The Black Rainbow Read online

  Javed’s wife passed away a few years ago and Farzana was their only child. Though he never married again, he did have relations with women at different times. However, he made it a point to keep such women out of his house and to avoid exercising any corrupting influence on his daughter. Being a man of the world, Babu Javed had seen through Farzana’s feelings for Ali. Though he disapproved of a potential match between the two — Ali for him was a good for nothing idiot — he never expressed his views to Farzana. Probably he thought that as she matured in years, she would see reason and realize that Ali was no match for her. But like other men of the world he was mistaken in his view that people were guided by reason alone. Being a matter of fact, he was apt to disregard the affairs of the heart.

  On her part, Farzana hardly ever thought about his relationship with Ali in a pragmatic way. In fact, she seldom saw things in a pragmatic fashion, least of all human relations. Being a robust optimist, she believed everything would be smoothened in the end.

  By contrast, Sara was a matter of fact girl. Daughter of a mega businessman, she, unlike most other girls, didn’t have to regard studies as a means of getting a job or a life partner. The success story of his father, a self-made man, had taught her two things: One, human will had immense potentialities and there was nothing a person could not accomplish provided she had strong ambition and the right understanding of herself and the world. Two, the social reality was essentially material and what a man did was largely shaped by her economic interest. Philosophy in particular and knowledge in general must make the world a better place to live and better for her had only one meaning — material — and only one direction — personal. She liked the people who were clear in what they wanted to do and had the will to achieve that. By the same token, she had inherent dislike of people who were emotionally unstable, intellectually confused and reluctant to act.

  One Sunday she was having brunch with his father Seth Nisar.

  “Sara,” he asked her, “what are your plans for the future? I’m asking this because I want you to assist me in the business.”

  ”Papa, after masters I have planned to go for the doctorate,” Sara replied. “So if you want me in the business, you’ll have to wait for a few years.”

  ”Dear you know I have brought you up to make your own decisions and I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

  “Thanks papa for reposing trust in me.” Said Sara

  At that moment, a servant came with a visiting card. “Sir I am sorry to meddle but you have a visitor who insists on seeing you immediately.”

  Seth Nisar looked at the visiting card and then rising from the chair asked the servant to bring in the visitor.

  As the servant went out, Sara asked her father, “Papa you don’t meet anyone without an appointment. Is the visitor someone special?”

  “Yes, I need to meet him at once. You would excuse me,” Seth Nisar replied rather nervously as he went to the drawing room.

  The visitor was already there. “Seth Nisar,” he said in a rough tone, “I am sorry for drawing upon your day-off but circumstances are such that I couldn’t wait.”

  “I understand,” said Seth Nisar trying to look composed. “What can I do for you?”

  “One million rupees immediately. This is all I want. I trust it’s not a big amount for you.”

  “Certainly not.” said Seth Nisar and went to his bed room. He always kept plenty of cash in the house. He opened his locker, put the money in a bag and gave it to the visitor. “Pay my regards to your master.”

  Sara was taken by surprise by the queer behaviour of his father. So she decided to speak to him.” Papa who was he?” she asked him as he returned.

  “I told you he was someone special but please no more questions. I may explain it to you some time later.”

  Sara convinced that her father wouldn’t answer her queries didn’t press him. She went to her study and started work on her weekend assignment on the psychology of moral judgment.

  Chapter 4

  “Knowledge is power,” remarked Dr Junaid at the conclusion of his introductory lecture on ‘the scope and limits of knowledge’. “What is remarkable about both knowledge and power is their amoral character. Knowledge gives us control over the physical and social environment. However, that power can be used in an ethical or unethical manner. Similarly, knowledge and power can be used by a person to his advantage or disadvantage. Knowledge can make one clearer in thought and more articulate in expression. But it can also make one more confused and reluctant to act. Knowledge is thus medicine and poison, a solution as well as a problem.”

  “Now the ball is in your court,” he invited the class.

  Sara taking the lead said,” I don’t agree that knowledge has any limits. The only limits are those of the seeker. I compare knowledge to a stream, which is in perpetual flow. It’s an unceasing process of growth, which has infinite number of possibilities. The same may or may not be realized but they are up for grabs waiting for someone like Faust with the indomitable courage and the strong passion to get hold of them.”

  Riaz disagreeing with Sara remarked,” In my view, knowledge has several limits. Knowledge is derived from certain cognitive sources, each of which has serious constraints. Whether it’s reason, the senses or intuition, they report only a fragment of the world around us and even that fragmentary knowledge is not infallible. Limitlessness and infallibility can be ascribed only to the divine knowledge. Besides, Faust is not a good example. He sold his soul to the devil in pursuit of worldly pleasures and riches and knowledge to him was merely a means to those unworthy ends.”

