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SHORT STORY

“Why did I commit a murder? Why did I drench my hands with the blood of a human being?

It is a long story. Till I acquaint you with all its aspects you will not be able to understand anything. But right now the topic of your conversation is crime and punishment; jails and human beings. Since I have been to jail, my views cannot be wrong. I agree fully with Manto Sahib that jails cannot reform a criminal. But this fact has been repeated so many times that to stress it again would be like repeating an oft-repeated joke. And it is no joke that knowing this fact, there exist thousands of jails; there are also those disgrace to humanity, the fetters. I have worn these ornaments of the law�.

Having said this Rizvi looked towards me and smiled. His thick lips fluttered like those of a negro. His small intoxicated eyes, which looked like the eyes of a murderer, had a shine in them. We had felt surprised when all of a sudden he had started taking part in our conversation. Sitting in a chair near to us, he was sipping cream coffee. When he introduced himself we remembered the events connected with the murder committed by him. By becoming an approver, he had cleverly saved himself and his friends from the gallows.

He had been released that very day. Very courteously he addressed me “Forgive me Manto Sahib, I am interested in your discussion. I am not a man of literature but on the topic you are discussing I can certainly say something in my crude, unliterary language�. Then he said, “My name is Sadiq Rizvi. I had a hand in the murder that took place in Landa Bazar�.

I had read vaguely about that murder. But when Rizvi introduced himself, all the headlines of the murder revived in my memory.

The topic of our conversation was whether jails can reform criminals. I was feeling that we were trying to eat stale bread by discussing this topic. When Rizvi said that this matter had been debated so many times that it has started looking like an oft-repeated joke, I felt satisfied. I felt that Rizvi had corroberated my views.

Finishing his cup of coffee, Rizvi looked at me with his small, intoxicated eyes and said in a serious tone “Manto Sahib why does one commit a crime? What is crime? What is punishment? I have thought a lot about this. I feel that there is history behind every crime; it has a big chunk of life’s events; a very complicated entangled chunk. I am not a psychologist. But I do know that a crime does not get committed by a person. Events lead to the commitment of a crime�.

Nasir said, “You are absolutely right�.

Rizvi ordered another cup of coffee and said to Nasir, “What I have said is based on my observations. Otherwise this topic is very old. I think Victor Hugo, a famous novelist � or perhaps he belonged to some other country - ­you must all be knowing about him - he has written a lot about crime and punishment. I remember some sentences from one of his writings. “Then he addressed me, “Manto Sahib perhaps it was your translation ... What was it? ... Remove that ladder that takes a human being to crime and calamity ... But I wonder which is that ladder? How many steps has it?�

“Whatever one may say, the ladder is there. And it has steps. But as far as I understand it has innumerable steps. To count them, to make a calculation about them is the important thing ... Manto Sahib! Governments conduct population surveys, governments conduct all kinds of surveys - why don’t they conduct a survey of the steps of this ladder? Isn’t that their responsibility? True, I committed a murder. How many steps of the ladder did I climb when I committed it? The government made me an approver. They did this because they did not have any evidence for the murder. But the question is who should I ask forgiveness from for my crime? The circumstances that had forced me to commit the murder are no longer near me. There is a gap of one year between them and me. Shall I ask forgiveness from this gap or those circumstances which standing at a distance jeer at me?�

We were listening to Rizvi with great interest. He did not look educated but his talk gave the impression that he was well-read and had a gift of the gab. I would have said something to him but I wanted him to go on talking. I wanted to listen to what he had to say. Therefore I did not interrupt him.

More coffee had come for him. He poured a cup and took a few sips. Then he started saying, “God knows what nonsense I am talking. But my mind has always been occupied with the thoughts of one man - that man - that scavenger - who was in jail with me. For stealing three and a half annas he had been sentenced to one year’s imprisonment�.

Nasir asked surprised, “For stealing only three and a half annas?�

Rizvi replied coldly, “Yes. For stealing only three and a half annas. And these too he was not destined to get because he got caught. The amount is lying safely in a treasury. But Phaggu the scavanger is not safe because it is likely that he will get caught again; because hunger may force him again because those whose excrement he carries may not pay his wages; because the people he works for may not get their salaries. This ‘may happen� business, Manto Sahib, is very strange: To tell you the truth everything is possible in the world - Rizvi can even commit a murder.�

After this he became silent for a while. Nasir said to him, “You were talking about Phaggu, the scavenger�.

Rizvi wiped the coffee from his uneven moustaches with a handkerchief, “Yes ... Phaggu the scavenger inspite of being a thief that is in the eyes of the law he is a thief, is in our eyes absolutely honest. I swear by God that I have not come across such an honest man. Three and a half annas he had certainly stolen. He had spoken plainly in the court - “I have undeniably stolen the money and do not wish to produce a witness in my defence�. He had told the court: I had been hungry for two days and was therefore forced to put my hand in Karim tailor’s pocket. He owed me five rupees - two months wages. But, dear sir, it was not his fault that he had defaulted because many of his customers had not paid him for the work he had done for them ... I have done stealing earlier also ... Once I stole ten rupees from a European lady’s purse. I was imprisoned for one month. Then I had stolen a silver toy from the Deputy Sahib’s house. I did this because my son had got pneumonia and the doctor wanted a very high fee. Sir, I am not telling you a lie. I am not a thief. The circumstances were such that I had to resort to stealing. And it was circumstances that led to my arrest. There are worse thieves than I who are still at large...Now sir! have neither my wife nor my child. But unfortunately I still have a stomach. If this stomach were to die, all problems will get solved ...Sir, please forgive me...�

But the judge did not forgive him and sentenced him to one year’s rigorous imprisonment.

