The Black Rainbow Read online

  Javed taking the lead said, “Materialism commits the fallacy of over-simplification. There’re of course material beings and physical phenomena but it’s incorrect to say that nothing exists beyond such beings and phenomena. Take our own example. We have a body, which is composed of material particles and is held together by physical phenomena, such as respiration and circulation, digestion and metabolism. But there’s definitely much more to us. We think and feel, fancy and conceive, desire and aspire, love and hate, hope and fear. How does materialism account for this?”

  “It’s quite simple,” Sara interposed. “These so-called mental processes are essentially physiological changes taking place in the brain or the nervous system. Besides, some object or stimulus is needed to excite these changes and this stimulus in the ultimate analysis is physical.”

  “That may be the case. But in point of fact, the mental processes are essentially different from physical processes,” Javed insisted. “One cannot be reduced to the other, though I admit that they are closely associated.”

  “This is what I dispute,” Sara said sharply. “There’s no such thing as mental processes distinct from physical ones. You cannot think or feel unless you have a body. When the body perishes, all these so-called independent processes come to an end. Can a man, even a genius, reason or imagine, conceive or perceive when he is dead? And what’s death—simply the cessation of vital physiological processes i.e. the functioning of the brain and the heart. Man is thus essentially a physiological being.”

  “But how would you explain the existence of soul and consciousness?” Naila asked.

  “I need not,” replied Sara, “because the soul doesn’t simply exist. What you call the soul is the sum-total of bodily functions. Similarly, what you call consciousness is a bundle of sensations, which are the result of interaction between the brain and the external world. If anything exists it must be seen or capable of being seen under special conditions. Consciousness or soul in their conventional meaning cannot be empirically verified. So they don’t exist.”

  “But isn’t it circular reasoning to argue that if something exists it must be perceived by the senses and if something can’t be perceived by the senses it doesn’t exist. Why should existence be taken in necessarily physical sense? Something metaphysical may exist,” Naila argued.

  “But how do you know that a metaphysical being exists?” Sara asked.

  “Because I can feel or think so,” Naila replied.

  “But your feelings and thoughts are purely subjective. A case can hardly be made for something existing in an objective sense on the basis of something subjective,” Sara argued.

  “What if the majority of humankind shares such feelings or thoughts?” Naila posed another question.

  Sara laughed and said, “An incorrect opinion does not become correct merely because the majority of people hold it. Collective folly is as strong a possibility as collective wisdom. While the view of the majority may prevail, just because it prevails it cannot be regarded as correct.”

  “Interesting discussion,” intervened Prof Ghani before Naila or anyone else could rebut Sara, “but we must leave it here.”

  Ali didn’t take part in the discussion but listened to it attentively. In particular, he was greatly impressed by the arguments of Sara most of which ran counter to their traditional beliefs. So after the class he went to her and said, “Sara you were excellent. But tell me do you really believe in what you were arguing?”

  Sara, who didn’t have a high opinion of Ali, looked at him disapprovingly. ”What do you mean? What makes you think that I believe one thing and speak the other? Do you consider me a hypocrite?”

  Ali, who hardly expected such nasty a response from his classmate, replied nervously: “Sara, please don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t mean it. I asked the question because what you were saying is at variance with what we normally believe.”

  “You lower middle class people,” Sara remarked contemptuously, “can never transcend your traditional beliefs and manners not even for the sake of academic discussion. I don’t need a certificate from you or anyone else for what I believe and speak.”

  Ali, at a loss what to say, withdrew without a word.

  Sara was a composed and self-possessed person. She was therefore herself surprised why she behaved so rudely to Ali. He had approached her with compliments and his question didn’t mean to cause her any offence. She thought over that but could not come up with any plausible explanation. However, she decided that she would apologize to Ali.

  When she returned home, she saw her father pacing up and down the room. He was looking extremely disconcerted.

  “What is it papa?” Sara asked.

  Seth Nisar, realizing that his daughter had seen through his state of mind, said, “There’s something which I’m afraid I cannot share with you now.”

  Before Sara could talk back, Seth Nisar’s cell phone rang up. “Yes, I’m coming,” he replied to the caller.

  “Honey, I’m sorry I have got to leave immediately,” said Seth Nisar in a shaking voice and went out.

  “What could be wrong with papa,” Sara thought. May be it’s some business problem. But I haven’t seen him like that before. I should better ask him when he returns.”

