Goat Days (12 page)

Every experience in life has a climax, whether it be happiness, sorrow, sickness or hunger. When we reach the end, there are only two paths left for us: either we learn to live with our lives or protest and struggle in a final attempt to escape. If we choose the second path, we are safe if we win; if not, we end up in a mental asylum or kill ourselves.

So far I had not tried to escape. The first few times were amateurish attempts. I had not reached the end of my tether then. Actually, I had learnt to live with my circumstances. My experience taught me that no matter how severe our pain or how harsh the difficulties we face, we come to terms with our miseries in the course of time. I became used to my life over the course of a year. I no longer found it burdensome. In the past I used to wonder how beggars, the very poor, the permanently sick, the blind and the handicapped went on with their lives, how
happy smiles broke out on their faces. Now I had my answer—from life itself. I didn’t feel like my life had any difficulties any more. What did I have to do? Wake up in the morning, milk the goats, give fodder to the animals, take the goats for a walk, come back, eat khubus, go to bed in daylight and moonshine. No thoughts, no worries, no desires. What else did I need? I didn’t know anything about what was happening in the outside world. I had forgotten my family, my home, my homeland. They had become to me people who had lived with me in some other life or time. I was not at all affected by their sorrows or their miseries. My life was happy. Happy.

Thus, in my life, summer came, winter came, wind came, dust storm came, rain came now and then, trucks came once a week. Everything came. Everything left. Only my goats and I stayed in the masara without leaving. And Hakeem and his goats in the neighbouring masara. It was then that an unfortunate third came into our midst. He was brought to Hakeem’s masara. Hakeem and he were together all the time. That was the first time I envied another human being so deeply. In fact, I was morose. Hakeem had someone to talk to, to communicate with. I remained a goat in the masara of goats. I began to hate myself even more.

The changes in Hakeem were visible. I didn’t know anything about the new arrival, who he was or where he came from. But he brought great changes in Hakeem’s life. Large smiles broke out on his face. His words were joyful. I shrank into a shell out of sheer envy. I felt anger and animosity towards the whole world. I gave vent to my bitterness by taking it out on the goats in the masara—by squashing the balls of the newborn males, jabbing at the udders of the milk-goats with my staff, and shoving sticks up the ass of the sheep.

Initially Hakeem was timid about coming to the place where I herded the goats. But after he got a companion, he began to come there quite often. Although he didn’t come very near, he came within shouting distance. Though his arbab hit him for making these forays, the boldness Hakeem acquired from his new companion made it possible to for him to keep coming. I really
wanted to see his friend. But he didn’t come out of the masara too often. While Hakeem took the goats outside, he did the chores inside the masara.

However, one day Hakeem brought him to meet me. He was a gigantic figure. Very tall. My first impression was that he seemed like a character from Prophet Musa’s time. From a distance I was convinced that he was a Pathan from Pakistan. They came close and Hakeem introduced him to me: Ibrahim Khadiri from Somalia. A banyan tree that had grown in an African desert! Hakeem and I looked like wilting plants in front of that banyan tree. (Because of that meeting both saplings got enough beatings!)

Some time after that meeting, when we spotted each other in the desert, Hakeem climbed up a sand dune and shouted to me: ‘I have left a note for you. Read it.’ And he went away. After a while, I went with my goats towards the sand dune where he had stood. There, under a stone was a piece of paper. I read it.

Ibrahim Khadiri has been in this country before this. Knows all places and roads. Plans to abscond. Will take us too. Will let you know if anything materializes. Trust in Allah the merciful.

The joy that fizzed inside me! I cannot describe it in words! I was like a flower that was forced to blossom
in the desert. It was a lie when I said I had not been thinking about my homeland and home. An outright lie. My every thought was occupied by fantasies of my homeland. I had only buried them underneath the cinders of my circumstances. I could see them come ablaze as soon as the wind of a chance blew. I felt my heart ache. A draining heartache. I cried. I hugged and gave Marymaimuna who was nearby a kiss. I am leaving, girl, leaving you. I am going. Don’t you have many Aravu Ravuthars and Moori Vasus here to keep you company? I don’t have anyone. My Sainu and I don’t have anyone. I need her. And she needs me.

I prostrated myself on the ground. I thanked Allah the merciful for remembering me. For having heard my cries. For sending the prophet Ibrahim Khadiri to release me. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!

