Shibly's Diary:
I got back to my room after finishing the Marudur-First meeting. It was Tuesday, a full moon day.
I felt physically and mentally exhausted. I terribly wanted to take a long rest.
I felt lonely and empty.
Was it a correct decision to engage with Marudur-First?
My cousin Nifra, my fiance, got married immediately afterwards.
My rich uncle was not interested in giving his daughter to me in marriage. Because I was just an ordinary school teacher. I was not capable of making a fortune out of my career.
I hated my uncle; I hated my cousin; I hated her husband; I hated all the rich people in the world by my deepest heart.
I thought richness is associated with mischievousness, greed, and the meaningless vanity that looks down on people. Another part of myself knew that I was not fair.
I am not a poet. If I had written poems for the last few days, they would have been the rhetoric against the rich.
This was what must have pushed my decision to become involved with Marudur-First.
The principal wanted to use me in his works of Marudur-First. But it was my decision, after all, to work with the organization.
I could have walked away simply saying I am not interested. Officially, I did not have any commitment to work with Marudur-First.
It was a privately-owned not-for-profit organization. Who could force me to join it?
I decided to be involved in its activities just because I thought it could give me some form of meaning to my life.
I had already participated in two of their meetings.
I had been involved in many of their tasks within this short period since Minhaj was fired.
I had dealt with a sizable number of its members. I wanted to convince myself that I was involved in a praiseworthy form of voluntary humanitarian work. But my heart was not content. I felt a sense of guilt. I usually sense this when I make a mistake.
What sort of organization is this Marudur-First? Do they really stand for a praisable cause?
All I heard from the tongues of its members was accusing one or another Marudur village leader.
This bigshot Mohideen Hajiyar...
I once saw him in the hospital. In fact, he left a good impression on me.
He was soft-spoken and had a kind of amazingly gentle leadership quality. Not like the principal. But, Marudur-First had given me a bad image of him.
Maybe he was not so educated. But, can someone be a village leader just because he has a University education or some other educational credentials?
I was too exhausted to think clearly.
I checked my watch.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon.
I had not prayed the noon prayer. Since I started working in the school-office after Minhaj left, I found myself not keeping my prayers properly. I used to wake up late in the morning and miss my dawn prayers.
I can not forgive myself for this.
I had work-overload these days. But, I knew it was not healthy for my body, my mind and for my spirituality.
Physically, mentally and spiritually, I feel weak now.
I needed some rest.
I worked this weekend. Today I worked even though it was a full-moon holiday.
Why should I not go home and take a rest for a few days? Why should I not take one or two days off?
I wanted to see my sister's kids. They are the cute little ones. I feel an incredible sense of happiness when they call me 'uncle' and while I listen to their babbling voices.
I did not know how long I remained sleeping.
It could not be long enough. I woke up to the sudden burst of ringing in my mobile phone.
Oh, my God, I have forgotten to put the phone into silence. I checked the name that was peeping up. Our principal was calling me. 'Why on earth is he calling me now? Which work is he going to ask me to do?’
I had forgotten to send the pamphlet to print. I had to edit it with the ideas discussed in the meeting today. Then, I had to send it for the approval of Mr Shareek and the principal before handing over to the press the final copy for printing.
It was not one of the lengthiest pamphlets, though the content was rather sensitive. A single spelling mistake could mean a lot.
The principal is probably calling me to ask about the pamphlet. Forget about sleeping. Forget about going home. I have work to complete now.
I answered the phone when the principal was dialling for the third time.
“Hello, sir. I was just…”
“Shibly, can you come to Mr Shareek’s house? Now immediately? This is something serious. Mr Shareek has been attacked”.
“What? Attacked?” I was shocked. “Is he alright now?”
“Yeah, he is alright. But, we can’t leave it in this way, Shibly. It’s becoming a trend. Can you come to Mr Shareek’s house immediately? We have to change the content of the pamphlet”.
“Yes, sir, I am on the way”.
What is going on in this village?
It was just two weeks since the principal got attacked.
This time it is Mr Shareek. What is actually happening here?
I could not digest anything.
I immediately dressed up and started running towards Mr Shareek’s house.
My uncle was right.
I should not have entered into a teaching career.
I should not have come to this village in the first place.
I am ruining my own career and my life.
I should fix everything straight.
I hurried to Mr Shareek’s house. It was situated a hundred metres away from Minhaj’s house. It was not a big house. It also looked untidy.
****
Wednesday, evening.
