Then Basharat asked in a voice of entreaty, ‘Do you see any alternative?’ The County Treasurer roared with laughter. He teased him, ‘Of course. The alternative would be for you to earn twenty-five rupees and tutor my kids for free. What does my nobleman think about that? My son, you don’t know anything about the world. If I placed a pigeon in each of your hands, you wouldn’t be able to tell which is male, and which is female!’
Basharat wanted to retort, ‘Mr Columbus, if this is what you mean by “seeing the world,” then a pigeon would have a much better method of “discovering” the truth!’ But the County Treasurer coughed several times very loudly, and one of his revenue department underlings (who had been down the hall crouching in some corner and was covered in dust) jumped up and approached Basharat. He got up in Basharat’s face and said, ‘How can you talk to the director in such a childish way? This is a great honour for you. If he so much as winks in their direction, every single professor from Lucknow University will drop what they are doing and head straight here. He’s already been offered the post of the deputy collector three times. But each time, he spurned them coldly: if he became selfish and took the job, then what would happen to the staff at the Dhiraj Ganj county offices, and what would happen to the county’s people? How could he have left us in the lurch?’
Basharat was dumbstruck. In these situations, real men kill someone, and the cowardly take the easy way out and commit suicide. But he didn’t do either of these things. He took the job, which was more difficult than both.
How Lucky He Is Who Achieved This High Rank!
The County Treasurer had his little princes come out from the women’s quarters. He said, ‘Say hello to Uncle. He’s going to start coming tomorrow to teach you.’ The biggest and smallest boys said hello. The middle one cupped his hand, bowed twice, and said hello. But while he bowed for the third time, he made a funny face.
The County Treasurer’s mood changed. The boys formed a line and then left. He turned to Basharat, ‘Tomorrow there are interviews for the open geography teacher position. I nominate you to sit on the selection committee. The theology teacher isn’t suitable for the committee. I’ll go ahead and tell Moli Mujjan.’ Hearing this made Basharat tingle all over. If someone had right then nominated him Viceroy, he wouldn’t have been any happier. Now he would have the chance to eviscerate the candidates. He would make sure to ask, ‘Sir, you stick your degrees underneath your arm and walk around like a big shot, but please tell me, why is the world round?’ He was going to love it. How sweet it was that right after he was put to shame for no reason at all, he would be able to put to shame others for absolutely no reason at all! His wounded ego was healed in under a second.
He was so happy he forgot to tell him that he refused to be the one to call in candidates and to strike the gong. As Basharat got up to leave, the County Treasurer winked at his wretched assistant, and this man gave him a fifteen-kilo bag of wheat and a pot of the cream-like milk from a cow that had just given birth. The County Treasurer also instructed his assistant to deliver a cart of thatching straw the next day to him; and to send a conscripted labourer to immediately make a bamboo fence. In those days, people who couldn’t afford sweet-scented grass to make screens to put in their windows used thatching straw instead. And those people who couldn’t afford straw used to sprinkle water (taken from little pitchers) on their sweet-scented-grass hand-fans. When overcome by drowsiness while fanning themselves, they descended into the dreamy chills of an imaginary sweet-grass house.
5.
The Unexpected Duties of the Urdu Teacher
Basharat’s duties started early the next morning. Maulvi Muzaffar made him sign a declaration that he, the humble servant, had officially received his supplies. ‘Supplies’ is a very comprehensive and misleading word. The truth was that the things deemed supplies weren’t things that anyone needed to ask for at alclass="underline"
homespun cotton rag (chalk eraser) — one and a half items
handheld fan — one item
attendance register— one item
terracotta inkpot — two items
In handing over the blackboard eraser, Maulvi Muzaffar told Basharat that he had seen how teachers wasted chalk and so the school’s Executive Committee had decided that from then on they would have to buy their own. He informed Basharat that he would get a date-palm fan in the summer. He knew for a fact that teachers were careless. In just two weeks, the fan’s woven fronds would unravel. Teachers were notorious for taking the school-fan home over breaks. And some were lazy. They would beat the boys with the fan’s handle even though there was a neem tree available just outside. Maulvi Muzaffar also gave him a small wooden stick that his predecessors had probably used as a toothbrush. It gave that impression because its upper end, which the previous scholars had chewed on absentmindedly when deep in thought, had broken off. Basharat was upset by its improper use because now there wasn’t any way he could use it to restring his pyjamas.
After he had got his supplies, Basharat asked for his course books. At this, Maulvi Muzaffar informed him that as per the Executive Committee’s Resolution 5, dated February 3, 1935, all teachers would have to buy their own. Basharat grew hot under the collar, ‘All of them? From the first grade to eighth grade?’ Maulvi Muzaffar answered, ‘Unless you think we should test those going to middle school on a first grader’s book…’
Maulvi Muzaffar also informed him that in an attempt to cut out all unnecessary expenses the executive committee had laid off the PE teacher. He said, ‘What do you plan to do with your free time? The staff room isn’t there for bored teachers to lollygag and take naps. In your free time, why don’t you lead exercises?’ With this he pointed to his stomach. ‘You’ll fart less. Young men should take care of themselves.’ Basharat replied curtly, ‘I don’t know any exercises.’ Maulvi Muzaffar responded very sweetly, ‘No problem. No one pops out of their mother’s womb doing exercises. Ask absolutely any student to teach you. Thanks be to God, you’re a bright man. You’ll learn quickly since you admire Tipu Sultan and Tariq, the Conqueror of Spain.’
Basharat had been teaching the boys Urdu with great zeal for two weeks or so when Maulvi Muzaffar called him into his office. Then he said, ‘By the grace of God, you’re Muslim, or at least you indicated so in your application. Now, can you please learn as quickly as possible how to recite the funeral prayer and how to make offerings to your ancestors? We’re a small village, here. They’ll come in handy from time to time. The funeral prayer is actually part of the curriculum. Back when I was in school, learning how to wash a corpse was compulsory. Over in Barabanki, a djinn has again possessed the theology teacher’s wife. On moonless nights, he flips her charpoy. The theology teacher has gone to cure her. Last year, he accosted his neighbour and broke his jaw. Two teeth, too. Then he came back. You’re going to have to fill in for him. It’s obvious that an angel isn’t going to descend from heaven to fill in for the asshole.’