Translated from Bangla by Fahmida Sharmin
While sitting in the drawing room of the house, Pundit Bokso Ali was thinking his life had blown away in wind like a magic card, and he did not get the chance to become a trump card in a game of twenty-nine. If not the trump card of jack, at least a trump card of ace would also work to add value to this spiceless, worthless life.
By teaching alphabets in school the whole day, crawling like a grave pundit measuring the gram and lentil with a scale, his backbone has bent like that of a tortoise – as if the top of a bungalow roof. The teacher’s eyes were closing while thinking this. Won’t he get any permits ? He can’t be a contractor, it’s enough to get salt and kerosene only. What’s wrong trying heart and soul for once ? What if he is lucky ?
Suddenly his wife talked to him through the broken wall of the house as if she had thrown poisonous arrows of words. “Are you drowsing after taking opium, do you remember there is nothing to eat at home ? Nothing’s left to cook now.” She vanished behind the wall just after saying this.
Bokso Ali jumped in fear as if he was bitten by a cobra and faked laughter showing his upper teeth, “Ha-ha-ha, I remember, I’m going now.” Only he who sits in the highest heavenly position and distributes everything knows which permit suddenly came flying into his hand in a moment. Bokso became perplexed. He thought, “I would have been saved if I were mad than falling into this trouble.”
Bokso has been thinking like this for thirty-two years of his teaching career. His face of a fifty-two-year-old man has turned into that of a seventy-five-year-old man for overthinking; yet he hasn’t been mad. Why he hasn’t been mad demands research. He hasn’t been a head-case but his eyes aren’t functioning well for a long time, he can’t see anything properly now. Although Bokso had collected a cure for that, a purchaser of the kuthi gave an old spectacle to Bokso. Earlier, Bokso was escaping blindness with this pair of glasses. Now he can’t do it anymore. His eyes have become weaker and the glasses don’t work anymore. Yet Bokso Ali sticks them with him like his flesh. The temples of the eyeglasses have been broken a long time back. The teacher has tied two threads in place of those. These do the work of connecting the glasses with the ears. After his wife left, Bokso Ali wore his invaluable glasses taking out from the pocket of his half shirt, and then he went out thinking about where he should go.
Even before he could go two steps father, Goher Haji’s son Doctor Fateh Ali stood in his way saying, “Hey Pundit, I see that you are turning into a tanner day by day.” Bokso Ali turned pale after hearing the sound. He made some strange sounds which didn’t express any thoughts. Fateh Ali mimicked the sound by distorting his face and language as much as he could.
Then he said, “Hey, what are you thinking ? Are you a proud person ? You always ask for medicine but back off when it comes to paying for it. You’re such a miserly person. Without protesting for anything, Bokso Ali replied, “Why doctor ? Instead of the medicine’s price…”
“Instead of the price ? Tell me what precious thing are you giving me ? A pair of Begum Saheba’s anklets, a thorn amulet of her hand, that’s it, right ? That little amount of silver jewellery is of no use to me. I understand that you have kept those, have you done a great favour to me by keeping those that now you are telling me ? So, why haven’t you given last month’s interest ? I was looking for you three times a day for the last three days. Where do you live your majesty ?”
Fateh Ali spoke nonstop and then kept looking at himnwith his red eyes. Even after listening to all these, Bokso Ali said politely again, “Don’t be angry, doctor, I will pay the interest on my own within the next one-two days, you don’t have to take the pain of coming to my house.”
“Okay, let’s see, what the value of your words is,” Fateh Ali went along another way after saying this. Bokso Ali was in great pain after hearing those things. He murmured, “This world has become uninhabitable for the poor, but everyone said that our days would come, only let the independence be earned.” Bokso Ali started to remember all the words from that day. He arranged for a meeting in the school, he was attending meetings in different villages. He swore to religion to everyone and said, “Look, this voting is not like another voting, it’s not only about becoming a member by votes. This time the voting is for independence! This time, after becoming members, they will bring independence. Poverty will be gone, suffering will decrease. So, everyone has to vote carefully.”
Farmers, labourers- everyone from the village said, “We shouldn’t make any delay; if we get our necessities, sufferings will be gone, we are ready to sacrifice our lives not only votes.” Then there was such a splendour, thousands of people crowded.
