Love and God (Khuda aur Mohabbat)

179 Pages·2000·1.197 MB·English

by  Hashim Nadeem

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LOVE AND
GOD
BY
HASHIM NADIM
DEDICATED TO
Every love and everyone who loved.
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Confession:
I am at a loss to understand as to why people describe love as a personal story. Love is not the story
of one or a few individuals, it is a universal story because, there is hardly anyone in the world who
has not passed through this experience. The only difference lies in the truth of acceptance and
hypocrisy of denial. Through the words scattered in the pages of this book, I have endeavoured to
interpret the way in which love and religion influenced me. The battle of love and religion was
fought by my heart and bitterly experienced by my soul but I leave it to you to decide whether it was
won by love or religion. I have never aimed at establishing the superiority of love or religion. There
were only a few questions which needed to be answered realistically. In this clash of love and
religion, some new questions appeared to be cropping up inn my mind and I, therefore, request that
this book should be read only by those who have the courage to confront new questions in life.
Answer is however, not compulsory.
Hashim Nadim.
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CHAPTER 1
THE FIRST RAIN
It was perhaps, the rumbling of the wheels of the aeroplane on the runway that awakened me from
my half-asleep condition. The aeroplane had landed at London’s Heathrow Airport and was now
slowly moving on the runway towards the parking area. According to the announcement of the air
hostess, it was six O’ clock in the morning in London.
The city of London was engulfed in the darkness resembling the twilight. It appeared as if it had
been raining throughout the previous night and the small drops of the light spray of rain could be
seen quivering on the wind screen of my seat. Rains are indeed a strange phenomenon of nature.
Sometimes, heavy rains continue to fall throughout the life, but still, the inside of man remains dry as
ever, while at other times, only a few drops are quite sufficient to make us thoroughly wet although
those who are around us, remain utterly unaware of our condition. This first rain of London was also
of a similar nature. It made me wet from outside but my inside aridity was still piercing into my
throat like sharp thorns.
The aeroplane had now been joined to its scheduled tube on the parking stand and one after the
other, the yawning passengers were descending on the terminal by means of the tube. By the time I
reached the lounge, the dim whiteness of the morning had become slightly visible on the horizon.
But on account of the dark thick clouds and continuous drizzling, pale yellowish darkness, similar to
that of a sad evening, could still be seen outside the glass wall of the lounge.
I am Hammad Amjad, the offspring of an illustrious traders’ family of Pakistan. My ancestors
have always held highly important government posts before and after the creation of Pakistan . Since
long, trade has been the favourite occupation of my family and top ranking government officials of
the country have always regarded it as an honour to be invited by us to evening tea. The same
Hammad Amjad stood alone and dejected in the Arrival Lounge of London’s Heathrow Airport on
that cold and wet morning. Apparently, I had come to London with the intention of getting a two-
year degree from the Economics Department of Kingston University but I knew very well that it was
only a pretext and a means of seeking escape from myself. I had made up my mind to get involved in
the hustle and bustle of London to such an extent that I might not be able to find even a single
moment to spend in my own company. I had a strange state of mind at that time. I was ready to cope
with the unpleasant existence of others but was quite unwilling to face myself even for a single
moment. By all means and standards, man is a helpless creature. He may shatter into bits all the
mirrors that he finds in the outside world around him, but he will have to face his inside mirror all
the time whether he likes it or not.
By the time I went out of the terminal after getting clearance from the Customs officials and
passing through other routine procedures, a few star-like flakes of snow have got mixed up in the
cold air blowing outside. As I took the first step into the open atmosphere, a severe cold wave had a
shivering and chilling impact on my whole body and quite spontaneously my hands rushed towards
my overcoat collars and I properly covered my whole body. However severe and intense the cold
may be, its first wave always creates a sense of freshness in you. This gust of cold wind also
awakened all of my inner sensations. I began looking around in search of Kamran who had been my
bosom friend since childhood but as I was already expecting, as far as I could see, I could find no
sign of him anywhere.
