‘Kokley, have you heard of the Chillianwala slaughter field?’
‘I have.’
‘Then what, Kokley? The Kohinoor crest of Punjab was lost on that cursed ground.’
‘Hai o, it fell into the hands of the fair-skinned ones. That peerless diamond now adorns their queen’s head. The whole of Hindostan is now under one British roof.’
‘Beware! Give way! The armies and platoons turn back on the General’s road!’
‘From Calcutta to Delhi!’
Kokla stood up. ‘O Dodeya, don’t let this happen! Send a letter to the war general!’
‘What should I write in the letter?’
‘Write: Hakima, if you come to Delhi, you will be sorry. When monarchs reach Delhi, they will be cursed by ill-luck. And he who stays in Delhi will be destroyed.’
‘No. Delhi is Darul Khalifa. He who digs in his heels and stays regardless of the odds grows in stature and power.’
‘Bholeya, my simpleton, Delhi no longer possesses the Takht-e-Taus. Nor the Kohinoor. Nor shah-badshahat. Nor resplendent queens. Nor elegant princes and princesses. Nor diamonds and pearls. Nor the rising tides of youth. The firangis stole them all and took them away to their country.’
‘Dodeya, what is the status of Delhi now?’
‘Listen, people. Now only green coriander is sold there. White cumin. Black onion seed. Green tamarind. Yellow turmeric, and the sour cream of tartar.’
‘O, the Angrez are robbers. They have sucked all the life-sap from our country. But tell us, Dodeya, what about the good life their corn-blonde mems enjoy?’
‘Don’t speak of them! Khasampittis, they have no shame or modesty. Bare, naked legs. No kurta, no salwar. Breasts just barely covered, and underwear just two fingers long. And when it slips … even a little … Badshaho, don’t ask a thing further. Hai O Rabba! I will die, jajmano, my legs are giving way!’
The hefty youths cheered lustily, ‘O mother’s lover, star of gatherings, you have shown us the truth, no less! Balle balle, what a sparkler! What a pretty picture of the fair mems you have drawn!’
‘My princelings, now don’t you go aspiring to the fair mems. Don’t eat your hearts out. No doctor has advised you to fill your laps with firangi mems.’
‘Ji, jajmano. If you walk this path, if you play this game, all you will get are empty sips, the thanedar’s whips, the silence of shame, and sealed lips!’
‘We have a small request, badshaho. Today yours truly have set their hearts on eating sweet ghunghnis in sugar syrup! Gentlemen, please oblige.’
‘Wake up, O people, wake up! My son has been slain! Hai, they killed him with a cleaver! Arey, someone catch the murderer! Our own kin has committed this vile deed and earned our vengeance!
The village had barely gone to sleep when terrible screams coming from the house of the goldsmiths rent the night. Chachi Mehri shook Shahni awake. ‘Bachchi, someone has sent up a wail. Surely there’s been a death.’
The wife of the goldsmith, Diwan Sunar, beat her head and chest. ‘Whoever has incurred my wrath, may his life splinter into a thousand pieces! If I don’t get his murdering son to the noose, this luckless mother’s name is not Veeranwali. Hai, O my precious son, how did you fall to such cruel hands?’
Veeranwali’s screams drew the whole village. A lamp trembling in his hand, Diwan Sunar stepped towards his nephew Kartara’s room.
Kartara stood on the doorstep and coldly threatened, ‘Dare anyone come toward my room!’
Diwan Sunar was petrified. ‘You cruel one, he’s my own son. Let me at least see if he’s alive …’
Veeranwali rent the sleeping night with her screams: ‘O you great dispensers of justice to the village, you have all shed your turbans and conscience and sleep blissfully! O, at least someone come to our aid!’ She spread her arms towards the haveli. ‘These Shahs, in whose shelter we live, are sleeping on unconcerned, with no signs of stirring.’
Her wails reached Tarey Shah sleeping in the new baithak. His blood rose to the challenge. Tightening his tehmad, he descended the steps, and in a few brisk strides, reached the house of the goldsmith. In the lamp-light, Veeranwali was aflame, writhing out her torment. ‘I don’t want to live! Hai O Rabba, what red fates You wrote on my precious son’s forehead!’
Tarey Shah consoled Veeranwali with an arm around her shoulder, and gestured with a hand – Silence. He took the lamp from Fakira and moved towards Kartara’s room. The crowd listened with bated breath.
Hand on his door, Kartara warned coldly, ‘Don’t even look at my room.’
