13. First steps towards Politics
It had been quite a time by then spending time with those people and I had well dissolved with them as time passed. If you think it was absurd spending time there and I was wasting my time with those people, well, think once again coz I had discovered quite a family there. Many had become friends, many sisters and many father & mother figure to me. Often we would quarrel in morning and then regret & apologize at evening. Often celebrated time by singing or dancing with each other. In the process we would find some excuse to smile and forget the about the ‘disaster’ for some time.
One evening I saw people gathering for something and so I asked Zawahiri about what was happening there. He said some very renowned Muslim leaders had come to see us and we were going to listen to them. It amazed me and so, I too went there to listen to them. As I reached I saw few people who were standing on a higher platform, and one of them was speaking on mike.
“My dear fellowmen, never for a night have I slept peacefully nor there have been a single day passed when I have not tried to do anything possible to give you your human rights back which you undoubtedly deserve. We daily are in the talks with the government, but as you are aware of their stubborn and dummy behavior, everything has proven to be just a waste of time. But, I assure you gentlemen we will keep fighting for our rights till the last breath. But there is something I need you to know that even the God helps those who help themselves, therefore be assured that no angel is coming to help you out of this situation. We ourselves will have to do something that awakens the sleeping government, something that should be very revolutionary. Let us tell these people that we do not need their support and we can take care of our needs and rights ourselves. Let us make them realize of our presence and our importance. Enough has been the negligence and enough have we tolerated. I need your hands, I need your support, everyone, be it children, woman, men, even the older ones. So will you support me on our mission, MISSION REDEMPTION?”
And simultaneously there arose thousands of voices in appreciation. Everyone looked motivated, and excited including me. His words had done magic on my mind, my thoughts, and my philosophies. We were full of energy and ready to do anything he said.
Never for a day would I have liked to live there. But there was something which stopped me, maybe the guilt, guilt to just feel sad about these people but do nothing. A silent rebel always existed in my thoughts. Rebels against all the injustice that happened with me and people like me. I could feel my nerves energizing as if saying that enough had I suffered now and that it was time to make a comeback in life. The ice of patience had broken. We common people have a sickness of waiting for an another Gandhi to dramatically appear in the scene someday and change everything for us. But unlike them I had made up my mind not to wait for any second Gandhi to take birth. I decided rather to be one.
“He is a member of Manav Kalyan Party. His name is Junaid Khan. He is a nice guy and has always served the Muslim community…” Zawahiri said as I went to enquire more about him. My smile although shortened when I heard the word ‘Manav Kalyan Party’, the same party which was accused for the riots. But I felt better not to jump in any stupid debate because of my low knowledge in politics. And also because I was too impressed with Junaid Khan that time so it was very difficult to believe that he could have any hand in the riots.
Every time he used to visit us I used to rush to him to listen to his speech. I used to be desperate to see him and clap as loud as I could. He was slowly becoming a hero; a role model for me. One day after the speech, there arose an urgent requirement of a person who was literate enough to count, read and write well enough, someone like…me.
“Janaab, these paper works require someone literate and according to my knowledge there is no one here so much educated enough,” said a man to Junaid Khan.
“This is a big problem then. Isn’t there a single person so literate even to read and write?” asked Junaid Khan surprisingly.
“No sir, there isn’t. Sorry!” replied another man.
“I …I am sir.” I said hesitatingly listening to everything from a distance.
“You can? Who are you?” asked Junaid Khan.
“His name is Faizan. He is a kind of guest here,” said Zawahiri.
“A guest? Here? I mean seriously,” asked Junaid Khan with a bit of laugh on his face.
“No sir, not a guest. It is a long story that I do not think holds any importance here much. What importance here is how I can offer you my services to you sir,” I replied to him confidently.
“Yes sir! You can trust him same as you do us. Faizan is one of the most hardworking members of our community. He has served us day and night. And now he is like a family member,” supported Zawahiri and others too.
“Very good young man I am impressed” he said thumping on my shoulders. “We need just the people like you in our mission- selfless, devoted, and less questioning. Great!” replied Junaid Khan proudly.
I think that was the moment when I entered into the politics without being even aware of it. Slowly, I got to get all the paper works, then managerial works and in the process I gained faith in Junaid Khan. He later handed me the responsibility to look after the distribution of government aids provided to those people. Simultaneously, I had earned an impression of selfless social worker among everybody. Things were going good. Only the worry was Aarti. In a way, I had cheated her and the self-regret did really hurt me from inside. It was very difficult to pick a single day and move back to Shailpur as the load of the responsibility put on my shoulders hardly spared me any time to do so.
One day I got opportunity to meet Syed Younis Khan, the then party leader. The meeting was very significant not only because it was going to prove a big milestone in my political career but also a significant leap in position and power. Everything was going to change after this.
