The impending arrival of the Ram-rath has turned into a strength-testing contest of sorts for various party leaders in town. Jagdhari Singh has emerged the star so far. After a lot of push and pull, he has succeeded in getting the charge of the Ram-rath Reception Committee. Jagdhari Babu has the blessings of the member of parliament Ram Pyare Chowdhary too. The High Command has directed that come what may, a crowd of minimum one lakh must be arranged for the 20th of October.
Cover photo of 1990, Aramganj
Jagdhari Singh is receiving orders directly from the state president himself, and in turn, directing small-timers like Jata Shankar Sharma. Jata Shankar has received this brahm-gyan from him—‘Learn how to organise. If you cannot rally crowds around a common cause and raise a people’s movement in your area, stop dreaming of becoming a leader.’ Jata Shankar Sharma is trying hard, but how on earth can a people’s movement be raised among Aramganj’s half-asleep masses?
Since its departure from Somnath a week ago, the Ram-rath has been rolling forth, splitting the nation into two halves. Though as of now, this town is not divided in that way; the possibility is plentiful. While localities like Aramganj are unaware of all this so far, many other areas of the town are already smouldering. A riot almost occurred when the procession calling for Ram-mandir donations passed through Meerganj.
In the compound of the shining new Taufeeq Mosque, the office of the Janata Dal minority committee is abuzz with activity. Leaders like Hussain Tamboli, Faiyyaz Malik and Faheem Ansari are in discussion day and night, telling the Qaum, the people of Islam, that though the state government has promised to provide security, the earthquake might erupt anytime. Hence, every mohalla should form a security committee.
The Congress party district secretary, Roshan Lal Chhabra, is recouping from a fistula surgery. He plans to start a daily newspaper because it won’t be possible to maintain political power without gaining control over information. As regards the present situation, he says that everyone has already seen what the fate of this nation would be without Congress. This government is already on oxygen support. As soon as Rajiv-ji returns to power, everything will be fine—there’s no need for anxiety.
But the town folks, who witnessed the communal riots in 1967, ’73, ’79, ’81 and ’84 are on the edge. Those who saw ravaged settlements and corpses lining the roads know, it takes but the blink of an eye for a small spark to turn into a raging fire. Efforts at a modest level are being made to ensure the town’s safety. Today, a meeting has been called in the state library hall to expand the scale of these efforts. Present at this meeting are cultural activists, writers and conscious citizens. Young men like Paraag and Rajesh can also be seen—proof that even in a mohalla as laidback as Aramganj, the youth have a presence beyond the chowk. Under discussion are the route and neighbourhoods to be covered by the proposed goodwill rally to establish peace. The Aramganj youth look at each other smilingly, because they know that their mohalla has no need for a peace-rally.
Howsoever may times change, nothing will really change on Aramganj Chowk, Ashiq Miyan knows this well enough. But even he has noticed in the last few days that with changing times, the questions are changing. Akhilesh had asked to his face, ‘We all think of you as a Hindu. Who do you think you are, bey?’
The answer came, ‘Whatever my Ram-ji has made me, I am that only. Why do you worry about it?’
Akhilesh taunted, ‘Meaning, Ram-ji made you a mulla?’
‘Yes, think that if you please.’
‘Incredible, the things you say! Is that even possible?’
‘When a chutiya like you can be made by Ram-ji, then why not me?’
It isn’t easy to trap Rangbaz with mere questions. Even so, why are these questions being asked at all? Why has their frequency gone up all of a sudden? Aramganj-walas don’t know why, but indeed they have too many questions about Muslims in their hearts. Whether he be only half a Muslim or a Muslim just in name, for the chowk, Ashiq represents all Muslims.
If Anil Kapoor’s picture is outside Mr India Tailoring Shop, then inside can be seen a picture of Arun Govil, the actor who had played Ram in the TV series Ramayana. A blown-up poster from the series—of Ram, Lakshman and Sita going to the forest—is pasted on the wall. Lallan comes to the shop often, but today he suddenly notices that a mirror hangs on the almirah in front of the picture, on which there’s a 786 sticker, a number sacred to a true believer of Allah.