Izzadeen sir got into the Thajudeen Tea Store.
"Welcome, master. You look tired," Thajudeen Nana invited Izzadeen Sir.
"Yeah, I got some work to finish. We are about to go to our village tomorrow".
"Master, visiting relatives?".
"No. This time it is not going to be a visit. We are permanently shifting to the Eastern province".
"What do you say, master? That means you won't come back again?"
"I will come back. But, my family won't. Our principal has asked me to vacate the quarters. That's the reason why we have to go back".
"Then what about your job? Have you got a transfer to the Eastern province, master?"
"No, I will come back alone, Thajudeen Nana. I have a few years of service to complete before I retire".
"After retirement, you also will go to the East and settle over there?".
"Yeah, that's right. What else could I do?" laughed Izzadeen Sir.
"What are you saying, master? I am unable to digest the thought you are going to leave us".
"I can't stay in the school quarters forever, Thajudeen Nana. A set of new staff has arrived in the school. They need a place to stay. So I must vacate it".
"You bought a house here, didn't you? Why did you sell it, master?"
"It was a tragedy, you know. My son started a business and he got into a credit trap. There was no way out. So I had to sell the house and settle with the creditors. That's why I had to stay at the quarters for the second time".
"Yeah. Now I remember. Didn't you consider renting a house and staying here, master?".
"I can't afford a rented house here, Thajudeen Nana. Some people are ready to give me their houses for free", said Izzadeen Sir, "That is their generosity. But, we have self-respect. We can’t accept their offer, can we?".
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Thajudeen Nana and asked, “Your kids were born here and used to this environment. They belong to this village, master. Do you think they will be able to get used to the environment in the East?”
"No choice. They have to. What else to do? But, obviously it is going to be a hard time for them," said Izzadeen sir thoughtfully and asked, "You have sold your property in Jaffna, haven't you?"
"Yes, Master, I sold it," said Thajudeen Nana.
Izzadeen Sir was drinking his tea thoughtfully.
****
Thursday, Evening.
It was a pleasant evening. An hour was left for the sunset.
Fahim sir and Japan Hajiyar were standing in front of the emerald-green paddy field close to Akbar mosque. The scenery was amazingly beautiful. Watching the shaking paddy-grasses for the evening wind was filling hearts with tranquillity.
“It is refreshing to stand by this field and idly watch it”, said Fahim Sir.
“Yeah, it’s very peaceful”, said Japan Hajiyar, “do you know whose field is this?”.
“Satththar Hajiyar’s and his brother’s”.
“That is now. But, this field belonged to Firdaws Hajiyar before. Saththar Hajiyar and his brother cheated him and got this land to their name. One of the biggest scandals of this village”, laughed Japan Hajiyar emptily.
“Firdaws Hajiyar..? you are talking about Minhaj's father, right?”
“His name is Minhaj? I don’t know Firdaws Hajiyar’s son’s name. He is a good boy. He worked in the school. This principal man chased him away because of Saththar Hajiyar”.
“Yeah, he is Minhaj”.
“You see, Fahim Machan, people think of themselves as skilful when they cheat others and get rich. But, this money will never remain with them forever”.
“I don’t believe it, Japan Machan. People say these things for the sake of convincing themselves. The truth is these cheaters live happily. Good ones are the ones who suffer”, said Fahim Sir, “take this Saththar Hajiyar. He has a lot of money. He is the richest man in Marudur. Take his brother. His son doctor Zaidh is very rich. But, what happened to Firdaws Hajiyar? He passed away and his entire family suffered. Life is not fair, Japan Machan.”
“Fahim Machan, you are an educated man. You shouldn’t talk this way. Things in life don’t work this way, Fahim Machan. Everything is in God’s plan. Think about Saththar. Who respects him in this village? Even people don’t have that much respect for doctor Zaidh. So, what is the use of their money? I am an uneducated country fellow. But, I do have some respect. Take this tea-store Thajudeen Nana. He is not a rich man. He hasn't got any real importance in this village. But he has plenty of respect".
“What you say makes sense, Japan Machan”.
“Yeah, that’s why these two men, Saththar Hajiyar and Doctor Zaidh are with Shareek and his organization. To earn respect. What is its name?”
“Marudur-First”.
“Marudur-First… Ah.. Whatever it is..!! The first thing that happens in this organization is thieves join other thieves”, said Japan Hajiyar, “This village will never forget what Saththar and his brother did to Firdows Hajiyar. Firdows Hajiyar was such a kind god-fearing man. I have never seen a person like him in my entire life. The whole village cried when he died. It was a real cry, not fake”.