At first, I thought of taking a taxi and going to his flat myself. I had already visited London several
times and it was by no means an unknown or new city for me. But later on, thinking something else,
I picked up my single suitcase from the airport terminal and began dragging it towards a distant piece
of land having some dried grass on it. There was a row of beautiful wooden benches placed at some
distance from one another. I decided to sit there and wait for Kamran.
The mixture of snow flakes in the air had increased steadily and by the time I reached my selected
bench, snowfall had started. I can still remember those childhood days when in the evening, Kamran
and I used to see the typical white milky snow clouds in the sky and spent the whole night lying in
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our beds, praying for the snow to fall. The next morning, we used to be overwhelmed with joy on
seeing the star-like snow flakes falling on the ground and the whole city covered with the white
blanket of snow. We would immediately rush outside and become busy throwing snowballs at
strangers and passersby in a secretive manner, while the members of our family were searching for
us everywhere. I wonder why those blissful winter months of childhood fly away in the twinkling of
an eye while the scorching heat of youth continues to overshadow us for centuries without the
slightest respite.
The piece of land where I was sitting was somewhat elevated from the ground and I could,
therefore, quite easily catch the glimpses of tall old buildings of London in the distance. Within a
short time, the whole city was completely covered with snow and some distant on-looker might have
considered me as well to be a statue made of snow. There was no news of Kamran as yet, but he had
been the same type of careless chap right from his childhood. In our childhood, both of us had been
extremely reluctant to get up early in the morning and as I still remember, even during annual
examinations, we hardly managed to reach the examination hall after the distribution of question
papers. Childhood was spent in the same delightful and take-it-easy manner but then, all of a sudden,
the family circumstances of Kamran took a tragic turn when his parents passed away in a traffic
accident. Kamran was left alone in the house because her only elder sister had already got married
and gone to her in-laws. After his father’s death, it was revealed to Kamran that he had inherited a
huge burden of unpaid debts from his father. As the demands of the creditors increased, Kamran was
left with no option but to sell his native home and remaining property and shift to London. He
opened a small restaurant in London with the little bit of money he had after the payment of all the
dents. With the passage of time, life became easier for him and he fully adapted himself to the life of
London. In fact, he had always been very fond of London and same was the case with me. Perhaps,
both of us had a conservative spirit and conservativism and melancholy are the typical characteristics
of London. Every city has its own peculiar temperament and characteristics. I had never like to live
in howling, screaming and noisy cities, which are hot, humid and suffocating and where one is
always haunted by the fear of losing something. I have always been impressed by people and cities
having calm and cool temperament. Cities like London are capable of absorbing the pains and
sorrows of people eager to lead a calm and quiet life.
As I looked around, I saw a smiling young couple passing from in front of me. The girl had a
closer look at me. Her cheeks were becoming fiery red due to cold and her eyes had a constant smile.
As she saw me, she smiled and after wishing me good morning, they went to a bench placed at some
distance, sat there and became busy in their amorous exchanges. It was quite evident from their dress
that they had come out in this biting cold for the sake of jogging. I smiled while thinking about the
severity of weather and the romantic activities of such young romantic lovers. Weather has different
impacts on different people. I can still recall those snowy winters which I spent in my native city of
Quetta. I used to observe that when snow fell throughout the night, the poor labourers and workers
would come out early next morning along with the members of their families and got busy in
removing snow from in front of their doors and from their rooftops with the help of shovels and large
wooden boards. The reason was that if this snow was allowed to stay on the roofs of their unpaved
houses for a long time, it could create damaging holes in the roofs. All through the winter, they kept
on praying to the Almighty God to protect them from such severe snowfall. But here in London, the
scene was quite the opposite. Undaunted by the heavy snowfall, these two young lovers had come
out of their homes in the hope of enjoying the weather. Weather is the same but its impacts are not
the same for all the people. Suddenly, the chain of my thoughts was abruptly disrupted when I found
someone violently shaking my shoulders and saying, “Wake up sir, Narowal Junction has come.”
