The Scatter Here Is Too Great (2 page)

The man sitting next to us leaned out of the open door which is always open and spat out every few minutes. I looked away. Baba did not even notice the man, who wiped his face with his sleeve after spitting.

The bus was going very fast and the wind blowing in from the windows was very hot. So I hid myself behind Baba. It was like being in a shadow. Shadows are empty places in things. The color of shadows is also black, which is the color of empty things. Blackboard is also black when it is empty. No one can draw shadows on blackboards because shadows keep on changing. You cannot draw changing things. But this happens, you know; you draw and you look and it has changed.

Then a fat man without a leg got on the bus. He was even fatter than Baba. He was smiling. He got on the bus and made a joke. “
Aray bhayya!
Slow down! If I fall out of the bus, my wife will not wash my clothes!” Everyone smiled. The conductor also smiled. He paid the conductor in coins. The conductor gave him a discount.

The fat man without a leg looked at me and smiled and gave me a cow-toffee. It made me think of my Comrade-uncle who also brought cow-toffees for me when he came to see Baba. Baba told Amma that he was a sad man. “He left his family and everything for his work. He keeps thinking of them but I don't think he realizes that.” I knew he was sad because he smelled sad like tired and sweat mixed.

The fat man without a leg was a nice man. My Comrade-uncle is also nice. He was even nicer when he lived with his family. He was tall and everyone liked him. He brought me toffees; many kinds of toffees, and biscuits. The skin under his eye is black because he fought the police. He does not say his prayers. He says there is no Allah. Many people say he is so sad and without his family because of that. He shouts at them who tell him to pray. He was not like this before. He used to smile. He is a Communist. That's the name of people who do not pray.

The fat man asked me my name, my school, and what I would become when I grew up. I told him I will be a pilot and fly fighter planes and fight with India. He told me that fighting is not good, and told me to fly planes to carry people from one place to another. I said but those planes do not fly fast. He said they are very fast. I said but I do not like the way they looked, like eggs. I told him I did not like egg-planes. He started laughing. His stomach moved even more than Baba's when he laughed. His teeth were very dirty. He gave me the cow-toffee. Baba said I should thank him. Then Baba told the fat man about me. He said this boy is very naughty and loves to fight and beats his classmates. I said that is because they call me parrot, parrot.

Then I went to sleep. Baba put his arm around me and I was in the shadow and the hot wind coming in through the door did not touch my face and I went to sleep. I woke up when someone was shouting. Three thieves had come in the bus. One of them sat next to the back door, on Baba's side. The other was at the front door. And the third one stood in the middle with his gun. They all had shiny guns and their faces were covered with cloth, which kept falling away. (We all saw their faces. One of them had a thin mustache. The other had a thick, short beard; he was chewing the hair of his lower lip.) The one standing in the middle of the bus was shouting loudly. We were all scared. He said, “Close the windows!” One window would not close. It was stuck. The thief was shouting at the man sitting next to that window asking him to shut it. I was so scared. I thought the beard-thief would shoot this man for not shutting the window. But then he told him to leave it. He also told the conductor to close the doors.

The bearded thief-man shouted at us, “Whatever, whatever you have, drop it on the floor in front of you. If I find anything near anyone, I swear to God, I will fire a bullet through his head without a thought.” The thief-man sitting next to us stood up and started taking everyone's money. He took it first from Baba. I wanted to fight him. But I was scared. No one stood up to fight him.

The thief-man who was at the front sitting with the driver said to the ladies in the front compartment: “Do not fear. You are like our mothers and sisters. We will not bother you. We do not need your money.” When he said this, the fat man said, “Please let us go. Aren't we like your brothers and fathers?” The thief thought that the fat man was trying to make fun of him. He looked at him straight in his eyes, “What did you say?
Haan
?” and then slapped him. It made a loud sound. He put the gun on his head, “You find this very funny,
haan
? Funny,
haan
?” And he slapped him again. Everyone turned to see the man being slapped. It was like in the class. When the teacher slapped one boy, no one spoke again.