Tarey Shah shouted, ‘Someone run and fetch some liquor from my baithak!’ Then he grabbed Kartara by the neck and flung him against the wall, snarling, ‘You low-caste Chamar, on whose behest did you play this game?’
Tarey Shah entered the room and lowered the lamp to find Gulzari on the floor, drenched in blood. Tarey Shah put a hand on his chest and poured liquor over his neck. Writhing in pain, Gulzari’s eyes rolled back. Feeling the boy breathing, Tarey Shah called out for a cot and runners. He sniffed the room. A sharp, heavy cleaver, one thick sheet, and a book spattered with blood lay nearby. He picked up the book – it was the Qissa Zulekha.
When they laid Gulzari on a cot, someone put a little milk to his mouth. Diwan Sunar saw the milk mingling with blood and struck his forehead on the floor. ‘O gods of life and death, I can’t bear this life any more!’
The back of Chacha Karmdin’s house shared a wall with Radhu Sunar’s manger. Karmdin assessed the situation and got up from his cot feigning a toothache. He called out loudly to his wife for the crowd’s ears, ‘I say, fetch me the pot of ghee-turmeric. Such shooting pains as if there’s a cyst under the tooth.’
Vazeera standing below bitterly said, ‘Chacha, just mentioning pots of ghee won’t suffice. Come down. A cleaver has fallen on a neck.’
Radhu Sunar, brother of Diwan Sunar, stopped Chacha Karmdin midway. When both came out, Chacha Karmdin said with false bravado, ‘Tarey Shah, don’t lose time. Get the cot moving and get the boy to medical help.’
Tarey Shah appraised them in one glance and said to Najiba standing nearby, ‘Najibeya, come with me.’ He went to the back street and called out at Karmdin’s open door, ‘Kaulan bharjaaee, bring out the lamp of the Sunar household from your hayloft, or your house will be set on fire.’
Bali, Gulzari’s cousin, was hiding in the haystack and trembled on hearing Tarey Shah’s loud summons. Without stopping to think, he came out of the loft and moved up the stairs. In a trice, Tarey Shah’s fearsome arm had grabbed the boy. Bali started crying loudly in fear. Tarey Shah slapped him hard across his face and swung him around. ‘Spill the beans fast now, where have you hidden the cleaver?’
Lamp in hand, Kaulan moved towards the haystack and called out cajolingly, ‘Find it, Bali puttar. Give it to him. Give it to Tarey Shah.’
Bali trapped in one hand, cleaver in the other, Tarey Shah came out onto the street and struck fear in every heart. ‘All of you here, recall your name, father’s name, caste, kith and kin. If any one of you present here refuses to bear witness, as per law, he shall be considered a party to murder.’
Radhu Sunar heard this and came forward with folded hands. ‘At this hour, you are the most powerful. Save two families from certain ruin.’
Tarey Shah turned to leave. ‘Where murderer and spilt blood are both present, there can be no friendship, no relationship.’
Kashi Shah checked Gulzari’s pulse as soon as he arrived. Placed a hand on his chest. Then he took a pinch from a tiny box, put it into Gulzari’s mouth and blew. Maha Singh’s family came and consoled Veeranwali and Diwan, ‘Beg His mercy. Kashi Shah has put the lion’s heart into Gulzari’s mouth. Sachche Patshah, save this boy.’
The street dog Jhabbu ran around Gulzari’s cot, snarling every now and then at Radhu Sunar’s family. Kashi Shah consoled Veeranwali, ‘Bharjaaee, there’s no dearth of mercy in Rabb’s darbar. Recite His name constantly. Your boy has life yet, or Jhabbu would have been howling at
this hour.’
Veeranwali beat her breast. ‘O they killed my milk; they spilled his blood. The Goddess of High Mountains won’t spare the murderer. His limbs will rot and fall one by one.’
‘Enough, bharjaaee, if you want the boy’s life, recite God’s name. It is eight miles to help. Don’t skip a single bead. Only prayer can save his life now.’
Radhu Sunar was trembling like a leaf. When he could bear it no more, he threw himself against a wall. ‘Hai O people, take me to the cremation ground, and cremate me too! I can’t see tomorrow’s sunrise. My own flesh and blood, and he smeared my name in blood!’
When Shahji came riding up on his horse, he said something in Tarey Shah’s ear and moved on. As Gulzari’s cot was lifted, Tarey Shah took Bali and moved away from the haveli. Before leaving, he turned around once and said to Kartara, ‘You will not step inside the room.’
