18. ‘I Quit’
As soon as he messaged me the details the next problem for us was to arrange six lakhs rupees. We could utmost arrange one lakh and eighty three thousand rupees. We were short by nearly four lakhs of rupees. Time was ticking fast and we could not afford to sit quietly and waste our valuable time. With each passing second election was come closer which annoyed everybody. It was then when Aarti made a valuable sacrifice which even today moist my eyes when I remember. She came with her jewelleries and asked me to sell it and take the money.
“No I can’t do that,” I said to her.
“Yes you can. Take it. These are my mother’s jewelleries. She had given it to me for my wedding. But, you know, I don’t like wearing jewelleries. So it’s better to use it for a good cause than to keep it closed in shelves,” she sweetly replied.
“Believe me we will find some other way. You don’t need to that for me,” I said to her.
“I am not doing it just for you but for everyone. You are the last hope Faizan. These jewelleries can be restored back but this peace, it can’t be. Please take it” she insisted. Zeeshan came forward and escorted me to take the money for the sake of the mission. When I looked into her eyes, they were twinkling. Thousands of memories of her dead mother were attached with them. She was not giving me jewelleries but last souvenir from her mother. I could understand how hard it would have been for her to give away those jewelleries. It were these supports and beliefs that provided me the necessary strength to face the world. They always backed me when I needed encouragement.
Later in the evening, when I met Zeeshan, he looked worried about me. When I asked about it, he asked me in return if I were aware of the heat I was going to face in the rally. I did not understood what he actually meant so I asked him to be concise.
“In the rally you may need to sometime speak against your father; his ill thoughts, ideas; everything. Are you ready for it?” he asked me while I got blank to react anything. Forget me, no one would do it. How could I even think of speaking against my own father? He was the one who had taught me how to speak. I was recognized in the society by his name. How could I dare to insult him in public? My eyes had dewed by yet and I did not know what to say. Zeeshan had sensed my perplexity and he so dared to re-convince me.
“Faizan I know that hurt you but believe me I am not trying to be bad to your father. But you will have to understand that this is politics and sometime you have to betray your own relatives for success. That is how things go in politics.”
His words left me sad for my father. I had never even in dreams imagined that in few years life would throw me in such a situation where I would be standing against my own father to insult him; humiliate him in same public where he gave me his name to be recognized among them. When I was small, I barely had courage to look straight into his eyes while that day I was pricking like a thorn into his eyes. Sometimes life becomes so much enigmatic that you are bound to ask yourself what is the value of the success when there is no one of your kin there to celebrate it with you.
Nevertheless, the day soon approached and the preparations were over. The campaign kicked off with a huge road show and then to a political seminar starting with a five minutes influential speech of Superstar Sameer Khan which earned a huge crowd as expected. But then something happened which was even more expected. As soon as the Sameer Khan completed his speech and prepared to leave the crowd too started to disappear quickly. Aarti signalled me to start my speech before the people start leaving. Duple quickly grabbed the mike and started to speak in his distinctive vein.
“Ha! That was an awesome speech by our superstar Sameer Khan and I would like to draw your attention on one of the issue that Mr Sameer Khan raised and that is the issue of development of Saharabad...” Ram was speaking but it seemed as if people were no more interested in the seminar and were dispersing quickly. Aarti who was present there too became anxious and she waved her hands towards me asking me to join Ram quickly. Zeeshan and Sam too looked worried with the proceedings and we all were just looking helplessly at each other. Perhaps now even Ram was hesitating to speak and he turned towards his fellowmen expressing his helplessness to motivate the crowd. The plan seemed to be crashing badly and it was moving towards its failure. What was worrying me was that it was necessary to inspire people to forget their enmity towards the opposite community and vote a rightful person in election. But if people had left the seminar, the whole effort would have failed.
“People we called this seminar not to ask you to vote us but to confront together the hatred filled in our hearts against the people of other community. We called this seminar to prevent any possibility of another riot in the city. This is not an election seminar but a public seminar held with the intention to...” I said and momentarily don’t know what happened and I started gasping on the stage. The fear of public speaking suddenly suppressed my self-confidence and immediately Duple took the mike back from my hand and started to speak. I left the stage and went to the backstage. Aarti came to see me immediately.
“What happened to you? Are you alright?” she asked me giving a glass of water.
“Huh! Nothing… I think I got nervous” I replied to her.
“But you were doing good...” she said as Zeeshan too came to see me.
“Faizan what happened?” he asked to me.
“Nothing. Tell me how’s it going back there?” I asked to him.
“It’s good. People are staying and Ram is using his words well now” he replied.
“Hmmm” I said. “I’m going back. See you soon” I said and left.