In astonishment, as I looked up, I saw Kamran’s face because the rest of his body was completely
wrapped in warm clothes. With all his evils, he was smiling and looking towards me. Both of us
were locked in a warm embrace.
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“Excuse me my dear Medi, I’m a bit late. But what are you doing here, sitting in this snow? I’ve
ransacked the whole terminal in search of you while you are sitting here?”
It was my first meeting with Kamran after two years. Two years ago, he had come to the same
Heathrow Airport to bid farewell to me. Till that time, life was full of beauty and charm; and I had
come to London only for the purpose of roaming about and for listening to the futile fuss of Kamran.
True friends of childhood are just like tall shady trees which provide immense calm, comfort and
relief to those who sit under their shade. For a moment, while I was embracing Kamran, I too had
forgotten my burning wounds.
Suddenly, he detached me from himself, had a closer look at me and remarked, “Medi dear, why
are you looking so weak?”
Giving him the handle of my suitcase I replied, “I wish I could give a similar opinion about you.”
Kamran laughed and boldly remarked, “Well my dear friend, you know very well that right from
my childhood, whatever I eat, has a rapid and positive impact on my health. Now, do you plant to
stand here and freeze to death, or do you wish to accompany me to my home?”
As Kamran stepped forward, I noticed that on the nearby bench, the English couple was still
engrossed in each other under the cover of snow, quite indifferent to the whole world. Seeing the
boy, Kamran heaved a long sigh and mumbled to himself, “I wonder why the standards of London
blonds have gone so low these days.”
Taking long strides, Kamran was moving forward on the carpet of snow spread on the earth and
was leaving behind his foot marks on the snow. Like an enchanted soul, I was simply walking behind
him and following his footsteps. Kamran’s Morris Car was parked at a nearby place. My luggage
was packed into the dickie and we left for Kamran’s flat.
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CHAPTER 2
THE SAME EVENING AGAIN
In about an hour’s time, we reached Kamran’s flat situated in South London. By the time I took
shower, Kamran had prepared breakfast. I was not feeling so hungry, but as usual, Kamran was busy
displaying his traditional enthusiastic hospitality. After taking breakfast, I went to sleep while
Kamran left for his restaurant.
Perhaps at four in the evening, I was awakened by some noise. Kamran’s flat was situated in a
posh area of London. It was in fact a long row of double-storey apartments built with red bricks.
These apartments had been built in about eight or ten rows between very wide roads. Each row had
eight double-storey apartments joined together in such a way that the orchards in front of all the
houses could be seen together in a straight line. However, in order to create a separation between the
houses, there was a beautiful red fence in the middle, which had been cut in a balanced form. Outside
each house there was a beautiful post box, bearing the name of the owner of the house. I remembered
my childhood days when during the drawing period, all the students in the class had to draw in their
drawing copybooks a small house similar to this wooden postbox. With its balcony, the window of
my room opened towards the back road. The slight noise that I could hear was also coming from the
apartment of the second row built on the same back road. I opened the glass door that opened into the
balcony and came out on the terrace. The snow fall had stopped but as far as I could look around,
everything had been covered with snow. Across the road into a street, some children were busy
making a snowman. The noise that I have just mentioned was being produced by their innocent
laughters and loud argumentation. One group of children wished to fix a carrot in place of the man’s
nose while the other group wanted to use a wooden nail to improve the form of the nose. At last, both
the groups unanimously agreed to use the carrot for this purpose and the snowman was given a hat, a
muffler and a coat as well. The passersby stopped for a while, looked at what the children had made,
smiled and went away. Now, it was getting dark; and like other winter evenings, that evening was
also quickly merging into the night. The mothers of the children who were peeping at them through
the doors and windows, began calling them and one after the other, the children begged leave from
their playmates and went home. Perhaps, from their inside, all the mothers of the world are of the
same type. They forbid their children to play in the darkness, urge them to return home before the
setting of the sun and if they are late in returning, they (mothers) stand in the doors, windows and
courtyards and call them loudly.