  “In refuting me you’re confirming me,” said Sara looking at Riaz. “You’re admitting that the possibilities of knowledge are innumerable and at least some knowledge — you call it divine — are unlimited.”

  Zahid, who did not like Riaz bringing divine knowledge to the discussion, said, “It would be better if we confined ourselves to human knowledge. Let’s not enter into the divine territory. We cannot dub knowledge moral or immoral, unless we have a clear idea of what these terms signify. Also note that moral and immoral are relative terms. I think that the argument that knowledge is moral or immoral is based on two assumptions. One, the two terms are objective; two, we can know them. While man can have knowledge of good and evil —even in a relative sense — knowledge itself is beyond these moral categories.”

  All along the discussion, Ali remained silent, partly out of shyness and partly out of indecisiveness. He believed that one must be completely confident of what one has to say before one speaks. Dr Junaid also noticed this and encouraging Ali to speak asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “Sir,” Ali replied rather languidly,” I’m afraid I am in a fix about the limits and ethics of knowledge. The more I think about them, the more uncertain I become.

  “This is the paradox of knowledge. While knowledge reduces uncertainty, it also adds to it. You must be familiar with the maxim ‘fools rush in where angels fear to tread,’” remarked Dr Junaid.

  “Does that mean Ali is the wisest of us all?” Sara asked

  ”Not necessarily,” replied Dr Junaid. “A man who is certain of his assumptions is not necessarily a fool. Nor is the one who is uncertain of them necessarily a philosopher. Perhaps we need the proverbial golden mean between certainty and uncertainty, between blind faith and thoroughgoing skepticism, between mindless submission and bold inquest. There may not be such a thing as indubitable knowledge. But this does not mean there is no such thing as knowledge.”

  “At least the knowledge of oneself can be indubitable,” Naila joining the discussion said. “For, as French philosopher Descartes said, ‘I think therefore I am’.”

  “Descartes’ dictum is open to objections, mainly because the indubitable, immediate knowledge is that of particular sensations or thoughts only. The knowledge of the self as the unity or identity underlying these sensations is inferential knowledge. And no inference is indubitable,” Dr Junaid clar
ified.

  “But someone must have these sensations,” Naila insisted

  “Again, the so-called necessity of having someone to have these sensations is inferential,” Dr Junaid reiterated his position.

  Javed raised his hand and after a nod from Dr Junaid said, “My interest in the limits of knowledge is essentially practical not academic. We may take it for granted that we exist as no doubt we do and go beyond that. My question to you all is whether knowledge gives us control? Can I do something wrong despite knowing that it’s so?”

  “Javed has asked a very pertinent question,” remarked Dr Junaid. “This is one of the perennial problems in the history of philosophy. Both Socrates and his celebrated disciple Plato believed that one could not intentionally do wrong. Both regarded knowledge as virtue. But this identification of knowledge with virtue has not gone well with most other philosophers. It’s a matter of common experience that people do commit immoral acts in spite of full knowledge of their consequences. So my answer to the question of yours is that knowledge doesn’t necessarily give us control.”

  “Then this makes identification of knowledge with power dubious. Knowledge may be an element of power but there are other elements as well,” Javed observed.

  “Granted,” interposed Sara. “But knowledge remains an essential element of power. One’s position in society gives one power more or less. But one must know how to use or abuse one’s position. Without knowledge, strength may become weakness. What do you say, professor?”

  “You seem to have a valid point,” admitted Dr Junaid. “But this validity must be taken as tentative. There may be situations in which knowledge may become a source of weakness.”

  “This all depends on how we are to define weakness,” said Ali. “Obedience to law may be a sign of weakness as well as strength.”

  Dr Junaid looking at his watch said, “I don’t know but what I know with certainty is that we must sign off here to avoid missing our lunch.”

  In the evening, while at his study table, Ali lit a cigarette and said to himself,” All such discussions are futile unless we define the basic terms. Aren’t all distinctions merely conceptual depending on how we define the terms involved? But aren’t our definitions themselves colored by our interest? One and many, unity and multiplicity, being and becoming, change and permanence, reality and illusion, justice and injustice, universals and particulars, are relative terms, whose meaning changes with the shift in our position?”

  Ali’s train of thought was halted by the familiar voice of Farzana. She had come along with her father. Ali didn’t want to have his musing disrupted but he was called by his mother to the drawing room, where they all were seated.

  “Hello uncle,” Ali paid customary regards to Babu Javed ignoring Farzana. “How is your job?”

  “So far so good,” replied Babu Javed in the same cold tone. “I hope we haven’t intruded upon your privacy,” he remarked sarcastically.