“Long live!” wished everywhere, Bokso Ali was leading all with a flag that had a crescent moon on it and he was shouting at the top of his voice, “Pakistan.” Everyone shouted together “Long live!” Then he remembered 14 August 1947, the board office of the village, school, and mosque- all of these were decorated like a bridal chamber by cutting colourful papers.
The happiness of that day- they will be freed from captivity in this dawn, from tomorrow they are independent people, new people. There is a difference between the people of the two different times. “Today, who are sufferers, tomorrow they will be happy and prosperous.”- Everyone was smiling broadly after thinking this.
The pundit became very sad when he remembered this today, happiness will come, suffering will go away, and they will get their necessities – why did he give these hopes to the naive farmers and other simple people ?
The pundit wants to laugh if he remembers about himself, if the country becomes independent, his primary school may not become a high school but it can become a minor. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t become the headmaster. He can become secretary. Moreover, if the school he founded prospers, it’s his prosperity. He smiled.
“What happened, Pundit saheb, why are you smiling to yourself ?” Asked Goher Haji. He was returning from the mosque after saying his prayers. Bokso Ali got surprised. His smile was gone.
He can’t tolerate this man at all. When this man comes in front of him he feels very uneasy, the villagers also say, Haji by name, businessman Haji. Some people make fun of him and say, this man is Bombay Haji, he didn’t reach Macca. The pundit doesn’t care about that, but what kind of brain this man has, he visited the west for some days and after coming back he says, “Bokso, close your Bangla school. Teach, teach Arabic, and Urdu will be beneficial for the afterlife. People recite Kalu Gazi, Laila-Manju, after learning Bangla. That’s Haram.”
The pundit said, “Then why only Arabic and Urdu, a person becomes more scholar with more languages he knows. But, as we are born in Bangladesh, we have to learn Bangla. Because Bangla is our mother language, we can speak our mind clearly in Bangla.”
Haji didn’t care about those words. He gave fatwa from one house to another, “Don’t send your children to Bangla school. After learning Bangla, children become shameless and go to dogs. Nothing is accomplished for the afterlife, no religious activities get done, and everyone becomes a Christian. Send them to my house to learn Arabic Qaeda, Urdu Deeniat to the teacher. Isn’t that enough ? All’s well that ends well, establish the ways of Islam.”
That happened in reality. Goher Haji turned Bokso Ali’s Bangla School into an empty house in the name of Islam.
Foxes howl there at night, in the morning Bokso Ali takes some wayward children to study in the school. They read and drowse in their thoughts. “Mischievous Haji, you have done such a thing, you betrayed the country. The country’s education is in your hands, if you betray like this, the countrymen will not become human beings ever. Okay, let’s see how far the inhuman go.” Suddenly, the pundit leaves his thoughts and asks his student, “Hey Sharif, where does the best part of trees grow, in the skin or the middle ?”
“Why Sir ? It grows in the middle,” replies Sharif. “Even you understand this, but that Haji doesn’t understand. Artificial language can’t survive without the original language. The best part grows only in the original.” The pundit sits straight while looking in front of him. He’s angry with Goher Haji for this reason.
The pundit can’t see, then after hearing Goher Haji’s voice, he closed his eyes and said, “I’m working for my livelihood, Haji Saheb. I can’t take care of my family, there is an ‘aid’ by the name of the school, it doesn’t come.”
Goher Haji smiled and replied in rhyme, “People die because of their deeds and accuse God.” “Man, I asked you to take money, do business, do some trade, leave this school, you won’t do that.”
“I will take the money Haji Saheb, but I can’t make up my mind to mortgage the land after closing the school. The land is not mine, it belongs to my ancestors. Moreover, it was donated to the school, that is not my property anymore, it’s public property now.”
Haji sneered, “What is this, he will take the money and won’t mortgage anything. Okay, man, whatever you wish,” Haji went towards his home after saying this. The pundit took a breath of relief.
The pundit roamed the whole day for a kilogram of rice or a taka. His eyes seemed to become blinded by walking under the Sun. When he was returning home in the afternoon after collecting some rice, it seemed like he couldn’t see anything. Everything seemed smoky like blurry painted words. He was warming himself by the fire that he made by collecting dry grasses. He had to beat the cold by warming himself by fire as he didn’t have any warm clothes. But green grassroots don’t burn under any condition, and the smoke irritates the eyes. Although it was the beginning of spring, it was still very cold. There was no way without warming by fire. So, it was comfortable to warm by fire despite irritation in the eyes, the body didn’t tremble in cold, it stayed brisk. The eyes irritated a bit, let it be. The pundit kept blowing the fire. Meanwhile. Keramat, the 10-year-old son of his neighbour Faizuddi came panting, “Uncle, Uncle, come to our house once, Father is calling you.”
