IMAN(Faith)

The ceremony accompanied by prayers, marking Sunny's completion of the first Para of the Holy Quran was over, but it brought about a dramatic and drastic change in my whole life. I was at a loss to understand the exact nature of this uneasiness. Despite the availability of everything, I was feeling utterly distressed, depressed, empty handed and helpless. My heart had been deprived of all its peace and calm. Whenever I was in a crowd, I rushed away in search of loneliness and while I was alone, I would go to the lounge and sit there, disturbed and confused. The Maulvi's illness prolonged, because, on account of that day's restlessness, his fever had become worse. As a result, for the next full week, he could not come to teach Sunny and during this period, I was gripped by the feeling that something very important and very precious was being taken away from me. It was a hot evening in the same week; and I was lying with my eyes shut, in an easy chair, placed under the trees in the lawn of our house. How long the summer afternoons are. It appears as if the sun has become stationary at a single point, or perhaps, some foolish headed persons like me are unduly agitated at their apparent longevity. But those who are fortunate enough to be able to meet their beloveds, must always be eagerly anticipating and praying for the coming of such long summer afternoons. While I was still lost in my reverie, Sunny arrived there in a very cheerful mood, accompanied by Shakir the driver. Shakir was carrying two thermoses, while Sunny was holding a basket full of fruit. Seeing me in the lawn, he came to me running "Uncle, look, what a huge quantity of ice cream I have collected." Saying this, he pointed towards the huge sized thermoses in Shakir's hands. I pulled Sunny's ears and said, "So that's it, you seem to be celebrating picnic quite secretly without the knowledge of your mother." "No Uncle, Mama and grandma went for shopping a long time ago. "We're taking all these things for the Maulvi." Hearing the Maulvi's name, I at once became alert. "What do you mean? Has the doctor advised the Maulvi to eat a lot of ice cream, while he is suffering from high fever?" Sunny laughed and said, "O Uncle! What a funny thing you have said. As far as the Maulvi is concerned, we're taking this basket of fruit for him; and this ice cream is for Iman and Haya. Is it clear now, Uncle?" At this point, Shakir interrupted our conversation and said to me, "Please make Sunny understand something. If his father comes to know of it, he'll be extremely angry. But Sunny is continuously insisting and at this time, no other older member of the family is at home to give us the permission to go to the Maulvi's house." Sunny made a rather unhappy face and began to speak. "The Maulvi has taught us that if someone is ill, we should go to ask about his health. If we do so, Allah will give us a huge reward. Why to seek someone's permission in the matter of getting reward from Allah? What do you think Medi Uncle?" "Then with some joy, Sunny's eyes began to sparkle and he held my hand. "You should also come with us Medi Uncle. We'll return soon." I felt my heart into my throat. Sunny seemed to have read the thoughts of my heart. Shakir also agreed and said, "Yes Mr. Hammad, if you accompany us, it will also be helpful to me. Otherwise, you are well aware of the anger of Sunny's father." Now, Sunny held my hand tightly and began pulling it. Soon, all three of us got into the car. While we were on our way, Shakir told the gatekeeper that Sunny was going somewhere with his Medi Uncle and would be back in an hour's time. Perhaps, he intentionally did not mention the Maulvi's house, because, he knew well that the members of my family strongly dislike such things and firmly believe that the rich and the poor must live at some distance from each other. But Sunny's innocent mind was still far away from such hypocritical class differences and divisions. As far as I was concerned, Shakir had known me since the time when I was a little child like Sunny. During my childhood, while returning from school, I used to make the same type of unreasonable demands from Shakir. Sometimes, I demanded cold ice balls from a stall outside the school, or an ice bar having salt and milk, kept in a box on a wheel barrow. At other times, I insisted on buying Falsa (a purple coloured fruit) from an old hawker who carried a basket of Falsa on his head. On all such occasions, Shakir had to yield to my demands, without the knowledge of the members of my family. But whenever I had a sore throat, my mother used to say in surprise, "He has never eaten anything from outside." Hearing this, Shakir and I used to smile in a way that Mother and our family doctor could not see our smiles. Moreover, it was I to whom Shakir could open his heart quite freely. As our car came closer to the Maulvi's house, I was feeling as if my heart did not know how to beat. It was indeed a strange and wonderful experience. All of a sudden, for the first time in my life, I began to recall all the poems and lyrics which all the poets of the world have ever written in praise of