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Written by: Mufti Jameel Farooq (mufti.jameel97@gmail.com)

Category: ARTICLES

Published: 10 June 2015

The strolling had become too difficult, Raheel, was left with no other option than to take a corner of his room and sit there with a romantic-novel; he off and on quotes,’ we the  literature students are always told by our chums that you are imbibed with romance, why not as we are used to such things.’

‘Cillikalaan’ had started showing its face, and the winter of that year was harsher than harsh, it was snowing, and the Chill had engulfed everywhere.  Raheel was getting gelled with the cold; to leaf into the next page was becoming too difficult.  Raheel had his fire-pot in between his legs with which he was trying to avoid the freeze.  Raheel was fiddled in his own imagination and was contemplating on the romantic –novel, which was in his lap, and was turning the pages with his lips; because of the cold.

Abruptly, somebody knocked at the main-gate of his residence, unwilling; Raheel had to leave the mood which he was enjoying at its best, in order to see who was at the door.  Raheel saw a man, who was not familiar to him with a pile of sticks, which are used for the repairing fire-pot.  Raheel asked him of his identity, he gave him a blank look and shouted at him, as if Raheel had mistreated him.  Initially, Raheel thought he is nuts, but just after seconds the tone of the man at main-gate became polite, which dragged Raheel in the wonder-land of Alice.

‘I am a fire-pot fitter, have you any one to refurbish?’  Raheel wasn’t quite sure, so Raheel told him to wait at the main-gate; in the meantime, Raheel went to confirm, did they have any fire-pot to refurbish.  As Raheel reached near the door of his dad, his dad enquired about the man waiting at the door, ‘let him in’ said his dad.  Raheel did the way Raheel was told.

 Then the man in tattered clothes met his work, but the man in ding from head to toe used slang language during his conversation; at the outset, Raheel’s dad tolerated it, then it become irrepressible,’ shut your mouth and do your work’, commanded Raheel’s dad to a man whose eyes were as pale as turmeric-powder.  The man became silent like cannery on window-pane.

After a long pause Raheel’s dad himself crossed the red-line, which he had set himself, he broke the silence by saying to the  man , who was doing his work with head-down,’ have you eaten something?’  Hash, came as response, ‘eaten something?  When I have eaten?  I don’t know, yet I know they ate all what I had.’  The man who was repairing fire-pots was becoming more philosopher than a fitter.  ‘Sahab G, I haven’t eaten anything since last Monday.’  Raheel’s Dad without pushing the topic further, asked him to stop.  Raheel was called by newly remote controlled bell, and was ordered to bring a bowl of rice with curry and glass of water for the man whose eyes were revealing something horrendous.

After few minutes Raheel brought before him all the things, and the man started eating like a horse, but what was startlingly strange; the man while eating begun his tale:  the tale of his life, his happenings, his experience, and what not!

 ‘I am a villager, Sahab G; I live at the remote place.  I wasn’t like I am now, I was a rich man, was honoured by my community at my village.  They would adore me in every respect; each person would regard me.  Why didn’t I die before this?  I am living a life of curse, this is treacherous, and I am a slave of everyone now.

 **** That day when my children were born, **** that day when I got married, **** that day when I neglected their mistakes.  Had I done all before then this day hadn’t been before me.’ 

Raheel was sitting next to him, and was listening keenly and eagerly, what the man had said, he was very rich once up on a time, then what tsunami befell on this man, which washed his possessions; was striking my in his (Raheel’s) psyche.

His psyche was demanding the answers, which were concealed in the heart and psyche of fitter.  So without thinking the consequential, Raheel posed questions to the man about his admirers, vigour, and his richness?

 The man without another pause brought him and his dad in his life by saying that the man who is now repairing fire-pots had three sons; on their each birth he had spent thirty-three thousands.  ‘I was so glad that I would curve my moustaches that I have three sons, who will guard me in my old-age .But, alas! 

My thought made mess of me.’  The man used he had three sons who would guard him during his old-age, means something smells fatty, thought Raheel. 

‘I would omit their blunders they are young, still babies.  One became gambler another would loiter by and by.  And my third son … my third son…’  As the man uttered his third son his eyes started betraying him; he was regaining his momentum, but would fail.  Raheel was becoming impatient.

“My third son, he was the only son who can be dreamed of.  He was very obedient, before my utterance he used to perform all that he was told. 

You know Sahab G; great people are called early, I had heard way back, which is not wrong.  He used to offer five times Namaz, and would do all Islamic fundamentals. 

How could I forget that sunny day which is worse than winter for me; my third son was busy that day in his garden, he was picking apples.  He was considered honest among his fellow beings, some of his friends came to his garden and took him with them; as it was broadcasted that three more have been maimed in Srinagar.  Masses took streets to condemn the killing, and he was leading them, he had Plea-card in his hand 'Hum ka Chatai lAazadi, Go India Go Back'(We want freedom).  The army convoy came, and they didn't let them go, they started firing, and my Son was the fourth whose arson was done that day.

As he said, the river came rolling down his cheeks.  When shall we be free?  When will my eyes meet freedom?  He is that day…’  The last word was uttered with falling tone.

He fell down like a bird that is fired in every way by hunter.  "Where are your two rest sons,” said Raheel’s dad.  "They couldn't bear it all.  They became insane.  I had thought he will give me shoulder but I didn't know I had...to...to...."

 Then Raheel’s eyes met his vessel in which he was eating, he only had taken three gulps, the forth one was in his hand.