With the advancing evening, the intensity of cold was also increasing. The roadside coffee seller
was presenting hot mugs of espresso coffee to the people who were passing by. The shivering
couples stopped on their way for a while, gulped down hot coffee and then resumed their onward
journey. Even at that moment, a beautiful young couple had stopped in front of the coffee stall for
drinking coffee. With her large eyes, the girl was mischievously looking towards the boy from
behind the steam that was rising out of the large mug of simmering coffee. While talking, she was
continuously smiling. We the human beings have a very superficial approach and are quite incapable
of looking beneath the surface of things. The steam that rises out from the coffee mug is visible to
everyone but the smoke rising from the hearts of the people around us remains hidden from our eyes.
There was now complete darkness all around and the roadside lamp posts had started emitting light.
It was the same evening again and the same dark ominous shadows of old memories had once again
surrounded me. It is said that evening is the time of the setting sun but the setting sun is not the only
idea associated with the evening time. Evenings had always pressed heavily upon my nerves. During
the whole of my life, I have never felt so much loneliness in any other part of the day or the night, as
I have felt in the evening.
All of a sudden, the telephone placed in the lounge of the flat began ringing. From the other side,
Kamran was speaking in his lively and cheerful voice, “O my prince of the fairyland of sadness,
what about the supper? If you wish to go outside, get ready. I’ll be back in half an hour’s time. In
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case you like to eat something at home, let me know; and I’ll tell the driver to buy something on the
way back.”
“So now you’ve got a driver as well?” I asked in some surprise.
Kamran laughed in his typical style and replied, “The fact is that while driving back home from my
café, I act as my own driver. When I tell others that I’ve got a driver, I only wish to impress them
with my personality.”
I uttered a few words in his condemnation and remarked while hanging up, “Kamran, you are
simply incorrigible. I’m in no mood to go out. Let’s have our dinner together here at home.”
Within a short time, Kamran arrived home with all the essentials of the night meal. While driving
back home, he had bought from the market some ready made food items. Soon, like a prudent
housewife, he heated them and placed them on the table. After the meal, we had a course of coffee
during which, Kamran finally said something which I had unconsciously been attempting to avoid
since morning.
Taking a long sip of hot coffee, Kamran looked towards me quite attentively and said, “Medi dear,
I never expected you to surrender so easily.”
“When the enemy himself appears in the rival’s camp and implores that this victory is the only
asset of his life, people like me have to give in,” I replied, while deliberately attempting not to look
towards him.
My reply further increased Kamran’s curiosity and restlessness instead of decreasing it. With a
sense of frustration, he began to speak rather loudly, “I’ve never been able to understand your logic.
For the sake of that girl, you revolted against the whole world and then, despite stiff opposition from
your whole family, you remained firmed and resolute and gallantly faced the storm. You were
disowned by your father, your mother broke off her relationship with you and you were deprived of
your home. What happened then all of a sudden which forced you to take a u-turn and give up so
easily?”
A weak smile appeared on my lips. “Perhaps, the hardships and ordeals of time had made me
realize that love is a folly and that those who abandon the ease and comfort of their homes and
wander about in deserts and jungles for the sake of love are fools and nothing else.”
Kamran stood up from the sofa, came close to me, placed his hand on my shoulder, bent and
looked straight into my eyes. “Mr. Hammad Amjad Raza,” he began to speak. “I know you since you
were six years old. We’ve been together for the last twenty years. Our childhood and youth are
evident to each other like a mirror. You are also included among those people who renounce the soft
and warm beds of home and are driven from pillar to post. At the moment, you are tired. Go to bed
now and we’ll talk about the matter at some other time.”