  Seth Nisar came late in the night. When he entered the room, he saw Sara waiting for him. ”Thank God, you’re back. I was extremely concerned about you,” said Sara.

  “I understand,” Seth Nisar replied rather coldly.

  May I order dinner for you?” asked Sara.

  “No, I have dined,” Seth Nisar responded in the same cold tone. I know you have a lot of questions. I promise I’ll answer each of them but not at the moment.”

  Having said that, Seth Nisar retired to his room leaving Sara puzzled. After some time, Sara also went to her room. But she continued to think what was wrong with her father. “His health is as good as before. If it is some business problem, he would have shared the same with me, especially when he wants me to assist him in running the company.”

  Sara also remembered the queer visitor who had called on her father couple of weeks back. “Who was he?” The servants had told him that the visitor was a middle aged man wearing a beard and had a rough-and-tough type of appearance. “Why did father meet such a person?” She had suspected that he had given her a bag full of money. “Has he committed a crime of which that man is a witness and is now blackmailing him?”

  To Sara that seemed to be a plausible explanation. “This evening, he might have called papa for a similar favour. That’s why he is reluctant to share that with me. But I need to help him get out of this problem. Should I spy on him? Or should I hire someone to spy on him? No. I should myself do so, otherwise he will be exposed to another person.” So she decided to spy on her father. Having made the decision, she went to sleep.

  Next day when she was in the university, Sara went to Ali and said,” I apologize for my behaviour yesterday.”

  “It’s all right,” Ali said with an earnest smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you such question.”

  “Let’s forget about that. What about a cup of tea?”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Ali said.

  “Why are you looking uneasy,” Sara asked Ali as she ordered tea in the cafeteria.

  Ali, who was having tea with a girl for the first time, said in a shaking voice, “No I’m ok.”

  “Why do you keep silent in the class most of the time?” Sara asked.

  “Well,” replied Ali, ”actually I’m a bit shy. Besides, sometimes I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Do you think all others are certain about what they state?”

  “But you seem to be one hundred per cent sure of what you state,” said Ali.

  “I’ll advise you to get out of the shell that you have created around you.”

  “Well I’ll try.”

  “What about your family?” asked Sara, who was beginning to take interest in her queer classmate.

  “Well
my father is a journalist and my mother a lecturer. I’m the only child of my parents.”

  “Like me,” Sara noted. “My father is a businessman.” At that moment her thoughts went to his father, who she suspected was deep in trouble. “O my God, we’re getting late for the class!” Sara remarked as she saw the clock in front of her and poured tea down her throat. Ali followed her to the class room.

  “So you have hooked up Sara,” Riaz taunted Ali as they came out of the classroom.

  “What do you mean?” Ali asked.

  “You know what I mean. She is the most sought after girl on the campus and you’re the first male who she has honoured with her sweet company over a cup of tea. How envious I’m of you,” said Riaz.

  “I really don’t understand what you are driving at. It matters to me little that she is the most sought after girl on the campus. She just invited me to a cup of tea and I accepted her offer.”

  “Of all of us, why did she invite you? There’s nothing in you which should attract as pretty and as intelligent a girl as Sara. You’re neither intelligent, nor rich nor good looking. May be she looks upon you as a case study,” remarked Riaz tauntingly.

  “Ask her,” Ali said in indignation and walked away.

  Chapter 8

  The White Mosque was the most famous mosque of the capital. Located in the heart of the city, the mosque was the favourite venue for rallies and processions staged by the clergy. The mosque also housed separate seminaries for boys and girls, where poor students from far flung areas, who had no other means of education, received religious instruction. The White Mosque was affiliated with the Jamia Islamia of Maulvi Zia, who visited the mosque and led Friday prayers at least once a month. After the prayers, the maulvi would meet the students of the madaris as well as public delegations, who sought his guidance on questions of Islamic law and jurisprudence.

  During one of his visits to the White Mosque, a student delegation asked him, “Maulvi sahib is it not our duty to wipe out evil?”

  “Yes it’s,” the maulvi replied.

  “There’s too much evil around us,” began one of the students in an emotional tone. “Video shops, which sell obscene movies and posters; music shops, which play loud provocative music round the clock; beauty parlors, where men and women come to decorate their bodies and faces; brothels, where shameless prostitutes cater to the needs of vulgar men. Filth, obscenity and vulgarity are endemic in the area. Is it not our duty to put an end to these evil things?”