  “Certainly not,” Ali replied rather abstractly.

  At that very moment, he unintentionally looked at Farzana, who was looking gorgeous in red dress and wearing a silver necklace. The sight of Farzana produced a strong sensation inside Ali. Their eyes met and she gave him a sweet smile. Confused, Ali began looking at the ceiling fan.

  Farzana enjoying Ali’s predicament asked him, “Is there something special in the ceiling?”

  Her remarks drew the attention of others and Ali seemed to be at a loss for words. Before anyone could put another question, Mrs Naqvi intervened and asked Farzana to help her in the kitchen. On her way to the kitchen, Farzana passed closer to Ali and he could feel the luring fragrance radiated by her.

  “Ali, would you be kind enough to bring us the ashtray from my room?” Mr Naqvi asked him.

  “Certainly father,” he replied and went towards his father’s room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. As he passed in front of the kitchen, his eyes again met Farzana, who was talking to Mrs Naqvi. Farzana again gave him a smile.

  “Do you want anything?” Farzana asked him.

  “I was just looking for the ashtray.”

  “It’s here,” Mrs Naqvi pointed towards the ashtray. Before Ali could pick it up, Farzana picked up the ashtray and gave it to Ali. Their fingers touched, which made Ali tenser and he hurriedly left the place.

  Farzana and her father stayed there for an hour. After they had gone, Ali went to his room and tried to resume his studies. But he was unable to concentrate. Farzana’s red dress, her smile and the sweet fragrance continued to overwhelm him. He turned off his laptop and went to the TV lounge, where his father and mother were watching TV. He continued watching TV after the couple had retired to their room.

  After an hour, he came back to his room and tried to sleep but could not. He began to pace across the room. He felt inside him a strong desire to see Farzana but as usual he repressed it. Then he picked up his Problems of Philosophy. But again could not concentrate. He turned pages but on each page he saw the beautiful face of Farzana smiling at him seductively. At that moment, the only problem of importance appeared to him was how to define his relationship with Farzana. Was it an illusion or was it real? He was stubbornly refusing to admit to himself that he was fascinated by that girl.

  Suddenly, there was a slight knock at the door. As he opened the door, Farzana rushed in clad in the same red shalwar-kameez.

  “May I come in?” she asked Ali.

  “You are already in,” he replied calmly uncharacteristic of him.

  “I want to enter your heart and mind,” she told him with her signature smile.

  “You have already,” he replied.

  “I guess the way to heart is through the body and the way to the mind is through the senses. Let’s unite our body and senses for unity or our heart and mind,” Farzana invited him.

  As she uttered these words, she gave her hand to Ali, which he took without any hesitation. As they came closer, the sensation inside Ali intensified and the next moment Farzana was in his arms. He could feel the pressure of her big breasts. He began to kiss her red lips and the long white neck. Then he squeezed her breast. As she moaned, his grip became stronger. Then with a violent moment, he removed her shirt and her voluptuous breasts were exposed to him. He kissed them madly. Before he could completely undress her, there was a crisp knock at the door. As he recovered, Ali saw himself alone in the room.

  “Ali, are you ok? It’s 8 in the morning and you haven’t yet got up, shouted his mother.”

  Jamia Islamia was a famous seminary of the country, which attracted students not only from across the country but from various parts of the world as well. The seminary was founded by Hafiz Shafique some fifty years ago. Started off as a two-room rented premises, where the Quran was taught to neighboring children free of charge, the seminary expanded gradually and now it was spread over several acres of land.

  After the death of Hafiz Shafique, the management of the seminary passed on to his son Maulvi Zia, a man of untiring energy and tremendous practical wisdom. He was of the view that the seminaries needed to play a vital role in religious revival. Though himself educated in the mainstream institutions, Zia had a very low opinion of them. He firmly believed that such institutions were essentially a means of preserving the status quo. The best among them produced the ruling elite in politics, business and industry, while the rest produced the salaried class — managers and bureaucrats, clerks and accountants — who had to serve their masters to make a living. Change, he believed, could not come through those institutions. Only madaris could be the engine of change.

  The process of change however, Maulvi Zia believed, was not going to be peaceful. Rather society must be prepared to pay sacrifices for the same. The madaris were destined to spearhead that change by creating a corps of ideologically motivated youth willing to wade through blood if need be in pursuit of the ‘noble’ cause of establishing an Islamic state. To effect the change, books were as important as bullets, the pen was as important as the sword. The
graduates of the madaris must be well versed in Islamic thought as well as martial arts. The combination of the scholar and the militant in one person was Maulvi Zia’s ideal.