Rizvi was speaking in a very informal tone. There was no artificiality in it. It looked as if words were automatically coming out of his lips. I was quite but was smoking cigarette after cigarette and listening to him. Nasir addressed him again, “You were talking about Phaggu� s honesty.�

“Yes�, Rizvi took out a ‘beedi� from his pocket and lit it. “I do not know what honesty is in the eye of the law. But I know this much that I had committed the murder in all honesty. And in my view Phaggu had also stolen three and a half annas in all honesty ... I don’t know why people equate honesty with good qualities ... To tell you the truth I have started wondering what good is and what is bad. A thing can be good for you but bad for me. One thing is considered good in one society and the very same thing is bad in another society. Among us Muslims growing hair in the armpits is considered a sin. But not so with the Sikhs. If growing hair in the armpits is really a sin, why doesn’t then God punish the Sikhs? If there is such a thing as God, my request to him is ‘Break these man-made rules. Demolish these man-made prisons. And build your own prisons in the skies. Punish people yourself in your courts. If nothing else, at least you are God!�

Rizvi’s speech impressed me very much. But what was really impressive was the way he talked. It looked that he was not addressing us but saying all this to himself.

His ‘beedi� got extinguished. Probably a knot of tobacco got stuck in it. He tried to light it five or six times. When it did not get lit, he threw it away. Addressing me he said, “Manto Sahib I shall remember Phaggu all my life. When I tell you more, you will say that it is more sentimentality or emotionalism. But I swear by God that emotionalism has no place in it. He was not a friend of mine ... No he was a friend of mine because he proved this to me several times�.

Rizvi took out another ‘beedi� from his pocket. It was broken. I offered him a cigarette. He took it. “Thanks ... Manto Sahib please forgive me. I have talked such a lot of rot. I shouldn’t have done it because you by the grace of God .... I interrupted him “Rizvi Sahib right now I am not Manto. I am only Saadat Hasan. Please continue. I am listening to you with great interest� .

Rizvi smiled. His small intoxicated eyes had a shine in them “I am very grateful�, he said. Then addressing Nasir he asked “What was I saying?�, I said to him, “You wanted to say something about Phaggu’s honesty�. “Yes�, and he lit the cigarette I had given him. Manto Sahib, in the eyes of the law Phaggu was a habitual thief. He had stolen eight annas once to buy ‘beedis�. When climbing a wall with great difficulty, he tried to escape, his ankle-bone was broken. For nearly a year he had to be under treatment. However When my co-accused Jarji used to send through him twenty ‘beedis� for me he, escaping from the eyes of the police used to hand over the entire lot to me. Approvers are kept under very strict vigilance. But Jarji had made Phaggu his friend and sharer of the secret. Though he was a scavanger, he had a very pleasant nature. In the beginning when he brought the ‘beedis� sent by Jarji, I thought, “This bastard of a thief must have kept same out of the lot for himself�. But later I learnt that he was absolutely honest ... By stealing eight annas far ‘beedis� he had got his ankle-bone but here in jail where he couldn’t get tobacco anywhere, he scrupulously handed me the entire lit of ‘beedis� which Jarji sent as if it was a sacred trust. ... Then hesitatingly he would say to me, “Babuji give me at least one ‘beedi�:. I used to give him only one. How miserly a human being can be!�.

Rizvi shook his head as if he was angry with himself. “As I have told you already, a lot of restrictions had been put an me. Approvers are always treated in this manner. Jarji, however, was freer comparatively. By bribing he was able to get lots of facilities. He used to get clothes. Soap was supplied. ‘Beedis� were made available. He could even get money inside the jail far giving bribes. Only a few days were left for Phaggu’s sentence to be over. Last time when he brought me the ‘beedis� sent by Jarji, I thanked him. He was not happy at the prospects of his release. When I congratulated him, he said, “Babuji I will came here again. A starving man has no option but to steal - just as a hungry man has to eat. Babuji you are very good. You gave me so many ‘beedis�. I pray to God that all your friends be acquitted. Jarji babu is very fond of you�.

Hearing this, Nasir probably said to himself, “And he had been imprisoned far stealing only three and a half annas�.

Rizvi had a sip of the hot coffee and said very cooly, “Yes - only for the crime of stealing three and a half annas�..And those are also lying deposited in the treasury. God knows who will be able to assuage his hunger with them:�

Taking another sip of coffee he said addressing me, “Manto Sahib, only one day was left far Phaggu’s release. I needed ten rupees badly. I do not wish to go into details. I had to give this money as a bribe to a constable for something. After obtaining a pen and paper with difficulty, I had sent a note to Jarji through Phaggu to send me ten rupees urgently somehow. Phaggu was illiterate. In the evening he met me and gave me Jarji’s reply. It had imprisoned in it a Pakistani red ten rupee note. Jarji’s message said, “Dear Rizvi, I am sending ten rupees through a habitual thief. I wish you get it because he is due for his release tomorrow�.

I read the note and looking towards Phaggu smiled. For stealing three and a half annas he had been imprisoned for one year. I started thinking that if he had stolen ten rupees what his punishment would be at the rate of one year for every three and a half annas�.

And as he said this, Rizvi had a last sip of coffee and walked out of the coffee house without even saying good-bye.

Translated from urdu by Madan Gupta.