Between Clay and Dust Read online

  At that moment he considered that if he gave the fight to Imama it would open the way for him to wrest the title from him later, after Imama had vanquished Ustad Ramzi. He would not have to be indebted to Ustad Ramzi for withdrawing in his favor. Shocked at the baseness of his thoughts, Tamami violently shook his head.

  “Throw him down, Imama! Throw him down!” the chorus continued.

  The trainees from Ustad Ramzi’s clan now answered:

  “Don’t show him any mercy, Tamami, if you are your mother’s son!”

  “Kill the rat now, Tamami! Enough of playing with him!”

  Imama’s clan was to blame for starting the shouting match, but Ustad Ramzi was angered by this breakdown of discipline among the trainees of his clan. He shouted at them to shut up.

  The thought of losing to Imama again entered Tamami’s mind. He tried to drive the thought away. Imama lurched forward to attack. Tamami hit out as a sudden surge of power filled his body.

  Imama reeled and fell, struck on his left temple by Tamami’s powerful forearm. People roared with excitement, but the next moment everyone fell quiet. Imama had rolled over and become still.

  No one sitting around the akhara moved. Only those standing in the back rows surged forward to see what had happened. Someone from Imama’s clan shouted, calling for a doctor. As Tamami moved toward him, he was held back by Kabira.

  As the members of Ustad Imama’s clan began pouring into the akhara, Kabira signaled to the trainees, who quickly circled Tamami and took him away to a safe distance.

  ❖

  “Imama is dead!” Ustad Ramzi muttered to himself in disbelief.

  The pahalwan’s corpse was carried away to the hospital for a post-mortem after the doctor confirmed his death. A couple of hours after the incident, the police arrived to record the witnesses’ statements. Tamami was deposed before a magistrate. Ustad Ramzi accompanied him to the court for the deposition. After returning to his quarters Tamami locked himself in his room. Ustad Ramzi sent everyone away.

  Later in the evening he called on the elders of Imama’s clan. The initial post-mortem report identified brain hemorrhage as the cause of death.

  Retiring to his quarters late at night, Ustad Ramzi hesitated as he passed Tamami’s door. He almost knocked but something held him back.

  ❖

  For several days after Imama’s death, Tamami did not attend the akhara. He remained closeted in his room. When a week had passed, Kabira tried to persuade him to get back to his routine in the akhara. Tamami refused.

  When he started attending the akhara at Kabira’s insistence, Tamami exercised alone. He refused the massage and later, when he started grappling, on occasions he abruptly left the akhara. Ustad Ramzi sent him to their ancestral village to rest for a month.

  He also wanted to shield Tamami from the vicious comments that were being made concerning Imama’s death and his role in it.

  “I knew that something would happen the day I saw Tamami sit on his trainer’s chest!”

  “They say once they have tasted blood, they develop a liking for it.”

  “It was Ustad Ramzi’s covetousness for his title that killed Imama.”

  “He attended Imama’s burial too—went there to make sure they bury him deep!”

  “Who would now challenge Ustad Ramzi after witnessing the manner in which Tamami killed Imama?”

  Ustad Ramzi told himself that tongues had wagged against him in the past, too; that he must not pay any heed to the comments. But it made him uneasy that more than Tamami, these barbs targeted him.

  Donation

  Gohar Jan had heard that the mosque’s roof was damaged by the rains and a collection had been started for the repairs. She planned to send money for the repairs as she had always done, but something about the trinket-seller Shukran’s report on the young maulvi made her reconsider her decision.

  In the evening as Ustad Ramzi was leaving the kotha after the recital she brought an envelope to him and said, “I would like to ask a favor of you… Please give it to Maulvi Yameen for repairs to the mosque roof.”

  As Ustad Ramzi took the money, Gohar Jan said, “And please do not mention who sent it.”

  She saw Ustad Ramzi hesitate. He looked uncomfortable for a moment. But he took the envelope and after counting the money put it away in his kurta pocket.

