Wisdom Implant
It took hundreds of scientists and technicians from various fields of endeavour a long time and a lot of hard work and a large fortune of one of the richest persons in the world. But at last it was ready. It was tested with great success on rats, monkeys and gorillas in that order. Now it was the turn of guinea pigs, human volunteers chosen carefully by a committee. Coded chips barely visible to the naked eye were implanted in their wisdom teeth by the most prominent dentist in the country. Media from all over the world jostled each other in the auditorium for the best shot and close ups of the brave souls in the glare of studio lights lying on a dentist’s chair with their mouths wide open and a tong hovering over the lower lip were on every screen in the world.
In addition to revolutionising the communication and human relations, this marvelous invention is expected to be the answer to every economist’s prayer. The weddings have again become fashionable and the current fashion is for broad thick bands which were worn on the wrist, not the finger as had been done for centuries. Due to the strong demand for such bands, not only among the newly weds but also in long married couples, the price of gold has skyrocketed and this is distorting the economy of every country, whether developed or developing. It is now hoped that a refined and carefully processed grain of beach sand skillfully implanted in the wisdom tooth will replace several ounces of gold. The precious metal will again become available for more important uses at a reasonable price and the treasury officials all over the world would breathe normally.
Did I hear you say - stop blabbering and tell us what does this miracle chip do. Well, I was waiting for someone to ask. This is the first major advance in the field of engineering since the miraculous cell phone. In some ways it is an extension of cell phone. One might even think of it as a miniature cell phone. What the chip does is so simple; you would wonder why no one did it before. Well; the technology has its own way of developing and miracles happen when all the stars in the form of scientific theories and technical products line up. Thanks to the foresight of a great tycoon, who actually made his fortune in the mundane world of finance, stars were brought together in one lab and lo and behold, a decade of research and billions of dollars later, we have the means to supply wisdom to wisdom tooth. At last we know why our ancestors called it the wisdom tooth. They foresaw the day when this tooth located way back in the mouth will have the ability to communicate the way wise ancestors did through the ages; without saying a word, without wasting paper and ink, by direct communication from head to head. It was called spiritual communion in the days of yore. Then, with the spread of atheism among intelligentsia, the old art almost died. Now the door has been opened for its revival – thanks to these brilliant people working under the umbrella provided by a truly visionary man.
Well, what the chip does is nothing new. It is merely a refinement of the invention of Alexander Graham Bell a hundred and fifty years ago. Only instead of words, it converts brain waves into electric waves and transmits them to the chip the thought behind the brain waves was intended for. That chip, and that one alone, picks up the waves, converts them back into brain waves and transmits them to the right part of the brain. Before a second has elapsed, the thought in one brain in one part of the world is transmitted to another brain in another part of the world – with no wires, no gadgets, no ringing noise, no words. However, for legal reasons that the lawyers among you will appreciate, the chips tuned to communicate with each other will only be implanted in the married couples. The economists believe that the couples who have chip implants won’t feel the need to display their wedded bliss, therefore they won’t need the clumsy heavy bands and thus leave the gold to be used for what our creator intended it for.
Once these brave volunteers have been tested and the authorities have authorized the sale to public, the chip will be made available to all qualified dentists for a modest but respectable fee. We anticipate a huge demand far exceeding any gizmo ever invented. To save disappointment it would be wise to book an appointment with your dentist at the same time as you are making other wedding arrangements.
More stray thoughts
The poor response to flood relief funds for Pakistan has nothing to do with Islam, the history or the geography. People are reluctant to donate for two reasons: the region where floods first hit has been one of the bases of Taliban and the general perception that the government of Pakistan has played a duplicitous role in Afghan war. It is hard to empty the wallet for people who help your enemies.
The vituperative coverage of CTV’s rival CBC in the Globe during the past week may be a good business practice by the owner CTV globemedia, respectable behavior by a self-proclaimed national newspaper it is not.
While it is gratifying to see so many people risking their lives to live in Canada, we should note that these were not desperate people. The real refugees escape to India a few hours away on a rowing boat and merge with the fellow Tamils there. The shipload consists mostly of lower middle class farmers and tradesmen who were persuaded by crafty smugglers to part with all they had in exchange for a promise of life in the land of colour TV, free education for the kids, free medical care and hefty welfare cheques. While severe penalties for smugglers might help, what we need is to change the perception of the easy life once they get here and I am afraid not much is being suggested in that direction.
Privacy act, along with Bill of Rights, provides criminals strong shield while leaving honest law-abiding citizens unprotected. One does not have to be a loony on the fringes of right wing to demand that changes be made in these laws to make them more balanced.
After all is said and done, laws are intended to protect all citizens, not just those who victimise innocent and helpless citizens.
With due respect to the magazine’s editors, the summer vacation is for the teachers, not students. It is the teachers who need a long break from the arduous routine and the problems associated with kids who only go to school because they have to. Please leave kids out of it. They are not a factor in summer vacation issue.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
A few weeks ago I posted the translation of a story by Munshi Prem Chand, the greatest writer of twentieth century Hindi literature. Here is another one, you will get an insight into the village life in early twentieth century India. Unfamiliar Hindi words have been marked by $ and other symbols and explained at the bottom of the story.
Eid Fair
Eid is here after thirty days of fasting for Ramadan$. How beautiful is the dawn. Trees have a curious greenish hue, fields a curious gleam, and the sky a curious red tinge. The sun is lovely and cool today as if greeting the world on this day of rejoicing. The village is all agog. The preparations are under way for the visit to the fair. A shirt needs the button, so some one is running to the neighbour for needle and thread. The shoes have dried so some one is running to the oilwallah# to get some oil. The bulls are hurriedly being given fodder and water. Every one is worried that it will be noon before the return from the fair. Three miles walk on foot, then meeting hundreds of people. It is just not possible to return by noon. Some villagers are fasting till the noon, others not even that, but every one shares in the joy of visiting the fair. Boys are the happiest of the lot. Fast is for older people. For young ones it is Eid. They were counting the days to Eid. Now it is here and they are impatient to set off for the fair. They have nothing to do with worries of the household. Whether there is milk and sugar for sawaiia*, they don’t care. Only that they will eat sawaiia . They don’t know that daddy is running helter skelter to the home of Chowdhury Kayamali. It would be news to them that if Chowdhury looks the other way, Eid will turn into Muharram. Their own pockets are full of rich treasures. They take the treasures out again and again, count them and joyfully put them back. Mahmood counts, one, two, ten, twelve. He has twelve paisas**. Mohsin has one, two, three, eight, nine, fifteen. They will get countless things with these countless paisas – toys, sweets, rattle, ball, and who knows what else. And Hamid is the happiest of them all. This four or five year old, poverty-stricken, skinny boy, whose father was taken away last year by cholera and mother, no one knows why, shriveled to death one day. No one knew what the ailment was. Even if she told, who would have listened? What her heart had to bear, she kept in her heart and when she couldn’t bear it she took leave of this world. Now Hamid sleeps in the arms of his poor grandmother Amina and he is just as happy. His daddy has gone to make money and he will return will lots of bags. Mommy has gone to the house of Allah to bring him really wonderful things. Therefore Hamid is happy. Hope is a big thing, particularly a child’s hope! His imagination can make a mountain out of a grain of rye. Hamid doesn’t have shoes on his feet. The ornaments on his tattered old cap have blackened with age. Nonetheless he is happy. When his daddy returns with bags full of money and mommy with gifts, his heartfelt wishes will be fulfilled. Then he will see how Mahmood, Mohsin, Noor and Sammi will have as much money as him. He is totally unaware that unfortunate Amina is crying her heart out: it is Eid and there is not a grain in the house! If Abid were there today, could Eid come and go like this. She is drowning in this dark despair. Who asked for this evil Eid? It has no business in this house. But Hamid! What does he have to do with anyone living or dying? He has light within and hope outside. Misery can strike with all its forces; Hamid’s joyful appearance will vanquish it.
Hamid goes inside and tells grandma – don’t be afraid Amma, I will be the first to return. Have no fear.
Amina’s heart is aching. Village children are going with their fathers. Hamid has no father other than Amina. How can she let him go to fair alone? What will happen if the child gets lost in that crowd? No, Amina will not let him go. Tiny soul, how will he walk three miles? His feet will get blisters. He doesn’t even have shoes. If she goes with him she can pick him up after every few steps, but who will cook sawaiia here? If she had money she could buy all ingradients on return and quickly prepare it. Now it will take hours collecting the ingredients. Who can be sure when begging? That day she sewed Fahiman’s clothes and got fifty paisas. She was saving them like her honour for this day. But milkmaid was mad yesterday and what could she do! Hamid may need nothing else but he must have two-paisa worth of milk. Now there are only eight paisas left, three paisas in Hamid’s pocket and five in Amina’s purse. This is the situation on this day of Eid. Only Allah can help cross this bridge. Washerwoman, barber, toilet cleaner and bangle woman will all come. They all want Sawaiias and a little doesn’t satisfy anybody. Who all can she hide from? And why should she hide? There are festivals all year. May his life have their blessings. God save the child from calamities, these days will pass.
Villagers leave for the fair. And Hamid is going with the kids. Sometimes all of them run up to the front. Then they stand under some tree to wait for the group. Why are these people walking so slowly? It is as if Hamid grew wings on his feet. Can he ever tire? Now the town is in sight. There are gardens of the rich on both sides of the road. Houses are fenced solid. Trees are loaded with mangoes and litchis. Once in a while some boy picks up a rock and aims at a mango. The scolding gardener rushes out from inside. By then the boys are a long way away, laughing uproariously. Poor gardener is made to look silly.
