Fifty Six Thousand
Square Miles
(A Bangla Novel)
Humayun Azad
Translated by : Subrata Kumar Das
Very
often deep sleep engulfs Rashed - it seems he has died
in his sleep or he has not been born as if he was none
of the humanity or society or of the world; as if he
was none with trousers or pajama or Lungi or nakedness;
or as if he was none of this walled buildings or mapped
land; he will never be none of them; and then happens
an incident of great importance around him, among the
awakened people, which we name history. For the first
time in his childhood such an incident occurred which
he can recall till now, which he will never forget.
Maybe before that another such occurrence took place
at the time when he embraced his mother like a third
breast, which he can remember no more. Rahsed, a little
lump, just began to go to the formidable primary school
near the mosque surrounded by tombs of multicolour.
In such a time there happened an incident alike today’s.
He was asleep those days also as if he had not been
born or he would never take birth. That night an adjacent
house was set ablaze as such fire-incidents due to toppling
down of the lamp or spreading of flame from the chula
were very usual in the farmers’ houses. The fire
enlightened the night as a day, people from the nearby
areas rushed with buckets, among whom a good number
shouted more than they sprinkled water, some other only
became fixed at the beauty of fire as if they had been
blind, no sound of that fire reached to Rashed. He was
deep asleep like the mud of the pond. Mother sat by
him all the time that she could move through the field
across the pond of the north lest the fire should engross
their house also. Mother did not awaken Rashed, rather
she felt happy thinking that her kid could stay far,
even though he was near the fire.
Rashed
was sleeping in this Chaitra night as he did that day,
he guessed nothing, nothing like reality haunted him
in his sleep; similarly he slept like the plastic mud
in the dreadful night of March. Not that he is prone
to quick-sleep, rather he awakes quickly if anyone gives
a little push, and comes back to human reality; but
in the nights of great mishaps, on which man along with
nature materializes some conspiracy, Rashed goes back
to the pre-natal darkness striding the boundaries of
them. On the night of March 25, he went to sleep at
10; before that he had walked through the city of Dhaka
the whole day, he had once tried to bring out the meaning
of ‘Ebarer songram muktir songram, ebarer songram
swadhinotar songram’ ¾ how much dazzle
or reality is there; participated in the controversies
why the meaningless talks between Mujib-Yahia stopped
suddenly and the people could not know it; in the evening
while returning home he saw the youths create dumps
by broken wall and logs of trees on the roads and asked
the hilarious youths about the longevity of them before
the arrival of military, and after a self-controlled
Bangali sleep asked his mother about the causes of smoke
in the eastern sky.
Spring,
for a long time, before reading a poetic line on such
theme, seems to Rashed a very rude season. When the
green leaves appear piercing the twigs like rusty nails,
when the beggar-like trees become red or yellow, Rahsed
can hear the screams about him. The cruel spring has
arrived, March is reaching the end, and Rashed falls
in deep sleep. Last night also he woke up by the cry
of the maid of neighbouring house, and as the girl did
not give a second cry he got asleep again, but Rashed
is like an embryo today, he did not get after eighty.
His eyes opened hearing the call ‘Ab-bu’
by Mridu. When he opened his eyes he saw her in a tottering
condition like a water-drop by his bed, school uniform
on her person, a small bunch of hair like the wings
of a bird, seems it will fly to a guava tree any time,
but she was trembling as if she will drop down right
now. Rashed thought he committed some great mistake
to Mridu. In the same manner his offence never diminishes.
He committed so much offences to man, birds, trees,
insects, wind, cloud, lightning, straws and even to
herbs. That he swore not to make offence to Mridu -
the strange human creature while standing at orch of
the clinic at the time of Mridu’s birth. Before
Mridu fell off, Rashed embraced Mridu and asked: What’s
happed Mridu? Who hurt you? Mridu replied: Why didn’t
they allow me go to school. Rashed, afraid, asked: Who?
‘Military’ Mridu replied.