Women watching from rooftops and balconies wrung their hands in distress and discussed the tragedy. God’s injustice, whatever was the Sunar son thinking? No dispute of land and crops, nor of hearth and roof. And he went and threw a cleaver on his own cousin’s neck! Both brothers had sat down to sing the Qissa in one-armed Kartara’s room. As Gulzari turned the page, Bali had struck his neck with a cleaver!
Shahni stood on the high balcony of the haveli and looked out at the monsoon river in spate. ‘Why have the runners stopped on the sands?’
Chachi couldn’t see a thing. It was the moonless night of amavasya. Stars in the sky. Pitch dark below. ‘Bachchi, how can one see in the dark?’
Chhoti Shahni looked westwards. A light glimmered in the dark. ‘If they walk at this pace, they will never reach! The boy may be breathing his last.’
Crossing the river sands, the runners slowed their step. They grew breathless after a while and took the cot off their shoulders.
Diwan Sunar couldn’t contain himself and said, ‘My boy’s life is measured in breaths. I beg of you! Don’t be my enemy in this luckless hour. Come now, get moving quickly!’
Gangu Jheevar called out to Kashi Shah, ‘Shah Sahib, put a little ghee and milk in the child’s mouth. He will stay warm.’
When the milk dribbled down the corners of the boy’s lips, Radhu Sunar’s breath caught in his throat. He took his brother Diwan’s hand in his own and, weeping, said, ‘Bhrattha, pray to the pir-fakir who gave you this child.’ Diwan wanted to say something, but tears choked his voice. He steadied the lantern with shaking hands and broke down.
Shahji’s horse caught up with them. He checked Gulzari’s forehead under the woollen blanket – still warm. ‘Put wings on your feet, men! Save the boy’s life.’ When Kashi Shah put a tincture in the boy’s mouth, the boy whimpered. Tormented by his son’s pain, Diwan caught hold of Kashi Shah’s feet and pleaded, ‘Chhote Shah, do something that this dark hour passes!’
‘No leaf stirs without that Sachche Patshah’s will. Just recite His name.’
The older Shah touched Radhu and Diwan’s shoulders. ‘Thana-kotwali later. First try to reach Zarrah Khalifa of Salamatgarh.’ Then lowering his voice, he spoke his decision to the brothers, ‘Two lives will be lost and two families will be ruined. Both families have one son each.’
At a gesture from Shahji, Radhu took off his turban and put it at his brother’s feet. ‘Goddess of the True Darbar is my witness. If something happens to my nephew Gulzari, I will throw my son into the river with my own hands!’
Shahji gave Diwan a hand and helped him climb up behind him on the horse. ‘Run like the wind, Gangu Chacha! Only your feet can save this boy from death now.’
And the Jheevars began to run like horses, chanting as they went:
‘Ram Raheem
Haiyyee shabash
Raheem Kareem
Haiyyee shabash
Faster O faster
Haiyyee sha …’
‘First and foremost, the continuum of dedication to the Path of Muhammad.
Again and again prayer to the Path of Muhammad.
Begin devotion to Muhammad by chanting His name, constant
Constant be the prayer to His name, His path.’
When Kokla and Doda’s voices rang out in prayer from the rooftop of the Mirasis, the whole village knew that preparations were on for the fair of Kadam.
Chhote Shah had just returned from the temple after worship. He thrilled to the pure music of prayer as he ascended the stairs. Sitting down on his cot, he closed his eyes in meditation. ‘O Sultan of Sultans, Your grace and mercy that this prayer comes to the ears!’ Doda’s fresh soulful voice touched Kashi Shah to the core. The words penetrated his heart, and his eyes rained tears.
When Shahji saw this on his way to his baithak, he put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Today it’s been proven that Doda and Kokla are on their way to the right taleem. Maulu’s intention is of presenting them at the Kadam fair. Let them get milk regularly. If they also take some almonds and mishri, their voice will remain soulful – rich and deep. Khairon se, they are beginning their riyaz and training from today.’ Shahji called out to Nawab, ‘Nawab badshah, take a capful of almonds from the store and give it to the boys, and if they get a potful of milk once a day, they will be in good form.’
‘Ji, Shah Sahib!’ said Nawab and went down, sneaking a glance at Chachi spinning at her wheel as he went.
Doda and Kokla began to sing with renewed fervour and devotion:
‘My Lord, my king, Allah Baksh Peshva
Lover of Lord Himself, Allah Baksh Peshva
My sahib of my being, Allah Baksh Peshva
My Peshva …’
Both body and soul were bathed in bliss just listening to them. Lali in her lap, Rabeyan sat on the small cot and softly sang along with them.