Now they are approaching big buildings, the courthouse, the college and the clubhouse. Such a big college, how many boys study here! All are not boys. Some are grown up men, believe me. They are old enough to have long mustaches. Still they go to study. Who knows how long they will study and what they will do after so much study. There are two or three big boys in Hamid’s school, none worth three paisas. They are punished daily for not doing their homework. Must be that type of people in this place too, what else! They have magic displays in clubhouse with heads of corpses running around. They have big shows, but do not let any one in. And sahibs play here in the evening and important people and mem*** sahibs play as well, believe me. You give that to my Amma, what do they call it – bat, she will not even be able to hold it. She will roll over just moving her arm with it.
Mahmood said – my mom’s hand will start shaking, by God.
Mohsin spoke – come on, she grinds tons of flour, how will hands shake just holding the bat? She draws hundreds of pitchers of water every day, five for our buffalo alone. If any mem had to draw one pitcher, her eyes will see stars in the daylight.
Mahmood – But she doesn’t run, can’t hop and skip.
Mohsin – Yes, she can’t hop and skip, but the other day our cow escaped and ran into Chowdhury’s field. Mom ran so fast that I couldn’t catch her, believe me!
They walk on. Now sweetmeat shops begin. These are especially decorated today. Who eats so many sweets? Just look, each shop must have tons. I have heard that djinns come in the night to buy them. Dad used to say that at midnight a man goes to the shop and asks everything that is left to be weighed and pays in real rupees**, real rupees like these.
Hamid did not believe it – Where do djinns find real rupees?
Mohsin said – Why is a djinn short of rupees? Whatever treasure house he wishes to go in, he can. Iron gates can not stop him, dear sir, what world are you in. They even own diamonds and other precious stones. Whoever pleases them, they shower baskets of jewels on him. They may be sitting here now, in five minutes they can reach Calcutta.
Hamid asked - djinns must be really big.
Mohsin – Dear sir, each of them is as big as the sky. If he stands up on the ground, his head bumps against the sky. But if he wishes he can hide in a jug.
Hamid – How can humans please them? Tell me some prayer that will help me please a djinn.
Mohsin – That I don’t know, but Chowdhury sahib has many djinns under his control. Any thing that is stolen, Chowdhury sahib will find it for you and will even tell you the name of the thief. Jumrati lost his calf the other day. He was rushing around for three days, couldn’t find it anywhere. Then in desperation he went to Chowdhury sahib. Chowdhury told him at once that it is in animal pond and that is where he found it. Djinns come and tell him the news of the whole country.
Now he can understand why Chowdhury has so much wealth and why he gets so much respect.
They move on and reach the Police Lines. Here all constables do their training. Attention! Halt! Poor fellows wander all night, so there are no thefts. Mohsin challenged – These constables do the watching? Then you know a lot. Dear Sir, they arrange the thefts. They are in league with all the thieves and dacoits. Every night they tell the thieves to go and steal in one neighbourhood and go to another themselves and shout, “Stay awake, stay awake.” That is how these people have so much money. My uncle is a constable at a police station, his salary is twenty rupees but he sends fifty rupees home every month. By God. Once I asked him, “Uncle, where do you find so much money?” He laughed and said, “Son, God gives.” Then he added, “I can get millions, if I wish. But I take just enough to keep my clean and not lose the job.”
Hamid asked – If these people arrange thefts then why doesn’t somebody catch them?
Mohsin pitied his innocence and said – Are you mad? Who will catch them? They themselves are the catchers. But God does punish them in plenty. Ill gotten gains cause indigestion. A few days ago, there was a fire in uncle’s house. All property and money was burnt down. They couldn’t save even a utensil. They slept under a tree for many nights, by God, under a tree. Then who knows from where he borrowed a hundred and bought utensils etc.
Hamid – One hundred is more than fifty. Fifty is here and hundred there. Fifty will fill one bag. Even two bags will not be enough for a hundred.
Now the buildings become denser. Other groups going to the fair come in sight. They have on more and more fantastic clothes. Some are riding horse carts, some cars, some are drenched in scent, and all in spirit of the day. That small group of villagers, unconscious of its poverty, is traveling fully contented and patient. For children, everything in the city is attractive. Whatever they look at, they can’t take eyes off it. And they don’t pay attention to traffic even after repeated toots of horns from behind. Hamid narrowly escapes being run over.
Suddenly they can see the fair ground. Over it is the shade of dense tamarind trees. Under it is the hard floor covered with carpet. And the queues of visitors one behind the other go on for who knows how long, beyond the hard floor where there is no carpet. Newcomers stand at the back of the last queue. There is no room in the front. No one looks at title or the wealth here. Every one is equal in the eyes of Islam. The villagers joined the others in prayer in the back row. How beautiful is the organization, how beautiful the order. Millions of heads bend with devotion in unison, than every one stands up together. They bend together and kneel together. This exercise is repeated many times, as if millions of electric bulbs go on and off simultaneously and this process keeps on going. The wonderful sight fills the heart with devotion, pride and bliss, as if a thread of fraternity goes through all souls like a garland.
Prayer ends and people hug each other. This is followed by the invasion of toy and sweet shops. Our group of villagers is no less enthusiastic in this respect than the children. Look here, this is Ferris wheel. Climb on it for a penny. Sometimes it will look as if you are going to the sky, sometimes falling to the ground. This is merry go round, wooden elephants, horses, camels are suspended on sticks. Enjoy the ride for twenty five rounds for a paisa. Mahmood, Mohsin, Noor and Sammi sit on camels and horses. Hamid stands at a distance. He has only three paisas. He can not part with one third of his treasure just to go round and round.
Everyone is off the merry go round. Now they rush to the toys. Here is a row of shops. They have toys of all kinds- soldier and servant, king and the advocate, waterman and launderess and mendicant. Wonder of wonders! How beautiful are the toys. They appear ready to talk. Ahmed takes a soldier in khaki uniform and red turban, with a gun on his shoulder. He looks as if he is going on a platoon march. Mohsin likes the waterman. His back is bent with a leather water bag on it. He is holding the mouth of the bag shut with one hand. How happy he is. Perhaps he is singing a song. All he wants is to give water from the bag. Noor is in love with the advocate with so much cleverness is on his face, black gown over white long coat, a watch in the front pocket of long coat, gold chain, and a legal tome in one hand. He looks as if he is coming from some court after arguing a case. All these toys are for two paisas each. How can Hamid buy such an expensive toy? If the toy slips out of his hand, it will shatter into small pieces. If some water drops on it, its colour will wash off. What will he do with toys like these? What use are they?
Mohsin says – My waterman will bring water everyday, dawn and dusk.
Mahmood – And my soldier will guard the house. If some thief comes, he will shoot at once.
Noor – And my advocate will fight many cases.
Sammi – My laundress will wash clothes every day.
Hamid deprecates the toys - they are made of clay, if they are dropped they will become dust. But he looks at the toys with greedy eyes. And he wants to hold them in his hands, if only for a moment. His hands dart out, but children do not share, particularly not a new toy. Hamid is left with his greedy looks.
After toys, it is sweets. Some one buys candy, some one rhum ball, some one Halwah. They eat with great enjoyment. Hamid is separated from the group. Poor boy has three paisas. Why doesn’t he buy something and eat? He is looking greedily at everybody.
Mohsin says – Hamid, take this candy, how flavourful it is!
Hamid suspects that this is only a tease, Mohsin is not so generous. Knowing this he still goes towards him. Mohsin takes a candy out of the bag and holds his hand out towards Hamid. Hamid holds his hand out. Mohsin puts the candy in his own mouth. Mahmood, Noor and Sammi clap and laugh. Hamid feels humiliated.
Mohsin – Well, this time I will certainly give it, Hamid, by God, take it.
Hamid – Keep it, don’t I have any money.
Sammi – Yes you have three paisas. What all will you get for three paisas?
Ahmed – Take the rhum ball from me Hamid. Mofsin is bad.
Hamid – What is so great about sweets? There are so many bad things in the book about them.
Mohsin – But you are saying in your heart - If I could get some I will eat it. Why don’t you get your paisas out?
Mahmood – I know his trick. When we have spent all our money, he will eat and tease us.
Next, there are some shops of things made of iron, some of bronze and some costume jewelry. The boys had nothing to attract them there. They all proceeded further. Hamid stops at an iron shop. It has several Chimtas**** on display. He remembers that grandma doesn’t have a chimta. When she takes off chapatis from hot plate, she burns her hand. If he took a chimta and gave it to grandma, how happy will she be! Then her fingers won’t burn. There will be a useful thing at home. What use are the toys? Money is wasted for nothing. There is pleasure for a few moments. Then no body lifts his eyes to look at the toy. It may break and be worthless by the time we get home. Chimta is a thing of many uses. Take chapatis off the hot plate, toast them in open fire, if someone comes to ask for burning coal to start their fire, take the piece out of fireplace and give it to them, no problem. Poor Grandma, when does she have time to go to market and where will she find so much money? She burns her hand everyday. Hamid’s mates have gone ahead. They are drinking sugar water at a stall. Look, how greedy they all are! They bought so many sweets, did not share even one with me. Then they all say play with me. Do this chore for me. Now if any one asks me to do something, I’ll tell them off. They eat sweets, their mouth will have ulcers, skin will have rashes and boils, tongue will become addicted. Then they will steal money at home and will get thrashed. The books don’t lie. Why will my tongue go bad? As soon as Grandma sees the chimta, she will run and take it from my hands and say – My child has brought chimta for his grandma! She will bestow a thousand blessings. Then she will show it to women in the neighbourhood. It will be the talk of the village, Hamid has brought chimta. What a good boy! Who will give blessing to these boys for their toys? The blessings of elders reach the court of Allah and are heard straightaway. I don’t have money. That is why Mohsin and Mahmood put me down. I will show them, even though they can play with toys and eat sweets. I don’t play with toys, why should I tolerate any putdowns? I may be poor, but I do not beg from any one. After all, Daddy will return some day, Mommy will too. Then I will ask these people, how many toys will you like? I will give each one a basket full of toys and show them how to behave with friends. Not in the way that you buy a candy for a paisa and tease while eating it. Every one will laugh that Hamid has bought a chimta. Laugh, I don’t care. He asked the shopkeeper – how much is the chimta?