“Janaab, this is Faizan, a young & enthusiastic social worker who has volunteered his helpful hands helping the poor victims of Saharabad riots. He looks after all our distribution of relief funds, foods etc. to the poor,” said Junaid Khan to Younis khan pointing him towards me. When I looked at him I was confused about how I should behave with him. I mean he was one who had a generation long political competition with my father. In fact I grew up watching them exchanging words against each other on camera or in public or during rallies. And now he was standing before me forwarding his hand for handshake. Nevertheless, when he extended his hand I too forwarded my hand immediately to shake hand with him. His hands were rough and warm and I could barely think to misbehave or disrespect him in any way. Also his behavior towards me was so supportive I did not have courage to spoil my impression on him by any means. Strange that in politics you hardly can notice people changing colors even it be you.
“What does your father do my son?” asked Younis Khan and I felt as if he had dropped an atom bomb on me and I said to myself that it’s done now. I couldn’t hide anymore from him. I was watching him with eyes wide open, a stupid smile was pasted on my face, and the mind was lost somewhere in a different world.
“Son… you did not reply. What happened?” he asked again.
“My father is a… politician,” I replied hesitatingly as if it was very shameful to have a politician pop.
They got dumbstruck as if now I had dropped an atom bomb on them in reply. Other people present there too paused their work and started buzzing. Everyone was staring at me.
“And what is his name?” asked Younis Khan with his eyes opened as big as a football in eagerness. Thousands of ears were widening up as if desperate to swallow the name I was going to yell.
“Ahmad Khan, Muslim Samaj Party leader… Ahmad Khan,” I replied slowly.
A sudden silence filled the room for a minute and everybody froze for a moment. Then after a small break of silence the noise of buzzing people refilled the room. The whole room was talking about me and its echo was nerving me. But thanks to Junaid Khan who actually foresighted the positive part of the fact and made some unusual facial expressions to Younis Khan, may be trying to convey something to him, I don’t know, but his actions somehow saved me that day. He took Younis Khan to a corner and then they exchanged words for few minutes. I could not hear them saying but it appeared that Younis Khan did not looked happy about it. Contrastingly, when they returned Younis Khan welcomed me to the party and he looked quite enthusiastic of me having him in his party.
“Faizan I’m so upset with you… you didn’t tell me about yourself earlier? I mean you are the son of politics giant Ahmad Khan. You deserve better position in the party,” said Younis Khan. I kept myself muted. He continued, “Why don’t you join our party, son?” he said keeping his hand on my shoulder. “I will give you any position you want. What you say Junaid?”
“Of course janaab, any position of his wish,” replied Junaid khan.
But I had not volunteered Junaid Khan and his men to join his party but to volunteer in their relief mission. Hence I denied from joining their political party but yes I could not refuse them contributing in their relief works. So I expressed my desire to continue working the same job which I was happily doing i.e. serving the common mass selflessly.
“As you wish son” he said, “This is so great to see youngsters like you who do not keep any ambition for power but service. Your father would have been a very proud man if he were alive. Nevertheless, from now onwards your job will be to connect to common people, hear to their needs or grievances, and serve them. We will provide you the necessary authority and financial help,” said Younis Khan and we left for our works.
Never for a moment misunderstand that Younis Khan was being very generous either to me or to the society. I was a novice then. But now I know that they used me to put curtains on their involvement in riots. Actually, a lot of things had changed in Saharabad after the riots. The town that was not even in the map of India suddenly was on the talks of everyone. Even children now knew about it. The riot had compelled many people including media to pay their attention towards the town. Even the election commission became alarmed about the timing of the riot and the way the re-elections held. These all activities had disturbed Younis Khan as these activities were slowly unveiling the faces of original offenders of the riot. Moreover, sometimes they would ask me to speak in public from their behalf but public speaking? And me? Well, it was toughest job for me and I always denied it. But Younis Khan always motivated me to join politics, speak to people and I remember one incidence when he successfully motivated me to speak in a rally held in Jamshedpur. A lot of people from political world, media and common people were present. I believe their number would be in thousands. It was a huge crowd and I had to speak before them. After the speeches of senior leaders of our party it was my turn. The people clapped, cheered and made noise until my turn to speak came. They had done a good job and had successfully motivated the people, which was obvious as they were the old players of this game. But I was being succumbed to do it. I felt it would be better to suicide rather to face the public. I continuously drank water to suppress my anxiety and prayed Allah to bring rain or do something to stop the programme somehow before my turn comes. But no prayer was heard that day and the host invited me to join the stage and speak. I tittered on myself and then walked on to the stage, turned towards people and spoke my first word hesitatingly “Good Morning everybody…” suddenly a man interrupted in between and he set the mike closer to me. Nevertheless, I continued speaking, “Good Morning people (but the public there started to giggle and I suddenly realized that its’ evening not morning presently. Damn! It was very shameful). My name is Faizan Khan (I horribly trembled and sometimes paused in between). My father’s name was Ahmad khan. He was a politician… as you already know and...” I constantly looked here and there, sometimes back and sometime up in the sky. God! It was a complete mess. When I turned back to see other leaders they tried to motivate me. They made various gestures saying ‘Come on! You can do it son.’ I got geared up a little and continued saying in bolder way.