Rashed
sits up straight. Mridu was going to school slinging
her bag from her shoulders with grandpa, so eager she
is to go to school as Rashed himself was. No sooner
had they gone to the main road aross the alley, the
army personnel shouted brandishing their rifles. Mridu
did not see such people before, so she took time to
understand that they were humans. Grandpa told her that
they were humans, though they were military. They scolded
them to go back home, if not obeyed they would open
fire, they told that all outing is prohibited. A military
shouted loudly that everything in the country has been
stopped, school is also closed. Mridu got afraid of
it, sorrow rather than fear engulfs her. A big experience
on her face flashes, this morning she comes from outside
taking history with her. At this tender age of five
she achieves such experiences, which cannot be pardoned,
the obscene spot of it will never famish. A nightmare
hovers over Mridu, at this age, her country has pushed
her to the ditch of nightmares, from where she will
never be able to come out. Earlier Mridu thought no
one forbids one to go to school, till now none forbade
her to go there; she thought none forbids to walk is
the streets, as no one forbade her to do it; rather
everyone becomes happy seeing her go to school, Mridu
thinks so; the traders wave their hands even though
she did not buy chocolates, unknown people fondle her
check. She thought, the school may remain close only
by the headmistress, by no one else. The military people
do not teach in the schools, she saw them never in the
schools, why will they shut the school? Mridu feels
hurt, someone has snatched away her happiness in her
ignorance. Embracing Rashed she throws her questions:
Why shan’t I go to school? ‘As military
has come’, Rahsed replies again. Mridu again asks:
When military comes, everything closes? Rahsed replies
‘Yes’. Mridu again inquires, Flowers stop
blooming? Rahsed answers ‘Yes’. Mridu makes
more questions, Rains stop? Yes, comes an answer. Another
question: People stop dreaming? Rahsed replies affirmatively.
Mridu cries out: Then why does military come in the
country? And in the country will only they stay? Giving
no answer Rashed looks at her through her face, tries
to read the bloody heart through her face where punctures
of bayonet submerage. The face of Mridu becomes Bangladesh,
the nation, where the obscene stamps of boots flash.
Mridu continues with her questions: Why did the military
want to kill us with the rifles? The headmistress hasn’t
closed the school, then why does the school close? Is
our school of the military’s? Looking at Mridu’s
eyes Rashed got afraid, he saw innumerable questions
there It seemed she would raise such questions for an
indefinite period. Rashed took Mridu on his lap and
kept his cheeks with his, caressed the nose, then told,
Mridu since today all the roads of Bangladesh are of
the military’s. Your books are of the military’s,
rhymes are of the military’s. The sky is of the
military. The air is of the military. The songs of the
birds are of the military. Your dance and smile are
of the military’s. Rains are of the military’s.
Our country is of the military’s. Mridu sobs and
says: Baba I’ll go to school.
Observing
the taints of boot on Mridu’s appearance, Rashed
understands that the saviours have come again. He feels
guilty to Mridu; it seemed to him that he himself is
riding the trucks on the roads, he himself caused fear
to Mridu jumping down from the olive trucks in olive
dress, he himself has shut Mridu’s school down
by force, he himself kicked Mridu to a ditch of mightmares.
He understood the protectors in olive, who were preparing
to arrive and have at last of democracy has again arrived.
Rashed, since his boyhood, has experienced such arrivals
of some great souls; they have moustache of various
turns, colourful stars on their chests, and twisted
cords. Hugging Mridu Rashed tries to visualize another
great soul’s face; has that clown come, who was
tossing in pain, demanding a part of the power? - Rashed
asked to himself. Rashed could hear different promises,
his ears were about to deafen by obnoxious declarations
and parades. Again we will get much democracy, Rashed
thought; the ghulam of democracy will pour out from
the radio and TV boxes, again the backs of the country
will be swelled up by kicking on it. Bangladesh, much
felicitations to you, said Rashed, you have disgorged
so many great souls from your uterus. Rashed wanted
to have a piss. The pressure he feels today is more
than that he feels getting up at dawn; it seem to him
that thousand ghulams of democracy and peach and prosperity
and discipline have already stagnated in his abdomen.
