We, the People

Chaudhury Sahab, the postman has delivered this daak.

Chaudhury Chandrabhanu examined the colourful daak placed on the silver plate before him. He picked it up, closed his eyes and picked up the card with both his hands, brought it close to his nose and smiled. He had seen the name of the sender and knew it was an invitation from his old friend Shahbaaz. He quickly opened up the flap and pulled out the card inside and as he was reading the same, the smile slowly vanished from his face. His wife Minu, sitting on the sofa and knitting what looked like a sweater asked, “What happened? Why are you looking so upset?”

Shahbaaz’s daughter Shabnam is getting married next month and he has sent an invitation only for the reception. There is no invitation for the nikah. It is an insult to me and I am not going to Lahore just to attend an invitation for a reception.

Why don’t you speak to him once? Maybe there has been some mistake. Such mistakes happen in wedding where there is so much confusion.

Chaudhury Sahab did not react to Minu. After an early dinner, he hit the bed but found it difficult to sleep. Shahbaaz was his childhood friend and they grew up together in Lahore…went to the same school and college. They were inseparable and played in the college hockey team together as well as in many demonstrations against the colonial rule. Around 1920, when both the friends were participating in the Khilafat Movement, Chandra’s father decided to wind up his business in the city and move to Delhi. The senior Chaudhury was a pucca Arya Samaj follower and understood the political winds early. With his business acumen, he was able to quickly re-establish his grain business in Delhi and constructed a huge kothi  a stone’s throw from Gurudwara Rakabgunj. He fell ill and passed away in 1936, just before commencement of the Berlin Olympic Games. Chandra took over the business and made it even bigger in the next ten years. However, the separation was cruel for the friends but they kept in touch with each other with regular letters as well as a trunk call on special days.

Next morning, Chandra woke up early and after his glancing over the newspaper which was full of political news of British planning to quit India and such rumours were gaining ground especially after the Naval Mutiny at Bombay. However, the inside pages were the ones which were scary…..stories about people fighting each other on religious lines. The country which was on the verge of independence was facing the prospect of two nations being born instead of one. Chandra, put down the newspaper and booked a call for Lahore and then got through.

Shahbaaz, many congratulations on Shabnam’s marriage. This is very good news. I got the card yesterday. What does the groom do… is he from our old mohalla?

No Chandu. The boy is from Hyderabad and comes from a good family. I hope bhabhijaan and you are coming to Lahore.

Shahbaaz, I do not think we are coming. I am actually very upset with you.

But why…what have I done?

How dare you send me the invitation for the reception only. What about the nikah… are we not invited for it? How could you send me this half an invitation? Have you forgotten that I was there for your wedding, I was there when Shabnam was born, I was there to give my shoulder when your abba passed away…. I thought you considered me a brother as I did to you. But today, you’ve broken my heart by making me just another guest at the celebrations.

Chandu bhaijaan, I am very sorry. I, too, was feeling upset when posting the invitation but then seeing the conditions prevailing in the country when neighbours are up in arms in the name of religion against people with whom they have lived for ages, people with whom they shared so many happy memories. The conditions have reached to a state of no return. So, I thought that you and the other friends who have gone far away from Lahore for a better life would not even accept my invitation.

Shahbaaz, my brother, how could you even think that I would not want to participate in Shabnam’s wedding just because I happen to be of another religion. She is like my own daughter and I have such beautiful memories of her as a little baby and then she had turned into a pretty girl by the time you all came down to Delhi to our house for the vacation.

I am so happy Chandu that you are still the same. We will be really very happy to have you join the full celebrations from mehendi to reception. With you around the house, I will be so much relieved of managing the madness all alone. Please bring bhabhijaan along with you. Consider this as a personal invitation and, of course, the card is on its way to your address.

Chandu felt happy as he put down the phone. He took a couple of days off from his business and went around the city to meet his old college friends who had settled down in Delhi, far from their beloved Lahore. He knew all the others would have also got half the invitation from Shahbaaz so he took upon himself to be latter’s emissary to ensure all the old friends came together for Shabnam’s wedding. The friends readily agreed that this would be good chance to visit Lahore one last time before mad people tore down the essential fabric of the land.