‘Waah re Rangbaz,’ he exclaims. ‘All this Ram-ji, Ram-ji is only for getting business, is it?’
‘Why, do you think that Ram-ji and Allah Miyan are like Chajju and Bechu from gali no. 3 that they cannot stay together?’ Ashiq at once cites the two brothers whose joint kitchen saw regular head-banging fights till they finally separated.
Lallan still wants to tease. ‘O teri! How immense is Lord Ram and how tiny Allah!’
Without missing a beat, Ashiq retorts, ‘Allah lives in Lord Ram’s heart.’
Lallan sees that indeed the 786 sticker is so stuck on the mirror that it occupies the spot where Ram-ji’s heart lies in the poster’s reflection. Who indeed is this man?
Even if someone mocks him in the name of religion, he does not take offence. These attempts to ‘tease’ are not new. Katua, kattan, kate-bhai—pejoratives referring to the Islamic custom of circumcision—are now so worn out and banal that now even the teasers and mockers have stopped relishing them. For Ashiq, these monikers are like sweet abuses, imbued with a strange intimacy. Something would be oddly lacking in life if he did not hear such words.
Loafers and louts cannot stand outside Savitri Boutique. But across the road, Ashiq is often seen surrounded by the same louts, in Mithilesh Grocery Store’s veranda, happily striking the queen on the carrom-board. These shohdas are dear friends—his grouse is only with their antics. That’s why he has, without mincing words, told them many times, ‘Tease and flirt to your heart’s content, brother—who am I to stop you? But not outside my shop. Even a witch skips seven houses when seeking prey.’
Only on rare occasions, when the ‘skip seven houses’ warning is turned a deaf ear to, does Ashiq the Rangbaz assert his rangbazi to dispense justice. Once, Manoj, peering into Savitri Boutique through the small hole in the two-by-four door, got caught by the collar and kicked out. Mahesh of gali number 6, got such a resounding slap after pulling a girl’s chunni in the bazaar, that for months he did not dare show his face at the chowk.
And Ashiq has again taken the carom queen… Is there scope for anyone else to win when Ashiq is playing?
In the gathering of carrom players, the question pops up from nowhere. ‘Tell me this, Ashiqwa, why is it that a man cannot be a Muslim unless he is snipped?’ The reference to circumcision comes up again.
‘That varies from man to man. There are many who cannot become Muslim even after being snipped.’
‘Really?’
‘If you don’t believe me, let me take you to the wielder of the knife. We can then see for ourselves whether you turn into a Muslim or a eunuch beating drums and collecting money.’
‘Don’t try to sidestep, Ashiq. Honestly, tell us why it is necessary to cut in your religion?’
‘The thing, beta, is this: whether you get a slight cut, or keep the whole ‘thing’ intact, the real ‘thing’ is that to which water and coconut are offered. Whatever be the religion, the ‘thing’ itself has equal importance everywhere. Do you get it?’
‘And look at him, he hasn’t understood the importance of the ‘thing’ itself. That is why his sword is still in the scabbard. Lying unused, it will catch rust, Mukesh bhaiyya.’ The thirty-three-year-old bachelor Mukesh is left embarrassed.
‘That’s not the case, Ashiq. He sharpens the blade with his own hands morning and night.’
‘If you say so I will have to accept it. Keep that blade sharp, Mukesh bhaiyya! The stars are auspiciously aligned this year, you will cross over for sure. A hundred per cent!’
The collective laughter arising from the veranda of Mithilesh Grocery is such that the sound reaches across the road to Two-in-One tailoring shop. When Hanif gestures from the other end, Ashiq realises these are business hours. Who knows how much time has gone by in carrom and idle talk.
Hanif is a distant relative and now, under Ashiq’s tutelage, is fast acquiring stitching skills. Ever since Hanif arrived, Ashiq Miyan gets more time for social activities. But now he gets up and crosses the street like an arrow, entering through the glass door of Savitri Boutique
Translated from the Hindi novel Rambhakt Rangbaz by Varsha Tiwary.
