8. First blow: Suzzane's death
Zeeshan was my friend since schooldays. He was one such loyal companion you always desire to have. He was someone who used to understand me even more than my parents. I was a ‘father fearing’ child. I mean Abbu was so strict and rude that I always tried to hide things from him. And Ammi used to be busy in her parties and all that women stuffs. So in all only Zeeshan was the only one with whom I could share my feelings.
When I reached the street where he lived in I was surprised to notice almost every house in the colony locked. The whole area looked empty as if no civilization ever existed here. Luckily not his home was locked, so I went up the door and rang the doorbell. Aunty (his mother) opened the door.
“Faizan Oh! So good to see you son. Million thanks to Allah for your well-being,” exclaimed aunty with surprise.
“As-salaam walekum aunty”
“Walekum as salaam son. Come inside. Zeeshan missed you so much. He would really be happy to see you,” she addressed me and called Zeeshan.
“Faizan…” he came rushing downstairs and hugged me. Weeping on my shoulders for seeing me after so long time he induced some tears in my eyes too. God it feels so heavenly to see your friends after a so long time. I had missed him too. I noticed the photo of Uncle Mushtaq (Zeeshan’s father) hanging on the wall and figured out what had happened with the family.
“The bloody riot snatched every single happiness from us. They surrounded the house and set it on fire. Somehow I rescued Ammi but failed to save Abbu,” said Zeehan as he couldn’t help himself weeping.
I did not have words to console him. It was a big blow for me too. Mushtaq uncle was father figure to me. I remember once Abbu scold me for any stupidity of mine. He was also present there. He firmly said to me, “Son, mind is like a closed box. Until it is closed, this world is too big to understand but when you open it, the same world is confined into the grip of your palm. You master it.” What he told me inspires me even today. His absence will always hurt.
After the lunch I told him the entire story what happened with me after the riot. Hah! I could read the surprise in his eyes. He was curious to know about Aarti and to meet her. But later when I suddenly asked him about Suzanne his mood changed and he did not reply for a moment.
“How is Suzanne?” I asked worryingly as his expressions turned down after listening to the question.
“She’s dead”
“What?” I asked surprisingly.
“Yes friend. After the riots the rescue team found her. She was brutally attacked by the mob and…” he replied.
“And… and what?” I asked impatiently.
Zeeshan held my hands and said, “She was brutally attacked by the mob and cut into pieces.”
I was shocked. My throats dried and for a minute neither of us spoke. It was tough for me to believe. She was a friend since childhood and it was tough to accept the bitter reality what she had gone through.
“But why didn’t you inform me earlier?” I asked in frustration.
“How could we Faiz? Nobody knew where you were since last one year. You just got extinct from the city” he replied to me explaining his limitations and disgust over my sudden escape.
I was losing my patience and wanted to meet Suzz’s parents. “I think we should meet her mother and console her. We should go at least once to meet her. Come let’s go,” I asked him.
“Faizan, I don’t think we should go. You know after Suzz’s death Huma aunty had some mental disturbance. She just rejected to accept the reality. She refuses to believe that Suzanne is dead. Consequently she just got ill, mentally”
Zeeshan was being a bit hesitant to go but I somehow managed to agree him. When we reached her house I was finding it difficult to face her. What should I speak to her? The last time we met her she was so happy and proud of both of us for our engagement. But things had changed now and about a year had passed.
It was difficult to ring the doorbell. I stood there when I reached the house and hesitated to knock. Nevertheless I rang the bell and her aunty opened the door. As soon as she realized that it’s me her eyes were full of emotions. She happily asked us to come in. The temperature inside the house was cold. I was having difficult to have any eye contact with her. Surprisingly she did not look sad rather she readily welcomed me and asked for coffee.
“Suzy look Faizan has come to see you…” she said looking towards her room at the upstairs. My eyes dewed and emotions filled the heart seeing Huma aunty in such condition. She was a mother figure to me. After my real mother was dead she cared me and loved me like her own son. Always in jolly mood she used to come with lots of chocolates and thousands of homemade cookies for me in childhood whenever she used to visit our home. I remember once when I got ill she stayed there and took care of me until I completely recovered from the sickness. Someone who cared me so much at the time of need was herself so desolate and I could do nothing for her except merely watching her die every day. It was so forlorn for me.
“I am sorry about Suzanne?” I said Huma aunty very calmly holding her hands.
