New Dress , Old Body

It was a public clinic. Mothers with children like tiny living dolls were sitting in the waiting area. Their faces glowing with acquired pride of motherhood. Some playing with their little ones, some murmuring with the neighbour lady, some waiting for their turn. It was a govt. Clinic in a gulf country and the mothers were here for vaccination of their dear ones. In this country vaccination doses must be taken at a govt. Clinic only and a card bearing its details must be preserved. The clerk was calling “ no. 42 Habib, no. 44 Ganeshan, no. 45 Ilyas..” The tiny tots were either engrossed in their own plays or looking at the surroundings with curiosity.

 A charming lady asked his toddler “ Duddu, see what is it?”

The adjoining lady in black gown with face open smiled and asked her “ Duddu? What is the real name? Boy or girl?”

Charming replied “ Boy. Garv. It means pride. Yours?”

Black gown replied “Girl. Ayesha.Just 6 months.” 

Suddenly the girl  swinged to the toddler boy. Touched his nose with her tiny fingers, scratched it. She touched  his small face with just grown curly hair, pulled hair and made  “ woow.. Gurr..” sound. The boy, about one year and three months touched her tiny palm, smiled at her. The girl saw him with wide open eyes and suddenly her eyes flashed. It was her re-birth and also of this kid, the soul recognised the soul dear to her. It is said children remember their previous birth up to a small age then forget it. She said to herself “ Oh my god! It is Arth, my boyfriend and husband to be. He is in new birth so am I. Means he has died before I died.  Surely he is murdered as I said one day he will meet the fate. I had told him to keep his moves under control and continue our mission. But the race car driver and advocate Mr. Arth didn’t comply with my instructions. Always in a hurry and aggressive. I was not with him at the time he was murdered. I received his SMS akin to SOS message and I was there to get petrol filled in my car. That was the crucial time I missed.

I wish I’d been there earlier. It might have made all the difference. So all I can tell you is why he was murdered.

Little Ayesha again recalled her previous birth as Arpita.

***

Ahmedabad, India. It was 11.30 am . She was in a hurry. She had to appear in a case at the Metropolitan court. The presence was over and the case was to be heard at around 3 pm. So she was going back on duty for a few hours. Ayesha again became Arpita, lost in previous birth.

“ I was going on an activa ( gear less scooter) fast. I felt someone followed me. Near a traffic signal, before the light turns red, I wanted to cross to the other side. I  saw my activa scratching with a young man going walking. He fell down. His file fell from his hands. My activa also lost balance and fell on the road. I fell on a side, striking the man’s shoulders. His shoulders , in a black suit, were dusty. The man  however, caught my hand gently and raised me to stand up. “bebi ( little girl), why such a hurry? Do you know careless driving, damaging a person, causing injuries.. Are offences you made and I can book you? It is god’s grace I am rushing to the metropolitan court for a case. I am an advocate.``

I said “ Sorry. I  am an intern at the Muni. Hospital. I also had a case at the court. Was going to my hospital as the case was in the afternoon. Let me give you some first aid treatment. Your elbow is showing blood.”

He looked at me with love and surprise. He said  “ You tiny , tender girl a Doctor?” Ok. Nice to be treated by you. In return do accept my ‘treat’. We go to the “Lucky Restaurant” opposite and you treat me while I treat you with some snacks.”

I twisted his arm. It was just a scratch. I came to know from him, he was the opposite side lawyer for the man I lodged a police complaint. During my hospital duties, even after giving my best treatment, a patient from a minority community near this area was unhappy. He shouted at me. Touched me with force , pushed me and abused me. My seniors advised us junior doctors not to take law in hands but to lodge a police complaint.

While the treatment was ongoing, he pressed his head against my breasts intentionally  when I tried to help him sit from a lying position. I was threatened to withdraw the complaint else grievous results will follow, I was told. So the man following me was sent by his client.

The advocate introduced himself as Mr. Arth. He said  such a client should be taught a lesson. He  explained to his client the probable punishment and what can happen if his name is permanently on police records.  The client was made to apologise before the magistrate. Arth made the case get closed.  I introduced him to my cousin lawyer.

We were friends. Came nearer and nearer.  On Newly made riverfront we strolled, first just touching shoulders as if accidentally, then sat touching each other. On every Sunday we made it a point to walk hand in hand in such places, to watch movies together.

