a she-ghoul, may my worthy audience live and rise every morning and may they prosper. Don’t you worry about me! All the good Jatt sons standing here, sons of high ones and low ones, but generous-to-boot ones, they will all give us something and earn respect. So badshahs, are you pleased? Shall I spread my jholi and circulate the plate?’

  ‘Forget it. Call yourself a true Miras? Hah! You should come with your father and grandfather. Your swaang wasn’t worth a dime.’

  Doda yanked off Kokla’s sheet and tied it into a turban, then gave a twirl to his moustache, arched his back and smartly pulled in the reins of his horse. ‘Beware! Give way! All to one side! Here come the great Khalsa armies on the march! Leading from the front is his Highness Ranjit Singh Maharaj. Camps are set up beyond the rivers five. Ghazni. Kabul. Kandahar. Lush moustache, resplendent on the mighty Sardar … His flag reigns supreme beyond the five rivers …’

  Kokla called out, ‘Oye Dodeya, why did you stop?’

  ‘The thing is, Kokley, that the necklace snapped. And the beads scattered.’

  ‘What’s this you say, Dodeya!’