“I remember”.
“Fahim Machan, I see you are still in the village. Haven’t you joined your new school?” asked Japan Hajiyar.
“Japan Machan is teasing me. This is my school. I will never go anywhere”.
“You can’t say that. You have been given a new school, haven’t you?”.
“Yes, officially transferred. Finally, I will unavoidably have to go, it seems”.
“You are acquainted with many politicians. Didn’t they help you?”.
“Where can I expect help? You can believe anyone these days, but politicians. They are extremely self-wish creatures. If I want to get any help from them, the next election should come. At the moment, they don’t even recognize my face”.
“What a pity”.
“Forget about it, Japan Machan. I heard you had a quarrel with Shareek”.
“Yeah, with that rascal. I held his shirt collar and asked him where he had kept all my money. You must have been on the spot. It was so pleasant. Guess what? He was so afraid and his hands were trembling out of fear”.
“You made a mistake, Japan Machan. You have given them a chance to strike you back. They are fond of fighting”.
“I also like fighting a lot. I will deal with them. They can’t wag their tails at me”.
“They will never come to your doorstep to fight, Japan Machan. They will damage your name in social media. They have already started doing it. Don’t you go through any social media?”.
“No”.
“I want to make you the chief of this village. You try to ruin everything”.
“Ruining? Me?”
“Yeah, you have ruined everything”.
“Now, what am I supposed to do?”.
“Let’s wait and see what they are going to do. We will discuss and do something. Don’t do anything on your own”.
“So, I shouldn’t do anything without Fahim Machan’s permission”, laughed Japan Hajiyar loudly.
“Nothing that sort. I tell you this for your own good”.
“I know about Fahim Machan. I understand I made a mistake when I hit Shareek. He is a fox”.
“That’s right, don’t ever act on your impulse again. Control yourself. He could turn the whole Marudur-First team against you. They are well-educated people”.
“and I am an uneducated country fellow” said Japan Hajiyar and laughed.
“Others will not feel obliged to help you when you do something on your own. That’s what happened to me,” said Fahim Sir thoughtfully.
****
Friday, after Jumu’ah Prayer.
The pamphlet of Marudur-First was distributed after Friday prayer. Its message went as follows:
“Usman Lebbe and his son were well-educated men who were in leadership positions in our village many years before. We are forever indebted to them.
They did their best for the progress of this village. Many of the developments in this village occurred when they were leaders. Then, for more than a decade, an illiterate unqualified leader has been leading our people.
We are talking about Mr Mohideen. He is ill-qualified in every way.
The purpose of this pamphlet is to inform our people how ill-qualified he is. Many people think that we are against this man simply because of his lack of educational credentials. It is not a fact. The truth is there are several moral reasons. You will understand the actual reasons why we are against him and why we want him to step down from his positions when you finish reading this pamphlet.
Mohideen often claims himself as the grandson of our great leader Usman Lebbe and claims ownership for his legacy. It was common knowledge that Usman Lebbe never approved of his first son during his lifetime.
Usman Lebbe symbolically gestured when he declined the inheritance to his first son that his first son should not follow suit in any of his positions in leadership.
Marudurians grasped the message clearly and always selected his second son to the village leadership position after Usman Lebbe’s demise. People never elected Usman Lebbe's first son for any leadership position. Usman Lebbe never made public why he was angry to such an extent with his first son.
Marudur First does not believe the village leadership position be passed down from generation to generation. However, Usman Lebbe’s second son was well-qualified on his own. He was not given the leadership just because of the legacy of his beloved father.
Mohideen, the son of Usman Lebbe's first son, in this way, does not have any moral rights to claim the legacy of Usman Lebbe. When he does, he refutes history. Had Usman Lebbe been alive to this day, he would not have approved Mohideen as his grandson to lead this village. Therefore, let us not be fooled by Mohideen’s claims.
The second problem is how Mohideen earned this much money when he did not inherit any wealth or did not work abroad. The truth could be surprising to many, but the truth must be exposed.
His entire wealth is late Firdaws’ money. Mr Firdaws, for his turn, had stolen the money from his business partners.
Mohideen’s friend, the late Firdaws lived like a king because of the generosity of his business partners even though he did not have remarkable wealth on his own. This is the reason why Firdaws left nothing to his family when he died.