Our tastes were matching so our ideas to see the world. He spread awareness about equal rights for ladies, fought cases against girls thrown out of house by shouting three times talaq, against “ Love jihad”- forced marriages of girls of majority community with minority community. He won a case of noise pollution near a hospital by constant shouting of prayers over loudspeakers. He was threatened of grave consequences unless he gives up this “ mind washing” war against minority. He didn’t  wash any brains, just fought for injustice .

I joined his mission. I treated cases of infection due to “ Khatna”, a serious injury to young girls where her outer vagina is got cut by her family, sometimes with a glass blade!!

I treated cases of 7th or 8th child, of sex related injuries, of injuries due to domestic violence. I also educated women in nearby minority areas for their rights and made them literate. I earned respect from them but threats from their males. I was persuasive to the men who were made to think aggressively and to see anyone with majority religion as an enemy but Arth was always a strict teacher “ teach them a lesson” which nobody just wanted to learn. If a stone strikes  a stone, both will shed some pieces and remain unchanged. If it strikes against  sand, it will mix with the sand.

He said in such a public meeting “ my task is to remove all bullying , politically motivated enmity, and to establish peace, equality in a real sense. I will strive for the cultural upliftment of  “ minority” and in doing so, if I die, I will be reborn amongst them, in their country. I will come back here and by then I am sure things will be the same. I will set them right.”

We were very near so he proposed and my parents accepted us to be a blessed couple forever. His parents cooperated with my wish to complete M. D. and then to get us married. We were engaged. So now we frequently met, argued, quarreled, be pleased with the other’s red face, laughed and if alone, kissed the red face. 

Let me now explain the Indian scenario- Muslim community is “ minority” and hindus are “ majority”. We have other religions also but we are afraid to quote “ muslim” publicly, we have to quote them as “ minority”.  Arth studied international law and confirmed that in even muslim nations not all nations have the ladies kept faces covered in a burkha, in the name of ajaans big shouts on loudspeakers are permissible only in India and perhaps Pakistan. On the road you can not slaughter a goat or cow, you have to buy meat from a store. And nowhere a religious leader can issue fatwa- instructions to vote only certain candidates or to kill a person.  Somehow to pamper the vote bank of muslims who just do not observe family planning, keep four wives, treat them as slaves and throw away this sex machine once obsolete. I found a mission to eradicate this by persuasion and if it fails, use force by keeping their own well wishers with me.

But Arth wanted to be tit for tat. He was aggressive and being a lawyer knew how to fight against the evil doers. He quoted our religious book Gita saying a good act doer never meets bad fate .

Arth was fascinated with racing cars. He purchased such one. On an express highway we went on a long ride. He drove fast but had a very good control on turns, breaks, slopes etc. Once he participated in a vintage car rally in old cars. Slow and steady. He won. Came third. I said “ see Arth, slow and steady wins the race”.  He participated in a car race from Ahmedabad to Mumbai , a distance of over 550 km. I watched him rushing to the finishing line. I waved a flag dancing. He shouted “ Vande Mataram” ( salute to the mother). The organisers , muslims, did not join him, nor liked it.  But Arth kissed the car saying  this mother who has “strolled” this kid inside her at over 250 kms./hour for his pleasure and kept him safe. He said the land which keeps us happy and safe must be worshipped and its laws superseded the personally made religious laws.

I went back by flight. He arranged a taxi for me from Ahmedabad airport. He phoned me that  he starts around 9am the next day after taking some rest having won the race. 

 At around 6 pm my phone rang.  I was on duty in a children’s  ward. It was late in the evening and winter was setting in so it got dark. He saw a car near the side of the express highway near a tree bush mess. Its doors were locked. But lights on. Something suspicious or someone in trouble. He got down and went there to find a young , beautiful girl with both hands tied widely flunging legs, two youths making unwanted gestures with her body. He knocked the doors, the boys did not open. With a tree branch lying nearby he hit the window glass. The glass had cracks. The boys opened the doors, tried to run away with the girl saying Arth to mind his own business and the girl was their prey, kidnapped and was consumed to be “ halal”. Arth realised the situation. He phoned the police control. The boys threw the girl and drew the car fast. Arth kept the lady on the back seat and was following them. He phoned me that he will admit the girl to a nursing home of my friend and he is going to the police station. I was to phone the doctor, my senior and a friend. I  knew he will create some trouble.  I took leave from the H. O. D. and ran to the parking lot.   