Kamran patted me on my back and went towards his room while I remained seated there in the
easy chair in front of the window and continued to hear the typical sound of the falling snow on the
branches of the trees which were bending down under the weight of snow. Outside, the sky had
turned fiery red and inside the room, there was the sound of the snapping of wood in the fireplace
and the shadows of rising flames on the wall. At this hour of the night, my mind traveled back to that
evening two years ago, when I had my first meeting with Iman.
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CHAPTER 3
THE BLUE SEASON OF LOVE
Our family was included among the most influential and most affluent families of the city. After
retiring as Commissioner, my father began taking care of the vast agricultural lands that had once
belonged to our forefathers. It is another thing that he could never become a landlord in the true
sense of the word, because, the strict bureaucrat that lay hidden in him, always figured prominently
in him and dominated his personality. My mother was the daughter of an eminent landlord and thus
possessed all the characteristics of educated women belonging to the feudal class. Even her Master’s
degree in English Literature had failed to bring about any change in her personality. We were a
happy and prosperous family of three brothers and a sister and were passing our life in our own
typical fashion. My father had always been in close contact with the most important political figures
of the country and every evening, our drawing room was filled with the incumbent ministers and
members of the ruling class. Since childhood, it had been a matter of great astonishment for me that
despite the frequent change of governments in the country, the same political faces could be seen in
different forms in my father’s drawing room. Perhaps, my father enjoyed friendly ties only with
those politicians who were capable of always rocking in the cradle of power, whatever the
circumstances might be. It was perhaps, due to this very reason that he had arranged the marriage of
his eldest son Sajjad and his daughter Madiha into such ruling families. My sister Madiha was
married to a boy belonging to a highly influential family of Sindh. Apparently, they belonged to
Sindh, but their new generation had seen no other city of Pakistan except its capital Islamabad.
Madiha had also started living in Islamabad after her marriage. My elder brother Sajjad was also
married to a girl belonging to an aristocratic family of Punjab. My Brother’s wife Abrina was always
keen and anxious to prove that her high class family was in no way inferior to ours. My brother
Sajjad was always so busy in his business affairs and foreign tours that he could hardly ever spare
some time for his wife. Consequently, she and my mother kept themselves busy in making
arrangements for all the family parties and functions. As far as I (Hammad Amjad) and my younger
brother Ibad (who was the darling of the whole family) were concerned, we did not have the least
interest in the noisy activities and festivities of our home. I had recently got Master’s degree and Ibad
had also completed his graduation. Right from the beginning, I had never been interested in leading
my life according to some particular plan or discipline and, therefore, despite the repeated insistence
of my father, I had not yet agreed to assist him in his business affairs. For this very reason, he was
somewhat annoyed with me in those days. On the other hand, Ibad had never wanted to do anything
in Pakistan. He had always been obsessed with the desire of settling abroad but he was too shy to talk
to Father on this matter in a decisive manner. Parties and get togethers were held most frequently in
our house, under one pretext or the other. At times, I thought that we the rich people have got very
few excuses for enjoyment and celebration. I have read somewhere that the rich are wrong to believe
that the poor are happier than they and in the same way, the poor are wrong in their opinion that the
rich are leading a happier life than theirs. Perhaps, someone has said it very rightly.
Another party had been arranged at our house on that day on the pretext that the only son of my
brother Sajjad had completed the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran. In imitation of one another, it is
becoming a common fashion in the rich families to employ some Maulvi in order to teach the Quran
to the children in the evening. Or, it might have been the outcome of the strict training and
upbringing which my father had received from his father in his childhood. Whatever the reason was,
he ordered Brother Sajjad to arrange some Maulvi who could come in the evening and teach the
Holy Quran to his little son Sunny. It is another thing that on most days of the month, the Maulvi had
to return home from the gate of our bungalow without teaching anything because of some party or
ceremony being held inside. How could be a simple minded poor Maulvi and his old-fashioned
bicycle could be fitted into the clamour and glamour of the highly sophisticated parties? Abrina (My
brother’s wife) herself strongly disapproved the coming of this type of Maulvi to teach her son but
who could speak out against the dictates of our father? Thus, quite unwillingly, this formality was
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being observed. I wonder why we the rich are so far away from such formalities while the poor are
so near to them. While we treat religion as a mere formality, the poor observe every formality as a
part of religion.
