Lajja (11 page)

‘Didn’t Kemal or anyone come?’ Suronjon asked.

‘No.’ Kironmoyee shook her head.

No one had come to see if Suronjon was all right. On the other hand, he had gone all over the city inquring after people. Everyone was well, except he. No other family was perhaps facing such poverty and uncertainty. Suronjon grasped his father’s limp hand and felt great pity. He wondered whether his father had deliberately become inert in a dysfunctional world.

‘Isn’t Maya back?’ asked Suronjon, getting up with alacrity.

‘No.’

‘Why hasn’t she come back?’ Suronjon screamed suddenly.

Kironmoyee was startled. Her gentle son never spoke with such heat. Why was he screaming today? Maya had not done anything wrong by going to Parul’s. In fact, her going had brought them comfort. If people came to plunder this Hindu household, Maya was their only possession of value. After all, people did think of their daughters as comparable to gold or other such valuable objects.

‘Why does she have such faith in the Muslims? How long will they save her?’ he asked as he paced agitatedly up and down the room.

Kironmoyee could not understand why Suronjon was using his time spewing anger about Maya being in a Muslim house instead of calling a doctor and focusing on Sudhamoy’s illness.

‘You need to call a doctor. Where will you get the money for the treatment, I ask you?’ muttered Suronjon. ‘Two callow youth of the locality made some threats. You got scared and sold a house worth 1 million takas for two hundred thousand. Aren’t you ashamed now to live like beggars?’

‘It wasn’t just a fear of those young men. There was also a fear of litigation,’ replied Kironmoyee.

Suronjon kicked the chair that was there on the veranda.

‘And your daughter has gone to marry a Muslim. She feels that Muslims will feed her for free. Madam wants to be rich.’

He left home. There were two doctors in their locality. There was Horipodo Sarkar at the Tikatuli crossing and Amjad Hussain lived two houses away. Whom should he call? Suronjon walked around erratically. He had screamed because Maya had not returned. Was it really because she had not come back or because she was dependent on Muslims? Was he becoming mildly communal? He was no longer sure of himself.

Suronjon began walking towards the Tikatuli crossing.

Hyder had dropped in at Suronjon’s. He was not there to check on Suronjon but had simply dropped in to pass the time of day with his friend. Hyder was an Awami League activist. Suronjon had once tried to set up a modest business with him but had finally realized that it would not really get anywhere and had dropped the plan. Hyder’s favourite topic was politics. It used to be Suronjon’s favourite subject too, but these days he did not like discussing politics. He would rather lie quietly in bed than waste time thinking and talking about what Ershad had done, what Khaleda was doing and what Hasina might do. Hyder was doing all the talking. He made quite a long speech about Islam being the state religion.

‘Hyder,’ said Suronjon, lolling in bed, ‘does your state or Parliament have the right to create divisions between people of different religions?’

Hyder was settled comfortably in a chair and had stretched his legs out on the table. He was flipping through Suronjon’s books with red covers. He laughed out loud when he heard Suronjon’s question.

‘What do you mean by “your state”?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t the state yours too?’

Suronjon smiled a half smile. He had deliberately ‘gifted’ the expression ‘your state’ to Hyder.

‘I’m going to ask a few questions,’ said Suronjon, smiling, ‘and I want answers from you.’

Hyder shifted and sat straight.

‘The answer to your question is no. In other words, the state has no right to create divisions between different religions.’

‘Does the state have the right to show preference to one religion over another and grant it special privileges?’ asked Suronjon, after taking a long drag on his cigarette.

‘No,’ answered Hyder immediately.

‘Does the state or Parliament have the right to be partial?’ This was Suronjon’s third question.

Hyder shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Does the Parliament have the right to change one of the fundamental principles of the Constitution of the Republic of Bangladesh—the principle of secularism?’

Hyder listened to him carefully. ‘No, certainly not,’ he said.

‘The nation’s sovereignty is based on the equal rights of all people. Hasn’t this base been threatened in the guise of amending the Constitution?’ asked Suronjon.

Hyder narrowed his eyes and looked at Suronjon. He was joking, wasn’t he? Why was he bringing up these old questions?

‘Didn’t declaring Islam the state religion mean that other communities would be deprived of state patronage and recognition?’ It was Suronjon’s sixth question to Hyder.

‘Yes, it did,’ said Hyder, frowning.

Suronjon knew the answers to all these questions. So did Hyder. Suronjon was well aware that both he and Hyder thought similarly about these issues. Hyder wondered whether Suronjon was checking to see if Hyder harboured even the slightest communal feelings deep inside. Was this the reason why he had brought up these questions after Hyder had talked about the Eighth Amendment?