“Like I was saying my father did a lot of works for this town and for his people which include you, you and each one of you. We know he is no more with us anymore. But that doesn’t end his legacy. And I, being his son, intend to continue his legacy. I intend to carry on his works he left unfinished. But for that I need your kind support. I need your same trust that you had on my father…” But people seemed uninterested and they started to leave. Nobody waited to listen. Even the major leaders they had left. It was very embarrassing and I thought better to end up the speech now than rather being a laughingstock, “At the end I would like to thank Janab Younis Khan Saab to allow me to speak… Thank you sir…” and I left the stage in hustle.
The night was difficult one to spend. I knew I had failed my father. I remember the dark night. I wept for hours because I had given all the hope to continue the legacy of my father. That day I realized that how tough it would have been for Abbu to build his name and everything in between such stiff competition all around. His job was not an easy one. Meeting thousands of different people with different thoughts and behavior every day. It really takes a lot of courage and patience. My respect for him just doubled in one single day. But at the same time I felt guilty of not matching his excellence and charisma. I felt unworthy of being his son. And that was disappointing. Next day I visited Zeeshan’s house. Zeeshan was making coffee. Ram was also present there.
“Hey Pal! You look quite different today. What happened? Didn’t you sleep last night? Your eyes look red” asked Ram to me while Zeeshan came from the kitchen quickly to see me.
“Yeah! I just couldn’t sleep last night” I replied woefully.
“I know it’s because of last day’s party rally. I watched you on TV and figured out that it just didn’t work for you as expected. But champ it’s just your first time. And that can happen to anybody believe me…” consoled Zeeshan while Duple thumped me on my shoulder.
“I know but in my case it (stage fear) is a little more than average. People learn after some time but I don’t seem to improve even a single bit. My fear for stage will never go” I replied sadly.
“Are you kidding me? The speech you gave yesterday was awesome. Believe me. Ask Zeeshan if you don’t believe me” said Duple encouragingly.
“He’s right champ. You were awesome yesterday. It’s just you need some more experience. Give people some time. They are not habituated to hear you. I am sure it would take some time. But things would become favourable someday In-shah Allah” said Zeeshan.
“Forget it. I got you some more money. Take it,” I said returning a part of the money I had borrowed from him and other friends.
“You never recovered those money, right?” asked Duple to me.
“No...” I replied disappointedly. “I always feel sad about that child and Aarti. It would have been hard time for her,” I replied.
“And I am happy that at least nothing serious happened to you and you are now alright before our eyes, isn’t it Duple?” said Zeeshan and Duple nodded in appreciation.
“But I am also worried for whatever you are doing now” said Zeeshan raising his concerns over my recent activities.
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“What do you think I mean? Faizan you said that you were never interested in politics then what are you doing in Manav Kalyan Party? What is going through your mind?” asked Zeeshan anxiously.
“Huh! Just a moment ago you were consoling me for my speech in the rally with those people and now you question my intentions for working with them?” I asked him annoyingly.
“No you are getting me wrong. I just want to know that do you intend to get into politics or you are just being succumbed to get into it because from the way I am looking at the things you are getting into it by either way” he asked me straightly while Duple’s eyes too looked at me questioningly.
His questions disturbed me maybe because he was speaking truth but I did not have answers and at the same time I could not be silent too. Hence I just cracked on him angrily, “Then what do you expect from me? They snatched everything from me. My family, my happiness, my everything. Now what do you want me to do? Forget everything happened to me; take a job and live a simple life? No that’s never goanna’ happen. You get that…” I realize that I was getting rude with them so I paused and took a breath. “Look I have not joined Manav Kalyan party to participate in their political works. I agree that I am often seen with them but I did not know at that time what should I do. I could have returned back to Saharabad very early but the situation I was captured in did not allow me to do so. Come on! See it from my side. I am just caught in cobwebs,” I replied sorrowfully.
“What cobwebs?” asked Duple.
“Cobwebs of responsibilities I have towards those people; cobwebs of the feedback; the thanks giving for whatever they did to me. I know I can never become a politician like Abbu but at least I can volunteer myself for the good of people,” I replied.
“Yes…That is the thing I am talking about. Faizan you have a gift. Gift of a noble heart. See, you talk of people, their requirements, their rights and not power,” said Zeeshan while I interrupted in between.
“Whoa! Whoa! I know what you mean but that is not gonna happen. And the reason you have already witnessed in yesterday’s programme. I am happy serving people behind the curtains. I do not desire the lime light,” I replied to them and left coldly. Duple looked at Zeeshan as he snorted loudly and shook his head in disapproval.
Nevertheless I continued to do my job even more sincerely. I was so dissolved in my work, almost blind, to care about what people think about me. Meeting them personally door-to-door and hear their needs, poignant grievances and suggestions even made me popular among them. Helping those people, in a way, helped me to heal my own wounds I received in riots. Soon they accepted me and started recognizing me as gold amidst coal. We developed a good understanding and strong bond of faith between each other. Even Younis Khan did not miss any chance to boast both in press or public that Faizan Khan, son of Ahmad Khan, has virtually joined his party. He made me a head member of what he called ‘People’s Platform’ which was a government organization initiated by Younis Khan to listen and fulfill people’s grief and demands respectively. He used me very cleverly to renovate his drowning image and career before people. Moreover, all the good works done by me were very cunningly presented as the work of Manav Kalyan party. Although I rarely bothered about it.