TALIBAN

 

 

(I had written an article on meeting the challenges of Corona which the daily newspaper, The Prameya published in its editorial page. An old gentleman, aged seventy plus, had heated arguments with me over telephone. This piece, a story is written on his telephonic conversation, published in The Sambad under the title TALIBAN)

Sajay was sitting in the balcony and looking at the road. It did not rain for the last two days, though it was rainy season. The afternoon sun was sliding behind the distant mountain. The authorities had opened the park for the last two days, but people were still afraid of going to the park. There was fear in the air. Covid infection, in its second wave, was receding as the government statistics said, in the state and the country, but the number of corona infection and casualty did not reduce, as expected, in Khurda district. There was also talk of the third wave coming. The government had assured the people of its preparedness to meet the challenges of the third wave, if it came. Since the denizens did not go to the park, they did their walk on the road or on the rooftop, in the morning or in the afternoon. Most of the people who were going on the road by his house were known to Sanjay. They looked at him sitting in the balcony, and few of them also talked and exchanged pleasantries with him.

A gentlemen rang him up. He picked up the call. The gentleman said, “I read your article published today in the newspaper.

That day, Sanjay’s article on meeting the challenges of Corona was published. Many known and unknown persons had been telephoning him and appreciating the article since the morning. A few readers were also discussing on the issue on the points raised in the article. Sanjay said, “Thank you! Where are you calling from?”

(Meeting the Challenges of Corona)

The gentleman said, “Speaking from Cuttack, but why are you dragging the God into your article?”

The article criticized against ringing bells, worshipping Corona as a Goddess, performing Jajna or any kind of religious rituals to ward off the Corona virus. Sanjay said, “The purpose of the article is not to believe in superstitions like worshipping Corona as a Goddess, but to have faith in science, in doctors, in heath workers. The scientists and doctors will drive out corona, not any kind of religious rituals or occult practices.”

“It’s okay. But why did you write not to have faith in God?” the gentleman asked. He seemed agitated.

To argue against superstition, and in support of science, Sanjay, in his article, had quoted Dr Rieux of the famous novel The Plague of Albert Camus. Dr Rieux said at one place in the novel, since the order of the world is shaped by death, it would be right not to believe in God. Rather, we should struggle with all our might against death without raising our eyes towards the heaven where the He sits in silence.

“Yes, I have quoted Alber Camus, from his novel, The Plague. Albert Camus has won Nobel Prize for literature,” Sanjay said.

The gentleman said, “So what, if he has won Nobel prize? Knowledge of a man is not complete. He belongs to the western world. He may be wise and learned, but he does not have any idea on Hinduism, does not know Sanatan Hindu Dharma. He does not understand the God.”

“By the way, what’s your age?” asked Sanjay.

“I am at seventy-three.”

Sanjay said, “I am sixty-two. At this age of ours, I can’t change your views, nor can you mine. Better we should not argue. If you don’t like the article, just throw it away. You must be reading good as well as bad writings. It’s a bad story for you.”

“No, I can’t simply throw it away. It’s a nice write up, your arguments are convincing,” said the gentleman.

Sanjay said, “You contradict yourself. You say it’s a nice write up and on the other hand, you question why I should drag the God into it. The article is on the God and Death, beliefs and science, of course, with ref to Corona.”

“The article does not have any impact on me, but it may influence the common man,” said the gentleman.

The arguments of the gentleman irritated Sanjay. “I can’t help you. I write what I believe. I desire to influence the people by my writings. If my writings have any impact on the people, I consider, I am successful in my effort,” he said.

The gentleman was furious. He shouted, “No, you can’t write like this. I hate the talibans. But I think now, we need talibans in our religion to protect our culture and religion, to keep faith of the people in Hinduism. Hinduism should have talibans of its own.”

Strong wind blew. Black clouds gathered in the sky. The light went out. Sanjaya came from the balcony to his room. He closed the door. He cut off the phone.

Talibans had already formed government in Afghanistan. The Taliban government had declared there would be no democratic rule in Afghanistan. Saria law would be in force, the women could not come out open without covering their face with burkha. The Talibans had killed a woman for wearing skin fitting dress. They cut off the hands for alleged crimes, beheaded accused, without a hearing in the court.

There was rain and storm outside the house. There was no current; the room was dark. He did not know when the power would be restored and he would see the light. Sanjay was sitting alone in the dark.

                           *****