‘My last question,’ said Suronjon as he stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, ‘is why are we trying to bring Bangladesh back into the complicated vortex of the two-nation theory that caused the separation from British India and created a different country? Who is doing this ignoble thing? And whose interests will this serve?’

Hyder did not say anything this time. He lit a cigarette.

‘Jinnah himself had rejected the two-nation theory as a framework for the state. He said, “From today the Muslim, Hindu, Christian or Buddhist will not be known in national life by their religious identity. They are all Pakistani citizens irrespective of their race or religion and will be known simply as Pakistani.” Pakistan was perhaps better, don’t you think?’ asked Suronjon, sitting up from his sprawled position.

Hyder got very excited and sprang to his feet. ‘No, Pakistan was not good at all,’ he said. ‘You folks could hope for nothing in Pakistan. After Bangladesh was created, all of you thought that in this secular country all your rights would be protected. However, when this country became an obstacle to you people realizing your dreams—all of you were deeply hurt.’

Suronjon laughed out loud. ‘So finally even you are talking about “you folks”, “your dreams”, “all of you” and so on,’ said Suronjon, laughing. ‘Who are these “you folks”? Hindus, right? So you include me in the Hindu community? This is what I get after professing atheism all along?’

Suronjon paced up and down the room, very agitated. The number of people dead in the riots in India had crossed 600. The police had arrested eight fundamentalist leaders. The president of the BJP, Murli Manohar Joshi, and L.K. Advani were included in these eight arrests. Strikes were being held across India to protest the destruction of the Babri Masjid. Riots were going on in Bombay, Ranchi, Karnataka and many parts of Maharashtra, and people were dying. Suronjon clenched his fists in disgust at the extremist, fundamentalist Hindus. If he had the power, he would have lined up all the fundamentalists in the world and shot them.

The fundamentalist party of Bangladesh said: ‘The Government of India is responsible for the destruction of the Babri Masjid. The Hindus of Bangladesh are not responsible for the mistakes of the Government of India. We are not antagonistic towards the Hindus of Bangladesh or temples. We have to be motivated by the spirit of Islam and maintain communal harmony.’

The statement of the communal party was being broadcast on radio, television and the newspapers. They may have said one thing, but one had to see the unbelievable terror and destruction that they had let loose in the country on the day of the strike, in the guise of protesting the destruction of the Masjid. On the pretext of protesting, the killers of 1971 were ravaging and burning the offices of the Ghaatok-Dalal Nirmul Committee and even the offices of the Communist Party. Why was this happening? A representative delegation of the Jamaat-e-Islami had met the leaders of the BJP. What had they discussed? Suronjon speculated about their discussions and conspiracies. The entire subcontinent was in the grip of riots that had been sparked off in the name of religion, there were awful cruelties inflicted upon minority communities, and since Suronjon was part of a minority community he was aware of the full extent of the cruelty. Just as the Christian citizens of Bangladesh were not responsible for the incidents in Bosnia and Herzegovina, similarly, the Hindu citizens of Bangladesh were not responsible for the tragedies in India. How could Suronjon possibly explain this to anyone?

‘Go, get ready,’ said Hyder. ‘We need to join the solidarity meet. Yes, the human chain. There’s going to be a human chain across the country. This chain will focus on practising the ideas of the Liberation War and preserving the sovereignty of our Liberation by emphasizing the unity of our nation. The National Coordination Committee has convened this human chain as a symbol of national unity against the killers and traitors of 1971. The committee says that this chain which is to be held across the country, also signifies regional fellow feeling as opposed to fundamentalism, and is a symbol of international humanism striving towards world peace.’

‘What do I care?’ asked Suronjon.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyder. ‘You don’t care?’

‘No,’ said Suronjon, calm and unperturbed.

Hyder was completely taken aback. He had been standing but he sat down again. He lit another cigarette.

‘Can I have a cup of tea?’ he asked.

‘There’s no sugar at home,’ said Suronjon as he stretched out on the bed.

The human chain would begin from the Bahadur Shah Park and wind its way to the National Parliament—the Jatiyo Songsod Bhobon. There would be no vehicles travelling along this route from eleven o’clock in the morning to one o’clock in the afternoon. Hyder was about to say more about the chain when Suronjon interrupted him: ‘What did Hasina say at the Awami League meeting yesterday?’

‘At the gathering for peace?’

‘Yes.’