Shopkeeper looked at him and seeing no adult with him said – this is no use to you dear.
‘Is it for sale or not?’
‘Why is it not for sale? Why else have I brought it here?
‘Then why don’t you tell its price?’
‘It will cost six paisas.’
Hamid’s heart sank.
‘Tell the right price.’
‘Right price! O.K. five paisas. Take it if you want, otherwise move on.’
Hamid firmed up his resolve and said – Will you take three paisas?
and moved on so he wouldn’t hear shopkeeper’s curses. But shopkeeper did not curse. He called him back and gave the chimta. Hamid put it on his shoulder like a gun and proudly walked over to his mates, ready for all their sarcasms.
Mohsin laughingly said – Why did you get this chimta, you mad boy. What will you do with it?
Hamid hit the ground with the chimta and said – Just drop your waterman on the ground. Every bone will be crushed.
Mahmood spoke – How is this chimta a toy?
Hamid – Why isn’t it a toy. Put it on your shoulder, it becomes a gun. Take it in a hand, it is fakir’s chimta. If I wish it can work like a staff. One strike with chimta, all your toys will become lifeless. With all their strength your toys can’t move a hair on my chimta. It is brave like a lion – this chimta.
Sammi had bought a bride. Impressed he said – Swap it with my bride? Cost ten paisas.
Hamid looked contemptuously at the bride – If my chimta wishes it can tear apart the stomach of your bride. Just a touch of leather, it will start whimpering. A little water on it, it will be the end. My brave chimta will stand the test of fire, water, winds, storm equally.
Chimta charmes everybody but who has the money left now? Moreover, they are some distance from the fair, it was nine o’clock long ago, sun is getting hotter, there are in a hurry to get home. Even on insistent begging from their fathers they can’t get the chimta. They all think - Hamid is very clever. That is why the rogue was saving money.
Now the boys split into two groups. Mohsin, Mahmood, Sammi and Noor on one side, Hamid alone on the other. Heated debate was on, Then Sammi turned traitor. But Mohsin, Mahmood and Noor too, even though they were one or two years older, started fearing Hamid’s verbal attacks. He has force of justice on his side and the strength of fairness. Clay is on one side, on the other strength of steel - undefeatable, dangerous. If any lion showed up, waterman will start sweating, Mr. Soldier will leave his clay gun behind and run away, Mr. Advocate will fear for his life, lie down and hide his face in the gown. But this chimta, this brave Hero of India will hop on lion’s neck and pull out its eyes.
Mohsin needs the strength from his toe to his hair to say – Well, it can’t bring water.
Hamid stands the chimta straight and says – He will scold the waterman, he will come running and sprinkle water on his door.
Mohsin is defeated but Mahmood squeaks – If the poor fellow gets caught, he will go from court to court in chains. Then he will have to kiss advocate’s feet.
Hamid can’t answer this strong argument. So he asks – who will come to catch us?
Noor straightens himself with great pride and says – This soldier with the gun.
Hamid pulls his face and says – This poor fellow will catch us, brave Heroes of India. O.K., bring him on, let us have a round of wrestling. He will run away once he looks at its face. Who will poor fellow catch?
Mohsin thinks of a new hurt – The face of your chimta will burn in fire daily.
He had thought that Hamid will become speechless. But this does not happen. Hamid replies instantly – Only the brave jump in the fire. Dear Sir, advocate, soldier and waterman will run to hide into their homes. Jumping in the fire is the work only Hero of India can do.
Mahmood makes one more try – Mr. Advocate will work on a chair and a table, your chimta will lie in the pantry.
This argument enlivenes Sammi and Noor. What meaningful argument has this hero advanced? What can the chimta do other than lie in the pantry?
Hamid can’t think of a clever reply so he tries bluffing – My chimta will not lie in the pantry. When Mr. Advocate is sitting in the chair, he will go and throw him on the ground and shove his law in his belly.
This doesn’t make sense. But it is a heated exchange, talk of shoving law in the belly
hits its mark. So much so that three heroes are left staring, as if a homemade kite has knocked a professional kite out of the sky. Law is something to be brought out of the mouth. Shoving it in the belly is illogical but does have some novelty. Hamid has conquered the field. His chimta is the Hero of India. Now Mohsin, Mahmood, Noor, Sammi can have no objection to that.
The natural respect due to a victor from vanquished is accorded to Hamid. Others had spent ten to twenty paisas each but couldn’t get anything useful. Hamid won the day with three paisas. It is true, who can be sure of the toys? They will break. Hamid’s chimta will last for years.
They start offering terms of compromise. Mohsin says – please give me your chimta for a moment. You can look at my waterman.
Mahmood and Noor also present their toys.
Hamid has no trouble in accepting these conditions. Chimta takes turns in moving to everyone’s hands and their toys, in turn, come into Hamid’s. How beautiful are the toys!
Hamid consoles the vanquished – I was teasing you, believe me. How can this iron chimta match these toys; I feel as if they are ready to talk.
But Mohsin’s party is not satisfied with this offering. Chimta has established its authority. Well-glued stamp does not come unstuck with water.
Mohsin – But no one will give us blessings because of these toys.
Mahmood – You are thinking of blessing. We may even get a beating. Mother will definitely ask why a clay toy is all I could get in the fair?
Hamid had to accept that no mother will be as happy to see the toys as his grandma will be to see the chimta. The paisas had to be used such that one wasn’t sorry later. Moreover, chimta is now the Hero of India and the king of all toys.
Mahmood feels hungry on the way home. His father gives him bananas to eat. Mahmood shares them with Hamid alone. His other friends are left staring. This is the gift from his chimta.
There is bustle in the village at eleven o’clock. The fair people have returned. Mohsin’s little sister runs and plucks the waterman from his hands. And as she jumps high in joy Mia Waterman comes down and goes straight to heaven. This starts a fight between the pair. Both cry buckets of tears. Their mother is angry when she hears the cries and both get slapped twice too.
Mia Noor’s advocate meets his end more gloriously as befits his prestige. Advocate can’t sit on ground or on eye-level shelf. One has to think of his reputation. Two long nails are hammered in the wall. A wooden plank is set on them. Then the plank is carpeted with paper; Mr. Advocate sits on a throne like King Bhoj. Noor starts fanning him. In courthouse they have perfumed straw hangings and electric fans. Can’t he have even an ordinary fan here? Otherwise, the heat of legal arguments will go to his head. Noor brings a bamboo fan and started fanning. Whether by the draft from the fan or by being struck with it, Mr. Advocate proceeds to the world above and his clay figure joins the earth. There is a very loud farewell ceremony and the remains of Mr. Advocate are consigned to the dust.
Now to Mahmood’s soldier. He promply gets the responsibility of guarding the village. But the police men are not ordinary people who go anywhere on foot. He will go in a carriage. A basket is fetched, it is covered with a bright red cloth and the soldier lies in it comfortably. Mahmood lifts the basket and starts wandering about his front door. His two younger brothers become criers on behalf of the soldier – ‘Stay awake, stay on guard’. But it is dark in the night. Mahmood stumbles, basket drops from his hands and Mr. Soldier falls on the ground with his gun and breaks his leg. Mahmood now realizes that he is a good doctor. He has discovered an ointment that can fix a broken leg in no time flat. All he needs is the milk from a cactus plant. That is found. Leg is put back together: but as the soldier is stood on his feet, the leg gives way. Surgery was unsuccessful, so his other leg was broken. Then he will at least be able to sit comfortably in a place. With one leg he could neither stand nor sit. Now that soldier has become a mendicant. He guards from the place where he sits. Sometimes he becomes a god even. A turban has been scratched on his head. Now you can make of it whatever you wish. Once in a while, he is even used as a weight.
Now hear about Master Hamid. Amina runs to him as she hears his voice, picks him up in her arms and starts kissing and cuddling him. Suddenly she sees the chimta in his hand and it alarms her.
“Where did you get this Chimta?”
“I bought it.”
“How many paisas?”
“Three.”
Amina drops him in shock. What a stupid boy that it is noon and he doesn’t eat, nor drink. What does he bring, a chimta! Couldn’t you find anything else in the whole fair to bring back this iron chimta?
Hamid says guiltily – You burn your fingers on the hot plate. That is why I brought it.
The anger of old woman instantaneously changes into love and not the love that whittles itself away in words. This is silent love, completely solid and full of sweetness. Child has so much selflessness, so much generosity, and so much wisdom. How tempted he must have been on seeing others buying toys and eating sweets. How did he control that? Even there he remembered his old grandma. Amina was touched to the core of her heart.