Some people are not genuine and trustworthy. Firdaws was such an untrustworthy man. He was never loyal to his generous business partners. He started stealing their money. He was afraid to keep the money with him that he had stolen. He needed someone trustworthy enough(?!). Mr Mohideen came to the stage for this purpose.
Mr Mohideen was not more than a watchdog of Firdaws’ stolen money. For Mohideen’s luck, Firdaws died unexpectedly. The entire sum of money became Mohideen’s wealth. From being a desperate factory labourer, Mohideen became a rich millionaire overnight.
This was the making of a millionaire name the so-called Mohideen Hajiyar. There was not any Steve-Job-tale behind him. All he has is the dirty secret stories of stealing and deception.
This unholy alliance between Mohideen and the late Firdaws did not end. Mohideen still seems to be grateful for his late friend. We have evidence to prove that the only son of Mohideen and the late Firdaws' elder daughter have been having telephone conversations for hours. They are likely to get married soon, although the girl is older than the boy.
We also have witnesses to suggest that the only daughter of Mohideen and the elder son of the late Firdaws have a crush on each other. Mohideen is determined to make his future son-in-law rich. Therefore, He is to take Firdaws' elder son with him abroad on a business trip next week.
The air ticket for the trip has already been booked with Emirates Airline. The payment for both air tickets has been made from Mohideen’s debit card.
Mohideen is against Marudur-First ever since it was established.
An unsuccessful attempt was made to transfer the founder president of Marudur-First from his post as the principal of our Marudur village school.
The recent attempted murder of him is a well-known secret. Everyone comfortably decided to keep silent about it. Witnesses were silenced. They were never allowed to talk to security agencies. Two grade nine boys were baselessly accused.
A few days ago, one of the close associates of Mohideen hit the secretary of Marudur-First. It occurred in the street when the secretary was going home after attending associations's members meeting.
Everyone knows who was behind all this violence against Marudur-First.
Many people think that Marudur-First is an organization against rich men. We are not against anyone. We are against only Mr Mohideen. We are against him, not only because of his lack of educational credentials, as we said at the beginning of this pamphlet. We oppose him for moral reasons. He does not deserve to lead the village on moral grounds.
Mr Mohideen always wanted to uproot Marudur-First and put obstacles of one sort or another for the humanitarian works of Marudur-First. He thinks our activities could jeopardize his leadership position.
All that Marudur-First wants is to develop every aspect of Marudurian life. We dream of a well-developed Marudur from its present backward position. It is our responsibility to expose the secrets of our leader that are skillfully veiled behind the well-furnished image of Mr Mohideen, the man of deception.
We are only against Mr Mohideen in his individual capacity. We are not against the Mosque Federation or Marudur Welfare Association, the organizations that he represents or against any other individuals.
Marudur-First is always eager to cooperate with these organizations. All that we demand is that Mr Mohideen should step down from his positions. He should leave space for other suitable people to lead the village.
Thank you,
Marudur-First
“The servants of Marudur”.
****
Friday night.
When Hamdha got home from Colombo, their house looked like hell. Her usually charming father was seated with a depressed look, being emptily staring at the wall. Her mother was pathetically screaming.
“How many times have I told you to get rid-of your social work? Now you see what happened. Our life is over. Our dignity is over. Future of our kids is over. This is the end of us. Everything is because of you and your community work. I wish I could die now. Why am I alive to see all these things? Life has become hell for us,” Ziyana, her mother, was yelling at Mohideen Hajiyar.
“Will you please keep silent for a moment? We already have enough problems", Mohideen Hajiyar shouted in an unusually angry voice. Hamdha’s mother, Ziayana, got afraid and kept silent. Ziyana had never seen her husband this angry before.
“Of course, this is a big problem. There must be a solution. We have to be calm and quiet. What are you going to achieve by screaming this way? Please, give me some time to relax,” uttered Mohideen Hajiyar angrily.
Mohideen Hajiyar had witnessed plenty of shocking waves in his life. He had the guts to overcome everything. But, this one was a character assassination involving his entire family.
The leaflet was full of absurd lies. It was inserting knives on the back of the entire family to bury them alive forever.
The pamphlet cannot deceive everyone. Truths cannot be concealed. But, there will be a lot many people out there who believe it. Because, many people usually do not have time to look beyond the surface of the news.
This might leave a lifelong black mark on his character. He needs to do something.
First, he wants to think clearly.
“What I am trying to say is that you must reply. Being silent is not in any way a reply”, now Ziyana talked in a somewhat calmer voice.