Shahni heard them too, and said, ‘Kyon ri, how sweetly the brothers sing. These seem to be new lyrics. Not Baba Bulle Shah’s kafi, is it?’
‘Ji, Shahni. This is not Baba Bulle Shah’s kafi. It is Gangoi Shah’s composition.’
Chhote Shah was pleased. ‘Rabeyan beti, how did you know this?’
Chachi praised her, ‘Puttarji, Rabeyan has studied at the masjid. Khair sadke, she even remembers saparas of the Quran Sharif. Tell Shahji yourself, my child!’
Chhote Shah was overwhelmed with affection for the girl. ‘Balli, you haven’t said how you recognized Gangoi Shah?’
‘Ji, last year I had accompanied Father to Dhaunkal when he went there for trade. It was there that I heard this kafi.’
The older Shah kept looking at Rabeyan, entranced. Clad in coarse cloth shone pure silk! Nature, your vagaries! Shahji was about to say something, when, as if his own heart whispered softly to him, ‘Who but saw Heer!’
Chachi said, ‘You are one lucky lass, ri. You’ve even attended Lakhandata’s darbar! Bachchi, after Lali’s head-shaving mundan ceremony is over, we should first go and bow at Baba Farid’s darbar, and then go on to Sakhi Sarwar’s.’
Shahji said, ‘Rabi, if you feel like it, sing something,’ and he sat down on the cot with his brother. Shahni too coaxed the girl, ‘Rabeyan balli, sing Shah Madar’s kafi for the brothers! The one you were singing last night.’
‘Ji, Shahni.’
‘Alive as life, Zinda Shah Madar
Allah, who saw him coming?
‘Shah Madar himself
Astride his blue horse
In his green shawl
With armies resplendent
Who saw him coming
Astride his blue horse?’
Rabeyan’s voice rose from deep within her, rich and sweet, dissolving all barriers of mind, heart and soul; so pure that even time and place were forgotten.
When the brothers stood up, both blessed her by turn with their hands on her head. ‘Live long! Jeeti raho!’
Shahji withdrew his hand as if from across a river and was about to say something when he noticed a small boat of hope glistening in the girl’s eyes. He shook his head, No, and turned towards his baithak without a word.
Shahni noti
ced the exchange, and all of a sudden, it seemed as if the rivers had changed their course, and the shores had crumbled.
Rabeyan picked Lali up from the cradle and put him in Shahni’s lap. She then busied herself folding the sheets and putting them into the wicker basket. Diverting Lali with his rattle, Shahni stole a glance at Rabeyan. Just look at the girl. With her intoxicating figure and large soulful eyes. ‘Why girl, how often do you bathe?’
Rabeyan laughed. ‘Every day, Shahniji.’
Shahni paused a moment, then casually asked, ‘Kyon ri, are you in flow with life?’
Rabeyan didn’t respond, as if she hadn’t understood.
‘I’m asking, have you started menstruating or not?’
‘Ji, Shahni.’
Shahni looked at the girl anew, then said, ‘If you feel low during those days, you can skip the bath.’
Bindradayi, the younger Shah’s wife walked in just then and stared at Rabeyan. ‘This one grows like a mushroom! I say jithani, does she look like the daughter of an Arai? Ari, sirmunia, learn to behave with decorum in the presence of men!’
Rabeyan stood there, smiling.
‘Le ri, your friends are here. If you want to relieve yourself, do so.’
When Rabeyan left with Reshma and Channi, Bindradayi said, ‘Look at these girls, they grow overnight, like sugarcane! Both sisters, Rabeyan and Fateh have good height. Rabeyan is not bad, but her mother Husna was a stunning beauty! Just looking at her, women would forget to blink, what to say of men! It is good if Aliya marries off his daughters soon and breathes free.’
‘I have heard he is in debt.’
‘One shouldn’t be as naive as you, jithani! Is Aliya the only one in debt? Homes upon homes are tied up in the Shah ledgers. It is the business of moneylending, after all. If grandfather took loan, grandson and great-grandson continue to pay it back.’
‘Ari, this burden of accruing interest sits heavy on the Jatt farmer.’
‘Jithani, one who helps out financially in times of need deserves to earn interest, doesn’t he?’
‘He might, but why should it be such that three generations remain tangled in its web?’
Zindaginama Page 23