Rashed called for Mridu’s mother who was swallowing
the olive announcements and rosy promises from the radio.
Mamtaj, Mridu’s mother, came with a small radio
and told: Well, martial law has been imposed. As she
will not have to go to office today, she was wearing
a sort of slowness, though the tendency of vomiting
is clear. If she could vomit on those announcements,
she could come up. Rashed wanted to say: Go and have
a vomit. Urination pressed Rashed severely; he was even
failing to talk for that pressure; only said: First
that’ll go over the balls.
Mamtaz
is a woman of strong culture. The olive announcement
created vomitation in her but could not destroy her
good tastes; she became angry in a polite way. You’ve
begun obscenity in this early morning, she said. It
doesn’t suit you. Rashed answered: Where do you
see my obscenity? That you said it’ll go over
something! Then came from Rashed: Is my word more obscene
than those announcements? Rashed desired to do some
obscenity. Bangali people say to do something from backwards,
when they get angry. They want to tear the buttocks.
Rashed also wanted to do the thing opening all the olive
clothes of the world, but failing to do that he only
utters the word. Rashed would repeatedly hear the word
in his boyhood from his father; when he got angry he
would tell it; Rashed can not pronounce that word so
loudly, but utters inwardly, balls. At first he could
not understand the word. But the word entered his head
without understanding. All the people of his village
would utter it to denote the most trifle thing, he also
wants to utter, but feels unwell, as he can’t
Rashed tells: I told of an organ. I know what you told
of, Mamtaz replied. Don’t come to teach me linguistics,
Rashed retorts, M-a-r-s-l-l-a-w. The olive coloured
clowns. Yonder they’ve come out full of trucks
having arms with them, but they can do nothing but clipping
hair; neither their generals can. You’ll see they’ll
make revolutions over the long hairs of the youths.
They
have brought revolutions. Thinking about it the presure
of urination again becomes severe. They come at nights
and name the days as ‘The day of revolution’;
with their arrival they begin to shorten the hair of
the boys, give veils on the heads of the women. Rashed
saw, jumping from a truck the olive dresses prostrate
a boy of long hair, the other two olive dresses cut
his hair here and there. Since his boyhood Rashed saw
hair is the main problem of the country. Why are they
so enraged with hair? Is hair the symbol of freedom
for revolt? Or are they not worthy to do any other thing
than cutting hair? The pressure of Rashed’s urination
is more acute now; Rashed enters the toilet giving Mridu
to her mother. He thinks a large lake is rebounding
in him, the name Caspian comes to his mind, though a
fall will flow with much sound, but he observes nothing
different from other days. Like other day it flows for
a minute and stops, his abdomen continues to remain
weighty; the fall is groaning inside, when he tries
again everything inside seems as dry as wood. He makes
a ‘s-s-s-‘ sound which, he thinks, his mother
would use in his childhood, and hoped a result today.
He sees his organ forgetting all memories, failing to
recall the past. Rashed comes out of the toilet with
a roaring fall in his abdomen. Coming out from there
he enters the drawing room and view the face of the
great soul on the television and comments: What a worthless
warrior, a tiny great soul has appeared in the country.
The great soul is trying to make a pose of a saviour
and great man, possibly for six months he has been pracising
the pose in the toilet. With a good number of stars
on the chest and twisted cord round the arm, swords
on shoulder he seems no better than a clown. Bangladesh
is a land of silt, here great clowns appear with great
sound, Rashed smiles. The great soul has two small ones
by him, who are also posing goodness, have plates on
their person. They are posing such that they have not
come of the jute-field or hyacinth. A large laughter
wants to spread over Rashed. Rashed tries to see the
biggest and the two smaller souls from a close-view.
Mamtaz asks: What’re you viewing? Rashed don’t
answer, rather tries to see from closer view. After
a long period he says: I’m trying to unrobe their
uniform and see whether they are Bangali, if Bangali
then are they humans? With so heavy dress and cords,
I can’t see them well. I want to put off their
underwear. Mamtaz again opposes: You are getting indicent
again. But Rashed can’t do that indecency which
he wants to do, and so he feels a twinging feeling;
without obscenity one can not come out obscenity.