And now a strange thing happens, stranger than this chimta of Hamid. Child Hamid had played the part of old Hamid. Now old Amina becomes a child. She starts crying. With her arms holding her apron wide she showers Hamid with blessings and sheds huge drops of tears. How is Hamid to understand the secret of this reaction?
$ Muslim holy days – Ramadan, four weeks of fasting during daylight hours
Eid, end of fast, a day of celebration.
Muharram, a day of mouring.
*sawaiia - dessert made from vermicelli, milk and sugar.
** Paisa - Indian currency, sixty-four paisas to a rupee, ten rupees to a dollar at the time this story was written.
*** Mem – White women, ususlly wives of senior officials.
**** Chimta – a type of tongs made of cast iron.
Eid Fair
Eid is here after thirty days of fasting for Ramadan$. How beautiful is the dawn. Trees have a curious greenish hue, fields a curious gleam, and the sky a curious red tinge. The sun is lovely and cool today as if greeting the world on this day of rejoicing. The village is all agog. The preparations are under way for the visit to the fair. A shirt needs the button, so some one is running to the neighbour for needle and thread. The shoes have dried so some one is running to the oilwallah# to get some oil. The bulls are hurriedly being given fodder and water. Every one is worried that it will be noon before the return from the fair. Three miles walk on foot, then meeting hundreds of people. It is just not possible to return by noon. Some villagers are fasting till the noon, others not even that, but every one shares in the joy of visiting the fair. Boys are the happiest of the lot. Fast is for older people. For young ones it is Eid. They were counting the days to Eid. Now it is here and they are impatient to set off for the fair. They have nothing to do with worries of the household. Whether there is milk and sugar for sawaiia*, they don’t care. Only that they will eat sawaiia . They don’t know that daddy is running helter skelter to the home of Chowdhury Kayamali. It would be news to them that if Chowdhury looks the other way, Eid will turn into Muharram. Their own pockets are full of rich treasures. They take the treasures out again and again, count them and joyfully put them back. Mahmood counts, one, two, ten, twelve. He has twelve paisas**. Mohsin has one, two, three, eight, nine, fifteen. They will get countless things with these countless paisas – toys, sweets, rattle, ball, and who knows what else. And Hamid is the happiest of them all. This four or five year old, poverty-stricken, skinny boy, whose father was taken away last year by cholera and mother, no one knows why, shriveled to death one day. No one knew what the ailment was. Even if she told, who would have listened? What her heart had to bear, she kept in her heart and when she couldn’t bear it she took leave of this world. Now Hamid sleeps in the arms of his poor grandmother Amina and he is just as happy. His daddy has gone to make money and he will return will lots of bags. Mommy has gone to the house of Allah to bring him really wonderful things. Therefore Hamid is happy. Hope is a big thing, particularly a child’s hope! His imagination can make a mountain out of a grain of rye. Hamid doesn’t have shoes on his feet. The ornaments on his tattered old cap have blackened with age. Nonetheless he is happy. When his daddy returns with bags full of money and mommy with gifts, his heartfelt wishes will be fulfilled. Then he will see how Mahmood, Mohsin, Noor and Sammi will have as much money as him. He is totally unaware that unfortunate Amina is crying her heart out: it is Eid and there is not a grain in the house! If Abid were there today, could Eid come and go like this. She is drowning in this dark despair. Who asked for this evil Eid? It has no business in this house. But Hamid! What does he have to do with anyone living or dying? He has light within and hope outside. Misery can strike with all its forces; Hamid’s joyful appearance will vanquish it.
Hamid goes inside and tells grandma – don’t be afraid Amma, I will be the first to return. Have no fear.
Amina’s heart is aching. Village children are going with their fathers. Hamid has no father other than Amina. How can she let him go to fair alone? What will happen if the child gets lost in that crowd? No, Amina will not let him go. Tiny soul, how will he walk three miles? His feet will get blisters. He doesn’t even have shoes. If she goes with him she can pick him up after every few steps, but who will cook sawaiia here? If she had money she could buy all ingradients on return and quickly prepare it. Now it will take hours collecting the ingredients. Who can be sure when begging? That day she sewed Fahiman’s clothes and got fifty paisas. She was saving them like her honour for this day. But milkmaid was mad yesterday and what could she do! Hamid may need nothing else but he must have two-paisa worth of milk. Now there are only eight paisas left, three paisas in Hamid’s pocket and five in Amina’s purse. This is the situation on this day of Eid. Only Allah can help cross this bridge. Washerwoman, barber, toilet cleaner and bangle woman will all come. They all want Sawaiias and a little doesn’t satisfy anybody. Who all can she hide from? And why should she hide? There are festivals all year. May his life have their blessings. God save the child from calamities, these days will pass.
Villagers leave for the fair. And Hamid is going with the kids. Sometimes all of them run up to the front. Then they stand under some tree to wait for the group. Why are these people walking so slowly? It is as if Hamid grew wings on his feet. Can he ever tire? Now the town is in sight. There are gardens of the rich on both sides of the road. Houses are fenced solid. Trees are loaded with mangoes and litchis. Once in a while some boy picks up a rock and aims at a mango. The scolding gardener rushes out from inside. By then the boys are a long way away, laughing uproariously. Poor gardener is made to look silly.
Now they are approaching big buildings, the courthouse, the college and the clubhouse. Such a big college, how many boys study here! All are not boys. Some are grown up men, believe me. They are old enough to have long mustaches. Still they go to study. Who knows how long they will study and what they will do after so much study. There are two or three big boys in Hamid’s school, none worth three paisas. They are punished daily for not doing their homework. Must be that type of people in this place too, what else! They have magic displays in clubhouse with heads of corpses running around. They have big shows, but do not let any one in. And sahibs play here in the evening and important people and mem*** sahibs play as well, believe me. You give that to my Amma, what do they call it – bat, she will not even be able to hold it. She will roll over just moving her arm with it.
Mahmood said – my mom’s hand will start shaking, by God.
Mohsin spoke – come on, she grinds tons of flour, how will hands shake just holding the bat? She draws hundreds of pitchers of water every day, five for our buffalo alone. If any mem had to draw one pitcher, her eyes will see stars in the daylight.
Mahmood – But she doesn’t run, can’t hop and skip.
Mohsin – Yes, she can’t hop and skip, but the other day our cow escaped and ran into Chowdhury’s field. Mom ran so fast that I couldn’t catch her, believe me!
They walk on. Now sweetmeat shops begin. These are especially decorated today. Who eats so many sweets? Just look, each shop must have tons. I have heard that djinns come in the night to buy them. Dad used to say that at midnight a man goes to the shop and asks everything that is left to be weighed and pays in real rupees**, real rupees like these.
Hamid did not believe it – Where do djinns find real rupees?
Mohsin said – Why is a djinn short of rupees? Whatever treasure house he wishes to go in, he can. Iron gates can not stop him, dear sir, what world are you in. They even own diamonds and other precious stones. Whoever pleases them, they shower baskets of jewels on him. They may be sitting here now, in five minutes they can reach Calcutta.
Hamid asked - djinns must be really big.
Mohsin – Dear sir, each of them is as big as the sky. If he stands up on the ground, his head bumps against the sky. But if he wishes he can hide in a jug.
Hamid – How can humans please them? Tell me some prayer that will help me please a djinn.
Mohsin – That I don’t know, but Chowdhury sahib has many djinns under his control. Any thing that is stolen, Chowdhury sahib will find it for you and will even tell you the name of the thief. Jumrati lost his calf the other day. He was rushing around for three days, couldn’t find it anywhere. Then in desperation he went to Chowdhury sahib. Chowdhury told him at once that it is in animal pond and that is where he found it. Djinns come and tell him the news of the whole country.
Now he can understand why Chowdhury has so much wealth and why he gets so much respect.
They move on and reach the Police Lines. Here all constables do their training. Attention! Halt! Poor fellows wander all night, so there are no thefts. Mohsin challenged – These constables do the watching? Then you know a lot. Dear Sir, they arrange the thefts. They are in league with all the thieves and dacoits. Every night they tell the thieves to go and steal in one neighbourhood and go to another themselves and shout, “Stay awake, stay awake.” That is how these people have so much money. My uncle is a constable at a police station, his salary is twenty rupees but he sends fifty rupees home every month. By God. Once I asked him, “Uncle, where do you find so much money?” He laughed and said, “Son, God gives.” Then he added, “I can get millions, if I wish. But I take just enough to keep my clean and not lose the job.”
Hamid asked – If these people arrange thefts then why doesn’t somebody catch them?
Mohsin pitied his innocence and said – Are you mad? Who will catch them? They themselves are the catchers. But God does punish them in plenty. Ill gotten gains cause indigestion. A few days ago, there was a fire in uncle’s house. All property and money was burnt down. They couldn’t save even a utensil. They slept under a tree for many nights, by God, under a tree. Then who knows from where he borrowed a hundred and bought utensils etc.
Hamid – One hundred is more than fifty. Fifty is here and hundred there. Fifty will fill one bag. Even two bags will not be enough for a hundred.
Now the buildings become denser. Other groups going to the fair come in sight. They have on more and more fantastic clothes. Some are riding horse carts, some cars, some are drenched in scent, and all in spirit of the day. That small group of villagers, unconscious of its poverty, is traveling fully contented and patient. For children, everything in the city is attractive. Whatever they look at, they can’t take eyes off it. And they don’t pay attention to traffic even after repeated toots of horns from behind. Hamid narrowly escapes being run over.
