“What brought you here, son?”, the sudden question astonished Shibly.
The voice was unfamiliar. Shibly turned his gaze towards the direction where the voice came from.
A person of the age of his father was standing with a friendly smile.
Shibly was ashamed when he realised it was just the shop owner’s voice. The man simply wanted to be friendly.
It is not surprising newcomers are easily identified. The shop owners know everyone in the village and know their history.
"What brought you here, son? What would you like to have?”, The shop owner repeated his question for the second time.
“I am a newly appointed teacher. Going to join the village school tomorrow”, said Shibly with a respectable smile.
“Oh, so you are a master?"
Some people, especially those in their sixties and seventies, still address male teachers as "masters". “Now and then masters come and go. These people don’t let any of them do their job,” the tea store owner lowered his voice and uttered, “it is difficult to deal with some people here”.
Shibly laughed within himself at the very first grand reception he received in Marudur.
Shibly wanted to say something for it would be disrespectful not to reply. But, he was too exhausted to put his words in proper order. He merely smiled.
The shop owner took Shibly’s smile as approval and continued to talk while serving tea and food. The man was friendly. The conversation with him was simply pleasant. His name was Thajudeen - Thajudeen Nana, (Thajudeen - the elder brother), to be more respectful.
“We came from Jaffna in Nineteen Ninety. Almost thirty years ago. It sounds as if it was yesterday, right?”, said Thajudeen Nana.
Thajudeen Nana showed the man sitting at the cashier table and said, “That is my brother-in-law. My wife’s younger brother”.
“It has been a long time since the war ended. Didn’t you go back?”, Shibly asked.
“I have sold my properties in Jaffna. We have bought land here and built a house. Kids are used to the environment here, you know. They don’t want to go back, though we were eager to go”. When the shop got crowded, Thajudeen Nana had no more time to talk to Shibly. Having finished his meal, and paid cash, Shibly got out of the shop.
It was a pleasant shopping experience. Better than the robot-like professional customer care of many leading companies. But, Shibly was sure it was more than mere customer care. He could sense genuine care in the way Thajudeen Nana treated him.
****
Next to Thajudeen Tea Store was a Thayqa Masjid, a small place of worship where Friday prayer is not held. It had been painted in an unpleasant dark green colour. Colour choice seems essential even for mosques. If he ever gets a chance to talk to one of the trustees of this mosque, he would suggest changing the wall colour. Who knows? His suggestion might sometimes be accepted.
Shibly took ablution and prayed. The congregational prayer was already over. So, he had to pray solitarily. He prayed calmly and quietly.
It is not his usual habit to ask invocations after prayers. Today he felt like he wanted to make some invocations.
“Oh, God… I have arrived in a village that I am not familiar with. I don't know their lifestyles or customs. Ease my job. Make my burden lighter. Make it beneficial to my life in this world and for my life hereafter".
After Finishing the prayer and invocations, Shibly now felt light-hearted and peaceful. He came out of the Masjid and started walking.
****
Shibly’s Diary
I had to call Rizwan Sir. He had asked me to call him once I got to Marudur. I had switched off my mobile phone before entering the Masjid. When I switched it on again, I received a missed call alert from Rizwan Sir.
Rizwan Sir has been an inspirational person in my life. We were from the same village. He motivated and guided me in many ways when I was a teenager and during my undergraduate years.
It was not that he was an elderly person. He was just six years older than me. When I was in my final year in my high school, he happened to be my economics teacher.
Despite my parents and grandfather being teachers, Rizwan Sir could also have played a remarkable role in my decision to enter into the teaching profession. But, I cannot remember a single occasion Rizwan Sir suggested to me that I should become a teacher.
I saw a holistic definition in Rizwan Sir for what a good teacher should look like. He had never advised me. Never been harsh. It was amazing how he got the job done by his students.
I used to think that a good teacher is a strict teacher. My parents were strict teachers. They had their kind nature that they always used to hide from their students. Rizwan Sir was not such a type of strict teacher, but he was doubtlessly a good teacher. In fact, I was thrilled I got the appointment in the same school where Rizwan Sir works.
I dialled Rizwan Sir.
“Where are you now, Shibly? I tried to contact you several times. Your phone was switched-off”.
“I am close to the Masjid... The Masjid next to Thajudeen Nana’s tea store”.
Rizwan Sir gave me directions to reach his house. I started walking. Suddenly I heard someone calling me from behind.
“master, master”.
It was Thajudeen Nana approaching me riding a bicycle.
“Master, I was unable to take care of you properly. All of a sudden our shop got crowded. Evenings are always like that, you know?! Okay, master, now where are you going?”, Thajudeen Nana asked me too respectfully. It made me uncomfortable.
“Actually, do you know Rizwan Sir? He is a teacher here”.