On a couple of occasions, I myself had an informal exchange of greetings with this Maulvi outside
the home on the way as well as in that part of the lounge where he used to sit and teach Sunny.
Maulvi Alimuddin was a simple man, having a thin and lean body, and an impressive looking bright
face. He used to wear spectacles and was always dressed in white clothes consisting of Kurta Pajama
(Shirt and trousers). He was a quiet sort of person having a dignified appearance and always liked to
lower his head and eyes while talking. Daily at four in the evening, he arrived on his old-fashioned
Rally Bicycle and silently sat wherever he was told to sit by the servants, and waited for Sunny to
come down. I always wondered how he was able to control a naughty little child like Sunny. I had
personally seen the way in which Sunny had always been giving a very tough time to the rest of his
home tutors. But quite unexpectedly, he always sat in a respectful and decent manner in front of the
Maulvi. On one or two occasions, I secretly attempted to incite Sunny to make some mischief with
the Maulvi, but Sunny remained unaffected.
Sunny had successfully finished the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran and to mark this occasion,
a party was being held in the house that evening. As Sunny was the cause of the party, he had
requested the organizers of the party to invite his teacher the Maulvi along with other guests. He had
threatened that if his request was not granted, he would stay away from the party and would not wear
the dress of his mama’s choice. Initially, this request of Sunny was bitterly criticized by my mother
and Abrina. How could a poor old man having a long white beard be accommodated in a modern
party being attended by all the prominent ladies of the city, who were expected to arrive wearing
dazzling dresses and sophisticated jewellery, accompanied by their domesticated and henpecked
husbands, in their long majestic cars of the latest model? It was like a patch of coarse rug in a velvet
sheet, or like a fly in the ointment.
But no one had ever been able to stand against the obstinacy of Sunny and the same thing
happened that evening. At last, it were the ladies of the house who had to yield. However, another
problem arose which brought fresh tears into the eyes of Sunny. During the previous evening, the
domestic servants had already informed the Maulvi about the party and told him not to come the next
evening. Thus, there was no chance of his coming and attending the party. As Sunny wept and cried,
it was revealed that my father’s special driver Shakir knew the Maulvi’s address, because, once he
too lived in that old locality of the city where Maulvi Alimuddin was still living. It was decided that
Shakir would go and formally invite the Maulvi and his family to attend the party. Sunny was still
somewhat doubtful about the matter and, therefore, he also accompanied Shakir in his car to the
Maulvi’s house. The time fixed for the start of the party had almost come. There was already some
delay while we were all waiting for the Maulvi’s arrival. At that time, I was indolently lying on the
bed in my room and changing the channels of the TV placed in front of me. All of a sudden, my
younger brother Ibad opened the door and burst into the room. Addressing me he said, “Hi Big B!
Are you in no mood of coming downstairs? The party has already started.?
As usual, Ibad was dressed in a suit and matching bow for the evening party. Seeing him, I laughed
quite spontaneously.
“Well Ibad, the way you’ve got ready for the party suggests that the issue of your marriage is
finally going to be decided this evening.”
“Come on Big B. You know I always love to remain smart and well-dressed,” replied Ibad with an
unpleasant expression on his face.
I switched off the television with its remote and threw the pillow towards Ibad
“I know all about your elegant dresses and your smartness. In this spick and span condition, you
must be going to the party in order to welcome some new love. I wonder if all the girls of the city are
suffering from the inflammation of eyes. Otherwise, how could they ever look towards you?”
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