The thieves took all the money but kept riding the bus with us. They took the money from the conductor. The conductor was watching his notes when the thief took it from him. One of the thieves took the money and put it in his bag. Everyone was looking at them doing this.

Then one thief started telling the driver where to go and how to drive, when to slow down, when to drive fast. He also hit the driver once on his head; it did not make any sound. The slaps on the fat man's face were louder. The thieves took the bus very far and after driving for a long time they told the driver to stop. And then suddenly two thieves quickly jumped out and the third thief started shouting at the bus driver and everybody else. “IF somebody steps out, we'll shoot straight in their head. NOBODY comes after us NOBODY. UNDERSTAND?” When he shouted like that I hid my face under Baba's arm.

The bus driver then drove so fast and everyone on the bus stayed quiet because we were all afraid that the thief who was shouting might shoot us from behind the bus.

The bus driver stopped the bus at the sea, and said it would not go any farther. “Get on other buses if you want to go anywhere.” Everyone suddenly became angry. They started to fight with him because thieves had taken their money.

Baba and I got off at the sea. The fat man without a leg was also going to the sea. He was not smiling now. His face was red. Baba had a secret pocket in his
shalwar
where he always hid some money. He gave a few notes to the fat man. Then he took me to the sea.

We sat on the shore and watched the waves that came so slowly. There were few people there and the wind was cool. I wanted to go on a camel ride, but I knew that Baba did not have the money for that. Baba was quiet. I felt he was drawing the night without a sun on his blackboard again. So I snuggled under his arm and said, “Baba, let us draw even bigger camels than there are here.” I was so afraid to close my eyes because it was getting darker and I was afraid that new thieves might come. But I think it made Baba happy. When I drew the camels, Baba said, “Let us sit on these camels as well!” So I sat on my very, very big camel. I rode on it. And when Baba asked me, “How does it feel riding such a big camel?” I said, “It is like riding on waves.”

Evening came. Baba and I sat on a bench and had roasted peanuts. Baba asked me if I was afraid of the thieves. I told him I was not. I wanted to fight them. He smiled. He told me never to fight thieves and if something like this ever happens “just give them everything without saying anything.”

When we were returning home, we took the bus again. This time I ran and got on the bus myself without the conductor's help. On our way, we passed that place where we used to have barbecue and where my chicken was the spiciest. I put my head on Baba's arm and he put it around me and I was in the shadow again. As I closed my eyes, I imagined my blackboard as big as the sea on which I drew a ship—a big ship moving on waves like a camel. And then I saw the cloth with which the thief covered his face, which kept on slipping and revealing his face. I wanted to draw a sun in the sea because it was dark and I wanted to give light to the ship, but then I fell asleep. But I remember the ship looked like an empty place, like a shadow, and the cloth was fluttering in the wind like its flag.

Y
esterday, an old man, bloody idiot, surely off his rockers, got on the bus from the Lucky Star stop . . . tall in his height, some six-three, wore a new, bright red Coca-Cola cap that you get for free these days, bloody joker. His shirt, I think he had been reironing since the creation of Pakistan. His crumpled brown pants seemed straight out of the washing machine. He caught my eye as soon as he got on the bus. I pulled out my sketchbook and started to make his cartoon. The rectangular golden frame of his spectacles covered his long, thin face. Acha, at first he did not say anything, just took a seat, sat there, and looked around. Then turned to the guy next to him and without any, what's-its-name, any hesitation questioned him, “Who are you?”

At this, the guy was startled and he looked at him cluelessly. Obviously,
bhenchod
! Anyone would jump at such abruptness. . . . If someone asked you who are you, randomly, just like that, on the bus, and that too, a weird-looking old creep wearing a red cap and shirt with broken buttons, what would
you
say?

But that guy was some bugger, he smiled and replied, “I am a human, thank you,” and shook the old man's hand. Hehe. Bastard. Guess what the old man did? He just said, “Okay,” and turned away. I was laughing to myself from my seat, and seeing me, others also got interested in what was going on. I felt the old man was no less than a cartoon himself. He was staring at the back of the seat in front of him—like this—his face completely blank—like this. And then after staring for a few seconds he turned back to the guy he questioned earlier and said, “I am Comrade Sukhansaz! Happy to meet you!” and pushed out his hand toward him.