A day before the wedding, the train from Delhi rolled into Lahore station. As the five friends and their families got off, Shahbaaz and his wife, Rubina, were waiting there with garlands for all. As they put the garlands, they held each other tight and everyone was in tears. They would not let go of the hug and the other people on the station gave a bewildered look as they saw some well-dressed people with flowers round their necks and tears flowing from their eyes. Shahbaaz and Rubina were inconsolable, as were the others. They, finally, got on to the cars outside and drove to the palatial house of Shahbaaz, a place the friends knew so well. As they stepped out of the cars, Shabnaam came running towards Chandra…. Chachujaan…and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheeks. She had forgotten in this excitement that the mehendi had not yet dried. But no one cared. This was one such moment no one wanted to miss…they all wanted time to travel back or stand still for now.

I am so happy that you have come….my favourite Chachujaan.

The guests were ushered into their respective rooms. The festivities in the haveli now looked complete. After a while, there was a knock on the door and they were asked to join others for lunch. It was a massive spread of food and sherbets but Minu was finding it a bit awkward there. Then a lady of the house stepped forward and said,

Bhabhi, we have made a special vegetarian thali for you. Every item on your thali was made on a separate chulha and no garlic or onion was used. Even the utensils on which they have been served are new.

Thank you, Fareeda. I knew if anyone would remember my food habits, it would be you. How are you?

I am fine Bhabhi. I am sure you know by now that my husband divorced me recently and now I stay with Shahbaaz Bhai here in this haveli.

I am sad to hear that Fareeda. I did not know about it at all. Please sit with me and eat. I don’t mind your eating the Mughlai cuisine. I do it every day for Chandra just cannot get over his Lahori palate and everyday he makes the khansaama prepare the food that this city is so famous for. And after eating it he will always complain that it does not taste the same. It must be the water of this city which gives the food its distinct flavor.

Later, Minu retired to the room and Chandra joined her.

People in the house are so happy seeing us all here. I think they did not expect us agreeing to come to a Muslim shaadi especially as there are talks about riots spreading in almost all the corners of the country.

Yes, I am also very happy that you asked me to speak to Shahbaaz. It cleared out all the fears and misconceptions and look here we are enjoying every moment of his happy coming together.

People have really changed lately. All the politicians have been feeding them with wrong messages and turning brothers to killers and butchers.

I met Fareeda at lunch today.

Yes, I knew. Shahbaaz had told me about it once but I did not tell you

I know about Fareeda and you. You wanted to marry her and she too was agreeable. Her father had come to your house at Lahore but your father did not give his consent. Was it the main reason why he decided to move out of Lahore?

That’s history, Minu. All that you have heard is true. I did not have the courage to go against Chaudhury Sahab then but I have no regrets. I do not believe people have changed now. People have had their divisions then as they have now. The only difference is that earlier the differences were personal but now they are communal and mostly instigated. The same will be the situation fifty or even hundred years from now. We seem to have forgotten how beautiful this land of ours was. First, it was the goras who ravaged this country and soon it will be our own people. They did it for purely commercial and imperial reasons and we will do it for reasons we shall create to gain and hold on to power. I am reminded of the beautiful lines from Iqbal’s poem…Saare Jahan se Achcha, where he says:

मज़हब नहीं सिखाता, आपस में बैर रखना।

हिन्दी हैं हम वतन हैं, हिन्दोस्ताँ हमारा॥ 

Shabnam’s marriage went off well and the celebrations were such that the locals thought the nation had won its independence and the whole city was illuminated and crackers filled up the sky all night long. The guests from Delhi stayed back for a couple of days more and then boarded the train from Lahore station. Shahbaaz and Rubina were there to see them off. Once again the farewell was as teary as was the welcome. The passengers and the people at the platform prayed earnestly for the iron wheels to reach their destination safe and sound for the news of attacks on trains was becoming a common story.

SS