Tryst with destiny, in Hati series story,

  Tryst with destiny.      A Hati series story. Dt.09.07.2014.  

      I was reading a serious book, The argumentative Indians by, noble laureate Amartya Sen and the specific chapter was on Pandit Jawaharlai Nehru`s famous speech at our independence in 1947 which child Sen listened through All India Radio . He explored how far we covered in our destiny in different fields mostly in comparison with China, the odds and the evens. At my thoughtful leisure entered Dr Hati with his tread mark laughter of ha ha ha. What are you doing Senapati, he questioned while looking into the pages.

     Suddenly his laughter stopped quite unlike of him, he was very serious; and asked me, what was my opinion, did we get anything right? I endorsed the views of Mr Sen as a safer option. He did not tell anything and was not a real Hati. I did not expect a story; I asked the senior doctor what the matter was?

      Those who searched for immediate destiny during those bad hours in the history of India what happened to them? At the frontiers did anyone had time or mind to listen Nehruji, sighed Dr Hati? He started his story.

     In 1987 Dr Hati completed his medical graduation and went to New Delhi to do residency in AIIMS like many of his friends to gain some experience and money. He worked in the psychiatry department under madam Sanjitha who was a professor only at forty. Prof Sanjitha had a big library. She told she stayed in a house that people say story house. Story house, Old Quilla road was a sufficient address for any one.
     Story house!

     Why not? Gradually Hati could know, Prof Sanjitha herself was a story, the old lady in the house was a storehouse of many stories and she herself was a bestseller novel, the house had the library of huge collection of literature. Sanjitha introduced Hati to the old wrinkled lady, 'Story D Maria'. Her name was Story D Maria, so the people had no fault in calling the house story house. He listened to D Maria as she narrated the tragic story of aftermath of partition.

Boy she affectionately addressed Hati, if you stay here and gossip with me your time would not be a waste, you might finish a week still the story would not finish, so listen a small episode of tragedy. See the woman lying there as a mattress in the corner is Zubeda. Zubeda Akhtar as my hospital record registered. She pointed to herself and told D Maria worked in the Christian mission hospital in that part of the territory of Lahore which remained in India at partition. Till late August 1947 the village could keep their integrity intact, the Hindus, the Sikhs, the Muslims in the village of Fate Singh did daily meeting, guarded their village jointly with available arms, did not allow any outsider enter the village who had no relations in any family. Refugees were guided to government camps by volunteers and so on.

      Zubeda was approaching her expected date of delivery, she got complications, her blood pressure raised too high and she had a bout of fits.
      Oh! Eclampsia Hati uttered!
      Yes my son, D Maria continued, her abdomen was too protruded and all believed she had more than one fetus in the womb by clinical judgment. People of the village 'Fate Singh' had no other option other than sending her to the hospital fifteen kilometer away, the one where Story D Maria worked.

      The village elders Harilal a Hindu, Kartar paaji the Sardar, and Khuda Bux the local Moulavi decided there was no other way. How the bearded sharp featured Gulfam Pathan would take his wife outside in such troubled time where beyond Fate Singh the minority Muslim was targeted by the criminals in the name of Gurujis and upholding the flag of Khalsa. No problem told Kartar Paaji, Gulfam who was the dramatist in that area who always played the role of the Sikh Gurus can pass the test, for these plays only he had long uncut hair and beard of a Guruji, Kartar offered a turban, his son`s turban. Gulfam told the gathering 'Sat Shri Akal' and there was no time to look back. Gulfam witnessed violence, a truck load of refugees moving towards Pakistan were being attacked by Hindus and Sikhs most of attackers looked like refugees driven out of Pakistan in the same cruel manner.
       Gulfam`s blood was boiling, but he had a job in hand, Zubeda had her second episode of seizure. They reached hospital. The doctor after giving preliminary treatment wanted to shift her to the main mission hospital nearer to Delhi, a long way. Anything may happen on the way so D Maria was deputed with the ambulance to their base hospital. They proceeded, Zubeda now was unconscious. The ambulance was not moving on an ordinary road, on the road through which Afghans travelled to conquer Delhi several times, Mughals reached Delhi, the several wars at Panipath happened, and now the civil war the bitter fruit of independence at mid night by dividing the Indus Valley civilization by a line with a new dreaming land of Pakistan.
       The British took the plea of saving people from civil war, they destroyed the land in most politically correct way so that they would escape the hatred of people against them accumulated and distilled for three centuries, and instead the anger was diverted to frantic religious war not to be healed for another century.
       D Maria became control less. Hati guessed she was French not British.
       Hati interrupted, "what happened next".
       Oh yes, D Maria rebooted, "As we moved towards Delhi we saw corpses, surrounded by dogs and jackals, kites and vultures flying everywhere, smell of putrefaction, and the ambulance moved. Babies, old young, male female no one was spared. Feminine bodies were mutilated in the most vulgar ways. But they moved, Zubeda had another bout.

