The Black Rainbow Read online

  “Would you like to have something or should we proceed straightaway?” Zia asked.

  “No formalities sir,” Sara replied. “I know your time is very precious; so I had better start my questions.”

  “As you wish,” Zia twitched his shoulders.

  “Sir, granted that the role of the madaris is as important as that of mainstream institutions, why is that students of the madaris come only of poor and low income families, while children of affluent families are seldom enrolled in them?” Sara queried.

  “A very good question,” remarked Zia. “What you have said is a fact. But this is also a sad commentary on our society, which stubbornly refuses to give religion its due place. In a society where a person’s worth is judged solely by the wealth that he has and where the affluent section of society has little to do with religion, religious education is scorned as good for nothing. Give religion its due place in society and you’ll see that the cream of society is enrolled in the madaris. If you have studied Islamic history, you would recall that in its golden age when Muslims were the leaders of the world both militarily and intellectually, the best in the society were the graduates of the seminaries. So the decline of religious education is a principal cause of the political and intellectual decline of Muslims. Even in this materialistic age, the madaris are playing a very useful role by providing completely free of cost education to poor students, who otherwise would never be educated.”

  “Yes I appreciate the role of the madaris in providing free of cost education. However, the quality of education is also important. Are you satisfied with the quality of education provided in the madaris in general and the Jamia Islamia in particular,” Sara asked.

  “What is quality of education?” Maulvi Zia remarked with a grim smile. “When we say the quality of education, we define the word quality in a narrow sense. Our so-called intelligentsia believes that quality education is that which enables the students to get a good job, speak fluent English, and be self-assertive. Their definition of quality is out-and-out materialistic. Does the so-called quality education make students good Muslims, responsible citizens and conscientious members of society? It doesn’t. Look at this country’s leadership both past and present. They were educated in the institutions counted among the best in the world. They were self-assertive to the point of rudeness, confident to the point of arrogance, dressed meticulously and spoke flawless English. But did they use their knowledge and skills to the advantage of the people they were supposed to serve? No, they used their qualities, if I’m allowed to use this word, to the utter detriment of the people. The essential flaw was in their education and upbringing, which taught them to be successful only for themselves.”

  Maulvi Zia paused for a moment to capture his breath and then continued, “So the answer to your question is both in the affirmative and the negative. If you define quality only in the materialistic sense, then the answer is a ‘No’ and if you define quality in a wider sense, which I think should be the case, the answer is a big ‘Yes’. Having said this, there’s always room for improvement. And this is what we are doing at the Jamia. Our primary emphasis is on the moral development of the students, because we believe that if this aspect is taken care of then education will achieve its objective.”

  “How do you ensure the moral development of your students,” Sara enquired.

  “Well, the entire curriculum is designed to produce this effect. “I’ll give you a copy of the same and you can see for yourself. The classroom study is well supported by the routine in the Jamia. In fact, the teaching in the Jamia and other such institutions is not merely education’ rather it’s a way of life just like in a military academy.”

  “How would you respond to the allegation that the madaris are a breeding ground for militancy, that they inculcate hatred against rival creeds, and that they glorify death in the name of a noble cause?” That was Sara’s next question.

  “I categorically confute such allegations,” said Maulvi Zia. “We do preach that the cause of religion is the noblest of all causes for which one should not be shy of rendering any sacrifice including of one’s life. If you call it glorifying death, so be it. But it doesn’t mean that we teach intolerance of other creeds and want their elimination by force. Yes Islam being the only true religion in which the salvation of mankind consists, we want it to be the universal creed. But this has to be done by preaching and persuasion, not by force and violence.”

  “But how would you account for the fact that many militant leaders have sprang up from the madaris?” Sara asked.

  “Yes I take pride in the fact that the madaris have produced leaders who are committed to changing the society for the better. The fact that they have resorted to the use of force is only logical, because they were pushed to the wall and even a cat would attack its enemy if placed in such a situation what to talk about a devout Muslim. I give you an example. The Taliban, a product of the madaris, established a truly Islamic government in Afghanistan, which created order out of total chaos. But that government was forcibly removed by the anti-Islam West and their country was occupied by foreign forces. Now if the Taliban are fighting a guerilla war against the occupation forces, this is only natural because this is the only honorable option they have been left with. The other option, which is simply a disgrace, is meek surrender.”

  “One last question, said Sara, “Do you justify suicide terrorism?”

  “Not at all. In the first place, even taking one’s own life is unlawful in Islam. And in the second place, killing innocent people is equally unlawful.” That was Maulvi Zia’s answer.