‘She said that peace brigades would be created in all localities to preserve communal harmony and this measure would include all, irrespective of religion or race.’

‘So this will save us, that is, us Hindus? It means that we will stay alive, is it?’

Hyder did not reply, but he looked at Suronjon. He had not shaved and his hair was dishevelled. Hyder decided to change tack.

‘Where is Maya?’ asked Hyder.

‘She’s gone to hell,’ said Suronjon.

Hyder was startled to hear Suronjon use the word hell.

‘So what is hell like?’ asked Hyder, laughing.

‘Snakes bite you, scorpions sting you, your body burns in fire, you are reduced to ashes; but despite all this, you don’t die,’ said Suronjon.

‘Gosh, you are much better informed about hell than me.’

‘We have to be. After all, it is we who burn in the fire.’

‘Why is your house so quiet? Where are your parents? Have you sent them away somewhere?’

‘No.’

‘Suronjon, have you noticed that the Jamaatis are using the Babri Masjid incident to differently interpret the demand for Ghulam Azam’s trial?’

‘Maybe they are doing that, but honestly, I don’t really care about Ghulam Azam like you do. How am I affected if he is jailed or hanged? I don’t think it makes a difference.’

‘You are changing.’

‘Hyder, Khaleda Zia has also said that the Babri Masjid has to be rebuilt. Tell me, why is she not talking of rebuilding temples?’

‘Do you want temples to be rebuilt?’

‘You know very well that I don’t want temples, mosques or anything. But if rebuilding is being discussed then why are people asking only for the mosque?’

Hyder lit another cigarette. He could not understand why Suronjon would stay in his room, all by himself, on the day of the human chain. Earlier that year, on 26 March, it was Suronjon who had woken him up to join the People’s Court. It had been raining and Hyder was lying snug in bed, wrapped in a sheet.

‘Let’s not go today,’ Hyder had yawned. ‘Let’s stay home and snack on muri.’

Suronjon had not agreed.

‘You have to come along,’ he had insisted, as he had stood up to go. ‘Get ready fast. Will anything change if even people like us stay away?’

They had gone despite the storm and rain. And Suronjon was now saying that he did not like meetings and gatherings and that things like the human chain were hollow.

Hyder tried hard from nine till eleven o’clock in the morning but was not able to persuade Suronjon to be a part of the human chain.

Kironmoyee had called Maya back from Parul’s house. Once home, Maya threw herself on her incapacitated, immobile, weak and silent father’s chest, and began to cry. Suronjon heard her sobs and was infuriated. Do tears achieve anything? It was far more important to get the disease treated. The doctor, Horipodo, had prescribed medicines but Suronjon had only been able to buy enough for three days. Was there any more money left in Kironmoyee’s cupboard? He felt that it was unlikely that it would yield anything.

He had not had a job for a long time now. Actually, he could never take orders from anyone. He began to feel hungry as he pondered whether he should revive the business that he’d once run with Hyder. He felt that he could not tell anyone that he was hungry. After all, it was not the right time for a meal. Neither Maya nor Kironmoyee was likely to come to his room. His family had stopped bothering about him because he was useless and unemployed. He was not keen to find out whether meals were still being cooked in their home. He had not gone to Sudhamoy’s room today. The outside door to Suronjon’s room was open—his friends normally used this door to come directly to his room. He had shut the inside door to his room, the one that connected it to the rest of the house. Perhaps that was the reason why no one was coming into his room. They probably thought that he was with friends and they were having intense conversations. And what was Suronjon expecting, anyway? What had he ever done for his family? He had always been busy with his friends and the world outside. With people at home, he had either screamed about things or remained indifferent. He had always been eager to join political movements and had obeyed his party’s directions like a docile servant. He would come home late at night, pick up volumes of Marx and Lenin and begin swotting. How had that helped, he wondered. Had it helped either him or his family?

Hyder had left for the human chain. ‘Let him go,’ thought Suronjon, but he himself did not go. Why should he? Would the human chain be able to free him from his feelings of alienation? He didn’t think so. That is how Suronjon was these days; he had lost his faith in most things. Hyder was an old friend—day after day they had discussed many things and sharpened their logic, reason and conscience. They had, together, spent years appealing to the people of their country to come together and be true to the spirit of the Liberation, to keep alive the values dear to civilization and humanity. Nowadays Suronjon felt that there was no need to have done all that. It would have been better if he had drunk his fill of alcohol, watched films on a VCR—blue films—and engaged in ‘eve-teasing’, that is, harassing women on the streets. Or, he could have got married and become very worldly, calculated the costs of onions and garlic, gone to the market like a regular middle-class family man and tested fish by pinching it, to select what he had to buy—all would have been well then and he would not have felt such pain.