“Yeah, I know him very well. Are you going to his house? ”
“Yeah”.
“Is he from your area, master?”
“Yeah. Rizwan Sir was one of my teachers. He taught us economics when I was in Advanced level”.
“That’s glad. Okay, master. Get on the cycle. I will drop you”.
“It’s okay, Thajudeen Nana. I can walk. Why should I trouble you?”
“It is not a problem at all. It is our responsibility. You are here to teach our village kids”, said Thajudeen Nana, “master, come on, it won't take even five minutes”.
I could not deny it.
My heart was so touched by his pleasant nature.
Thajudeen Nana placed my travelling bags into the basket-like structure behind the cycle and tightened them with a rope. I sat on the front bar of the cycle, while Thajudeen Nana was riding it.
It was not so comfortable on the bicycle, I must tell the truth. It may sound awkward. But, I have never sat on a bicycle bar before. Since this part of the country is mountainous, in many places it is hard to ride bicycles. I had a mini cycle when I was a child. It was more like a toy than a vehicle. As an adult, I have never used a bicycle. The landscape of my village was not in favour of bicycle riding.
Travelling from the mosque to Rizwan Sir’s house would not have taken more than five minutes. For me, it was like taking hours.
Sitting on the bicycle bar was so painful. Maybe the way I was sitting was not so accurate.
Thajudeen Nana gave me many bits and pieces of information about the village during our ride. He told me about a big shot of the area, named Mohideen Hajiyar, someone having a grocery store in Vijayapura. Vijayapura is the closest town, a few kilometres away from Marudur.
Within a few minutes, we reached Rizwan Sir’s house.
The house looked too small, at a single glance, to accommodate a guest.
I thanked Thajudeen Nana. He was the first person I ever met in this village. He made me feel I belonged here. After all, it was a grand welcome.
Thajudeen Nana left.
I was feeling a true sense of happiness, like a child.
Rizwan Sir’s house door was opened before I pressed the calling bell.
“Who brought you? Thajudeen Nana? A very good man”, said Rizwan Sir.
I entered Rizwan Sir’s house. It was too small for an outsider to stay. A kitchen, a bedroom, a small hall, and, of course, a washroom.
The house did not have any luxuries more than the basic simple requirements for his family with two small children.
I cannot stay here. It is not appropriate to stay here.
Rizwan Sir told me as if reading my thoughts. “You can stay temporarily in our school quarters. It is Izzadeen Sir's residence. He has gone to the Batticaloa for a wedding ceremony. He will come on next Monday. So we have one week time to search and arrange an appropriate place”.
****
Rizwan Sir forcefully provided Shibly with refreshments and dinner. After Isha-prayer, he took Shibly to the school quarters. The school was not far away from Rizwan Sir's house. It was just within walking distance. They simply walked.
It was nighttime.
The neighbourhood was dark. Shibly could not view the village clearly.
A school building was visible in the distance, under the shadows of the trees. One or two dim LED lights were unsuccessfully trying to light up the whole school premises.
Shibly and Rizwan Sir did not have to pass through the school premises.
A slightly upward-looking walking path went up to the school entrance.
The house of the school principal was situated at the starting point of this walking path. The staff quarters were between the school and this house.
“Our Principal is from this village. Many years before, his grandfather had donated this school land”, Rizwan Sir explained to Shibly how the history of the school connects to the school Principal’s roots.
The calling bell was pressed.
A tall man came out.
“Sir, this is our new staff Shibly,” Rizwan Sir introduced Shibly to the Principal.
“Welcome”, the Principal extended his arm. It was an authoritatively powerful handshake. There was no sign of any smile on his face.
“We will meet tomorrow”, he said in a powerful voice filled with authority and handed over Shibly the staff-quarters key.
Meeting with the Principal was not pleasant. Shibly could feel some dark shades of anxiety but decided to ignore it.
Shibly entered the school quarters. He felt like being home.
Once Rizwan Sir left, Shibly lay down on the bed.
It has been a pleasant day overall, except for the meeting with the Principal. The thought of joining a new job was stressful, though. He could feel a sense of excitement, expecting the first day of his teaching career. Tomorrow he is going to join the school as a teacher. He is no longer a student.
Shibly was physically exhausted despite being excited. Hours of travelling and walking demanded a peaceful long night sleep.
He fell asleep within a few minutes. Everyone came and went in his dream. Then, he fell into the deepest dark sleep where even the nightmares were scared of coming closer.
(To be continued)
*** This is just a work of fiction. Characters, events, and the places in this story are mere products of my imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or people, living or dead, is merely coincidental.
** Marudur and Vijayapura are fictional places.
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Riza Jaufer
Akurana- Kandy,
Sri Lanka