  “Thank you Maulvi sahib. It was nice and fruitful talking to you. I think I have got what I wanted but if still I have any queries, I’ll take the liberty of getting back to you,” Sara said.

  “You are always welcome young lady,” remarked Maulvi Zia. “What are your plans? I mean how many days you are in the country and how much time would you take in completing your research work?”

  Sara thought for a while and then said, “I’m here for another two weeks before I fly back. I may come back in a few months. My research is at the initial stage and will take at least another year.”

  “Would you be kind enough to share your study with me after it has been completed?” Maulvi Zia asked

  “Why not; it will be a pleasure.”

  “Good. Maybe through your work, the West will have more informed knowledge of us, which will help remove some of their misconceptions,” observed Maulvi Zia.

  As Ali returned home from the university, Farzana was talking to his mother. She was looking thin and pale. The sight of Farzana evoked at once feelings of remorse and pleasure in Ali.

  “Hello Farzana. How are you?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine,” she replied in a cold tone and rose from the chair.

  “Where are you going?” Mrs Naqvi asked her. “The lunch is ready.”

  “Ok,” Farzana assented.

  Mrs Naqvi went to the kitchen and Farzana followed her, while Ali went to his room.

  “You wanted to leave because of Ali,” Mrs Naqvi asked Farzana as she put the meal in the oven.

  Farzana kept silent and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I understand that,” Mrs Naqvi said and hugged Farzana. “Sometimes, things don’t happen the way we want. But this is not without some reason, though we don’t always understand this. Anyway whatever happens expresses the will of God and is always for the better.”

  Mrs Naqvi tried to console Farzana with these words. But those words seemed hollow even to herself. After the meal was ready, the two ladies returned to the dining room, where Ali was seated with his head down.

  “Are you ok?” Mrs Naqvi asked Ali.

  “Yes, I’m, Ali answered as he rose his head. While dining, both Ali and Farzana kept silent but stole glances at each other. Mrs Naqvi, who was watching all that, felt that the two should be given a chance to speak in private. So after they had finished the lunch, she asked them to wait for her and left t
he room.

  “Mother hasn’t returned,” remarked Ali to break the ice and then looking deeply into Farzana asked, “Are you happy?”

  “Happy, for what?” she asked back.

  “On your engagement.”

  “My being happy or not matters little,” Farzana replied languidly. “I have to accept what others decide for me.”

  “I understand how you feel,” Ali stated. “But believe me I decided what was best for us all. Besides, uncle Javed didn’t like me and didn’t approve of our match.”

  “There’s no use speaking about these matters now,” Farzana said in a sobbing voice. “Probably we were destined not to meet.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Ali replied. But then all of a sudden, he rose from the chair, took Farzana’s hand and said in a trembling voice, “Forgive me for what I did and what I failed to do but believe it or not I love you.” He then kissed her hand and rushed towards his room.

  For a moment, Farzana was startled but then recovered and left the house in tears before Mrs Naqvi who had just entered the room with tea could stop her.

  It was for the first time that Ali had confessed his love for Farzana. She returned home in utter disbelief like a terminally ill person who having abandoned all hopes to recover suddenly sees a glimmer of hope.

  “Is it possible?” she questioned herself. “If Ali loves me then I can fight the whole world for him. But what should I do? I’m engaged and father has planned my marriage in a few months. He will never agree to have my engagement dissolved at least not for Ali. He’ll plainly tell me that it’s a point of honor for him and that he’ll honor his word to uncle Aziz at all cost. The only person who can plead my case is Aunt Fatima. But she has already done a lot for me. Then suddenly an idea flashed in her mind. Shouldn’t I talk to Rashid — my fiancé. He has been educated abroad and he’ll certainly appreciate my predicament. But should I give him a complete account? Yes I should talk to him and see how he reacts.” Having reached that decision, Farzana felt herself lightened.

  On the other hand, Ali was at a loss how to account for his behavior with Farzana, the way he had kissed her and the way he had confessed of his love for her.

  “May be it was a slip of the tongue and a slip of the lips,” he thought. “But I know such slips are not out of nothing. They express our innermost desires. Does it mean I’m really in love with Farzana? But love, is not it the most futile of all passions? As the poet Ghalib says, love is the malady of the mind. Ok, love is spontaneous. But its expression can be controlled. Even if I love Farzana, there’s no reason I should marry her. I may fall in love with another girl. But it doesn’t mean I shall marry her as well. It’s not necessary that love should be translated into a permanent relationship. In any case, Farzana is engaged with someone else and not before long she’ll be married to that person. So I had better not think about her.”

