His followers from Bannu fired their rifles into the air to declare the war’s end. A neighbour came running to Basharat’s shop to congratulate him; he thought that Basharat had just had another boy.
A truck driver had come to Basharat’s shop to pick up a delivery, and Khan Sahib asked him to drive him in the black stallion to Govardhan Das Market, where he would treat him to tea and snacks. When Khan Sahib got back, he was overjoyed with how the car had performed, ‘I swear to God, it was just like my father’s black stallion!’
That night he called over a painter and had him spray-paint the car black so that, in addition to how it drove, it also looked like a black stallion.
‘Et tu, Brute!’
The next evening when Basharat was having the store closed, a truck pulled up. Sitting in the passenger seat was the secretary from the police station, and in the back were both the stolen wood and the wood he had given as a bribe. The same constable was sitting on the wood holding his rifle. Through a DSP who had grown up in Bannu (and who was his brother in arms), Khan Sahib had not only extracted the goods from the lion’s very mouth but, as a souvenir, he had also extracted his teeth. A taxi pulled up behind the truck with the lawyer inside. (The taxi had just been ticketed for emitting from its muffler more than the legal limit of exhaust.) He was there to make sure both parties were satisfied in the result once and for all. Just a couple paces behind him came his criminal-looking client, carrying the lawyer’s briefcase in one hand and several law books in the other. The lawyer was carrying two boxes of sweets, one which he presented to Khan Sahib and the other to Basharat, with the following words, ‘Please give this to your wife and kids from me.’
The secretary asked, ‘Where’s our Khalifa?’ Basharat was quite shocked to learn that after Khalifa’s night in the lock-up, he had started going to the police station twice a month to cut the hair of everyone from the SHO down to the accused criminals who were locked up there! If in the house of one of the station’s staff members, or in the home of any of the criminals, there was a baby expected in the near or remote future, or if he saw any woman from the shacks that surrounded the station walking heavily, then he made them promise that if it was a boy, they would call him to perform the circumcision. His deceased father had advised him, ‘Son, even if you become a king, never give up being a barber. Secondly, make sure you win over everyone you meet, or you get into his good graces.’ So the poor guy ended up being everyone’s lackey.
Until two in the morning, Khan Sahib dealt with ordinary cases of debts, as well as disputes that had erupted over stealing irrigation water, both of which had become rather complicated because of the exchange of curses that had followed the actual offenses. While he was hearing the cases and giving his decisions, a stream of people came in to wish him goodbye. Khan Sahib would say, ‘Welcome,’ and give everyone some tea, a hit on the chillum, some pine nuts, and some donuts. Then at four in the morning, he started packing. After the call to the morning prayers, he turned a purebred rooster in the direction of Mecca and slaughtered it. He gave the head to the cat and the rest to Basharat’s family for breakfast. He munched on the heart himself. He smiled and then said, ‘In my tribe, it’s a custom to slaughter a cow when we’ve defeated a dangerous adversary. If the enemy isn’t much, then we slaughter a ram.’ At breakfast he announced that he wouldn’t send the black stallion on the goods’ train but that he would go by road so he could show the car the Punjab and different things along the way. The kids were very sad to see him go. He admitted, ‘I don’t want to go. But what can I do? I’m in the lumber business. If there were forests in Karachi, then I swear to God I’d never leave you.’ Then he consoled them, ‘God willing, in two months I’ll be back. I have to deal with a Bohri Seth. My business is just me. And I’m old. I can deal with only one swindler at a time.’
He saw Basharat smiling, and so he smiled. He said, ‘Doing business on credit in Karachi is like playing kabaddi in a sugarcane field! The bigger the city, the bigger the mess. The bigger your roof is, the more snow will fall on it.’ Then in order to entertain the youngest son, he lay down on the charpoy.
When he was about to go, he gave 500 rupees to Basharat’s daughter Muniza, who had become his favourite. It was for her fifth birthday, which was to be celebrated in eight days.
He distributed 73 rupees, 9 annas, and 3 paisas among Basharat’s servants. The night before he had given 2000 rupees to a Pathan youth named Gul Dawood Khan so that he could go home to Kohat and launch a criminal case against his uncle for illegally seizing his land and so teach the bastard (and all uncles, really) a lesson for trying to filch the property of orphans. All this money came to 2573 rupees, 9 annas, and 3 paisas. This happened to be the amount over which the dispute had started, and the amount for whose collection he had invaded, along with his commandos and all their military gear. According to Mirza, he had set up his bhangra dance party in the very heart of his enemy’s fort.
Thirty years have passed. I’ve been an accountant my entire life, but even today I can’t tell you who got what and how much from whom, or who won in the end. It was a great misunderstanding: who we thought was our opponent turned out to be our friend and supporter; friends don’t haggle in their hearts.22
Khan Sahib had distributed money to the servants and was saying goodbye to Basharat’s father, when what did Basharat see but a man approaching them whose face (but only his face) looked like Khalifa. Instead of his usual tight-fitting pyjamas, muslin kurta, and velvet hat, he wore a Malaysian shalwar and kurta, and, on his head, he had tied on top of a brocade hat a turban from Mashhad. He also wore an embroidered waistcoat and sandals whose bottoms were fashioned out of tires from Peshawar. His waistcoat was three sizes too big, and his hat was three sizes too small. A prayer coin was tied onto the right arm of his waistcoat. And he was holding Balban’s reins. Khan Sahib announced that Balban was going in a truck to Bannu. He said, ‘I’ve four or five horses standing around in my stables, so what’s one more? Every animal has its provisions apportioned by God.’
Khan Sahib said that Khalifa was going to drive the black stallion to Peshawar and that he wouldn’t return until Doomsday. There were two reasons for this. First, his ancestors had come to India from Kandahar via Peshawar. They had come with nothing but their steely swords, which, from constant use, had been worn down into razors! Second, he had hired him as his servant.
Basharat’s jaw dropped several feet.
‘Khalifa! You!’
‘Boss!’ Khalifa said this with his hands folded together in supplication and in such a piteous way that no further explanation was needed. It spoke of humiliation. It spoke of pleading. It spoke of the courage of being ready to earn a living by any means necessary.
14.
When He Was About to Cash Out
It must have been about two months after Khan Sahib left that a dictated letter came from him. It read:
By the grace of God, everything is all right here. But there is something. I didn’t want to tell you while I was staying with you because it would have unnecessarily worried you, and I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy your company. Three weeks before leaving Peshawar, I was diagnosed with cirrhosis. It was Stage 2, which is incurable. The doctors at Jinnah Hospital confirmed this. They said that I should keep myself entertained. They said that I should try to remain upbeat, and to surround myself with cheerful people whose company I enjoy. That’s what their prescription for good living came down to. Yaraji, I could read between the lines. But a tabla player could have told me as much. You didn’t need an MRP or FRCS degree, or to poke around with a stethoscope to say that much!