The
great soul is now seen on the whole screen, a grave
mood, as if the Bangali never saw such great soul, he
is showing a great soul to them. Seeing a clown on the
whole screen Rashed give roars of laughter, with him
Mridu also laughs. Mridu say to Rashed: The man causes
laughter in me, possibly he can make us laugh, if he
would have been seen on television earlier, it would
be a great fun. Rashed tells Mridu that this man has
closed his school. The laughter of Mridu stops, the
previous nightmare comes back over her face again, her
face screams with hatred as if she was spiting on the
face of the man. Rashed has the Caspian in his abdomen,
he doesn’t know when to be relieved from it. He
has experienced many revolutions in his thirty six years
age, revolution of different countries have ended in
smoke; again they have come out of that destruction;
again a revolution has come and filled his belly up.
Rashed utters: Revolution, of left-right. He utters
the word lopsided down. Rashed begins to think of the
meaning of revolution and only garbage swells up. Thinking
to see the dictionary he fears that the word was missing
from there. He asks himself - Rashed, can you tell how
many offers are necessary to impose revolution in the
late night? Like Rashed Bangladesh is also in sleep,
and getting up sees herself in the grip of the robbers.
Her forests, rivers, paddy fields, mist, dew, robin,
water-lily, Dhaka, Chittagong, Comilla, Khulna, Sylhet,
pathway through field, boundary lines of the fields,
clouds, Rarikhal, Kalapara, Kamargaon, have gone under
the boots. Have they come of he womb of Bangladesh,
did Bangladesh give them the honey flow from her breast,
have they wetted themselves with rain? Has the shade
of her Neem tree never fallen on them, has the smell
of her soil never entered through their nostrils?
Rashed
heard the boots and remembered the first revolution.
That time, a great soul came with a good appearance
who stormed the weather and Rashed, for the first time,
got acquainted with such a weather. He had not met the
word earlier, the conscious books of Pakistan prohibited
the word. But that great soul pushed revolution through
the villages like a wild animal. There was no radio
in the village, no newspaper was available, but in the
month of October there appeared revolution with much
groaning. Rashed had the habit of looking at the pictures
of great people, the great man Vidyasagar caused much
sentiment and he collected many pictures of various
prints cutting from different books and papers. Rashed
detected the difference of Pakistan’s great soul
from that ones; his conception of great soul changed.
He thought: If this were a great soul, Vidyasagar was
not a man, or if Vidyasagar is a great soul, this one
is a pirate. He feared that such a thought was a crime.
It anyone knew about it, he would be punished. After
some days seeing the posters of the pirate on the walls
of schools and bazaars he believed this pirate to be
a great soul. Rashed got stunned with the pictures and
mustaches observing that all other ones had already
been astonished. One day while Rashed was looking at
those pictures with such astonishment, a dog, driven,
stood still before the pictures. It might be that the
dog stood still because of tiredness, or it might be
because of fear of a beast before him, yet Rashed thought
even a dog didn’t mistake in recognizing a great
soul. In the eastern areas of the bazaar there was a
large picture of the great soul on the wall of tea-stall.
Whenever Rashed went to the bazaar he would look at
the picture, the cord round his shoulder astonished
him, made him afraid also. Then an old man told him:
My boy this son of Khan will demolish the Bangalis now.
He seemed very glad and if it was possible he himself
would demolish. It was not possible on his part and
or behalf of him that great soul would demolish.
The
garbage is overflowing. Rashed hears: As the economic
life has been upsided down, as the non-military administration
has failed to work properly, corruption has engulfed
the whole society and the people have befallen in great
misfortune and the law and order system has dangerously
deteriorated and peace and stability are at peril, as
for the greater interest of the nation and for national
sovrenity martial law has proved a must, with the whole
partriotic nation I myself, as the Chief Martial Law
Administrator, is receiving all and the whole power
of the government of Bangladesh and I, hereby, declare
that in no time the whole nation will come under the
marital law. While listening to that announcement Rashed
realizes that those are turning to urine in his abdomen.