Suronjon lit a cigarette. He picked up a slim booklet on his table and glanced through it. It contained information about the communal terrors of 1990. He had never looked through this booklet before. In fact, he’d never felt the need to. Today, he felt drawn to the book. At one o’clock in the morning on 31 October 1990, the inhabitants of the Ponchanondham Ashram woke up suddenly because they heard the sounds of a rally. Those in the procession entered the ashram by breaking the gates and the wall. They abused the residents and poured kerosene on a room with a tin roof, and set it alight. The residents scattered in fear. The attackers broke all the idols one by one. They broke the steeple of the memorial temple of the ashram’s founder, and burnt all the religious books that they found. There was a Sanskrit institute in the premises of the ashram. They broke the cupboards of the institute, set the books on fire and grabbed all the money that they could find. A day earlier, on 30 October 1990, a large group of armed men, nearly two thousand five hundred of them, broke the main gate and entered the premises of the Sodorghat Kalibari at midnight. They came in throwing stones, broke the idol in the main temple and then used iron rods and immense shovels to ravage the place. They destroyed and burnt the shops and houses on either side of the staircase that led up to the temple of the goddess Chotteshwari. Everything in the Golpahar Shoshan—the crematorium—was plundered that night at around half past eleven, and then it was set on fire. The image of the goddess Kali at the crematorium was destroyed. After the news bulletin on Voice of America on the night of 30 October, a communal group unleashed an unbridled attack on the Koibolyodham Ashram. They broke each and every one of the images of the deities, and burnt all the things in every room. The residents of the ashram took refuge in the hills. Whoever was spotted was thrashed. Several thousand people attacked the temple many times. They used iron rods and shovels to destroy the framework of the building. They broke the idols inside the Horogouri temple and took away money and all other valuable things. The religious texts were set alight in a bonfire. The families that lived in the areas adjoining the temple, and each of the families of Malipara, lost everything and were compelled to live under the open skies. The temple of Krishnogopalji on Chotteshwari Road was attacked by armed men at nine o’clock at night. They took off with 200
bhoris
of silver, twenty-five bhoris of gold jewellery and many other valuable things. Before they left, they destroyed the idol and the main chamber of the temple. They destroyed the image of the cow that decorated the gate at the entrance of the temple and then took their spades to strike the pine trees of the temple to the ground. The idols that had been made for the Raas festival were not spared either. The rioters went into every Hindu house of the Bohoddorhaat Ilyas Colony and began a spree of robbery and destruction. They also committed unspeakable acts of violence on the people there, irrespective of whether they were men or women. They even twisted the blades of the ceiling fans to make sure they would not work.

There were robberies, destruction and burnings on the Chottogram College Road, in Dosobhuja Durgabari, the Korbaniganj Borodeshwari Kali Mandir, the Poromhonso Mahatma Norosingho temple, the Borsha Kalibari in north Chandgaon, the Durga Kalibari, the Sodorghat Siddheswari Kali Mandir, the Dewaneshwari Kalibari in Dewanhaat, the north Potenga Shoshan Kalibari in Katghor, at the Mogodheshwari Bigroho in east Madaribari, the Rokkhakali temple, the Milon Porishod temple in Mogoltuli, the Durga temple at Tiger Pass, the Shibbari and the Hori temple, the Raj Rajeshwari Thakurbari at Sodorghat, the Kali temple and Durgabari at Jalalabad, the Napitpara Shoshan temple at Kulgaon, the Korunamoyee Kali temple at Katalganj, the Joykali temple at Nathpara in Chandgaon, the Doyamoyee Kalibari at Najirpara and the Mogodheshwari Kali temple, the Kalibari at west Baklia, the Brohmomoyee Kalibari at Katalganj, the Boro Bazar Srikrishna temple at west Baklia, at the Shiva temple of Himangshu Das, Shotindro Das, Rammohon Das and Chondichoron Das, the Krishno temple of Monomohon Das, the Tulsidham temple of Nondon Kanon, the south Halishohor temple in the port area, at the Golpahar Moha Shoshan and Kalibari at Panchlaish, at the Jelepara Kali temple on Aman Ali Road and the Anondomoyee Kali temple on Medical College Road.