Suddenly they can see the fair ground. Over it is the shade of dense tamarind trees. Under it is the hard floor covered with carpet. And the queues of visitors one behind the other go on for who knows how long, beyond the hard floor where there is no carpet. Newcomers stand at the back of the last queue. There is no room in the front. No one looks at title or the wealth here. Every one is equal in the eyes of Islam. The villagers joined the others in prayer in the back row. How beautiful is the organization, how beautiful the order. Millions of heads bend with devotion in unison, than every one stands up together. They bend together and kneel together. This exercise is repeated many times, as if millions of electric bulbs go on and off simultaneously and this process keeps on going. The wonderful sight fills the heart with devotion, pride and bliss, as if a thread of fraternity goes through all souls like a garland.
Prayer ends and people hug each other. This is followed by the invasion of toy and sweet shops. Our group of villagers is no less enthusiastic in this respect than the children. Look here, this is Ferris wheel. Climb on it for a penny. Sometimes it will look as if you are going to the sky, sometimes falling to the ground. This is merry go round, wooden elephants, horses, camels are suspended on sticks. Enjoy the ride for twenty five rounds for a paisa. Mahmood, Mohsin, Noor and Sammi sit on camels and horses. Hamid stands at a distance. He has only three paisas. He can not part with one third of his treasure just to go round and round.
Everyone is off the merry go round. Now they rush to the toys. Here is a row of shops. They have toys of all kinds- soldier and servant, king and the advocate, waterman and launderess and mendicant. Wonder of wonders! How beautiful are the toys. They appear ready to talk. Ahmed takes a soldier in khaki uniform and red turban, with a gun on his shoulder. He looks as if he is going on a platoon march. Mohsin likes the waterman. His back is bent with a leather water bag on it. He is holding the mouth of the bag shut with one hand. How happy he is. Perhaps he is singing a song. All he wants is to give water from the bag. Noor is in love with the advocate with so much cleverness is on his face, black gown over white long coat, a watch in the front pocket of long coat, gold chain, and a legal tome in one hand. He looks as if he is coming from some court after arguing a case. All these toys are for two paisas each. How can Hamid buy such an expensive toy? If the toy slips out of his hand, it will shatter into small pieces. If some water drops on it, its colour will wash off. What will he do with toys like these? What use are they?
Mohsin says – My waterman will bring water everyday, dawn and dusk.
Mahmood – And my soldier will guard the house. If some thief comes, he will shoot at once.
Noor – And my advocate will fight many cases.
Sammi – My laundress will wash clothes every day.
Hamid deprecates the toys - they are made of clay, if they are dropped they will become dust. But he looks at the toys with greedy eyes. And he wants to hold them in his hands, if only for a moment. His hands dart out, but children do not share, particularly not a new toy. Hamid is left with his greedy looks.
After toys, it is sweets. Some one buys candy, some one rhum ball, some one Halwah. They eat with great enjoyment. Hamid is separated from the group. Poor boy has three paisas. Why doesn’t he buy something and eat? He is looking greedily at everybody.
Mohsin says – Hamid, take this candy, how flavourful it is!
Hamid suspects that this is only a tease, Mohsin is not so generous. Knowing this he still goes towards him. Mohsin takes a candy out of the bag and holds his hand out towards Hamid. Hamid holds his hand out. Mohsin puts the candy in his own mouth. Mahmood, Noor and Sammi clap and laugh. Hamid feels humiliated.
Mohsin – Well, this time I will certainly give it, Hamid, by God, take it.
Hamid – Keep it, don’t I have any money.
Sammi – Yes you have three paisas. What all will you get for three paisas?
Ahmed – Take the rhum ball from me Hamid. Mofsin is bad.
Hamid – What is so great about sweets? There are so many bad things in the book about them.
Mohsin – But you are saying in your heart - If I could get some I will eat it. Why don’t you get your paisas out?
Mahmood – I know his trick. When we have spent all our money, he will eat and tease us.
Next, there are some shops of things made of iron, some of bronze and some costume jewelry. The boys had nothing to attract them there. They all proceeded further. Hamid stops at an iron shop. It has several Chimtas**** on display. He remembers that grandma doesn’t have a chimta. When she takes off chapatis from hot plate, she burns her hand. If he took a chimta and gave it to grandma, how happy will she be! Then her fingers won’t burn. There will be a useful thing at home. What use are the toys? Money is wasted for nothing. There is pleasure for a few moments. Then no body lifts his eyes to look at the toy. It may break and be worthless by the time we get home. Chimta is a thing of many uses. Take chapatis off the hot plate, toast them in open fire, if someone comes to ask for burning coal to start their fire, take the piece out of fireplace and give it to them, no problem. Poor Grandma, when does she have time to go to market and where will she find so much money? She burns her hand everyday. Hamid’s mates have gone ahead. They are drinking sugar water at a stall. Look, how greedy they all are! They bought so many sweets, did not share even one with me. Then they all say play with me. Do this chore for me. Now if any one asks me to do something, I’ll tell them off. They eat sweets, their mouth will have ulcers, skin will have rashes and boils, tongue will become addicted. Then they will steal money at home and will get thrashed. The books don’t lie. Why will my tongue go bad? As soon as Grandma sees the chimta, she will run and take it from my hands and say – My child has brought chimta for his grandma! She will bestow a thousand blessings. Then she will show it to women in the neighbourhood. It will be the talk of the village, Hamid has brought chimta. What a good boy! Who will give blessing to these boys for their toys? The blessings of elders reach the court of Allah and are heard straightaway. I don’t have money. That is why Mohsin and Mahmood put me down. I will show them, even though they can play with toys and eat sweets. I don’t play with toys, why should I tolerate any putdowns? I may be poor, but I do not beg from any one. After all, Daddy will return some day, Mommy will too. Then I will ask these people, how many toys will you like? I will give each one a basket full of toys and show them how to behave with friends. Not in the way that you buy a candy for a paisa and tease while eating it. Every one will laugh that Hamid has bought a chimta. Laugh, I don’t care. He asked the shopkeeper – how much is the chimta?
Shopkeeper looked at him and seeing no adult with him said – this is no use to you dear.
‘Is it for sale or not?’
‘Why is it not for sale? Why else have I brought it here?
‘Then why don’t you tell its price?’
‘It will cost six paisas.’
Hamid’s heart sank.
‘Tell the right price.’
‘Right price! O.K. five paisas. Take it if you want, otherwise move on.’
Hamid firmed up his resolve and said – Will you take three paisas?
and moved on so he wouldn’t hear shopkeeper’s curses. But shopkeeper did not curse. He called him back and gave the chimta. Hamid put it on his shoulder like a gun and proudly walked over to his mates, ready for all their sarcasms.
Mohsin laughingly said – Why did you get this chimta, you mad boy. What will you do with it?
Hamid hit the ground with the chimta and said – Just drop your waterman on the ground. Every bone will be crushed.
Mahmood spoke – How is this chimta a toy?
Hamid – Why isn’t it a toy. Put it on your shoulder, it becomes a gun. Take it in a hand, it is fakir’s chimta. If I wish it can work like a staff. One strike with chimta, all your toys will become lifeless. With all their strength your toys can’t move a hair on my chimta. It is brave like a lion – this chimta.
Sammi had bought a bride. Impressed he said – Swap it with my bride? Cost ten paisas.
Hamid looked contemptuously at the bride – If my chimta wishes it can tear apart the stomach of your bride. Just a touch of leather, it will start whimpering. A little water on it, it will be the end. My brave chimta will stand the test of fire, water, winds, storm equally.
Chimta charmes everybody but who has the money left now? Moreover, they are some distance from the fair, it was nine o’clock long ago, sun is getting hotter, there are in a hurry to get home. Even on insistent begging from their fathers they can’t get the chimta. They all think - Hamid is very clever. That is why the rogue was saving money.
Now the boys split into two groups. Mohsin, Mahmood, Sammi and Noor on one side, Hamid alone on the other. Heated debate was on, Then Sammi turned traitor. But Mohsin, Mahmood and Noor too, even though they were one or two years older, started fearing Hamid’s verbal attacks. He has force of justice on his side and the strength of fairness. Clay is on one side, on the other strength of steel - undefeatable, dangerous. If any lion showed up, waterman will start sweating, Mr. Soldier will leave his clay gun behind and run away, Mr. Advocate will fear for his life, lie down and hide his face in the gown. But this chimta, this brave Hero of India will hop on lion’s neck and pull out its eyes.
Mohsin needs the strength from his toe to his hair to say – Well, it can’t bring water.
Hamid stands the chimta straight and says – He will scold the waterman, he will come running and sprinkle water on his door.
Mohsin is defeated but Mahmood squeaks – If the poor fellow gets caught, he will go from court to court in chains. Then he will have to kiss advocate’s feet.
Hamid can’t answer this strong argument. So he asks – who will come to catch us?
Noor straightens himself with great pride and says – This soldier with the gun.
Hamid pulls his face and says – This poor fellow will catch us, brave Heroes of India. O.K., bring him on, let us have a round of wrestling. He will run away once he looks at its face. Who will poor fellow catch?
Mohsin thinks of a new hurt – The face of your chimta will burn in fire daily.
He had thought that Hamid will become speechless. But this does not happen. Hamid replies instantly – Only the brave jump in the fire. Dear Sir, advocate, soldier and waterman will run to hide into their homes. Jumping in the fire is the work only Hero of India can do.