“Huh? What about her? She is sleeping in her room and is perfectly alright Faizan. I don’t know why she does not come out of the room these days. I think you should speak to her. She still behaves like a child. I mean it’s her wedding next month and she still sleeps so late. Oh! I have purchased the sari for her wedding. See if you like it. Let me bring it first…” she replied but I could not see her living in a virtual world still living with fake dreams. So I held her and turned her around. She was surprised to see tears in my eyes. I wanted to console her but my lips were trembling and I could utter out nothing. Finally I just wailed poorly. She could not understand what was wrong with me. She rose me up, wiped the tears and asked me to calm down.
“Zeeshan what happened to him?” she asked him but he himself could not bear the load of speaking truth to her.
“Aunty…”
“Yes Faizan say what happened?”
“Suzy…”
“Suzy…?”
“Suzy is dead aunty”
“What non sense? This is not true Faizan. She is sleeping in her room. Suzy? ...Suzy come down. Look Faizan has come…” she kept calling her until I turned her and realized her that she was now never going to come down. Wahid uncle too had come in. She turned towards him and complained him about me but could see same reality in his eyes too. For a moment she didn’t move. No words. No tears. Instantly she fell on the sofa placed near to her. We slapped lightly on her face to wake her up. Sprinkled water on her. But nothing kindled her emotions. Perhaps she had realized the truth that she would never see her daughter ever again. After a little more effort she broke her silence only to wail in the shoulders of her husband. The atmosphere had truly turned melancholy and I have no words to describe the grief of those poor couples who had lost their daughter in a war they had not invited.
With disappointment in hand we left from the house. We left for a cafeteria nearby. There I had opportunity to know everything what happened here in detail by Zeeshan. And I asked the same to him without wasting any more time.
“It’s all dirty politics friend. Everything just got ruined and worsened after that,” he said taking a sip of coffee.
“Tell me everything in detail. I want to know everything,” I requested him to be clear and tell everything he knew.
He was looking the other side and looked perturbed. I could understand his frustration and anger over the government because his situation was no different than mine. He had lost his father and so consequently he also would have run day and night to courts, police stations, relief camps and all that. And as usual nothing would have come into his hand but just the false faith that ‘everything’s gonna be alright’ and all that crap which was slowly & gradually demising day by day.
“You cannot imagine friend… you just cannot imagine. The whole town was burning on fire and the politician they were simply playing their blame game over each other. I have myself seen people dying not due to attack but lack of medical facility, food, everything. Hundreds of children crying for their mother, women soaked in blood” said Zeeshan sobbing as he was speaking. I gave him water and asked him to keep faith in God.
“Where did the people go? I saw most of the houses ‘locked’” I asked to him as he turned even more desolate.
“They’re all dead man. And those who survived flee away. The Singhs in the left, you remember, they’re no more.”
“What?”
“And Jains in the opposite they are dead too; the Gilaanis; the children we used to play football; everyone’s dead Faiz. Jut few of us live their now amid corpses” he said with dewed eyes. Further, he moved his arm round his head; sighed and continued, “Few days after the riot news was spread that Younis Khan that so called ‘secular’ leader has won the election. An inside rumour was spread that Younis khan has joined hands with the central government and it is all because of that his power in the area has significantly increased. Behind the curtain, the central government suppressed any action to be taken against the guilty party. False reports were given by the police and inspection team and the remaining work was done by the media by the means of paid news.”
“Everyone is just sold out here. From ministers to police, the administrators, lawyers, media everybody is corrupted,” I said expressing anger over the system and everybody.
“No not everyone though. The whole country booed the system for letting such things happen and few responsible news channel played an active role in unmasking the faces of the offenders. Everybody condemned the riot,” he said disagreeing from my views.
“But I am sure the bigger fishes are still out of the jaws of law,” I asked him. He simply nodded his head with a dismal smile on his face.
“Do not worry, elections are near and these big fishes will be thrown out of the pond this time. I am sure,” he said and I could read retaliation from the government in his eyes.
“What will that change? Just that the older fishes will be replaced by the newer ones,” I said to him and he went into deep thoughts lowering his eyelids.
“Maybe someday magic will happen and the politics will be clean. That day things like democracy, equality, secularism won’t be found just in social textbooks but in real world. Maybe the country needs a real hero now,” he said and it looked merely a dream in those days to have clean governance in a country like India.
We left for the bank next day to take out money I had promised to give to that needy in Shailpur. But it was a time for just another blow as the cruel destiny once again had some ill planning for us.