  As Ustad Ramzi left, Gohar Jan regretted asking him to deliver the money. She told herself she should have found another means of sending the money.

  Ustad Ramzi’s reluctance had hurt her. She recalled his insisting on paying for the recitals after the kotha’s closure, and felt that the graciousness that impelled people to accept and grant small kindnesses had no place in Ustad Ramzi’s heart. For the first time it also occurred to her that it gave him a certain privilege in his relationships: he could neither be dismissed as a stranger nor held to any commitment to anyone.

  The thought made her unhappy, but she could not help feeling sorry for Ustad Ramzi at the same time.

  ❖

  Ustad Ramzi was vexed with himself. He had unwittingly embroiled himself in a business that had nothing to do with him. He regretted giving his consent so hastily to Gohar Jan, but it was too late to refuse. The realization that Gohar Jan had accepted his visits to the kotha on his own terms had been a source of consolation to him. It troubled him now that she had felt free to make a change in their arrangement.

  On the way to the mosque, Ustad Ramzi thought about the ethical value of what he had accepted to do for Gohar Jan. If Gohar Jan had any apprehensions that her donation would be rejected, she should not have sent it anonymously by his hand. And if Maulvi Yameen wished to refuse a donation on principle, why must he pass it off as from someone else?

  Ustad Ramzi was further troubled when at the mosque Yameen thanked him profusely for the money. Ustad Ramzi told him that it was an anonymous donation. As Yameen continued to thank him, Ustad Ramzi felt that perhaps Yameen thought he was refusing to acknowledge the donation out of religious modesty. He felt it improper that he should receive credit for someone else’s charity.

  Ustad Ramzi finally told Maulvi Yameen that the money came from Gohar Jan who wished to remain anonymous.

  Taint

  Gohar Jan had returned from a visit to a neighboring kotha when she heard a knock on the door. Answering it, she found the visitor had already climbed down a few steps. She could not make out his face on the dark stairwell.

  “Who is it?” Gohar Jan asked. “Maulvi Yameen from the mosque.”

  “Oh, Yameen,” she looked closely. Gohar Jan had not seen him for some years.

  “How fast children grow up… Come inside, boy… Poor Maulvi Hidayatullah… I found out about his passing away much later…”

  “I am in a bit of a hurry,” Maulvi Yameen said. “I have to go to a few other places before the Asr prayers.” “It does not look nice talking standing outside like this, child. If you are in a hurry we could send someone to the mosque tomorrow,” she said.

  “All right, I will come in,” he quickly replied. “But only for a minute.”

  She could barely recognize him with his beard.

  Gohar Jan showed him into the veranda. Yameen avoided eye contact with her.

  “What is it about?” she asked, once he had sat down on one of the chairs near the potted palms.

  “I came to tell you…about the money you sent. The repair work has begun.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Gohar Jan said.

  Ustad Ramzi had not been discreet, she realized.

  Maulvi Yameen looked away again. She sensed restraint in his manner and wondered about its reason.

  “There is something about which I…it’s about your donation…” he finally said, and stopped again. “I have to write a receipt…for amounts over one hundred rupees. At the end of the month, the mosque committee looks at the
receipt books. There is a small problem. A small thing, but…someone might…they might not like the idea of…you should not think… what I mean to say is that they might object. They can object. They might blame the person who accepted it… In this case I would be held responsible. But the repairs were needed urgently. For me, the mosque and the comfort of the worshippers come first. Of course, if you would like your donation to be returned…

  I can arrange for it. It may take a little time, but it can be arranged.”

  Gohar Jan found herself unprepared for such presumption and effrontery. She had done something that needed to be done without being asked, and as far as she was concerned, the matter had ended there. But not only was she being reminded that her charity was tainted, she was being humiliated as well.

  The sudden, impulsive glare of anger died however, even as it flashed in her blood. Seeing the man seated before her, Gohar Jan only felt a sense of loss for the child she had known. The whole thing was so contemptible that she felt the matter had absolutely no relevance or connection to her.

