Syed Mujtaba Ali
HOME AND ABROAD
DESHEY BIDHESHEY
Translated and Edited by
Siddique Mahmudur Rahman
Chapter – Two
Old pundit[1] of the village pathshala[2] used to yawn and snapping his fingers, call out in a miserable voice, ‘Radhe go, Brajosundari, par karo, par karo'[3]. When I grew up and read many books in Hindi and Urdu, talked with many people far and wide, but nowhere I found people pray to the Almighty calling ‘take me to the other side (of the river = to after-world).
I now understood the philosophy while crossing Sutlej, Bias, Irrawaddy, Jhelum and Sind rivers. I had memorize these names in my childhood days, have identified them in the map and I fancied their mighty waves and speedy streams. I thought our Ganges, Meghna, Buriganga would be tiny rivulets comparing with these.
I now couldn’t believe staring at these mighty lords, from my carriage. Where are those mighty waves and speedy streams! From this bank to that, there are dry sand-dunes, no trace of water! I needed both telescope and microscope to see the water! Then I understood why feelings of death-throe do not come to the Westerners, while crossing these rivers. They do not need gods and goddesses while crossing these rivers, sometimes they don’t even need a boatman! I don’t know what would be the condition during the rainy season. It is useless to pray only when the rain comes! It is rubbish praying yearlong for only three months of rainy season!
The inside of the carriage changed its colour. Beards are now long, tiki[4] has become shorter, softer dialogues, like, aiye, baithiye of the plump and chubby Lalajis[5] are not heard. Now terms like, ‘daga’, ‘daga’, ‘dilta’, ‘raora’ of the six-feet tall Pathans and ‘tusi’, ‘asi’ of the Panjabees are heard and the elegance of the netted beards of the Sikh Sardar’s are ample. Men write poems on the flowing hairs of the girls. Here, may be damsels sing gazals worshipping beards of the Sardarjees[6]. When the beards become grey, marsias and jaris denounce old ages. There’s nothing astonishing. I read in a novel of Toefil Goutier, when the French people started to shave, then a sensitive woman disclosed her great regret and said, ‘Pleasure of kissing has been banished from France. From now on women begins to get deprive of the delights of the masculinity of the lover from the brushing of the beards during kissing. It has turned out to the realm of impotents. We utterly get disgusted just thinking of it.’
I thought I would share the idea with any Sardarjee[7] and get his comment. When French beards could not out number Sardarjees’ beard at its highest galore, then women of this country might have sung songs glorifying it. But I could not dare to ask anybody. I don’t know, which of my dialogue might ‘disgrace’ somebody and can only be retaliated by ‘shedding of blood’. I didn’t want to sacrifice my head by discussing comparative theory of beard. They have sacrificed their head with braids of hair, then surely they can easily take a beardless head.
The old Sardarjee facing me started the conversation. It was not a ‘Going far?’ question, it is a straightforward, ‘Kaha Jaiyega?'[8] I replied with double courtesy.. The man is grandfather-type and a soft smile under his gorgeous beard. No doubt a knowledgeable person, he made out me, a meek and mild Bengali is not feeling easy amidst sword and rifle. He asked did I know anybody at Peshawar, or I am going to stay at a hotel. I said, ‘A friend of one of my friend will be receiving me at the station, but I have never seen him, I doubt how he could recognize me.’
Sardarjee smiled and said, ‘Don’t get afraid, not a bunch full of Bangalee will get down from the train at Peshawar station, wait a minute or two, he will surely pick you up.’
I put up my nerve and said, ‘Its OK, but I am wearing a short . . .’
Sardarjee boomed with laughter, ‘A short only a foot of one’s figure, can a person supposed to identify a man with it?’