Mahmood makes one more try – Mr. Advocate will work on a chair and a table, your chimta will lie in the pantry.
This argument enlivenes Sammi and Noor. What meaningful argument has this hero advanced? What can the chimta do other than lie in the pantry?
Hamid can’t think of a clever reply so he tries bluffing – My chimta will not lie in the pantry. When Mr. Advocate is sitting in the chair, he will go and throw him on the ground and shove his law in his belly.
This doesn’t make sense. But it is a heated exchange, talk of shoving law in the belly
hits its mark. So much so that three heroes are left staring, as if a homemade kite has knocked a professional kite out of the sky. Law is something to be brought out of the mouth. Shoving it in the belly is illogical but does have some novelty. Hamid has conquered the field. His chimta is the Hero of India. Now Mohsin, Mahmood, Noor, Sammi can have no objection to that.
The natural respect due to a victor from vanquished is accorded to Hamid. Others had spent ten to twenty paisas each but couldn’t get anything useful. Hamid won the day with three paisas. It is true, who can be sure of the toys? They will break. Hamid’s chimta will last for years.
They start offering terms of compromise. Mohsin says – please give me your chimta for a moment. You can look at my waterman.
Mahmood and Noor also present their toys.
Hamid has no trouble in accepting these conditions. Chimta takes turns in moving to everyone’s hands and their toys, in turn, come into Hamid’s. How beautiful are the toys!
Hamid consoles the vanquished – I was teasing you, believe me. How can this iron chimta match these toys; I feel as if they are ready to talk.
But Mohsin’s party is not satisfied with this offering. Chimta has established its authority. Well-glued stamp does not come unstuck with water.
Mohsin – But no one will give us blessings because of these toys.
Mahmood – You are thinking of blessing. We may even get a beating. Mother will definitely ask why a clay toy is all I could get in the fair?
Hamid had to accept that no mother will be as happy to see the toys as his grandma will be to see the chimta. The paisas had to be used such that one wasn’t sorry later. Moreover, chimta is now the Hero of India and the king of all toys.
Mahmood feels hungry on the way home. His father gives him bananas to eat. Mahmood shares them with Hamid alone. His other friends are left staring. This is the gift from his chimta.
There is bustle in the village at eleven o’clock. The fair people have returned. Mohsin’s little sister runs and plucks the waterman from his hands. And as she jumps high in joy Mia Waterman comes down and goes straight to heaven. This starts a fight between the pair. Both cry buckets of tears. Their mother is angry when she hears the cries and both get slapped twice too.
Mia Noor’s advocate meets his end more gloriously as befits his prestige. Advocate can’t sit on ground or on eye-level shelf. One has to think of his reputation. Two long nails are hammered in the wall. A wooden plank is set on them. Then the plank is carpeted with paper; Mr. Advocate sits on a throne like King Bhoj. Noor starts fanning him. In courthouse they have perfumed straw hangings and electric fans. Can’t he have even an ordinary fan here? Otherwise, the heat of legal arguments will go to his head. Noor brings a bamboo fan and started fanning. Whether by the draft from the fan or by being struck with it, Mr. Advocate proceeds to the world above and his clay figure joins the earth. There is a very loud farewell ceremony and the remains of Mr. Advocate are consigned to the dust.
Now to Mahmood’s soldier. He promply gets the responsibility of guarding the village. But the police men are not ordinary people who go anywhere on foot. He will go in a carriage. A basket is fetched, it is covered with a bright red cloth and the soldier lies in it comfortably. Mahmood lifts the basket and starts wandering about his front door. His two younger brothers become criers on behalf of the soldier – ‘Stay awake, stay on guard’. But it is dark in the night. Mahmood stumbles, basket drops from his hands and Mr. Soldier falls on the ground with his gun and breaks his leg. Mahmood now realizes that he is a good doctor. He has discovered an ointment that can fix a broken leg in no time flat. All he needs is the milk from a cactus plant. That is found. Leg is put back together: but as the soldier is stood on his feet, the leg gives way. Surgery was unsuccessful, so his other leg was broken. Then he will at least be able to sit comfortably in a place. With one leg he could neither stand nor sit. Now that soldier has become a mendicant. He guards from the place where he sits. Sometimes he becomes a god even. A turban has been scratched on his head. Now you can make of it whatever you wish. Once in a while, he is even used as a weight.
Now hear about Master Hamid. Amina runs to him as she hears his voice, picks him up in her arms and starts kissing and cuddling him. Suddenly she sees the chimta in his hand and it alarms her.
“Where did you get this Chimta?”
“I bought it.”
“How many paisas?”
“Three.”
Amina drops him in shock. What a stupid boy that it is noon and he doesn’t eat, nor drink. What does he bring, a chimta! Couldn’t you find anything else in the whole fair to bring back this iron chimta?
Hamid says guiltily – You burn your fingers on the hot plate. That is why I brought it.
The anger of old woman instantaneously changes into love and not the love that whittles itself away in words. This is silent love, completely solid and full of sweetness. Child has so much selflessness, so much generosity, and so much wisdom. How tempted he must have been on seeing others buying toys and eating sweets. How did he control that? Even there he remembered his old grandma. Amina was touched to the core of her heart.
And now a strange thing happens, stranger than this chimta of Hamid. Child Hamid had played the part of old Hamid. Now old Amina becomes a child. She starts crying. With her arms holding her apron wide she showers Hamid with blessings and sheds huge drops of tears. How is Hamid to understand the secret of this reaction?
$ Muslim holy days – Ramadan, four weeks of fasting during daylight hours
Eid, end of fast, a day of celebration.
Muharram, a day of mouring.
*sawaiia - dessert made from vermicelli, milk and sugar.
** Paisa - Indian currency, sixty-four paisas to a rupee, ten rupees to a dollar at the time this story was written.
*** Mem – White women, ususlly wives of senior officials.
**** Chimta – a type of tongs made of cast iron.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thoughts of the Week
While it is gratifying to see so many people risking their lives to live in Canada, the fact remains that the real refugees in Sri Lanka escape to India a few hours away on a rowing boat and merge with the fellow Tamils there. The shipload consists mostly of lower middle class farmers and tradesmen who were persuaded by crafty smugglers to part with all their worldly wealth in exchange for a promise of an easy life in the land of colour TV, free education for the kids, free medical care and hefty welfare cheques.
In ten months since last October TWX index has oscillated between 10,800 and 12,200 with 8 sharp drops and almost equally sharp pick ups of six to eight percent. In my forty years of investing I have never seen such volatility in the markets but then I have not seen so many economic and political factors behaving so strangely either. In current situation a small investor has only two options: either fold up or ride the waves. Those who do not have the stomach for choppy waters should follow the first option and enjoy their sleep. The few with strong nerves should ride the waves. They are likely to come out smiling in the end, whenever it is
While the big news is the great calamity due to the floods in Pakistan, India has also suffered severe damage due to heavy monsoon rains, overflowing rivers and mudslides. My hope now is that this shared misery in the two countries will bring the people closer together; they will work to resolve their past differences and learn how to live in peace and then enjoy the prosperity that will follow.
Does the crime of Stockwell Day become a 'reported' crime now that it has been reported it in the paper or it is still an 'unreported' crime because it has not reported to the police? Moreover, does Mr. Day have to be prosecuted and found guilty for it to be a crime? Not only that, would a suspended sentence exonerate Mr. Day of the crime? It seems to me that this crime business is more complicated than either Mr. Day or his fellow rightists think.
We can't fault Mr. Day of inconsistency. He, and presumably the government, do not believe the statistics on crime. Why would they believe any other inconvenient statistic? And if you are not going to believe in the statistical conclusions, why waste taxpayers' money on collecting the data and give pesky opponents and reporters ammunition. Bingo, we know the reasoning behind census decision.
The title, “Please remain calm. The Earth will heal itself,” is misleading. The panic is not about the survival of planet Earth but of the humans on it which Mr. Reynolds mentions in passing at the end. Unfortunately, all we are offered to soothe us are band aid solutions, nothing to solve the key element: balancing human population with resources available on the planet. Till we begin to tackle this imbalance I for one will make no apologies for being in panic,
While most people would agree that the growth oriented economic model is perhaps outdated, the new model will have to answer two questions. First, the number of poor in the world compared to those who are comfortable is so large that sharing equitably what we now have and produce will not reduce misery; it will only make every one miserable. To put it starkly: how do you bring the population of humans (and their pets) down to the level where every human being can avail the minimum necessities of daily life. Second issue is: how do you make the people who are comfortable give up what they consider essentials, given the human nature as it is?
I don’t believe humans are capable of resolving these problems. They will be solved either by a natural calamity or a major war, neither all that unlikely.
I wonder why it is the followers of Religeous Right who demand stiffer sentences for crimes, whether reported or not. What happened to the commandment in Bible about turning the other cheek? Or the teachers in my mission school were reading the wrong version in a different language.
Britain’s Bill of Rights, like all similar bills, was a reaction to the long entrenched bills of responsibilities in communist and dictatorial regimes. It made the same mistake – it did not balance rights and responsibilities. Bills of rights with no responsibilities make as little sense as those unwritten but widely understood bills of responsibilities without rights and they cause similar problems for the citizens while becoming goldmines for some lawyers,
If the goal in Afghanistan is only to contain El Qaeda, why is the administration supporting the government, army and intelligence unit of Pakistan where all the leadership of Taliban and El Qaeda is located? Surely, the terrorists could not have been operating from Pakistan‘s territory for last ten years without the complicity of their defence forces presumably under the control of the government.