  “I would not care for the receipt. I do not have any use for it,” she said calmly. “You can say it was an anonymous donation. I would prefer it to be that way, too. Nobody else has to know, and the matter of the receipt would not even arise.”

  Gohar Jan now wondered if Yameen had visited the kotha because he did not like the idea of Banday Ali or somebody else calling at the mosque at her behest again.

  “Only if it is all right with you…” Maulvi Yameen said, avoiding her eyes. “I will go now.”

  When she said nothing, he quietly got up and left. Gohar Jan wistfully thought of the old Maulvi Hidayatullah again and felt a strange sense of loss.

  The burdensome, depressing feeling that she had felt in Maulvi Yameen’s presence and which had momentarily lifted as he had walked away, returned. It was not so much the changing times that troubled her, but the worst they seemed to bring out in people.

  ❖

  When Ustad Ramzi next visited Gohar Jan he brought up the subject of the donation and mentioned that he had told Maulvi Yameen who had sent the money.

  “He thought it was from me,” Ustad Ramzi continued. “In the past, too, I know you had helped the mosque on a number of occasions. I saw no reason why your name should not be acknowledged.”

  “Thank you for delivering the donation for me,” Gohar Jan said. “It was for the best. Please think no more about it.”

  As Gohar Jan reached for the sitar, Ustad Ramzi no longer felt sure about the propriety of what he had done.

  Dread

  Powerful and conflicting emotions always made Tamami take the avenue of self-reproach whenever he attempted to reflect on the events of that fateful day when Imama was felled by his hand. He never stopped thinking about that moment. For weeks afterwards, he shrank from human touch.

  Tamami could still feel the sensation of his forearm hitting Imama’s skull. He kept recalling that moment of contact and sensing it in the nerves of his forearm. When he resumed grappling in the akhara, he would pull away violently if a trainee caught his right forearm. The time he had spent in the village away from the akhara hardly calmed his nerves.

  No new challengers came forward to contest Ustad Ramzi’s title in the meanwhile. But Tamami resumed his training regime to ensure that Ustad Ramzi did not find him remiss in his duties.

  His desire to acquire the title of Ustad-e-Zaman had remained alive in him although Ustad Ramzi had not mentioned anything about it since the day Imama died.

  Tamami knew that Imama’s death was behind the pahalwans’ refusal to challenge Ustad Ramzi. He was not deaf to what others said about his fight with Imama. A dread sometimes seized him that no one would ever challenge Ustad Ramzi again. As the passing days reinforced this fear in his mind, his strenuous schedule seemed increasingly oppressive and punishing.

  He suffered in equal measure from the unspoken stigma of being a murderer and the physical pain of the exercises that increasingly seemed futile to him. A dark void tested Tamami’s will. When he stepped into the akhara he felt conscious of a presence that bore down and suffocated him. Slowly that presence acquired a face. As he recognized the face as Ustad Ramzi’s, base thoughts took hold in Tamami’s mind once more.

  He began to neglect his akhara duties again.

  ❖

  Ustad Ramzi was alone in the akhara in the early hours one morning. An earthy, spicy fragrance rose from the clay that was moist with dew. When he looked towards Tamami’s room he saw that its windows were still dark. The dilapidated building that stood at the periphery of the akhara shielded the trainees’ quarters in the westerly building from his view. However, he could not see any one of them in the akhara. Two trainees had stopped coming altogether in the last few weeks. Later, Ustad Ramzi discovered they had joined Imama’s clan. He felt keenly that Tamami’s behavior was having an adverse effect on the trainees.

  These developments convinced Ustad Ramzi that Tamami symbolized everything that had gone wrong with his life. Whenever something was expected of Tamami, or worse, when something was entrusted to him, disaster followed. Ustad Ramzi was reminded of those instances every time he looked at his brother.

  Pact

  some days later, Tamami received a message that Gulab Deen wished to discuss something important privately with him.

  “I know that Imama’s death was an accident and what people are saying is false, but there is no stopping their tongues,” Gulab Deen said when they got together. “They say that Tamami has become a killer. Nobody fights a pahalwan with such a reputation. In these circumstances, a pahalwan who agrees to a bout with you should be shown a little respect. Without an arrangement you would not get a fight.”

