Syed Mujtaba Ali
HOME AND ABROAD, DESHEY BIDHESHEY
Translated and Edited by Siddique Mahmudur Rahman
Chapter – Seven
There’s a saying in Arabic language, ‘Yom-us safar, nisf-us safar[1]’. In the eastern Bengal similar sayings was also very popular, where it is said, ‘Uthon samudra perolei, adhek mushkil asan'[2]. I have to spend seven long days to cross the courtyard of Ahmad Ali’s house. On the morning of eighth day, Ahmad Ali himself put me on a seat beside the driver of a bus and made him swear to look after the wellbeing of my life and baggage and left. At the Howrah station, I felt I was ‘lonely’, now I felt I am ‘terribly lonely’. I coined the word ‘terribly lonely’, because, whether it is in ‘no man’s land’ or in ‘Afghanistan’ itself, everybody is busy is protecting himself. I heard, there are police, even outside Kabul, but in Afghan law, murder has not become a cognizable offence. If you do not lie down on your belly immediately at the time of burglary then you yourself have to pay for your stupidity and stubborn act. Afghan government does not take the responsibility of training you how to go through the roads. The English government do not teach you ‘Keep to the left’ in the schools and lastly, but not the least, if you sacrifice your life, then there are your family members, who will take revenge of you death. One do not have to dispose of all his land and property to buy a single bullet, permits were not needed.
Common sense of the people of this country generally reflects like idea. Still, Afghanistan is an independent country; and when other countries of the world are not totally indifferent then, they have something to do, and so one or two policeman visits the area for a few days. If they perceive that relatives of the deceased are unattached about this matter or if they finds out that the cunning relatives of the killer has closed the eyes and voices with bright rare metals, and you are not disturbed about the fact, that within the little hours of your life, it is totally immaterial, who leaves the world early or late, who dies in the bed peacefully uttering the names of Allah and the Prophet or who dies panting submerging under the water, then think over it, dear friend, why the police will become troublesome to the crises of the killers and his relatives unnecessarily. It is not your sole authority to remain absorbed in infinite and distasteful to life, the police is also a part of this universal philosophy. But, still, in this mundane world, one sometimes needs food and clothing and what the government pays for are not sufficient. Whereas, Allah, the generous have given the killer and his relatives much riches, then? Then why should one blame the Afghan police.
But one thing Afghan government is much aware of- these hoodlumism do not cross the limit. If Bukhara, Samarkhand, Siraj or Tehran becomes aware of the fact that Afghan thoroughfare is problematic, then the business and trade will come to a halt and then the golden egg of Afghan government – the earning through excises and taxes will be stopped coming in.
On my left the driver of the bus, a Sikh Sardarjee is sitting. He is nearly sixty years of age. Has long black and grey beard, later I learnt that he was night-blind. On my left was an official of Afghan government. He went to Peshawar to take delivery of the the materials of Afghan radio station. He pretends to know many languages, but practically knows no other languages than Persian. If you could not understand his English, then he would utter a few words in Persian he that knows. If you could nor understand that, he would speak out one those words he knows in Urdu. At last he would show his disgust expressing how he would deal with the uneducated blockheads like you! Later, I found out that the gentleman was very friendly and cooperative. I also learnt that his weakness about the languages is that, he got his job claiming his efficiency of many languages and if after meeting him, I dared to express his inability about his incompetence in the languages at Kabul, and then he will be in trouble. But his apprehension was totally baseless- without his knowledge, the authority were well aware of his lack of skill. But he was in service at ease because, rest of the employees knew much less than him. But this gentleman did not know this. He was very plain and simple person, and was always so busy in hiding his own folly, that he could not see follies of others. Scholars say, when a fist is held before your eyes, it can easily cover up the giant Himalaya standing far away.
Inside the bus, there are a group of Afghan traders, bringing cigarettes, gramophones, records, plate-utensils, chandeliers, footballs, accessories of electrical appliances, books and magazines, everything and anything one needs in the household. Afghan industry produce only three things- firearms, ammunitions and winter clothing. And the rest, everything are imported from India and some from Russia. One do not have to read reports of Afghan government, one have to go around Afghan market.
And that will be discussed later.
Yesterday Peshawar temperature was 114 degree – in the shade. At present the bus is crossing through such a place from where one cannot find a small blade of grass in the adjacent area with even a telescope. Only thing is visible is, here and there yellowish tinge on the rough barren rock.