Age-old rubbish, a cliché! Talks on so-called
economy, patriotism and Almighty ! If the rascal would
have said, we want to kick the country, it would the
prove some substance in them. they have come for power
only, thought. Some pot bellied generals with stars
and cords are seen. Their swelled bllies prove that
they have emerged for power only and they have had no
sex for long.
That
known clown has possessed power and now he is the Chief
Martial Law Administrator. Two more small clowns are
around him. He is now the Sultan Sahanshah of Bangla,
no limitation of power. He has adjourned the constitution,
dismissed the parliament and the government, and dropped
the former president alive as a sack of potato at his
home. That old haggard has possibly breathed his last
for the pangs of losing power. Let him die, Rashed does
not care, none of the nation does care. Had he died
before ! Though if the new ones call him to give a piece
of meat, he will repeatedly address them as ‘sir’.
The clown is now the almighty of this fifty six thousand
square miles. Rashed hears his announcement: I can nominate
anyone as the president of the country who will take
oath from the chief justice or any justice of the Supreme
Court selected by us and take the responsibility from
time to time - I can change or cancel the nomination
and select another one as the president. The elected
president will be the head of the state and govern the
country according to my advice, the chief martial advice.
He will perform the duties that I bestow on him. Rashed
hears the announcement of appointing a servant, he knows
a good number are anxious to take the role of that servant.
In one or two days he will be seen worn by another ornamented
justice. Rashed assumes the oath: I hereby, swear as
a servant of the clown that what the great clown will
order I will obey, if he orders me to lick his boot
I will do it gladly, if he orders to wash his underwear,
I will wash, if the orders to massage his legs, I will
do that with thanks, if putting off his trousers he
orders ….
The
country is now being shared, like the pieces of a pumpkin,
Rashed can hear the sound. Rashed hears that two other
deputy clowns have already been employed under the greatest
clown. They try to swell their chests that even the
screen of the TV trembles, make a cracking sound. An
announcer begins to announce with the enthusiasm of
a frog that the country has been marked into five regions:
General Kharamali for region Ka, General Kharamali for
region Kha, General Garamali for region Ga etc. Rashed
can hear general, general, general! general, general,
general, lieutenant general, major general. Rashed becomes
attacked with two pressure—one in his abdomen,
the other gorging in his chest and the termed it as
general pressure. Rashed says, congratulation Bangladesh
mother of generals, congratulations. You are motherless,
you have so much space in your uterus. Rashed visualizes
a scene, the mother Bangladesh is groaning on the streets,
storming her birth-canal tanks are coming out with generals
having black sun-glasses.
Democracy
is pouring from the TV, law and orders are heaving,
economy is improving; the sounds of pouring, hearing
and improving ae taking particular existence to Rashed.
Every where there is the curfew; like all the twelve
crore people of Bangladesh Rashed is also captivated
in the lumps of lies. Nothing true is all around, the
truth will be uttered in the country, falsity will dominate
in the disguise of truth. In his boyhood Rashed first
experienced such falsehood in the greenary of his country
and then appeared the Khans one after another, Pakistan
turned a Khanstan; the Khans – one following the
previous one divided this country which is parted at
birth. The monstous Khans like Ayub, Azam, Omrao filled
the whole Pakistan. There was a great repercussion in
the East Bengal; none found the military as Rashed did
not find. The man who sold betel leaves at a corner
of the bazaar; Barek who never left the village for
town and who understood these cows as Pakistan, and
to whom the cowdung was holier than Pakistan; their
geography teacher; or the peon who rang the school bell
– everyone of them became moved, Radhed understood.
Even their servant happily uttered, the appearance of
Ayub Khan is a good look! When the sheep hear the sound
of the wolf, they become so happy.
Rahsed
would peep into the teachers’ room then. Standing
by the window Rashed heard teacher’ talks which
proved they were happy with the arrival of the Khans.