  Tamami listened in silence.

  “Sher Ali is still willing to fight,” Gulab Deen said. “But only if you draw out the fight a little, so that the spectators get a chance to enjoy the pahalwans’ engagement.”

  Tamami became thoughtful. Gulab Deen cautioned him, “Ustad Ramzi must not learn about this arrangement. If he had meant to get you a challenger himself, he would not have objected to your fighting Sher Ali. Ustad Ramzi wants to take his title to his grave, I’m sure.

  “You mustn’t overlook another thing which is to your advantage. If you prolong the fight, you will get rid of the blemish and encourage more pahalwans to try their luck by challenging you. Once your bout with Imama is forgotten, you can issue an open challenge. When you have defeated the challengers, there will be no question as to who must have the title of Ustad-e-Zaman!”

  ❖

  Tamami did not wish to offend his brother so he asked Kabira to mention Gulab Deen’s idea of an exhibition bout to Ustad Ramzi to see how he would react.

  Ustad Ramzi did not comment when Kabira communicated the message, thereby giving the idea his tacit approval.

  Tamami was relieved at first. He finally had the freedom to act according to his own wishes and to develop his own exercise regime.

  But, as the days passed, Tamami felt that Ustad Ramzi was ignoring everything related to his preparation for the fight. He felt that Ustad Ramzi had been interested in his training only because his own title was at stake. Now Ustad Ramzi did not express interest because Tamami fought for his own name. His older brother left him alone because he did not wish to be part of a process that could ultimately lead to his relinquishing his title.

  The brothers seldom spoke, unless it was about something related to the akhara or the trainees. They almost never exchanged any words in private. Ustad Ramzi felt easier addressing Tamami when others were present. Tamami also seemed to prefer it, and answered with less awkwardness and inhibition. The distance between them grew.

  Defiance

  During the exhibition bout Ustad Ramzi observed Tamami prolonging the fight with Sher Ali. He angrily left the akhara when he realized Tamami was doing something that he had expressl
y forbidden him to do. The trainees followed him. Gulab Deen was worried when he saw Ustad Ramzi leave, but when Tamami ignored Ustad Ramzi’s departure and continued with the bout, Gulab Deen did not try to call him back. Tamami won the fight.

  There were many spectators. Promoter Gulab Deen was overjoyed.

  “I told you,” he said to Tamami after the fight. “Someone who has the art to pin down his opponent within a minute has the art to delay it for a half-hour, too. A half-hour only. A half-hour is all I ask. You saw for yourself. Nobody complained. Everyone will come again.”

  Gulab Deen kept Tamami up late talking about the great things that he had planned for him. He told Tamami not to worry about anyone or anything.

  When Tamami returned to the akhara, he was satisfied by the decision he had made independently of his brother. For the first time in his life, he had defied Ustad Ramzi and his brother had been unable to do anything.

  When Tamami emerged from his quarter the next morning and greeted his brother, Ustad Ramzi did not return his greeting. Tamami felt the trainees also avoided him. Kabira told him that Ustad Ramzi had taken charge of the trainees again.

  Kabira told him that the previous night, after Ustad Ramzi returned from the exhibition bout, he had overheard the trainees talking about the variety of holds and locks they had witnessed in Tamami’s fight with Sher Ali. He had been furious.

  “A pahalwan does not sell his body!” Ustad Ramzi had shouted angrily. “Tamami brought disgrace to the clan by fighting a fixed bout with Sher Ali.”

  Everyone was silenced by Ustad Ramzi’s outburst, Kabira told Tamami. Ustad Ramzi remained irritable and short-tempered the rest of the evening and forbade the trainees from having anything to do with Tamami.

  Tamami sat around in the akhara, looking around and pondering what he must do. When Kabira asked him when he would start his exercises, Tamami told him that he was taking a day of rest. He left the akhara and spent the day with friends in the neighborhood.