Once a novice student of the hostel started to ignite a stove, he poured some more spirit on the burning flame. Instantaneously, the flame burst out on the stove, the bottle and the brow, the mustaches of the student were scorched and kinky and made his face weird looking. It looked same here. It seemed to me that mother Earth has taken her face nearer to the Sun then its soil, the skin and grass, the brows was all scorched up abruptly by the dreadful scorching rays of the Sun.
I haven’t seen such a burned up country like this in my life. The cases of the deserts are different. Whatever there remained for burning, were burnt up much before our birth and the ashes flew away from the deser- never were left behind to form manure for new production. There the Sun is the sole dictator. But here, there’s a naked and ghastly feud. It will be mistake to quote the tern feud – here it is ruthless, cruel and arduous persecution! The Earth has not totally left the effort of making it green and fertile— each minuscule attempt is failed to succeed again and again by repeated merciless torture. I memorized the hapless rebellious farmers of the East Bengal. The more they build houses on the river shoals, the more the cronies of the Zamindars burns down their paltry huts.
Zamrud fort is ten miles from Peshawar on the same plateau. Wwe have to show our passport for once. Then the Khyber Pass.
I can not describe it to you, I beg you with clasped hands. Because, in the situation I crossed the distance, I couldn’t tell what would Pierre Loiter if he was in this situation. I quoted Pierre Loiter’s name because I never found any body so dexterous than Pierre Loiter, who with his exceptional enchanted description could visualize the weather of an unknown country in such a picturesque detail. Even poet Rabindranath couldn’t like to describe subjects unknown to the Bangalees. There are no hills and mountains in Bengal— so I couldn’t remember I found the description of hills in his two and a half thousand poems. Ocean is close to Bengal, but common Bangalees view sea at Puri when he goes to pay homage to the Rathyatra[3] of Jagannath- killing two birds with one stone. Rabindranath wrote one poem ‘Purir samudra darshaney'[4], though he has seen not less oceans than Loiter. But all these sometimes seen by the Bangalees, not unknown objects. But snowfall is the most beautiful scene of the cold countries, Rabindranath have seen that beauty at least five hundred times, but never described once.
Still if anybody can travel through this Khyber Pass about a dozen times, that’s a different story. Sri Ramkrishna[5] said, To feel the pains and sorrow of life is like eating thorn-bush by the camel. It’s hunger ceases, but its lips bleeds with the pricking of the thorns. It is understood, that if the heat of Khyber Pass can be tolerated, he can develop the taste of poetic fervor.
I bus I was riding, had no poetic taste. The bus was adequately conditioned militarily to cope with the ancient road dates back to Alexander, the Great and Emperor Babur. Its body was made of thick corrugated iron sheet and its frail glass sheet of the windscreen was shattered down. One head-light was absent, did not have glass on it. Then I understood the magnitude of single eye described in the Song of Songs of the Bible-
‘Thou hast ravished my heart, my spouse, thou hast ravished my heart with one of Thine eyes.’
The solution of the problem, that could not be solved by many a concords, by going through hundreds of explanations, came to light in my heart with the mercy of the Holy Preceptor and with the assistance of the bus at Khyber Pass.
Both the side there are thousand feet high barren hills. The Khyber Pass crosses in between. A pair of road went on meandering beside the high ridges. One path is for the bus, the other is for the caravans of camels, donkeys, mules and horses carrying commodities and merchandise. The narrowest part of the road stretches not more than thirty haths[6]. The road is so much meandering to hairpin bend, that in some place, if you look front and back you will see only hills all around.
It is noon. It seem to me that the Sun has come down to that Hades, and the hills all around is throwing it to one another playing with it. The Pass that was resounded once upon a time by thousands and millions of Afghan people, now one single Sun turns into millions of Suns. Millions of fiery tongues not just satisfying themselves by licking our whole body, but are also piercing our eyes with fiery spears. I looked at the eyes and saw the eyes of the Sardarjee have turned into the colour of the sunset without touching the red wine. The Kabuli gentleman was brooding covering his eyes with a band of cloth. How many person can face a firing squad with his eyes wide open?
Did Gandhari[7], the damsel of Kandahar have her blindness due to this excessive heat? There are no alternative except Khyber Pass to go from Kandahar to Delhi. Heavens know, whether to console Dhritarashta and to ease the extreme ordeal of blind wife Gandhari the author of Mahabharata narrated the story of Gandhari’s choosing of her blindness?
I saw with great astonishment that pustin[8] traders of Bukhara are going towards India taking their mule caravans, wearing two-inch thick overcoat at this heat. I asked the Sardarjee beside me to explain the matter. He said, ‘Those who are habituated these thick overcoats were pleasant to wear. Outside temperature could not penetrate and keep the body cool. There’s no sweat, and if there were, what’s the harm? They care a little. Within this short time dry summer heat dried up Sardarjee’s mouth. It’s useless to carry on talking at this atmosphere.