  Book 2

  Chapter 13

  The country was ravaged by bomb blasts in all the major cities. The explosions were carried out at places ranging from mosques to markets, campuses to public offices. The government earned adverse criticism for its failure to protect the people.

  It was in such circumstances that political parties in the opposition led by Malik Naseem announced to present a no-confidence motion against the prime minister. The decision was announced by Malik Naseem at a press conference in the capital. In a hard-hitting speech, he lambasted the government for its failure to give security to the people, provide jobs to the youth, give honor to women and redress problems of the masses. “This government is an abject failure and the sooner it’s removed, the better it would be for the country,” was his concluding remark. “Now I’’ take your questions, he invited the media persons.

  “Malik sahib I’m from Daily News. It’s alleged that you have indulged in horse trading to win the loyalty of ruling party parliamentarians. How do you rebut this charge?” asked a journalist.

  “Such allegations are absolutely unfounded and mala fide. No doubt, we have the support of some ruling party members but they are supporting us of their own accord. We have offered them nothing,” declared Malik Naseem. “Next question please.”

  “In case you form the government, what will be your policy with regard to religious militancy?” enquired another journalist.

  “Militancy has assumed serious proportions for which I blame the present government, because it failed to address the problems underlying militancy, like unemployment, underdevelopment and poverty. My government will address these problems on priority and I’m confident we’ll be able to contain the militancy,” Malik Naseem answered.

  “Would you call off the military operation against the militants?” asked a veteran journalist.

  “My answer to your question is that I’ll cross the bridge when I come to it.”

  “Forgive me sir but this is not the answer to my question. Your reply shows that you have no counter-militancy policy,” observed the journalist who was not satisfied with the way Malik Naseem had evaded the question.

  “We do have a policy on militancy,” replied Malik Naseem trying to control his anger. “And rest assured that it will be a far better policy than that of the present government. But we’ll announce the same only after our government has been installed. The same goes for the military operation.”

  “Malik sahib it’s alleged that pro-militancy forces are behind the efforts to dislodge the government. Is it correct?”

  “I don’t know who the pro-militancy forces are and in any event we have nothing to do with these forces. An in-house change is part of parliamentary democracy and the reason that we want to remove the government I have already explained at length. Thank you very much.”

  With these words Malik Naseem left the scene along with his party colleagues and guards.

  Sara had met Maulvi Zia twice but was still unsure of the connection between him and her father. All she suspected was that Maulvi Zia was exercising some control over Seth Nisar. Her interaction with Maulvi Zia had made her believe that he was committed to a religious cause.

  “Definitely, he needs a lot of money for his seminaries and maybe papa is one of the contributors. But why is he doing this? I know papa; he is committed only to his business and so he cannot be associated with a religious cause,” Sara reasoned.

  Again, her conclusion was that Maulvi Zia was exploiting some weakness of Seth Nisar. But what that weakness was, she was still in the dark.

  Another question which agitated her mind was the connection between Maulvi Zia and Dr Junaid. Apparently, they were men of different, if not contrasting, worlds. “But appearances can be deceptive. If papa and Zia can be connected, Dr Junaid and Zia can also be. Does that mean Dr Junaid like papa is also in the control of Zia for a similar reason? And maybe papa and Dr Junaid are also connected. Though all this is shrouded in uncertainty, one thing is clear — Maulvi Zia is a dangerous person,” she concluded.

  As Sara saw it, two courses were open to her. One was to seek the help of Hassan Naqvi, Ali’s father, to find the answers to her questions. Ali had already offered her that help. The other option was to do it all alone. The second option she had hitherto exercised but without tangible success. So she decided to seek the help of Ali’s father.

  Next day after the final class, she took Ali to a corner and said to him, “Ali few weeks back you told me that your father can help me find out the relationship between my father and Maulvi Zia. Can he really do something?”

  “Yes, of course,” Ali replied. “But he may need to know all that we know.”

  “Yes I understand,” Sara assented. “Can you take me to your father? I will tell him all that he needs to know.”

  “Ok, I’ll talk to him and then arrange your meeting with him,” Ali told Sara.

  Next day, Ali took Sara to Mr Naqvi’s cabin in his office. “Father it’s Sara I told you about.”

  “Good to see you,” Mr Naqvi said with a cheery face, and mentioned Sara to a chair. “Ali t
old me about you. Anything I can do for you?”