How joyful my day had become. How enthusiastically I completed every chore. The arbab must have wondered about the sudden change in me. Arbab, beware. Only a few more days. It’s all going to be over. I will leave. Then let us see who you will spit at and beat with the belt. You will be alone. Then you will realize the value of this Najeeb.

I hoped my freedom would come soon. But nothing happened that day. I waited eagerly the next day. My
anticipation was stronger on that day than the first. But nothing happened. There was expectation the day after that. But its intensity had diminished. Then, with every passing day, the tide of hope slowly began to ebb. It finally ended in terrible frustration. I despised myself and hated Ibrahim Khadiri and Hakeem for cheating me.

The hatred continued for two days. Then apprehension sneaked in. Had they escaped, deserting me? I couldn’t even imagine such a thing. If that was the case, I even resolved to take revenge on them by committing suicide. It was with anxiety that I looked out for Hakeem every morning when I took the goats out. And I experienced an unexplainable tenderness towards them when I learned that they were still there. It was the tenderness arising from the acknowledgement that I was not alone.

Gradually, I began to blame my fate. It was sport for Allah to play with me, have people lie to me, torment me. There is Najeeb to undergo everything you can throw at him. Allah, you didn’t have to do this to me.

In the next few days I began to lose all hope. There is no Khadiri-Podiri to redeem me. My fate is to live here and die here. My days went back to how they had been. With nothing to hope for. Nothing to dream about. A goat’s life.

It happened when I was least expecting it. Hakeem came to me driving a goat. ‘Something’s happening day after tomorrow. Be prepared!’ He ran back after saying that. It was as if he had dropped burning embers in my mind.
Something
. What could it be? Still, he had asked me to be prepared. It was a good omen. But the fear that I experienced then! I suddenly lost all urge to escape. Even when it is set free, a goat reared in a cage will return to the cage. I had become like that. I can’t go anywhere in this figure and form. I am a goat. My life is in this masara. Till I end my life or die of some disease, I don’t want to show anyone this scruffy shape, this scruffy face, this scruffy life. Mine is a goat’s life.

I had been waiting for this chance ever since I got here. But when the opportunity offered itself, I became detached. Life is full of strange contradictions. In those two days, I didn’t make any preparations. Nor did I
feel any special excitement. How many times had I readied my mind for such a chance to escape! But my fate felt like that of a bride whose groom ditched her on her wedding day. So I wasn’t willing to raise my hopes. I even cursed Hakeem for trusting the words of that African crook Ibrahim Khadiri.

That evening, surprisingly, the arbab called me to his tent. He asked me to sit inside. I was amazed. ‘Tonight is the wedding of the elder arbab’s daughter. So neither of us will be here. Stay awake through the night and watch over the goats. A fox may come. Snakes may come. Even thieves. You should look after everything. When I return in the morning, I will bring you khubus, biryani and majbus. Okay? You are my trusted servant. I’ve never had a servant like you till now. All the others who had been here were lazy. You are good. I like you. May Allah protect you.’

I nodded my head and listened to everything. This was the opportunity Hakeem had alluded to! If so, today is that happy day. Like a butterfly’s wing, my mind fluttered with joy. But I didn’t betray any signs of it outside. Donning a disinterested air, I came out of the tent. Those words were the reward for all my hard labour till then. Yes, only those words. I hadn’t got anything else.

At night someone else whom I had never seen before arrived in a vehicle. It was only when I saw the whiteness and cleanness of his dress that I noticed my own condition. Oh, how piteous I looked! I rated myself as the god of impurity.

When the visitor drove away taking my arbab with him, a strange enthusiasm possessed me, like the excitement of children left to play at home when their parents head off for a party. I ran around the masara in ecstasy. Shouting, laughing, leaping around. I ran towards Hakeem’s masara. There was Hakeem, so joyful. As soon as he saw me he ran towards me. He hugged me. Kissed me. We hugged and cried. ‘Ikka, I want to see my ummah. Want to see my uppah. Want to see my sister Shahina. I can’t stand it any more, ikka,’ he cried out in grief.

‘Sure, dear. Everything that you want will happen. Didn’t Allah bring us to this point? Just a few hours more. We have the Lord with us. Be brave,’ I consoled him, patting his cheeks.