Bokso Ali raised his face, and some of the reserved water ran from his eyes. He said, “Who is this ? Is this Keramat ?”
“Yes, Uncle, I’m Keramat.”
The pundit asked, “So, what has happened to you all ?”
“I don’t know, doctor and others have come with police, they have come to arrest Father, what will we do then, Uncle ?”
The pundit assured him, “Don’t be distressed, let me hear what has happened.” In a piteous voice, Faizuddi was saying politely, “Haji Saheb didn’t ask for tax from us. I had gone to give it, he said, you are a poor man, give it later, or don’t give it.”
“Apart from that, during the 1946 election, he said, “I’m making your house and the cultivation land free of tax Faizuddi, work, work for me in the election. This is the first share of independence, then what you’ll get after achieving independence has no bound.” Everyone in the village knows this.”
“This is right, Nazir Saheb,” Bokso Ali came and stood. “Faizuddi is speaking the truth. Completely.”
Nazir Saheb said angrily, “Who has called you for advocacy here ?” “No one has called but we have something to say for the welfare of the village,” Bokso Ali said politely. Nazir repeated distorting the last words of Bokso Ali and becoming very angry, “Seems like you have come here to show off your English. Where were you when notice, case, degree, auction, purchase- all these took place ?”
“But, these…” the pundit wanted to say, “These all didn’t happen, we are just hearing it now. Haji Saheb scolded him after saying “But these… oil your machine, Pundit, don’t come to help another person.”
Bokso Ali took a deep breath and said, “Haji Saheb, you visited Macca, during the election I promised on behalf of you too, that there will be no decree, auction or suffering in the independent country. Besides that land…”
Nazir Saheb shouted, “Shut up.” “Okay, let it be.” The pundit went by the same way he came. He only murmured, “One day, they have to pay for it.” Keramat started to call him back, “Uncle, Uncle, where are you going ?” The pundit said in a distressed voice, “Bokso Ali is a big liar, great betrayer, he promised only to cheat the farmers. His words have no value, no value. Do what you can do, I’ve no power, dear,” his voice slowly vanished in the air.
Faizuddi came late at night and said, at last, the dishonest fallow Haji has taken away the cultivation land.
“There was no way left without giving it, although I thought about it once or twice, I won’t give the land, let them come to take over it, I swear to stab him. But at last, I left the idea after deliberately thinking about it. The government is in favour of the rich. Whatever they say is the law, the poor people’s words go in vain, there is no value of what the poor say.”
The pundit said in a strong voice, “Days won’t remain like this, Faizuddi, days will change, today or tomorrow. There is a limit to people’s patience. People will raise their voice one day. That day isn’t far away! The country is suffering from injustice.” The pundit stopped for a while, took a breath, and started to speak again, “See, people have raised their status by becoming educated, that education is getting stopped completely. Also, I’m hearing Bangla won’t work anymore, Urdu schools will be set up. Even there is no clue when this will start. But, Faizuddi, what I’m thinking is that, if Urdu is preferred over Bangla, this will be as same as sowing wheat in jute land, there will be no outcome.” He thought a little and started to speak again, “After seeing all this injustice, I’ve started to remember other things, Faizuddi,” Bokso Ali frowned as he spoke. “Okay, sit, I’m showing you a real example.” The pundit took out a torn map and spread it on the floor. He started to point at it with a stick and say, “Look, do you know the name of this country ?
The pundit bent his shoulder and pulled his head backwards, he looked almost closing his left eye and frowning with the right eye. Then he pointed at the right side of the map and said, “Look, the name is written right here. You’ll be surprised to know the history of this strange land, Faizuddi. Listen, the people were suffering from the injustice of the tsars. They didn’t have food, clothes for wearing, or medicines for diseases. People would die like stray cats and dogs in hunger. Their backbones were broken because of the inhuman pain inflicted on them.” The pundit was speaking as he teaches history in the school.