Destruction, plunder and burnings occurred at the Nolua Bura Kalibari in Satkania, the Sarbojonin Kalibari and Durgamandap at Jagoria, the Chondimandap at south Kanchona, the Mogodheshwari temple, the Modhyopara Kalibari at south Choroti, the Sarbojonin Kalibari at Modhyonolua, the temple at Choroti, the Roop Kalibari and Dhor Mandir at Barnakpara in south Choroti, the Jwalakumari temple at west Matiadanga, the Krishnohori temple at Badona Deputy Haat, the Durnigor Mahabodhi Bihar at Bajalia Durnigor, the historical Milon Mandir and Krishno temple at Kodhurkhil in Boalkhali, the Jogodanondo Mission at Aburdondi, the Sarbojonin Mogodheswari temple in west Shakyopura, the Mohinibabu Ashram in central Shakyopura, the Kali temple at Dhorola Kalaiahaat, the Sarbojonin Jogoddhatri temple at Kodhurkhil, the Kokdondiyo Rishidham Odhipoti, the family temple of Saswoto Choudhury at Kodhurkhil, the temple of Mogodheswari at Dhonpota, the Sarbojonin Kalibari at Sebakhola and Potia, the Dwijendradas Hori temple and Jogonnathbari at Nolua in Satkania, the Dokkhinpara Sarbojonin Kalibari at south Choroti in Satkania and the Sarbojonin Kalibari in south Brahmondanga.

On 31 October, around eleven o’clock at night, a mob of hundred went berserk at the Mirjapur Jogonnath Ashram in the Hathajari sub-district. They flung all the idols in the ashram to the floor and broke them. They stole the ornaments of Lord Jogonnath and the day after that a hundred people sprinkled a white powder on the tin roof of the ashram and set it alight. The police w ere there when the attackers came the next day but they moved away when they saw their procession. Later, the ashram authorities contacted the police for security but the police said that they had certain limitations. That night, about forty or forty-five armed people attacked the unarmed inhabitants of the village of Mekhol. They came in, commando-like, and burst cocktail bombs and scared the Hindus. After people left their homes in fear, they broke down doors and windows and began plundering and they broke every idol that they found in any home. They destroyed the idols in the temple belonging to Modonnath, a teacher at the Parboti High School and also in another temple, the Mogodheshwari Bari.

The marauders broke the idol in the Dhairhaat Hori temple in the Chondonaish sub-district and the chariot of Jogonnath. They attacked the Matri Mandir in Pathandondi village of the Borokol Union and also the temple of Radhagobindo. At midnight, 400 people of Boalkhali ransacked and damaged the Milon Mandir at Kodhurkhil Union and the temples in the homes of Himanshu Choudhury, Poresh Biswas, Bhupal Choudhury, Phonindro Choudhury and Anukul Choudhury. They destroyed the old Rishidham Ashram in the Banskhali sub-district. They burnt every room and set all the books and papers on fire.

Muslim fundamentalists attacked the Jogonnath Ashram in Sitakundo on the night of 31 October, with sticks, sickles and shovels. They entered the Kali temple established in 1801, the Bengali year of 1208, and beheaded the image of Goddess Kali and went away with her silver crown and gold jewellery. Most of the inhabitants of the Chorshorot village were Hindus. A mob of two or three hundred arrived there in a procession on the night of 1 November and plundered the village. They burnt whatever they could not carry away, and left behind houses reduced to ashes, and silent, half-burnt trees. Before they left, they said that if the inhabitants did not leave by 10 November they would be beaten to death. The goats and cattle that were too confused to allow themselves to be led by the mob were slaughtered. Granaries with paddy in them were set on fire. Nearly four thousand Hindus faced great damage. Nearly 75 per cent of the houses were burnt, one person died and innumerable goats and cattle were burnt in the fires. Many women were raped. The value of damaged things would total 5,50,00,000 takas. Nearly two hundred people came into Satbaria village at nine fifteen at night and attacked the Joyram temple with sticks, iron rods, sickles and other weapons and ground every idol in the temple to dust. The news of the attack frightened people in the neighbourhood and they ran in fear for their lives. Each family spent that night in the jungles or in the rice fields. The attackers robbed every home. After that night, no traces could be found of the Sarbojonin Durgabari of Satbaria. The temple and the houses in Khejuria village were also burnt. The families of peasants became completely destitute. Shoilendro Kumar’s wife was set on fire and she had major burns. People praying in the Shiva temple were attacked. The attackers showered obscenities, broke the idols and the altar, and urinated all over them.

Suronjon’s eyes grew dim with tears. It almost felt as though he was being showered in urine. He flung the booklet away.