I have to be there. It will make the difference. He phoned me that he had sent location information to the police and raced his car behind theirs. They went on the express highway on the wrong side and raced. He followed them carefully.They reversed the car and screeched to bang with his. He clearly avoided it. They failed in hitting his car so kept it in midst of the road and he was forced to come out. He was hit with a “ khanjar”, a sharp weapon inside his waist from the side. He  actually escaped a thrust inside his stomach. He managed to get into the car and jerk started it. They pelted stones and the costly racer car was damaged, its windscreen  broken. By the time the police intercepted and arrested the boys, sons of a goon, a known rich criminal of “ minority community”. This he narrated from hospital bed. He had sent the girl to my friend’s nursing home. I met him at the hospital. Asked the doctor to take his care. He was not in my public hospital. 

The doctor phoned me at night that his nursing home is pelted with stones and burning “ kakada”- petrol drenched clothes, burning.  To save other patients he borrowed the keys of the doctor’s car and with head and waist in stitches, he escaped calling the police on the way.

Now  the police said he would have escaped this attempt to kill him but for some tyres with inserted sharp nails standing from it, kept on the road to block him. His tyre burst and hit with an illegally constructed road blocking mosque. He did come out,but was fired at from an unlicensed pistol  from close distance.. He succumbed. police now near him. The Inspector knew me. He called me at 1 am night saying that my husband is in danger. I rushed. I saw the petrol tank almost empty so first I drove to a night running petrol pump 6 kms. Away.

On the way I learnt he breathed his last, remembering me.

I missed it. I was late. My presence would have made all the difference. So all I can tell you is he was cruelly murdered to let the untruth prevail over truth. He was trying to get influential criminals punished. It cost him his life.

Ayesha again remembered the pains of her previous birth. She clenched her fists  as if to strike the killers.  She cried loudly with sound “bhe.. Bhen..” Her mom cuddled her, gave her a bottle of milk. She looked at Garv alias Duddu. “ So as you said, You died doing your duty of teaching  a lesson!!  And as you said, you are re born amongst them to take  their already existing good things to our last birth’s Indian  soil. Right?

It took some time for one year old Garv to remember previous birth again. He replied “ yes. Allah qabool, agreed to grant my wish. But how did you die? As  you are also reborn and are before me.

Aayesha alias arpita said she continued their combined mission. Now she concentrated on educating in a muslim ghetto, mainly to the women. She talked of family planning, education, right in property etc. Once she succeeded in preventing a forced love jihad marriage and against threats to “make her life worse than death”. She reported to the police a case of abortion she refused to conceal being that of a rape in a college campus. A girl did not agree to the “ friendship request” of a “minority” boy. The boy, with his friends caught her in wee hours going from college. Her friends with her were abducted and sent far from the campus with threats to keep quiet else “ will be shown the worst results”. She, as a doctor, was threatened to stop that “ being a good teacher madam” and to withdraw the complaint against “ our men”. She did not distinguish between “ our” and their” men. So  one night going alone in her car  to attend an emergency operation, she was intercepted on a lonely river bridge, was raped as revenge and was killed, body found from the river by some garbage truck next early morning. She said she was determined to spread education amongst “ minorities”, may it cost her re-birth in them. So she was here in a gulf country, as a muslim girl with a boy re born earlier again as a hindu but on muslim lands where no one heard or tolerated  anything like “ majority” and “ minority” community.

The clerk called out “ no. 84.. Garv”.. The charming took the toddler in her arms and went inside. The black gown arranged her hair, gave the girl her teether and took out the card preparing to go in.

Both met coming in and going out. The children met again. Arth said “ So it is our new dress , old body. Our soul is our body, new birth is like changing old dress and wearing a new one. We will again continue our mission. “ He made “ gurr.. Baah baah.. “ sounds, leaning to ayesha and catching her hands. Ayesha gave a sweet smile, thumping the kid on his shoulders.

“ Your son is playful. You stay near our home, your card I just read. Do go on coming our home. Children will play together. “  Black gown said.

“ your girl, like a living doll, is very charming. We surely will.”

They held hands for a while. The kids silently looked at each other and smiled making funny gestures.

Love has no boundaries, no class, no religion, no countries. It is the gift of the supreme. 

-Sunil Anjaria