Most of them would say: Pakistan is save now. Only the
assistant head master a Hindu one who would understand
the best and teach the best would say, Pakistan is destroyed
now. Rashed could not understand what disease had attacked
the country, but he guessed that Pakistan had been attacked
by some diseases and their was a question of life or
death, where death was most possible. He feared because
death was a usuality, he heard the death from cholera
and pox and he thought a country could be attacked by
these diseases. For a long time, after class V he had
been in a fear, which he never exposed, that Pakistan
had two limbs-one in this side, the other in the other
side and it had no body at all. Then it seemed that
Pakistan is a ghost because ghosts do not have any body.
He believed as the assistant headmaster taught the best
and always did sums correctly, his word would prove
true, though his opinion was different from that of
others. There came blackish and dirty dailies where
the pictures of Ayub Khan were published with long captions
such as : The saviour of Pakistan, the great reliever
etc.
The
Bangali is such a nation that it hates itself and the
Bangali Muslims along with that adore even a beast brought
from the west. Rashed can recall that his teachers and
the oldies of the village and bazaar got mad in praising
those Khans. Showing him a picture of Ayub Khan a teacher
told him: See here’s a Pathanka Bachcha. Without
them the Banglalis will destroy Pakistan. Rashed felt
helpless and after that troupes of Khans came in the
village market. Immediately they caught hold some big
merchants who did not get enough time to query about
their faults, the Khans ordered them to take loads of
2/3 mounds and run. As it was even tough to stand aright
with those loads, they would fall under the load and
then the Khans whipped them. This spectacle made some
give the ‘Pakistan Zindabad’ slogans. Later
they caught hold those who were involved in politics
and thus drowning the nation. They drowned those people
without cloths and whipped. These process of saving
Pakistan made the Maulana arrange a prayer.
Rashed
and his friends felt afraid thinking that the military
would one day come to their class and give loads like
benches on their shoulders and if they fail, they would
be whipped. They did not come but their laws came. One
day headmaster informed the military rule that everyone
must have a army hair-cut. Consequently they all made
their heads something like without hair and the class
looked add. Seeing this the assistant headmaster said
that we had made our heads Pakistan. While thinking
that the military rule has crossed over their heads,
they heard another announcement that every one must
clean all nearby places of his/her house.
There
should remain no jungle in Pakistan; Pakistan should
get ironed as the uniform, clipped as the moustouch,
get polished as the boots. With a beat of the drums
the village fork were informed that martial law had
been imposed, General Mohammad Ayub Khan had saved Pakistan.
No utterance was allowed against martial law, every
order of martial law must be obeyed, and all garbage
and jungle had to be cleaned. In the announcement ‘whipping’
was announced repeatedly, how many whipping for what
crime was also announced. Rashed understood, there were
only two things in Pakistan, one was crime and the other
was whipping; every Pakistani was a criminal and his
only due was whipping. To save Pakistan every Pakistani
had to be whipped and skinned and made vomit and excrete,
and only then Pakistan would be saved. Daguzola of their
village spitted in the Police station haat while selling
clothes because he alongwith his fore fathers had spitted
everytime without any hesitation and considered it as
a part of their freedom and culture, Dagu did not know
spitting had been incorporated into marital law. For
spitting on the road Dagu got twenty five stokes till
he became senseless and consequently the others began
to swallow spit to keep other Pakistanies alive.
Among
the people who went to the police station to see military
men, who wanted to be blessed seeing the process of
saving Pakistan was the well-known mad man of Kabutarkhola
who was more well known than Ayub Khan before the injunction
of marital law, who had a shaggy head and got special
recognition for that and was formidable to others of
his class. Going to Sreenagar, he stood before the military
men and gave his unique salute. When he was expecting
reply from the pure muslim sepoys he was dashed by rifles
and unrobed and given ten stokes one after another.