their beloveds. To be more truthful, with a little bit of effort, I myself could also have easily composed a few verses at that time. Perhaps, everyone of us has got a poet hidden somewhere in our personality and this poet only needs some spur or motivation. When this motivation is there, quite unconsciously and spontaneously, poetic words start coming to our mind. These words are soon woven into verses having rhyme and rhythm. The car entered a street situated in an old quarter of the city. Out into the street, some local children had brought bat and ball and were playing a cricket match without the knowledge of the members of their families. No sooner did the car arrive there, than all of them became attentive towards it. Some of them who seemed to be reserved players, ran along the car for some time. On both sides, there were rows of houses. The car passed from in front of them, then turned to the left and finally stopped in front of a house situated in one corner of the other street. For some unknown reason, my whole blood seemed to have frozen. Just across the wall, that sweetheart of mine must be present, doing something. I thought that the old wooden door that I could see in front of me, must have been touched by her with her soft hands several times. In the same way, on numerous occasions, she must have walked with her delicate feet on the way and into the street that lay ahead. Her melodious voice and her musical laughters must have echoed in this atmosphere many times. I wondered why all of a sudden, this small neighbourhood and this paved street had become the most beautiful place on earth for me. How is it possible for an unknown person to fill a dull and dreary atmosphere with delightful colours with is presence? While I was still absorbed in such thoughts, Sunny and Shakir had got down from the car and gone inside the Maulvi's house. They had requested me to come along them but it appeared as if I had become motionless in the car. My condition was similar to that of a beggar who stands before a door for centuries in the hope of getting something, but the door never opens for him. Suddenly, the wooden door opened and out came the Maulvi in a worried and confused condition. He was followed by Shakir who too looked perturbed. I myself was somewhat bewildered. As soon as the Maulvi saw me he started saying in an intensely apologetic tone that he had been extremely ashamed of himself. "This Shakir is to blame for the whole trouble," he remarked. If he had informed me of your presence in the car, as soon as he came into my house, I would never have put you in so much trouble of sitting inside the car for such a long time." "Had I really been sitting in the car for a long time?" I asked myself, because, I had a feeling that I had arrived there only a few moments ago. At last, I had to succumb to the insistence of the Maulvi, who took me inside his house. It was a small but extremely neat and clean house, whose courtyard had been built with unpaved bricks. In the centre of the courtyard, a large banyan tree stood with its extended branches along which a cradle was hanging. A sort of paved platform had been built around the tree. Along the walls, there were small flower beds in which flowers had been elegantly arranged. In front of the courtyard, there was a veranda covered with wooden grills. Perhaps, behind the veranda there were the living rooms for the inmates of the house and the women's portion of the house. At the end of the veranda, a door opened into the partition of the wooden grill. The Maulvi took me towards this side. Perhaps, it was the guest room or drawing room of this small house. The part of the veranda having drawing room had been separated by means of grill like partition. I was spellbound and with a bowed head, was silently walking behind the Maulvi. From inside the house, I could hear the loud talking and laughing of Sunny. Occasionally, it was accompanied by melodious feminine voices and I was almost breathless. The small parlour or drawing room of the small house bore an ample testimony to the refined taste and elegance of this family. It had only a few pieces of old furniture which had beautifully embroidered covers. The collection of Ghalib's poetry, a few books written by some well-known writers and some editions of the magazine "Nuqoosh" were placed on the cornice in an orderly manner. It was evident that this family had a special taste for Urdu Literature. My mind was again flooded with fanciful thoughts. She must have turned over the pages of these books several times with her conical fingers. Daily, she must have been visiting this room many times and perhaps, spending many hours sitting here and going through these books. The Maulvi was still apologetic in his tone. "Sir, you have been rather unjust with us. You came to our humble house for the first time and stood outside the door for so long. This house is not worthy of you but" "Please don't talk like that," I interrupted him and added, "I had only thought" Before I could say something else, Shakir completed the sentence. "Hammad had thought of giving you the things and returning from