  Maulvi Zia thought for a moment and then said, ”No doubt it’s our sacred duty to combat and crush evil in whatever form it exists. But primarily, it’s for the govt to take action against such evil businesses. Have you not complained to the police?” Maulvi Zia asked Maulana Majeed, the khatib of the White Mosque and in charge of the seminaries.

  “Yes we have on numerous occasions,” Maulana Majeed submitted. “But you know our police. They have turned a deaf ear to our complaints and shut their eyes to these vulgar businesses, which grease the palm of the police as well as the local member of the assembly. In such circumstances, we can’t count on the machinery of the state.”

  Maulvi Zia went into deep thought and then said, “If the authorities are not alive to their duty, then we need to come forward. I’ll advise you,” he said looking at the students, “to begin with, go to these businesses and request them to mend their ways. Explain to them that what they are doing is at variance with the teachings of Islam. Tell them that in the short run they may suffer some loss due to closure of their businesses but in the long run, God will bestow His reward on them. Do that as I told you and come back to me. But I warn you not to resort to the use of force. Give them an opportunity to voluntarily mend their ways.”

  With this exhortation, the maulvi asked the students to leave.

  “Majeed, “Maulvi Zia spoke after the charged students had gone, “keep a close eye on the students. Let them do what they want as long as they don’t take the law into their hands. By the way, what do you know about this brothel and parlor?”

  “The parlor and the brothel are owned by a well known social worker Mrs Khan, a high class bitch in her younger days, though few people know this as she works behind the scene. Her customers are the elite of the city — senior civil and military officers, foreign diplomats, businessmen, NGO executives and top politicians. That’s why the police are reluctant to act against them.”

  “Have you ever been to those places?” asked Maulvi Zia with a smile.

  “What are you saying sir?” remarked Majeed. “What have I got to do with these filthy places?”

  “I was just kidding,” replied Maulvi Zia winking at his deputy. “But seriously, we must raise our voice against these evil businesses. This will give us an opportunity to talk to these elite and subsequently bargain with them. Besides, as the students say, it’s our religious duty to curb such practices. But why did you not tell me about this before?”

  “I thought it would be of little interest to you.”

  “Then you don’t know me,” Maulvi Zia chuckled. “Do you have that Mrs Khan’s contact number?”

  I don’t have it now but I can get it for you.”

  “I have to catch my flight to Lahore. You’ll send me the number when you get it,” said Maulvi Zia in a commanding voice.

  “Hassan you said that you had some important thing to talk to me about,” said Babu Javed as Mr and Mrs Naqvi sat on a sofa in Babu Javed’s drawing-room.

  “Yes,” said Mr Naqvi. “But where’s Farzana?”

  “She is taking painting classes and is out for the same.”

  “How nice! said Mrs Naqvi. “You have a wonderful daughter I must say.”

  “Yes she is,” nodded Babu Javed getting impatient to know the purpose of the Naqvis’ call.

  “Javed we have learnt that you’re planning to get Farzana married,” Mr Naqvi came to the point.

  “Yes, you’re right. Farzana is now twenty-two and has done her graduation. It’s high time she got married. You must be familiar with Barrister Aziz. His son Rashid is also a promising lawyer. They are a nice family and I think Aziz would be a perfect match for Farzana.”

  “I know Barrister Aziz, though I haven’t seen his son. They are a nice respectable family no doubt,” said Mr Naqvi. So have you conveyed your consent to them?”

  “Not yet I’m afraid. Actually Barrister Aziz is abroad these days. He’ll be back next month and then we’ll arrange a formal engagement.

  “Javed bhai, being Farzana’s father you’re entitled to find the best match for her. But have you solicited Farzana’s consent?” asked Mrs Naqvi.

  “I know my daughter and I believe that she would abide by my decision. So no need for her formal consent,” replied Babu Javed.

  “Without disputing what you say, I would request you to respect Farzana’s opinion. After all, it’s the question of her life.”

  “What do you mean? Do you mean I have no respect for Farzana’s opinion? No one has her good closer to his heart than I,” Babu Javed responded sharply.

  “Then you must know what she wants.”

  Babu Javed knew full well what the Naqvis were driving at but pretended ignorance. “It will be better for all of us if you clearly come out with what you have in mind,” he said.

  “Then my dear,” said Mr Naqvi, ”the fact of the matter is that Farzana and Ali like each other and we must respect their feelings as it’s a question of their life.”