Now whatever the hell is a Comrade! Most people don't even know what these creatures are. There was a time when these Comrades and Reds and Lefties were a common breed you'd find on the streets, but that general, Zia, that dog of the CIA, he ate them all up. He liked blood, that dog. Where else do you think all this Islam and drugs and guns and bombs came into this city? They are a recent invention, my love. Americans gave him the money and guns and a carte blanche for drugs to fight the Soviets, and he fucked the country and this city for his jihad next door, thank you. Yes, you do find some Comrade occasionally, still bitten, his ass still bleeding and bandaged. All of them hate Zia. Ha-ha! I mean whatever but you've got to admire Zia for the treatment he gave them—jail, torture, lashing them in public, ha-ha! The joker even put his own name in the constitution! He used to see things in his dreams and made them his policies. Yup, Americans loved his dreams because he was screwing the Soviets and Comrades in them. So yeah, most Comrades are dead now.

So guess what that guy said when the Comrade said “I am Comrade Sukhansaz”? He was some smart-ass, he returned a dumb expression, and asked: “
Sukhansaz
, that's the word for poet. . . . But what's your
name
? And what's
Comrade
. . . . Is that a Muslim name?”

Ha-ha-ha! What's-his-name, Comrade, he turned red, even though technically that wasn't possible because he was so dark, but oh, you should have seen his face—imagine a dry, savage brown flashing with color! At first Comrade Sukhansaz didn't reply, just turned his face and stared at the back of the seat. After a few moments, he began blabbering in a low voice. “In this country, everything is either Muslim or non-Muslim, everything, everything. Is your shoe Muslim? This cap, does it go to the mosque with you? Does your spoon and knife say their prayers on time? Everything, bloody everything is Muslim or non-Muslim! Is this color a Muslim color? And then no one can talk about religion. . . . Names, now names are Muslims and non-Muslims!”

That I-am-human fellow was acting like a smart-ass but really you should have seen his face, nervous like hell. I mean what do you expect when you are sitting next to this nut case? The Comrade turned to him again and said, “I am a poet. I was in jail. Yes, jail. For eight years. People love me. You know they love me. They know me. The whole world knows me.” He fell silent and looked around in the bus. He saw us sniggering, all thoroughly entertained.

Praise be the worm up my ass, I shouted, “
Haan
, so mister Comrade Sukhansaz, let us hear something, some poetry, some of your amazing verses . . .” And oh brother, I tell you, the moment I finished my sentence, he sprang into action, as if he had been waiting. He stood up, and then holding his seat with one hand, like this, his fingers all twisted backward, started reciting poems, one after another . . . I cannot tell you. And he was so good! I remember a few lines:

The argument between this lover with the other is who loves more. After this, both are ignorant.

The tussle of this believer with the other is how to worship. After this, both are ignorant.

The brawl of this politician with the other is how to gain power. After this, both are ignorant.

It turned into a circus soon when a group of college students sitting at the back of the bus started to make noises in between his recitation. Each time Comrade Sukhansaz paused between the couplets, they made a sound:
Dha Dha Dha Dhayyn . . .
like those Hollywood action movie soundtracks. At first Comrade was confused, because some of us were actually enjoying the poems and praising them as well, but soon the boys began to rattle him. He ignored it a few times, but then suddenly, ha-ha! I remember he was saying:
We will win against darkness too!
And then he broke off yelling, “
Abay
O rowdy idiots! listen to what I am saying!”

It was so funny—
abay
! listen to me! I am telling you about darkness and winning!

For the boys, well, this was what they were looking for to begin with. It added to their fun and then they started purring and barking in between his verses. You got to love their timing! Imagine a dog's whimper—
aaoo aaoo aaoo
—as if someone has kicked it in its gut—after
both are ignorant.