       Suddenly Gulfam wanted to stop the ambulance, how should he move? He had seen some life in a supposed dead body, he moved towards him for help. The almost dead Muslim got frightened seeing the sardar in Gulfam coming to him, he did not accept to be killed for a second time he pretended to be dead. Gulfam had seen life in him so he moved closer and closer the dead like man saw from the small opening of the eye, and suddenly gathered energy to take out the kripan of Gulfam and pushed straight into his heart. Hey Allaha, yah Khuda and some dear verses from Quran came out from Sardar Gulfam`s dying voice, the voice that always preached the message of Gurus in several plays he worked as an artist. The monkey always spoke truth at death and the killer at once uttered, 'Toba Toba'  what did he do? Hey Allha what a miishtaakee , his voice fumbled and calmed forever.
        Story D Maria kya kare, tu ta fas gayee, bach nehi payegi. (What to do Story D Maria, you are trapped, cannot escape from it.) They reached the base mission hospital, and doctors could save the two male babies. Zubeda remained unconscious for many days, doctors wanted the babies to be handed over for adoption and sole responsibility was given to D Maria.
         "My boy life in those days was very simple excepting the bad times. Human words carried meaning, hospitals handed over babies to people in good faith for all party`s benefit, law was not above humanity, humanity never deceived itself oh except the bad time, the cruel fruit of partition, after  thousand years people of Pakistan would curse the creator of the nation, history may not be untruthful". Once again D Maria was losing control.

       What happened to the babies, Hati wanted to guide D Maria.
       "Oh yes, on those days there was not good treatment for infertility and several couple were remaining in touch with hospital to adopt a baby. D Maria for the safety of the babies in that troubled period handed a baby to a Sikh couple and another to a Hindu couple not too far from the hospital area. Sikh couple knew they got a sikh baby, Hindu duo got a Hindu baby, mother Zubeda never returned to a condition to ask what happened to Gulfam and where went her baby. She recovered with no intact memory, to be a part of Story house for ever, not fit to do anything except domestic help."            Hati was no more able to digest anymore and wanted to divert D Maria to normal chores of today`s life. But she did not stop.

     Listen to the end my boy. "One became Manjit and the other was a Krishna. They were nurtured in their own traditions. Children were not at that close a distance to be recognized as twin brothers, and at their youth one bearded Sardar and a clean shaven Hindu had no chance to be known as brothers. It was funny and a mere coincidence that both joined student politics and later on became strong youth leaders of the same party and worked together," D Maria kept the link to both their parents with the hope anytime Zubeda might regain her higher sense and ask?
       Then the horror revisited in 1984, Manjit left the party opposing Bluestar operation when the Golden Temple was once like many times in history was daggered. He lost the favor, and after the prime minister Indira Gandhi`s assassination bad times revisited India, through the Mohalas of New Delhi, thousands of Sikhs killed by non Sikhs.

One morning Manjit`s father rushed to D Maria to inform the tragic murder of his son, D Maria got a flash back of what happened to the Sardar Gulfam thirty seven years back. Just after his departure came Krishna`s father to tell his son was arrested in connection of organizing riot. 'Toba Toba Toba' uttered Story D Maria; she had not the guts to explore to know who killed Manjit.
      Did she do any misshhttakkee?
      There was no end would it end if religions were put in the graveyard forever. She begged excuse from Hati as her prayer time approached. Hati also spontaneously whispered Oh My God, where is the escape from Him.

      I was mesmerized with Hati`s real life story and was lost in the story, the robes are more important than the blood, the faith and the humanity, told Dr Hati. 'Senapati, did we found the right tryst, did we reach the right destiny, for Hati these things of human understanding always stood upfront the comparison with China, the nuclear deals, the Chandrayans and the bullet trains. I did not know how to react to whom and to sympathize.  

             Dedicated to Saadat Hasan Manto, Bhisham Sahni, and Khuswant Singh