Ibrahim was sitting on a cot. ‘Aren’t we leaving?’ I went up to him anxiously. Turning to me he smiled, revealing his gums. An innocent smile, like a baby’s. ‘Haven’t you suffered for so long, Najeeb?’ he rose up and touched my shoulder, ‘Just wait a little longer. Let
the arbabs reach where they are headed for. From where it takes a long time to return. Don’t forget that we will be on foot. You should return to the masara now. We’ll come and call you when we are about to leave.’

Thus, my days of misery were going to end. I was going to escape from the goat farm. I couldn’t see the future. But it wouldn’t hold so much suffering, I was sure. Allah, most merciful, all praises are for you. All glory is yours.

I ran back to the masara. My bag was there on the cot. A bag crumbling from the sun, the rain, the cold, the wind and the sand. A century of dust caked on it. I tried to brush the dust off and open the zip. The top of the bag got ripped off as I pulled at it strongly. A pungent smell came from it. I had not opened the bag for a long time now. There was no need for it. The pickle Sainu had packed from home was still there. An unrecognizable black, dry thing. It was leftover from what I had eaten with khubus in the first days. I hadn’t finished it, but kept it safely inside the bag to hang on to Sainu’s warmth and smell. When my hopes of meeting Sainu ever again began to dwindle I must have forgotten about the pickle.

I fished out the pair of pants and the shirt I had had stitched before I came to the Gulf. One wouldn’t
expect silverfish to survive in the desert. But those brand new clothes were completely decomposed and were useless! The corrosiveness of the desert wind was more powerful than that of sea salt. I wondered how much that wind must have corroded me. I didn’t have anything to take home. An empty-handed return. I threw the bag away.

The goats were getting restive inside the masara, as if they had sensed my leaving. When I walked into the masara, they gathered around me. If you leave, who is there for us, their eyes seemed to ask me anxiously. I was unlikely to meet these goats ever again in my life. My dear brothers, I am leaving. If I remain here any longer, I will die. I must escape from here. Never from you, but from my own fate. I like each one of you. I would have died long ago had you not been there. It is you, your love, that has helped me survive for so long. Wherever in the world I go, I will remember you as the brothers who were with me through my misery. I will always love you. It is Allah who brought me to my ill fate in this masara. It is He who delivers me now. I will pray to Him to release you too from this fate. Goats, my friends, my brothers, my blood, goodbye.

The goats came to me one by one. Aravu Ravuthar was the first. I stroked his cheeks. I advised him not
to break the hands of the unfortunate one who might come instead of me (may no one else suffer this fate ever again), but to work together courteously. He nodded his head. Next Pochakkari Ramani. She wept. I did too. Then, Marymaimuna. I kissed her. She kissed me back. I told her to give her love to the one who came next. She bowed her head sadly. Then Indipokkar, Njandu Raghavan, Parippu Vijayan, Chakki, Ammini, Kausu, Raufat. I bade goodbye to everyone.

I wanted to weep when I reached the masara of the young goats. I felt like the midwife who had to part from the children who were born into her hands. I had been there when most of them were born. I had been their father and mother since. I had fed them. For a second, I thought of Nabeel. My heart ached from the loss. I lifted up Pinki, Ammu, Razia and Thahira and caressed them. They didn’t bounce away as they used to whenever I went to catch them. They crawled into my hands and into the warmth of my chest. Children, I know your fate when you grow up. You are to be dragged to the market and to the slaughterhouses. I shall pray to Allah to give you the strength to face that enormous destiny. That’s all this poor Najeeb can do. Weeping, I came out of that masara.

I went to the masara of the camels. They were saddened about my departure. The camels were creatures who didn’t give me any trouble. They came and went on their own. When they came they needed a little fodder and water. They were content with that. I could read from their expressions that they loved me. I saw love pouring out of their eyes. We wept, as I hugged them and they hugged me. I don’t have any human being to say goodbye to. All I have is you. You are the ones who kept me alive all these days. As I am to Allah, forever shall I be indebted to you. I wept some more.

Even while heading towards freedom, it is agonizing to depart from our loved ones. I experienced intense grief in that happy moment of freedom.

Far away, Hakeem’s call was heard. I came out of the masara. The goats cried out together. I didn’t look back. Had I looked back, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to leave that place. Hakeem and Ibrahim Khadiri were waiting for me. We left together. To a new world, to a new life.