your door, without going inside." "You'd better stop talking to us," said the Maulvi, looking somewhat angrily towards Shakir. "How is it possible that Mr. Hammad should come to us for the first time and we tell him to return from our door? What type of tradition is it?" The Maulvi was showing as much hospitality, courtesy and generosity as he could. I wonder why such old courteous manners are vanishing so rapidly from the large mansions and villas of rich people like us. We tried our best to stop him, but he went inside and whispered something to the rest of the members of his family. Within no time, we could smell the appetizing odour of various things being cooked in the kitchen. They were accompanied by the clattering of dishes and light jingling of bangles. I tried to prevent the Maulvi from such formalities. "Please don't stand on ceremony. We've come here without telling anyone at home. Sunny's mama must be worried." But the Maulvi remained unaffected. "Sir, how can a poor man show hospitality and become ceremonious?" It was revealed that the Maulvi had only two daughters and no son. However, he had brought up under his supervision the son of his late elder brother. The name of that boy was Abdullah and he had proved himself worthy of his name and real successor of Maulvi Alimuddin. The impacts of his training were clearly visible on Abdullah's personality. He used to say the "Takbeer" in the mosque where Maulvi Alimuddin was acting as the Imam (Prayer leader). Now, due to the frequent illness of the Maulvi, Abdullah had started giving the "Azan" (Call to prayer). But at that time, he was not seen anywhere in the house. After some time, there was a slight noise at the door. It appeared as if someone had come there and wanted to say something to the Maulvi. The Maulvi immediately went inside. The jingling of bangles along with some low whispers was heard from inside. One after the other, the Maulvi brought from inside three or four dishes, and all our protests remained unheeded. Within a few minutes they had prepared all the food items which are considered essential for the evening tea. They included home made cheese cake, Samosas along with tamarind sauce, cream with saffron coating, a sweet dish made of carrots, a sweetmeat made of walnuts and a number of other items. Right from my childhood, I had been facing a strange problem. I always felt extremely shy while eating something in the presence of someone else. It became almost impossible for me to take even a single bite if a stranger was sitting with me. For some unknown reason, since my childhood, I had a feeling that a person does not look so respectable while eating something in the presence of others. Sitting in the Maulvi's drawing room, I was confronted with the same problem. However, the sincere insistence of the Maulvi had made my innate weakness quite insignificant and I was left with no option but to taste a small quantity of everything placed on the table. The fact is that whoever had prepared these things, had done marvelously well. Never shall I be able to forget their rare and unique taste. Obviously, all these things had been prepared at home, because, it was not possible to bring all these things from the market and arrange them in such a short time. But who could have done this wonderful cooking? There were three women at the Maulvi's house: his wife and two daughters. Her magical hands must also have contributed to the preparation of all these things. With this idea in mind, I picked up everything and tasted it. Then, Shakir said something and I felt that he had given words to my thoughts. "How's your wife now, has her back pain decreased to some extent?" "No Shakir, there is no improvement in her condition," replied the Maulvi with a worried look and continued, "Old age itself is the worst disease. To make the matters worse new and previously unknown diseases are appearing now. Now, she takes rest most of the time and my daughters have to do all the household work." It means that I was correct in my assessment. Everything had been prepared by my sweetheart, with her delicate hands and her excellent supervision. After taking tea, Shakir begged permission to leave. He was thinking that as usual, I must have been bored by this hospitality. It was surprising for him as to how I had remained there for such a long time, without saying anything. I on the other hand had the impression that I had arrived there only a few moments ago. I had not yet openly breathed in the atmosphere of this house. Why was Shakir in such a hurry? If only he could have stayed there for some more time. However, the shot had now been fired and Shakir had stood up to leave. I also had to do the same. The Maulvi was highly grateful to us for our visit to his home. Some tears appeared in his eyes while expressing his gratitude to us again and again. I placed my hand on his shoulder to comfort him and assured him that he was extremely honourable and respectable for all of us. We all came out of the room into the courtyard. It seemed as if someone were holding my heart into his fist and pressing it. I was going back, without knowing