So varieties of people, from so many countries are moving along with these caravans. So many kinds of headdress, so many kinds of turbans, so many varieties of firearms, from ancient muzzle loaders to recent German Mouser. Beautiful and famous sword from Damesk[9], Zamdhar rapiers, as I saw in Mughal paintings, now I see here inserted in the pink girdles of the waist, some have staff long enough to touch the earlobes, some have sharp and bright spears. On the back of the camels, there are carpets of myriads of colours and designs, samovars of different sizes. Bundles of pistachios, walnuts, almonds, prunes are also there to make the Indian pilao and biriani magnificent. I heard there are also opium, cocaine, hashish and the like, hidden under the waist griddles, under the linings of the pustin and knickerbockers.
Everybody is moving very slowly. I remembered one of my friends told me returning from Manasarover, in severe cold people get feeble, then it is advisable to move as slowly as possible. To move fast to get rid of the ordeal is to embrace death faster. Here I found hotter version of that theory. There it was excessive cold and here it is extreme heat. The Pathan told me twice not to move fast, I took vow for the third time, ‘To Move Fast is to move in Satan’s way.’ Rabindranath said similar word, if you do not get pain, you won’t get relieve of pain.
Christ also said- ‘Verily I say unto thee, thou shalt by no mean scome out thence [prison] till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.’
Who said, miracle never happens in twentieth century? Solving all my problems a booming sound is heard. The Kabuli gentleman quickly removed his eye cover and looked up at me in pallid face, I glanced at the Sardarjee. I saw he slowed the bus and took it to a halt at the side of the road. Then he said, ‘Tire has busted. It’s a usual phenomenon. It would be unusual, if it isn’t at this temperature.’
I realized, when the Nature itself turns into vicious attitude its better not to hurry. But at this summer, if the brutal Nature showed softer attitude, the followers should be more dedicated.
It wasn’t necessary, still Sardarjee warned us, though the pair of roads belongs to the Government, but the lands beyond that belong to the Pathans. It would be fatal if you by chance tread on it. The Pathans were hiding nearby. The moment you step on that area, there’ll be ‘bang’. It is unimportant to describe how dexterously they ransack you. Then with It is known, what the hunter do with dead fawn- they don’t spare the skin even. In this case the smile you had on your face before firing, remains in the air, and the rest are moped up.
The English government pays yearly two rupees tax to the inhabitant Pathans of both side of Khyber Pass, so that they do not plunder on the vehicles and people moving through the road. Later, with great difficult, they have earned another promise that they would not if the two communities are in strife, they will not lob firing across the road from both sides.
I couldn’t recollect how long it took to change the tire. I heard, in high fever, the patient loose sense of timing. When I asked Sardarjee the next day, why it took two hours to change the tire, he said, it took only half an hour.
The bus continued its journey. In immense heat voice of the Kabuli gentleman said in croaked voice, ‘Don’t you worry, Sahib— tomorrow we will reach Kabul. We will immerse in the water of Kabul River. The icy water, coming down the mountain, will cool your body and heart. After a cool bath, we will eat grapes rubbing it on ice during July and August. In September the waters of the water bodies will start to freeze. In October, wintery wind will shred down leaves of different hues of red from the tress and make your paths carpeted. You will bring out Pustin coat in November. In December there will be snowfall. You will stroll in the street in that snow. Oh, what a beautiful cold and pleasant it is!’
I said, ‘God bless you.’
Suddenly, I looked at the road. Is it a mirage? Why the entire road is closed? The bus stopped. We all have to show our passport. And then the gate were opened. We entered Afghanistan. I saw a big signboard-
It is forbidden
to cross this border into
Afghan territory.
The Kabuli gentleman said, ‘It is the most difficult to pass the Khyber Pass than any other examinations of the world. Alhamdulillah.[10]
I said, ‘Amen.’
[1] Half of the journey is complete on the first day.
[2] When the ocean of courtyard is crossed, half of the problem is solved.
[3] Chariot journey of God Jagannath. a religious event of the Hindu community.
[4] ‘After gazing at Puri’s ocean’. Puri is a sea-beach at Orissa. A religious place too
[5] Sri Ramkrishna- a famous religious saint of Hinduism on 19th century.
[6] hath – arm length, one arm equals to one and a half yard = 18 inches.
[7] wife of Dhritarastra
[8] fur
[9] Damascus
[10] Thanks to Almighty.