He remained senseless on the street for three days,
people stopped visiting Sreenagar, and the populace
of the area became furious hearing about their favourite
mad man. The people who became happy when the military
men burdened the shopkeepers with heavy loads, who did
not become happy rather unhappy when they whipped the
President of the union Board because they themselves
would skin his back if they could, now became angry
when their well-known mad one was whipped. But they
had nothing to do, they only ceased to go to Sreenagar;
and got hopeless about the process of development in
Pakistan. They began to love their own skin than Pakistan.
Rashed
and their boy servant were then busy to execute an important
military order without which Pakistan could fall in
danger. He hung the picture of the great saviour that
he got from the school on their northern house, and
it reminded that Pakistan had already rescued except
the bushes of the north of their house and the excreta
of the cattle. It seemed that if that was cleaned, there
would remain no problem in Pakistan - it would endure
at least one thousand years or more, though there flicked
the question would it endure? The cow-shed was at the
north west of their house, a jujube-tree east to that,
some bushes east to that, not much not enough to destroy
Pakistan, though it could not be assured because Pakistan
was at a peril from the very beginning. Everything in
Pakistan was doubtful, everything was conspiring against
Pakistan, so that bushes and insects in it were also
very doubtful, who knew what conspiracy they were making.
Rashed and their boy servant began to clean the bushes.
Rashed first thought certainly there were something
dangerous in the bushes, but he could see nothing. The
boy said: Dada with what shall we do our teeth after
cutting all these? He did not like to use coal, he used
to remove a twig, did his teeth and threw it away. The
boy shrieked seeing his bush of brushes abolished for
marshal law. Rashed made him understand that if the
military who were then mad to save Pakistan could hear
his cry, he would be hanged for treason. The boy got
afraid hearing this, but said: Dada is it a crime even
to cry now? Will Pakistan die for this cry? While clearing
the bushes Rashed observed a Shalik fly away; Rashed
got ashamed to him thinking that possibly that bird
had taken him as a military person, but Rashed felt
pain because he could not tell that he was not a military
man, never he would be. The Shalik made a nest what
was fallen; Rashed understood that Pakistan was much
more important than the nest. If necessary all the nest
of the Shaliks would be destroyed to save Pakistan,
if necessary a division of soldiers would be deployed
to destroy the nestle of a Shalik. Their cowshed was
near there; Rahsed saw when they were cleaning the aram
plants, an insect called bittle was flying excitedly.
Its flight seemed very objectionable – mostly
political - which was a breach of martial law. The bittles
were living on the wall of the cowshed generation after
generation, but to save the existence of Pakistan they
must be abolished. As those insects are the inhabitants
of Pakistan, they must abide by the marital rules. But
at that moment an incident subversive of the state occured
at Sreenagar.
A
flow of rage spread across the whole locality after
the caning of the insane man. The smile that originated
from the caning incident of the Union Board Chairman
and the traders, wither away and they began to whisper
about it whenever they met. They became doubtful about
them who could easily cane the innocent insane person,
could cut off his hair tuft. The old beggar woman who
came for alms before noon, began to talk about the mad
person before asking for alms and foretold about their
fate. Rahsed tries to think about the fate of Pakistan
where he could visualise the lines drawn by the Almighty
Himself. Father commented: We should remain alarmed
about the persons who can beat a mad man so cruelly.
When everyone was passing his/her day in a very tumultuous
condition, Sreenagar experienced a revolt. The mad woman,
who was very jeolous about the mad man‘s tremendous
popularity and thought that the mad man had taken the
lion share which she would have possessed, took an enterprise.
For some days she remained gloomy or hilarious at different
times. One noon when a group of saviours of Pakistan
were crossing before her, she threw a black pottery
on the leader’s face. The pottery smashed on the
Major’s face and a piece penetrated his nose;
his forehead bleeded. The military men opened fire from
the machinegun relentlessly. Her body and Pakistan remained
safe though the face of the Major got injured. After
this incident all the people of the bazaar left, particularly
the mad ones and they never returned to Sreenagar. To
throw a black pottery on one’s face was very disgraceful
– similar incidents on the faces of the devils
like the Union Board Member or President by any woman
were not very rare. But this was the first time of throwing
a black pottery on the face of Pakistan....