I mumbled and said, ‘I know, but I thought I would wear a Dhoti and a Panjabi.'[9]
I cannot outwit Sardarjee that easy. He retorted, ‘Amazing! How can one know a Bangalee, wearing a Panjabee.[10]’
I restrained me from proceeding further. If I wanted to explain Sardarjee about the difference between Bangalee Panjabi with a Panjabee Kurta, then he should have made me an idiot again. Better let him talk, become an avid listener. I asked, ‘How many yards of cloth is needed to make a silwar[11]?’
He said, ‘At Delhi, three and a half, at Jalandhar, four and a half, at Lahore, its five and a half, at Lalamusa, Six and a half, At Rawalpindi, it is seven and a half, then at Peshawar, it jumps upto ten and a half and finally at Pathan territory- Kohat and Khaibar it is ful one ream,’
I uttered, ‘Twenty yards!’
‘Yes. And it is made of khaki shirting.’
I asked, ‘How could anybody move wearing such a bundle of cloth? Let aside conflicts, fighting!’
Sardarjee remarked, ‘Don’t you go to cinemas? I go, even at this old age. If I don’t, I could not understand youngsters. I have a bunch of grand children. The other day, I saw a movie, which depicted a story of two hundred years old, a damsel was wearing dresses, one after another- I could not recollect, may be ten or twelve. For those clothes, I presume she might be wearing more than twenty yards of cloths. With all those, if the damsels could dance- move fast, then, tell me, why don’t young robust Pathans could fight wearing twenty yards of silwars?’
I contemplated a while and replied, ‘Rightly said. I think, it a sheer waste.’
Sardarjee could become happy with my remark, ‘Well, that’s negligible. Dhotis of Madras id three yards or so. But, you Bangalee’s wear five yards.’
I said, ‘Well that’s because, we can change the sides, so we can wear it for long time.’
Sardarjee said, ‘Same is in the case of silwars. Did you think, Pathans buy a new one in each Eid festival? Never. A Young Pathan gets a new twenty-yard silwar from his father-in-law- there are plenty of pleats, so he wears it shifting its pleats, so he can wear it long years without any patch works. When it starts to wear out, Pathan’s do not throws it away immediately’, he mends it by sewing, then adds patches- whatever colour of cloths he could afford. He goes on wearing it. At his death, he hands over that silwar to his son, who wears it until he gets a new one from his father-in-law.’
I could not make out whether Sardarjee is joking, finding me innocent, or he is telling it truthfully, so I asked, ‘Do you really mean it, or somebody told has you a cock-a-bull story.’
Sardarjee replied, ‘In a dense forest, a prince encountered a tiger. The tiger said, I will eat you. This is a story. But, can you tell me, tigers eat human beings is a lie?’
Irrefutable explanation. Besides, he has seventy years experience in his bucket. So I surrendered, and said, ‘We are Bangalees, how could we feel the grandeur of the Pyjamas[12]. Our’s are a land of marshes and rains, we have to cross the rivulets and inundated areas. We can move our dhotis and lungis[13] up to our knees or even more, it cannot be done with pyjamas.’
At last I earned Sardarjee’s heart. He said, ‘Right you are. I’ve seen ir in Burma and Malaya. I spent thirty years there.’
Then he went on narrating different types on incidences. I didn’t have a touch-stone with which I could evaluate how much of those are true and how little are false. I considered those to be like the story of the tiger. Two or three Pathans gathered around him and enjoyed his stories— later I came to know that most of them spent a few years in Burma or Malaya- Sardarjee went of telling his episodes before them. I then made out that most of Sardarjee’s stories might be real. Discussions went on.
I found out that externally the Pathans seem very rough and tough, but they were very much enthusiastic in sharing their experiences with others, in chitchats; they do not brawl or do not use extravagant descriptions. Most of those incidences they describe were like wood-cut images- simple and rough, but those thrifty descriptions had some intimate touches, that make deep and long-lasting mark in the hearts of the listeners. Most of those are the stories of the militias, sometimes about their inmates and family, of tribal conflicts etc. Within a short time I learnt handful of names of many tribes and clans- Afridi, Shinwari, Khudiani and many more.
