Rasheed’s eyes flashed with anger and resistance. ‘You cannot dispossess me like that,’ he said. ‘The law of our community is clear –’ He turned to the Imam, appealing for confirmation.
‘I see you have made good use of your years of religious study as well,’ said his father bitingly. ‘Well, I would advise you, Abdur Rasheed, since you are referring to the law of inheritance, to wait until the auspicious moment when my father and I are both resting in peace near the lake before you avail yourself of it.’
The Imam looked profoundly shocked, and decided to intervene. ‘Rasheed,’ he said quietly, ‘what induced you to go behind your family’s back? You know that good order depends on the decent families of the village acting properly.’
Properly! thought Rasheed – what a joke, what a hypocritical joke. It was proper, no doubt, to tear virtual serfs away from the plots they had tilled for years in order to safeguard one’s own self-interest. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Imam was present only partly in his capacity as spiritual adviser.
And the Bear? What did he have to do with all this? Rasheed turned his eyes towards him, wordlessly pleading for his support. Surely the Bear must understand and sympathize with his intentions. But the Bear could not hold his gaze.
Rasheed’s father read his thoughts. Baring the remnants of his teeth he said: ‘Don’t look towards your Mamu for encouragement. You cannot go running to him to find shelter any longer. We have discussed the matter thoroughly together – as a family – as a family, Abdur Rasheed. That is why he is here. And he has every right to be involved in this, and to be shocked by your – your behaviour. Some of our land was bought with his sister’s dowry. Do you think we will give up so easily what we have worked to develop, to cultivate, to expand for generations? Do you think we don’t have enough trouble with the late rains this season to wish a plague of locusts upon our heads as well? If you give one plot of land to one chamar –’
The baby started wailing downstairs. Rasheed’s father got up, leaned over the parapet into the courtyard and called out: ‘Meher’s mother! Can’t you stop that child of Rasheed’s from making such a racket? Can men not talk together without being disturbed?’
He turned back to say: ‘Remember this, Rasheed: our patience is not unending.’
Rasheed, suddenly furious, and hardly thinking of his words, burst out: ‘And do you think mine is? Ever since I have come to the village, I have received nothing but taunts and envy. That destitute old man, who was good to you, Abba, in the old days, and whom you now ignore –’
‘Don’t try to stray from the subject,’ said his father sharply. ‘Keep your voice low.’
‘I am not straying – it is his evil and grasping brothers who waylaid me at their mosque and are now spreading these vile rumours –’
‘You see yourself in a very heroic light –’
‘If there was justice, they would be dragged to the court in chains and made to expiate their crimes.’
‘Courts, now, so you want to bring courts into this, Abdur Rasheed –’
‘Yes, I do, if there is no other way. And it will eventually be the courts who will make you too disgorge what for generations you have –’
‘Enough !’ Baba’s voice broke in like a whiplash.
But Rasheed hardly heard him.
‘Courts, Abba –’ he cried, ‘you are complaining about the courts? What do you think this is? This panchayat, this inquisitorial committee of five where you feel you can insult me freely –’
‘Enough!’ said Baba. He had never before had to raise his voice with Rasheed a second time.
Rasheed was quiet and bowed his head.
Netaji said: ‘Rasheed, you must not see us as a court. We are your seniors, your well-wishers, who have gathered together in the absence of strangers to advise you.’
Rasheed kept a tight rein on himself and managed not to say anything. From below the baby began to cry again.
Rasheed got up before his father could, and called towards the courtyard: ‘Wife! Wife! See that the child is comfortable’
‘Have you considered them in this matter?’ asked his father, indicating with his head towards the courtyard.
Rasheed stared wildly. ‘And have you considered Kachheru himself?’ added Baba grimly.
‘Kachheru –?’ said Rasheed. ‘He doesn’t know about this, Baba. He doesn’t know anything about this at all. He didn’t ask me to do anything.’ He held his hands to his head. Again an intolerable pressure had begun to pound at his temples.