whether I shall ever be able to come here again or not. If only I could see a glimpse of hers, if only, if only. All of a sudden, while walking in the courtyard, Shakir called Sunny, who was still in the women's portion of the house. Quite unconsciously, the Maulvi and I began looking in that direction from which we could hear the loud laughters of Sunny. For a while, we all stopped in the courtyard and then suddenly, Sunny came running out of the veranda. For a few moments, across the wooden grill, a curtain placed on the door was removed and I felt as if I had achieved the goal of my life. It was she who, from behind the door was waving good-bye to Sunny with a smile on her face. Beside her stood her younger sister Haya who was clinging to her elder sister and also waving her hand to say good-bye to Sunny. Strange indeed is the relationship existing between two sisters having only a small difference of age. It seems that only their bodies are different, otherwise, their minds and hearts are the same. Their thoughts, talks and dresses are alike. I have seen even such two sisters who had been in love with the same boy at the same time. This splendid view of my beloved lasted only for a few seconds and as soon as she realized that we were all waiting for Sunny in the courtyard, she immediately turned back. But at that blessed moment, Nature was most generous to me and while going back, her eyes came into direct contact with my eager and restless eyes. A few sparks arose and completely consumed my already shattered body. Her one single glance conveyed several meanings: unfamiliarity, fear, modesty and the frustration of her indifference, etc. Poets and writers of the world have always described different types of relations but I alone knew the intensity with which I could describe the meanings of the eye to eye contact at that moment. The whole pain, restlessness and helplessness of the world seemed to have been imprisoned in that single moment during which my eyes had a contact with hers. We came out of her house but I still had the feeling that I had left my soul behind that curtain. Throughout the way, Sunny went on telling us various stories but in reply, I could utter only a few incoherent words. When we arrived back home, we did not tell anyone about our visit to the Maulvi's house and life began to pass as usual once again. But as far as I was concerned, that visit completely changed the course of my life. For hours, I used to sit at the same place without saying anything to anyone and without having the least notion of the passing of long periods of time. I no longer had any interest in attending the gatherings of my friends. Everything seemed quite meaningless to me. This obvious change in my behaviour had been noticed by all the members of my family. On all such occasions, my mother always resorted to allopathic treatment, followed by homeopathic and then spiritual treatment. As usual, Father heaved a long sigh, advised me to go somewhere else for some time for the change of climate, and then became busy smoking his pipe. Abrina advised my mother to arrange my marriage with her younger sister in order to remove my loneliness. She had given the same advice several times in the past. Since childhood, I had been suffering from a strange and rather enigmatic problem. I used to become seriously ill on the first Thursday of every month. I was examined by all the eminent doctors of the time but no one could understand the exact nature of my mysterious disease. At last, my auntie who was my mother's younger sister, and who lived in another city, advised her to take me to a practitioner of spiritual treatment. How could such backward and conservative ideas be accommodated in the ultra modern family of ours? Father was infuriated by the suggestion and my mother had to hear a long lecture from him. But then, Auntie herself came to our home and without the knowledge of Father, took me and Mother to some saintly person, who examined me and told Mother that I was spiritually very weak and, therefore, throughout my life I would be in danger of facing the harmful effects of the evil eye. He recited something, blew on me and gave me a black thread to wear around my neck. He strongly advised my mother that from then onwards, she herself or someone on her behalf, must give something in charity on the first Thursday of every month. He himself did not accept any offering from us. For a month or two, mother remembered the saint's advice but then, due to her social activities, she assigned to Shakir the duty of distributing something as charity on the first Thursday of every month. Since then, Shakir had been faithfully performing this duty, although, perhaps, Mother had forgotten that disease of my childhood. However, my condition after returning from the Maulvi's house once again reminded her of my old disease. She contacted her younger sister who at once, suggested three or four to the point remedies. But no one could have the least idea of what was actually going on in my heart. It appeared that "Iman" was gradually becoming the focal point of all the joys and ambitions of my life.