No human organization is perfect because humans are not perfect. All their actions ‘could be better’ performed with the advantage of hindsight. Considered in this light, the public apology by Vancouver Police is unwarranted. All it would do is that it will open the floodgates of expensive law suits from the families of the victims. Irony is that if these families had stayed in close touch with their strayed relatives they would have reported their disappearance promptly; before the trail left by Mr. Pickton had gone cold, and the case may have been resolved before so many lives were lost.
At this stage very few doubt the warming of the Earth over last few decades. However, the key question is, Why? On the answer depends our response. If the warming is due to carbon and other emissions into atmosphere the trend will continue with serious consequences unless we reverse the emissions soon, albeit at great cost. On the other hand, if the warming is due to sunspot activity and other reasons beyond human control as in the geological past, it may continue or it may not but not much can be done about it. What we can do in either case is to prepare ourselves to cope with the consequences of continued warming if it does occur. Unfortunately, there is not much evidence of such action, only mudslinging by competing camps.
Will Palin run in 2012? Good question and Democrats pray that she will. If she loses the primary battle she will pull the winner towards the right in primaries, more right than most Americans can stomach. If she becomes the Republican candidate, remember what happened to Goldwater in 1964. That will happen in 2012, 2016 and even in 2060. Palin has the mouth but not much to back it up. If she ever becomes the President it will only be because either the U.S. is near the death’s door or it has an extreme case of death wish.
While it is gratifying to see so many people risking their lives to live in Canada, the fact remains that the real refugees in Sri Lanka escape to India a few hours away on a rowing boat and merge with the fellow Tamils there. The shipload consists mostly of lower middle class farmers and tradesmen who were persuaded by crafty smugglers to part with all their worldly wealth in exchange for a promise of an easy life in the land of colour TV, free education for the kids, free medical care and hefty welfare cheques.
In ten months since last October TWX index has oscillated between 10,800 and 12,200 with 8 sharp drops and almost equally sharp pick ups of six to eight percent. In my forty years of investing I have never seen such volatility in the markets but then I have not seen so many economic and political factors behaving so strangely either. In current situation a small investor has only two options: either fold up or ride the waves. Those who do not have the stomach for choppy waters should follow the first option and enjoy their sleep. The few with strong nerves should ride the waves. They are likely to come out smiling in the end, whenever it is
While the big news is the great calamity due to the floods in Pakistan, India has also suffered severe damage due to heavy monsoon rains, overflowing rivers and mudslides. My hope now is that this shared misery in the two countries will bring the people closer together; they will work to resolve their past differences and learn how to live in peace and then enjoy the prosperity that will follow.
Does the crime of Stockwell Day become a 'reported' crime now that it has been reported it in the paper or it is still an 'unreported' crime because it has not reported to the police? Moreover, does Mr. Day have to be prosecuted and found guilty for it to be a crime? Not only that, would a suspended sentence exonerate Mr. Day of the crime? It seems to me that this crime business is more complicated than either Mr. Day or his fellow rightists think.
We can't fault Mr. Day of inconsistency. He, and presumably the government, do not believe the statistics on crime. Why would they believe any other inconvenient statistic? And if you are not going to believe in the statistical conclusions, why waste taxpayers' money on collecting the data and give pesky opponents and reporters ammunition. Bingo, we know the reasoning behind census decision.
The title, “Please remain calm. The Earth will heal itself,” is misleading. The panic is not about the survival of planet Earth but of the humans on it which Mr. Reynolds mentions in passing at the end. Unfortunately, all we are offered to soothe us are band aid solutions, nothing to solve the key element: balancing human population with resources available on the planet. Till we begin to tackle this imbalance I for one will make no apologies for being in panic,
While most people would agree that the growth oriented economic model is perhaps outdated, the new model will have to answer two questions. First, the number of poor in the world compared to those who are comfortable is so large that sharing equitably what we now have and produce will not reduce misery; it will only make every one miserable. To put it starkly: how do you bring the population of humans (and their pets) down to the level where every human being can avail the minimum necessities of daily life. Second issue is: how do you make the people who are comfortable give up what they consider essentials, given the human nature as it is?
I don’t believe humans are capable of resolving these problems. They will be solved either by a natural calamity or a major war, neither all that unlikely.
I wonder why it is the followers of Religeous Right who demand stiffer sentences for crimes, whether reported or not. What happened to the commandment in Bible about turning the other cheek? Or the teachers in my mission school were reading the wrong version in a different language.
Britain’s Bill of Rights, like all similar bills, was a reaction to the long entrenched bills of responsibilities in communist and dictatorial regimes. It made the same mistake – it did not balance rights and responsibilities. Bills of rights with no responsibilities make as little sense as those unwritten but widely understood bills of responsibilities without rights and they cause similar problems for the citizens while becoming goldmines for some lawyers,
If the goal in Afghanistan is only to contain El Qaeda, why is the administration supporting the government, army and intelligence unit of Pakistan where all the leadership of Taliban and El Qaeda is located? Surely, the terrorists could not have been operating from Pakistan‘s territory for last ten years without the complicity of their defence forces presumably under the control of the government.
No human organization is perfect because humans are not perfect. All their actions ‘could be better’ performed with the advantage of hindsight. Considered in this light, the public apology by Vancouver Police is unwarranted. All it would do is that it will open the floodgates of expensive law suits from the families of the victims. Irony is that if these families had stayed in close touch with their strayed relatives they would have reported their disappearance promptly; before the trail left by Mr. Pickton had gone cold, and the case may have been resolved before so many lives were lost.
At this stage very few doubt the warming of the Earth over last few decades. However, the key question is, Why? On the answer depends our response. If the warming is due to carbon and other emissions into atmosphere the trend will continue with serious consequences unless we reverse the emissions soon, albeit at great cost. On the other hand, if the warming is due to sunspot activity and other reasons beyond human control as in the geological past, it may continue or it may not but not much can be done about it. What we can do in either case is to prepare ourselves to cope with the consequences of continued warming if it does occur. Unfortunately, there is not much evidence of such action, only mudslinging by competing camps.
Will Palin run in 2012? Good question and Democrats pray that she will. If she loses the primary battle she will pull the winner towards the right in primaries, more right than most Americans can stomach. If she becomes the Republican candidate, remember what happened to Goldwater in 1964. That will happen in 2012, 2016 and even in 2060. Palin has the mouth but not much to back it up. If she ever becomes the President it will only be because either the U.S. is near the death’s door or it has an extreme case of death wish.
Friday, August 6, 2010
A Joyful Occasion
Evelyn has always looked forward to Easter Sunday; she goes to a lot of trouble to make it fun for the children. She did it for our daughters till they grew up into teenagers. After the hiatus of twenty years the Easter bunny visited five years ago for the granddaughters Kahlo and Asha and he has been kind enough to return every year since.
The routine is the same every year. Evelyn buys the top quality Easter eggs in a variety of sizes with shiny and colourful wrappings. On Saturday evening after children have gone to bed, we both assume the role of bunnies. We rush around the house, indoor and out, placing the candy from our bags, some in obvious places some in hidden corners. When the bags are empty bunnies are transformed into tired humans ready for bed. The great hunt begins after breakfast on Sunday,.
I don’t really remember whether it was inclement weather or children not going to bed till late, the Bunny did not arrive on Saturday this spring. So the hunt could not begin till poor Bunnies were out of bed and had done their job. But the girls were excited and woke up before their grandparents. To meet the secrecy requirements of Bunny Evelyn asked the girls to go to their room to play for half an hour. Instead they started quarrelling. When all attempts at cajoling failed Evelyn threatened them that unless they went to the room Bunny will not visit the household. This did not work either. In frustration Evelyn issued the only possible, though admittedly harsh, verdict, “No Easter Egg hunt.”
Eight year old Kahlo did not seem to be concerned. She went to the trampoline and practiced her reverse somersaults. But six year old Asha was visibly upset although she did not cry. She went to the bed room and sulked there for a while. During this interaction I was working in our home office on my novel which was not going anywhere either. I heard the conversation in the living room and felt sorry for Evelyn at the turn of events more than for children being deprived of the joy of the hunt. I gave up writing and got my brain to grind jerkily to solve the vital problem, “Can the Egg Hunt be retrieved?”
In a few minutes after she had recovered a little, Asha came to me, disappointment writ large over her face. “Grammy said Easter Bunny will not come because we have been naughty. How can we tell him how sorry we are and ask him to come?”
“You can’t ask him to come, only Grammy can. If you both apologized to her and promised to be good girls for rest of your stay, she might relent and phone him. If he is not too busy he may drop by.”
“How will Grammy phone him, she may not have his phone number?”
“No problem. I can find it for you.”
I googled for Easter Bunny’s phone number. Lo and behold! There was an entry and there was a number – 715 438 9844. I jotted it down and gave it to Asha. But first she had to persuade usually obstinate Kahlo to go to Grammy with her. To my surprise this turned out to be an easy task. They both went sheepishly to Evelyn who was preparing chicken soup in the kitchen. Asha took the lead.
“Grammy, we are sorry we were naughty. We promise we will be good for the rest of our stay if you tell Easter Bunny to come. Grumpi found his phone number. Here it is.”
“Me too,” Kahlo added her bit.