Then he took a breath and started to talk again, “Do you know, Faizuddi, as I, you, and other countrymen are losing patience because of the torture of the powerful people, voices are heard from everywhere, we want food, we want clothes, we want to live like human beings, the voices of the oppressed ignited a fire in there also. The cruel tsar administration will be burnt to an end in that fire. Then…” Saying this the pundit started laughing and he started to speak putting his hand on Faizuddi, “Then comes happiness, peace and prosperity into the country. What should I do Faizuddi ? My heart always tells me that. I’m getting the semblance here, but I have grief in my heart, I only heard the footsteps of those days, couldn’t see that with my eyes. I might be alive somehow, but possibly I couldn’t save my eyes.” The pundit took a deep breath and released it with a sound. It seemed like the blacksmith’s fire getting extinguished. Then he removed his spectacle from his eyes very carefully and after wiping off his dirty eyes, he placed his glasses back on his eyes.
Faizuddi said, “Go to Dhaka and operate on your eyes. Many people’s blind eyes have recovered, and then you only have a cataract in your eyes. Possibly you still can see. Then, if days are changing, days of happiness will come, then you have to live for those days, so go to Dhaka, please. The businessmen are going to Dhaka with jute. If you go to Dhaka with them, you won’t have to spend much, then go with them.
The pundit could see light in this talk. His heart cried to see the beautiful world again. He said, “You’re right, Faizuddi, my eyesight has to be brought back for that day, I will go to Dhaka, I will go to Dhaka. I will save my eyes. Earlier, I thought not to see these mischiefs, so I decided to live as a blind man as long as I live.”
“Now, thinking, no, if the storm is coming, the clouds will fly away, and light will shine. I have to save my eyes for participating in that celebration with everyone and seeing the grandeur. But I’ve heard that there is no space for the poor in the hospital, it’s the rich people’s business, otherwise, there has to be an insistent solicitation. Yet I should try once.”
The pundit came to Dhaka one day. Tomej Byaperi told him, “You are new in Dhaka, walk carefully, asking other people for direction. This road goes straight from Sadar Ghat. Then turn left- after that, go a little bit- that’s the medical college. Now they don’t admit patients after 11 AM, walk as fast as possible, otherwise tomorrow.”
With a small bundle of clothes in the left hand, an umbrella and a rubber sandal of Bata in the right hand, the pundit was walking to the medical college. His eyes will become fine today or tomorrow, he will see the light of the world with new eyes. He will sit with those eyes and see the new people of the world. His mind lighted up at this thought. He had become overwhelmed with joy. He had forgotten about the infernal pain of the world, he had forgotten about Haji and doctor Fateh Ali.
River erosion happens for building new banks, the night comes to begin a new day at dawn, so it’s not the work of a teacher to cry over erosion and darkness. You have to make sure that building after breaking, and light after darkness come fast. The pundit was walking and thinking. Suddenly he saw a car coming toward him at an electric speed. He stood aside on the right silently, it was a narrow escape. These men have no brains and did not honk, that’s why people die in road accidents in the cities. The bad practice of the rich people. They don’t count everyone as human beings. He kept looking at the car angrily. Suddenly the scenario changed, and he could not realize it. Groups of school boys surrounded the moving vehicle.
The driver stopped the car to say something, but couldn’t. Two to four students started to say something to the passenger while shaking their heads, this couldn’t enter the pundit’s ears, because while something loud sounds, no small sounds can enter someone’s ear, just like that the sound of a thousand voices altogether started to hit like a loud sound into his ears. There was no way for any other sound to enter. The pundit was listening with great surprise standing nearby, the boys were saying:
We Demand Bangla as the State Language,
We Demand Bangla as the State Language,
The pundit had forgotten medical college, eye treatment, he had to go straight then left, now it’s eleven, he had to reach early within twelve. He kept standing still for some time, then suddenly as though hypnotized he joined the thousands of voices of the boys and he became one of them in the crowd.
It came out in the newspaper on the twenty-second of February, yesterday the police fired several rounds of bullets on the students and common people protesting for the Bangla language. As a result, two students and an anonymous old man died on the spot. It was heard that the old man’s skull had blown away as the bullet hit. The body was left on the ground, like a big Bangla letter Kha.
After hearing the news, I was thinking, again and again, possibly it’s that Pundit Bokso Ali; he is standing in front of the four and a half crore people of Bangladesh like a sign of interrogation.
———————-
Sarder Jayenuddin : Fictionist in Bangla Literature
Fahmida Sharmin who graduated from the Department of English, Shahjalal University of Science and Technology, is an enthusiast of literary translation.
Illustration : Rajib Datta