Mohideen Hajiyar looked at Hamdha. “What do you think, darling? Your mother wants me to reply. What is your idea?”
Hamdha was deeply disturbed by the leaflet.
It had falsely accused her family.
It had made a baseless personal accusation against her publicly that could never be forgotten or forgiven. It even attacked the innocent family of her friend, Rushdha.
She looked at her parents.
They looked old.
They get older and their hair gets grey.
She remembered the memorable times when they looked young and energetic. She felt sympathy for them from within the depth of her heart. However, she tried her best to sound rational.
“It isn't a good idea to reply, dad. Not suitable at the moment. We need time to think rationally. They want us to lose our temper and act impulsively. If we did it, they won. All they want is to character-assassinate you, dad”, Hamdha said thoughtfully and firmly.
“Here comes my daughter. What an excellent daughter I got. I love you, my darling”, Mohideen Hajiyar smiled for the first time that day.
"But, I understood that women play a remarkable role in Marudur-First and in their dirty propaganda. This time, I am going to stand firmly for protecting my father".
"You need not to worry about these silly things, darling. Your father is there to look after such things."
"No, dad, you shouldn't stop me. I am going to play a powerful role this time. It's my responsibility as your daughter, dad".
Mohideen Hajiyar kept silent.
"They dared to tell all these lies without any fear of God, didn't they?" said Hamdha. Her eyes were filled with tears.
****
Minhaj’s diary
Every Friday, I used to visit the grave of my father. Since Janazas no longer got buried in Akbar Masjid Maqbara, old graves were still identifiable amidst the bushes and grasses.
This Friday also, I visited the grave and prayed for him by standing in the distance.
“Oh my God, forgive my father for his sins and shortcomings. Show mercy upon him. Make his life-after-death pleasant and peaceful. Oh my god, accept the prayers, charities, and all the good deeds of my father. Provide with him an abode in paradise”.
The prayers made me light-hearted.
I was walking back to the courtyard of the main mosque compound. People were talking to each other in groups. It was the regular after Friday-prayer-chats of youngsters, standing in the streets-sides. These chats are usually charming.
Today I sensed an unusual rigidly solid emotion in the air. I just felt like everyone was whispering about me with each other. I had never had such an experience before.
I decided to disregard the discomforting feeling. It could not be anything wrong. Why should everyone bother about me?
I glanced at some of the familiar faces that were gazing at me. All of them were relatives, friends or acquaintances. There was hardly any face that I did not recognize.
I also usually have charming chats after Friday prayer. But, this day sounded like an odd day. Why was I getting such an awkward feeling?
I did not see the usual friendliness in any of these faces.
The hate and anger were filled in those young eyes. I was growing insignificant in front of them.
Nobody greeted me. When I greeted them, the replies were so unfriendly in a way that I got a feeling that I was getting bullied. Some of them did not bother to open their mouths to greet me in return. Instead, they simply shook their heads up and down. Their eyes were filled with hatred and anger that I had never seen before.
None told me anything explicitly. Everyone was watching every single step of my feet or was I just experiencing a sense of delusion?
Every single footstep of mine sounded like an era. My legs weighed heavier like iron poles.
Was everything real? or was I making up all these things? I wished all these things to be a dream.
But, I was not making up anything. This was real. It was happening lively. I could witness the real hatred in front of my own physical eyes.
There was something seriously wrong. What was it? I could not understand and could do nothing to rectify the situation. All I could do was walk home fast to reach my comfort zone as soon as possible.
When I got home, the house looked upside down. My mother was screaming in despair.
The house looked like a funeral house.
Aunt Fauziya stood next to her with a face without any expression. There was cruelty in her eyes.
“What is wrong?” I asked my mother. My voice was inaudible.
“What on earth have you done?” My mother yelled at me and hit my chest and shoulders furiously.
I stood still, not being able to comprehend what was truly going on in my world. I needed an explanation. I remained silent.
A leaflet on the sofa, with the logo of Marudur-First, caught my attention.
I took it into my hands and started reading. It contained all the answers in the world for every knot of the ongoing mystery.
My solar system turned upside down. I knew that my life was not going to be the same ever again.
((To be Continued...))
_ _ _ _ _ _
Previous chapter: chapter 19 - can I lead the funeral prayer, Hazrath?
Next chapter : chapter 21 - the darkness of guilt
* Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental.
** Vijayapura and Marudur are fictional places.
Riza Jaufer
Akurana -Kandy,
Sri Lanka