Evelyn listened to the tearful request. Her heart softened as she took the paper but she kept an angry façade, “You both go to the room and write a letter in your best writing. I will decide after I see the letter.”
The girls came to me and I gave them a lined paper and a pencil. Asha dictated and Kahlo wrote,
Sorry, Easter Bunny we said
sorry to our Grammy will
you please come and visit us
Thank you
Kahlo
Asha
Asha drew the sketch of a cute rabbit in the bottom left corner. They took the letter to Grammy. She expressed her pleasure, went to the phone and pretended to dial the number and talk to the Bunny. She turned to the girls, “You are lucky he is in this area. He will come by in a few minutes. Now you go and play in your room till I call you.”
The girls were thrilled and rushed upstairs two steps at a time. I joined Evelyn and we did our usual hiding trick. After catching our breath we called the girls. Each picked a plastic bag and rushed around the house and garden excitedly looking for the loot. Before long the bags were full. Every one was happy. Who was the happiest? The girls were happy they got to hunt for candy they could share with their friends at home. Evelyn was happy she got to do what she does best - make every one happy. I was happier still because I played some part in turning disappointment of three persons I love into joy, something I am able to do only rarely.
Some Published Letters
Proportionate sentencing:
I've no doubt that what Kenneth Klassen did to little children was terrible and deserves a lengthy jail sentence along with psychological treatment. However, my issue is the relative length of the sentence.
Judges routinely hand out gang leaders, drug dealers, murderers and robbers lighter sentences than 11 years. Eleven years is appropriate in this case. But please let us keep a sense of proportion and sentence more dangerous criminals to longer terms.
(The Vancouver Province, 01/08/10)
***
Nature of the beast:
Re: “Anti-Alberta views fester in home country, July 16. While Rick Bell makes many good points, it makes no sense for the Alberta government to deny the nature of the beast that is the oilsands. You can’t fight the glaring truth by asking people to look the other way. You have to persuade them you have been working hard to improve the situation and your efforts are working. Therefore, the best strategy to counter misguided environmentalists would be to acknowledge the pollution caused by the process, then emphasize the economic benefits of production to Canada and the U.S. and describe the political and economic risks of curtailing the production. The clincher in the argument would be a graph of historical improvements in emissions from oil extraction and new research under way to improve it further.
(Calgary Sun, 18/07/10)
***
Zero appeal:
Re: "Fourth horse dies at Stampede," Herald Online, July 13.
Four horses killed, one rider seriously injured and Stampede has just begun. One wonders what is the attraction in a so-called sport that celebrates the lifestyle of a long bygone era. I guess it is the audience of the same people who cheer the brawls in hockey games and enjoy the grossly violent movies and video games.
(Calgary Herald, 14/07/10)
***
Multiculturalism gets bad name:
Re: "Multiculturalism has undermined unity," (July 3). As an immigrant of long standing, I agree with Salim Mansur, with one proviso. It is multiculturalism as practised in Canada, not the concept, that has failed us. Multiculturalism means accepting good points from other cultures and tolerating grey zones without adopting them. It does not mean accepting practices like Sharia law, the Niqab, kirpans, arranged marriages, etc.
which are contrary to accepted practices or laws. Failure to recognize this promotes discord and gives multiculturalism a bad name. If the goal is a united country with a harmonious population, it can be achieved by enlightened multiculturalism, which distinguishes between good and not so good rather than defending all foreign practices.
(Calgary Sun, 06/07/10)
***
Evelyn has always looked forward to Easter Sunday; she goes to a lot of trouble to make it fun for the children. She did it for our daughters till they grew up into teenagers. After the hiatus of twenty years the Easter bunny visited five years ago for the granddaughters Kahlo and Asha and he has been kind enough to return every year since.
The routine is the same every year. Evelyn buys the top quality Easter eggs in a variety of sizes with shiny and colourful wrappings. On Saturday evening after children have gone to bed, we both assume the role of bunnies. We rush around the house, indoor and out, placing the candy from our bags, some in obvious places some in hidden corners. When the bags are empty bunnies are transformed into tired humans ready for bed. The great hunt begins after breakfast on Sunday,.
I don’t really remember whether it was inclement weather or children not going to bed till late, the Bunny did not arrive on Saturday this spring. So the hunt could not begin till poor Bunnies were out of bed and had done their job. But the girls were excited and woke up before their grandparents. To meet the secrecy requirements of Bunny Evelyn asked the girls to go to their room to play for half an hour. Instead they started quarrelling. When all attempts at cajoling failed Evelyn threatened them that unless they went to the room Bunny will not visit the household. This did not work either. In frustration Evelyn issued the only possible, though admittedly harsh, verdict, “No Easter Egg hunt.”
Eight year old Kahlo did not seem to be concerned. She went to the trampoline and practiced her reverse somersaults. But six year old Asha was visibly upset although she did not cry. She went to the bed room and sulked there for a while. During this interaction I was working in our home office on my novel which was not going anywhere either. I heard the conversation in the living room and felt sorry for Evelyn at the turn of events more than for children being deprived of the joy of the hunt. I gave up writing and got my brain to grind jerkily to solve the vital problem, “Can the Egg Hunt be retrieved?”
In a few minutes after she had recovered a little, Asha came to me, disappointment writ large over her face. “Grammy said Easter Bunny will not come because we have been naughty. How can we tell him how sorry we are and ask him to come?”
“You can’t ask him to come, only Grammy can. If you both apologized to her and promised to be good girls for rest of your stay, she might relent and phone him. If he is not too busy he may drop by.”
“How will Grammy phone him, she may not have his phone number?”
“No problem. I can find it for you.”
I googled for Easter Bunny’s phone number. Lo and behold! There was an entry and there was a number – 715 438 9844. I jotted it down and gave it to Asha. But first she had to persuade usually obstinate Kahlo to go to Grammy with her. To my surprise this turned out to be an easy task. They both went sheepishly to Evelyn who was preparing chicken soup in the kitchen. Asha took the lead.
“Grammy, we are sorry we were naughty. We promise we will be good for the rest of our stay if you tell Easter Bunny to come. Grumpi found his phone number. Here it is.”
“Me too,” Kahlo added her bit.
Evelyn listened to the tearful request. Her heart softened as she took the paper but she kept an angry façade, “You both go to the room and write a letter in your best writing. I will decide after I see the letter.”
The girls came to me and I gave them a lined paper and a pencil. Asha dictated and Kahlo wrote,
Sorry, Easter Bunny we said
sorry to our Grammy will
you please come and visit us
Thank you
Kahlo
Asha
Asha drew the sketch of a cute rabbit in the bottom left corner. They took the letter to Grammy. She expressed her pleasure, went to the phone and pretended to dial the number and talk to the Bunny. She turned to the girls, “You are lucky he is in this area. He will come by in a few minutes. Now you go and play in your room till I call you.”
The girls were thrilled and rushed upstairs two steps at a time. I joined Evelyn and we did our usual hiding trick. After catching our breath we called the girls. Each picked a plastic bag and rushed around the house and garden excitedly looking for the loot. Before long the bags were full. Every one was happy. Who was the happiest? The girls were happy they got to hunt for candy they could share with their friends at home. Evelyn was happy she got to do what she does best - make every one happy. I was happier still because I played some part in turning disappointment of three persons I love into joy, something I am able to do only rarely.
Some Published Letters
Proportionate sentencing:
I've no doubt that what Kenneth Klassen did to little children was terrible and deserves a lengthy jail sentence along with psychological treatment. However, my issue is the relative length of the sentence.
Judges routinely hand out gang leaders, drug dealers, murderers and robbers lighter sentences than 11 years. Eleven years is appropriate in this case. But please let us keep a sense of proportion and sentence more dangerous criminals to longer terms.
(The Vancouver Province, 01/08/10)
***
Nature of the beast:
Re: “Anti-Alberta views fester in home country, July 16. While Rick Bell makes many good points, it makes no sense for the Alberta government to deny the nature of the beast that is the oilsands. You can’t fight the glaring truth by asking people to look the other way. You have to persuade them you have been working hard to improve the situation and your efforts are working. Therefore, the best strategy to counter misguided environmentalists would be to acknowledge the pollution caused by the process, then emphasize the economic benefits of production to Canada and the U.S. and describe the political and economic risks of curtailing the production. The clincher in the argument would be a graph of historical improvements in emissions from oil extraction and new research under way to improve it further.
(Calgary Sun, 18/07/10)
***
Zero appeal:
Re: "Fourth horse dies at Stampede," Herald Online, July 13.
Four horses killed, one rider seriously injured and Stampede has just begun. One wonders what is the attraction in a so-called sport that celebrates the lifestyle of a long bygone era. I guess it is the audience of the same people who cheer the brawls in hockey games and enjoy the grossly violent movies and video games.
(Calgary Herald, 14/07/10)
***
Multiculturalism gets bad name:
Re: "Multiculturalism has undermined unity," (July 3). As an immigrant of long standing, I agree with Salim Mansur, with one proviso. It is multiculturalism as practised in Canada, not the concept, that has failed us. Multiculturalism means accepting good points from other cultures and tolerating grey zones without adopting them. It does not mean accepting practices like Sharia law, the Niqab, kirpans, arranged marriages, etc.
which are contrary to accepted practices or laws. Failure to recognize this promotes discord and gives multiculturalism a bad name. If the goal is a united country with a harmonious population, it can be achieved by enlightened multiculturalism, which distinguishes between good and not so good rather than defending all foreign practices.
(Calgary Sun, 06/07/10)
***
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