The first day of politics ended failure. It was my first failure and it tasted really sour. I was tired of fighting for ‘something’ which was way beyond my reach. The self-humiliation further made it difficult for me to show up again to anybody. They too didn’t contact me for several days. Perhaps they too had given up. Eventually I literally disappeared from the scene for few days.
Although the plan had not met our expectations and we had failed to make any impact on the public the only good thing about the event was that Doctor Aarti had witnessed my fear from the stage and probably detected the problem. It was quite clear that until and unless that hesitation was not removed from my mind we could not move forward in our task. She wanted to help me and hence without wasting any more time she gave me a call and asked to meet immediately.
“Hi!” I said when we met each other the next day in a public place.
“What had happened to you yesterday?”
“Nothing, I just got a bit nervous. I already had told you that it’s not possible for me to speak before crowd. I simply can’t…”
“Yes you can. I mean I understand your hesitation. But that happens with lot of people and you just need to overcome your fear. You must”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I get nervous and I just can’t put up with that load once again”
“Faizan there is nothing shameful in it. It happens with everybody. But only those who conquer their weaknesses become great someday. Try to understand…”
“You try to understand. I don’t have control over my hesitation. I don’t invite it. It comes itself naturally. And when it happens my hands they shake, my voice, my legs they all tremble. I can see people commenting, smiling on me. I forget what to say. It is something I just cannot get out. You won’t understand it”
“But if you won’t speak how will you convince people? What about the plan? What about our preparations? What about the hopes we have generated in the hearts of people. Don’t let that flame diminish, please” she insisted as I could read the desperation in her eyes to prevent any further violence in the city.
I always wanted to help her. But this time the obstacle was quite big. I was dealing with one of my greatest weakness; my greatest fear. It was very embarrassing. I simply did not have courage to walk that stage and face the public once again. I just couldn’t.
“You know my father always said to me that I am a mistake. Mistake of God. He calls me ‘Mr Useless’ because I am unfit for any job. And perhaps he is right because I am worthy of nothing. I was neither good at studies, nor sports, nor music, art anything. I never excelled anything. All my life I have regretted this. My friends, they all are successful today. Some of them are engineers, some became doctor. I failed in everything I tried to do and eventually I stopped making goals. And now I don’t have any ambitions or any desire because I don’t want to disappoint Abbu by failing again” I replied to her and was about to leave when she stopped me with her words again.
“You once asked me about my parents but I never disclosed anything about myself to you ever. But I want you to know about them today” she said in melancholic voice which ceased my steps. “My father was an Army officer at Major rank. He lost his life in the battle of ’98 with Pakistan. When his body was brought back, I saw my father’s body soaked in blood. I was just three then. They say that he faced all the bullets on his chest in order to save the life of rest of his army men. But all I remember today is his blood. Since then whenever I see blood I creak out of fear. The blood haunts me. It reminds me of the brutal death of my father. That’s my weakness. But I decided to conquer my fear and chose to be a doctor someday. And look, I prevailed over my greatest fear. So can you my friend. So can you…” she replied while few tear drops shed from her eyes.
I wanted to hug her but that would have made things more difficult for me. I looked into her eyes and could see the hope she always had in me. But it was too late now. I had decided to move on in life.
“I’m sorry Aarti. But I just can’t…”
I said and left her alone to weep in her room. It became difficult for me to breathe in that humiliating environment and I left from there quickly before Aarti could speak another word to convince me. Further, out of frustration I messaged to everyone that I had quit and therefore abstain from any further campaign now. That incidence was perhaps more humiliating because I had wasted their time, money and above all I had broken their trust they had on me. The message made everybody restless. They were taken aback by the sudden move of mine. They tried to contact me but it was all useless, as I had isolated from each and every known acquaintance. No address; no phone number; no contact; nothing. I had cut myself completely from them. The move had hurt Aarti deeply. She tried to contact me from every possible way but it all proved to be useless. Later she even met Zeeshan at her home to talk to him.
“Aarti I myself have tried everywhere but I don’t know where he has gone” said Zeeshan to Aarti disappointedly.
“You are his friend. You must know where he can go” she asked him anxiously.
“Unfortunately I don’t. I’m sorry. But I am trying don’t worry. I will try my best to search him out” he replied to console her.
“Zeeshan?”
“Huh?”
“You knew Faizan since his childhood na?”
“Yes…Why?”
“Could you tell me something about his past? I mean why does he hesitate so much in expressing himself? I agree that many people are shy by nature but he has a different kind of hesitation. It is more a fear than hesitation” she asked him anxiously while Zeeshan first hesitated to confide but eventually failed to.