I found out the Sardarjee is very familiar about them, and for my experience went on commenting and explaining. At one time he commented, ‘You have educated yourself with English and French stories, it will not help you in real life. Learn these stories and names and history of the tribes and clans of the Pathans, it will help you a lot in the Pathan territory.’
Pathan stories end up with the displays of practical experience. In mixed Pushtu, Urdu and Panjabi language he ends up his story saying, ‘At that time I couldn’t feel anything, Sahib, as if I was intoxicated with wine. Then when everything cooled down, all is normal, then I saw tow of my fingers of the left had is absent. Look.’ He takes out his left hand from the folds of his silwar and stretched out.
With Sympathy, I remarked, ‘How long you have to stay at the hospital?’
Whole of Pathan territory laughed; they were happy at the idiocy of this Babujee[14].
The Pathan said, ‘Where are those hospitals and foreign doctors, Babujee? Wife made a bandage, grandma applied some turmeric paste and Mulla recited some holy scriptures. Now see, as if I was born with three fingers.’
Brother-in Law of that Pathan was also travelling with us, commented, ‘Even the angel of the death dare to visit his village in fear of those three persons, he mentioned.’
Everybody laughed. He turned to me and said, ‘Tell him to describe the incidence of his grandma, how she resisted a platoon of white soldiers for three hours by throwing boulders from top of the hill.’
With the deluge of the narratives, both the sunshine and the heat were not felt at all. And eating and drinking! In each station some of the members of the group would buy something- Tea, sarbet, icy-drinks, kebabs, roti, nothing is spared! Who’s paying for it, could not be ascertained. One or two occasions, I tried to pay for my share. But before I could pass through the battalion of twelve giant Pathans and go at the door to pay the vendor, somebody already paid the money. They even do not listen to my request, and speaks out, ‘Babujee, this is the first time you have come to ourcountry, let us entertain you a bit. Settle at Peshawar, then one day we will visit your place and eat to our hearts content.’
I said, ‘I am not going to stay at Peshawar too long.’ But, who cares!
Sardarjee commented, ‘Why try in vain? Even I am an old man; they didn’t let me pay my share, even once. If you want to travel Pathan territory avoiding entertainment of the friends and relatives, then do not talk to anybody during your journey. Sometimes it even does not work’
The Pathans in a group protested, ‘We are not affluent people, we go all over the world for a few farthings, how could we entertain our guests?’
Sardarjee whispered at my ear, ‘Look at their intellect! As if, entertaining somebody depends on having money or not.’
[1] the word originally means scholar, but in ancient rural Bengal the word meant teacher.
[2] Pathshala – ancient primary educational institution, specially arranged at the residence of the teacher – Pundit. financed by the affluent people or zamindars.
[3] O dear Radha, the Damsel of Braja, take me to other bank of the river (the other side of the world), take me. A common saying of the old people- a common prayer for salvation.
[4] tuft of hair of the top of the head, the high-caste people of India, the Brahmins used it as a sign of their superiority.
[5] a community of the North-central India
[6] Pathans, Panjabees, Sikh Sardar- the communities of North-western India.
[7] Sardarjee- Sardar means leader. The term Sardarjee is denoted to the older male members of Sikh community. The Sikhs males do not cut hairs and beards, wear turbans, an iron bangle on his right hand and keeps kripan, a short sword. They follow this vow in a protest against British Raj.
[8] Where are you going?
[9] Dhoti and Panjabi- a common type of dress worn by the Bengali people.
[10] There is a pun in the words of Panjabi and Panjabee. The first word meant for a long sleeve shirt-type dress of the male Bengali, whereas the second is meant for the people of Punjab province.
[11] a trouser-type dress very common among the western India, Afghanistan, Iran, etc.
[12] pyjamas are a different type of silwar
[13] lungis are worn by the Bengali males
[14] Babujee- addressing a respectable gentleman, a kind of salutation (equivalent to Sir),