“Well that is linked with his past childhood days…”
“I want to know everything”
Zeeshan drank a glass of water and then took a long deep breath. Possibly, he was confused from where to start but he knew that today he would have to disclose my every secret to Aarti.
“Faizan was not so quiet and bashful since birth. He was same like all other kids use to be in their childhood. And his mother, she loved him and cared him so much even when he was in her womb. He was apple of her eyes. But then some complications occurred at the time of delivery and doctors could save only Faizan. His mother was declared dead. My mother says that this tragedy broke Faizan’s father completely. He was so deeply hurt that he refused to see the face of Faizan after his birth because he reasoned him for the death of his wife. Later by the stiff wills of Faizan’s grandmother, his father married his mother’s sister. Although she was a good as a surrogate mother but she still failed to see the voids in Faizan’s life, after all, she was not his real mother. Moreover, with time she had her own children to take care; his grandmother used to be ill most of the time and father was always far whenever he needed him. Ultimately, Faizan would be left alone in his room with only toys to talk to. My friend has spent his whole childhood inside a closed room talking to just the walls. In those times, only Suzanne and I were his friends. We had often seen him getting severe scolds from his father for even small mistakes. It had become a like a daily routine. Faizan rarely used to smile. Most of the time we would see him depressed, weeping silently in his dark room. The basic reason why Faizan fears to speak is linked with his childhood, which is filled with tears and emptiness. What do you expect a man who has spent his whole life in a solitary world to react when he at once is stood before thousands to speak to? You said it right. It is not just shyness but fear. He just panics speaking before people,” said Zeeshan.
Zeeshan had later told me that when he had disclosed this fact to Aarti she did not speak anything for few moments and he could hear her breath sizzling quite clear. She could not help her tears flowing from her beautiful eyes and left without saying anything. For the first time in life, someone had peeped into my dark and lonely world. Someone for the first time felt sorry for me for all those empty moments I had lived.
She had decided to light a candle in my dark world and walk with me hand in hand until the last breath. I was completely unaware of the arrival of this long awaited soul mate who had now reached the doorsteps of my heart.
Unaware of any of these events I was in a train far away from the reach of any acquaintance trying to escape from the truth. I ignored all the voices coming from my conscience. It was too late and I had made up my mind to never return to Saharabad. I did not have courage to look into my own eyes. My hands were trembling and eyes had guilt but it was all worthless. I was tired of giving life another chance. I had lost all the hope to become worthy of something. All my entire journey I cursed the almighty for giving this discouraging life. I went into the bathroom to wash up my face, looked into the mirror, and could see the face of a loser. There were many people back there in the city who had believed in me. They all supported me when I asked them to. But I failed them. I failed their trust, their hope and moreover I deceived them. Not only my friends but all those innocent lives who were hopeful for a peaceful future in the city. I had deceived them all.
I washed my face repeatedly but could not wipe the tears, the tears of guilt and humility. It was disgraceful, very disgraceful and perhaps one of the most tough time for me. I felt alone, miserable. Missed my mother. I just wanted to cover myself in her warm shawl and sleep soundly in her lap. But it was not possible, of course.
I wept for hours in the bathroom. And after realizing that it’s already been hours now I washed my face and went back to sit on my seat. People there, were laughing and talking to each other but I did not care to join them and turned the face the other way.
Suddenly, a child came into the couch and started to sweep the floor. He was hardly 7 or 8-years old, moreover, a handicapped. After he was done, he begged for some money in return from us. Some gave while some denied. When he turned towards me, I was staring him pathetically. I mean he was just a child who was supposed to be loved and cared at this tender age. The poignant grief covering the child’s innocence had melted my heart.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked him.
“Pinku” he replied in a very low voice. Perhaps he was hungry and hence was very desperate for coins. I gave him a packet of biscuit and water and then further asked him if he goes to school. But the boy did not reply maybe because he had heard this word for the first time in his life.
“Where are your parents?” I asked him again.
“They’re dead….killed in riot” he replied while his eyes sparkled with tears.
“Where you live… I mean which city you’re from?” I asked him again.
“Saharabad”
My heart filled up. I did not have words to speak. The vocal cord jammed. I could not speak even a word. The boy had seen so much at this tender age and me, so stupid, who used to think that only my life is full of miseries. Aarti once said to me that if you can bring a change in somebody’s life but you ignore to do it then you too are responsible for his miserable condition. Yes, I was responsible for his condition because I had the opportunity to bring that ‘change’ but I rather skipped it. I ruined the opportunity. What would I have changed in the poor child’s life giving him a single penny when I knew that I could have done much more than that for him? I was feeling guilty for my foolishness.
But now it was all done. We had suffered enough now. It was time to strike back. I had decided to fight the impossible. Hence, I pulled the chain to return back to the ‘riot city’.