IF A GARMENT keeps absorbing dirt over a period of time, it is bound to lose its original beauty. Indeed, it gets so discoloured that it would seem impossible to dye it any other colour. But does that mean that the garment has permanently lost its capacity to adorn a different colour? No, it hasn’t lost that capacity. It’s simply been buried under layer after layer of dirt. Give it a proper wash with some detergent and it will regain its sheen, along with the capacity to absorb different colours on its fabric.
The human mind can be a bit like that garment, discoloured by a multitude of sins, to a point where it starts looking like a dirty rag. But honest remorse can act like the detergent to cleanse it of its sins and restore it to its pristine state.
Nothing within us ever goes waste. As Guru Nanak says in the Japji Sahib, ‘Everything in this universe was created at the same time.’ The Lord has made sure that we humans are endowed with all noble attributes. Malevolence and evil traits are not an integral part of our make-up. They are external elements and, no matter how powerful, do not have the capacity to kill our innate goodness. At most, they can suppress our divine and virtuous nature for some time.
Granted that there are times when the dirt has leached itself deep into the weave of the fabric. Or let us say that a multitude of sins have sullied the conscience to a point where it seems beyond redemption. But can we really say that there is no remedy for it? When the garment gets utterly filthy and detergent alone doesn’t work, you must resort to heat as an additional element. Let the garment soak in some water with the detergent, heat the water till it starts boiling and then see it emerge fresh and clean.
And when our conscience has been tarnished beyond repair by a series of crimes and transgressions, detergents like advice and punishment won’t work. But a major accident or a tragedy can start generating a kind of heat within us, the heat that comes from genuine remorse, the heat from sincere penitence. The power of this heat can burn every particle of dirt from the fabric of our conscience, cleanse it of our sins and make it sparkle once again.
Yusuf’s conscience had reached that extreme state where it seemed utterly beyond redemption. Neither friendly counsel nor threats of punishment could cleanse his soul. But the sheer gravity of the incident in the grove had triggered a chain reaction within him and the heat emanating from it was enough to have his conscience boiling in a cauldron, the particles of muck being incinerated.
Some seven or eight days after the incident, Boote Shah received another letter from Yusuf that left him stumped.
The envelop contained two letters, one addressed to Naseem and the other to Boote Shah. What was his mental state after reading the two letters? From the moment he learned about the assault on Naseem, every pore in his body had throbbed with an uncontrollable rage towards Yusuf. This was completely at odds with his innately gentle disposition, but the very thought of Yusuf seemed to trigger an urge towards violence. Had he run into Yusuf, he would have been impelled to charge at him even though he knew that Yusuf was probably strong enough to dispose of a couple of Boote Shahs. But as he read Yusuf’s letter, each line seemed to narrate its own saga of remorse and repentance. Boote Shah’s emotions flipped once again; his searing sense of anger being gradually replaced by a deeper feeling of sympathy. As he went on to read the letter addressed to Naseem, he found it hard to keep his eyes dry. ‘Ah! You unfortunate man!’ he sighed.
He delivered Naseem’s letter to her that evening but not before he had shown it to his father. He had not forgotten the old man’s ire and didn’t want to risk it a second time. The Baba thought long and hard before allowing his son to take the letter over to Naseem. He knew after reading the letter that the girl was also attached to Yusuf and understood the kind of hurt that his actions must have caused. He also recognized that the letter might provide a healing touch to her injured soul. ‘Go give it to her,’ he advised gruffly as he handed the letter back to his son.
A woman’s heart is generally a lot more tender than a man’s. And the heart of a woman in love? You could say that it is delicate as a flower with soft petals.
Naseem’s hand was trembling as she held the three pages of the letter. A steady stream of tears was snaking its way down to her chin. Her blurred eyes were trying to concentrate on this para:
Naseem! You told me the other day that you don’t ever want to see my face again. Inshallah, your wish will come true. You will never see me again. But I do want to let you know that if you don’t forgive me, my soul will remain tormented even after I am buried in my grave. I know that my crime is not one that can be forgiven easily. But for one who has already forgiven me for many smaller transgressions, it might be possible to forgive a bigger sin as well…
Naseem read the rest of the letter, wiping the tears streaming down her face as she moved from one paragraph to the next. She had finished the letter, but the tears would not stop.
She stepped out into the courtyard after reading the letter with the feeling that a huge burden had lifted from her, only to be replaced by an even larger one. The letter had succeeded in dissipating the deep animosity that she had nursed towards Yusuf since the unfortunate incident. There was a new sense of empathy seeping into her consciousness. Not just empathy but also the gentle flicker of a flame that might thaw her frozen emotions towards Yusuf. At the same time, there was a growing burden on her heart, one that was directly linked to her anxiety about Yusuf’s well-being. Her thoughts kept returning to those words in his letter that were drilling tiny holes into her skin: ‘You will never see me again … my soul will remain tormented even after I am buried in my grave.’
‘Is Yusuf preparing to take some extreme step? God forbid he takes his own life! He can be pretty hot-headed but … but…’ Her mind refused to move any further, but she could see a sliver of a thought entering her head. ‘What if I were to send him a short letter?’ No way, she shook her head as she tried to shake off this strange feeling. Her eyes fell on the mango tree for the first time in a week. Her feet started to draw her under its branches as she looked up. The young tree appeared to have aged within the space of a week. The leaves had crinkled and turned yellow—a phenomenon caused by the onset of the autumn winds. But she blamed herself and her indifference towards the tree over the last few days.
She tried to make amends by fetching the water pitcher and pouring some water into its base, but it did nothing to diminish the ache in her heart. Restless and on edge, her thoughts continued to drag her in a direction that she wanted to avoid. It wasn’t until she had fetched some paper along with her pen and inkpot and started to write that a sense of calm descended.
They had an early dinner and Sugara went off to sleep. That left Naseem free to complete her letter. Once she had finished writing, a fresh worry crept up on her. How would she send it? She had no idea of Yusuf’s address. Maybe he had intentionally left it out of his letter because he wanted her response to come through Boote Shah. But could she really hand this letter over to Boote Shah? A wave of embarrassment swept over her as she pondered over the prospect. Did she have any other option?
After some deliberation, she neatly folded Yusuf’s letter and her own response, and tucked the letters in the trunk where she kept her clothes. She spent the better part of the night tossing and turning as she grappled with the dilemma. Should she send the letter or should she hold it back? And if she chose to send it, what was the best way? And if she didn’t, what if Yusuf were to really take a drastic step?
The morning broke and Naseem was still wrestling with her doubts and anxieties. She wanted to save Yusuf from destroying himself and that remained the main argument for sending the letter. True. But there was also a second reason for her restless mood. In the ten odd pages that she had written to Yusuf, she had tried to persuade him about her true and eternal love for him. She assured him that she would consider it a real accomplishment if she could spend the rest of her life by his side. But that would only happen if he acquired the goodness and virtue of his namesake Yusuf, the son of Yakub. If he could do it, Naseem would happily be his till her last breath.
In writing these pages, Naseem had expressed her profound love, outlined her aspirations, and even set out all her hopes and desires for the future. Had she done all this so that those pages could sit at the bottom of her trunk? No, she needed Yusuf’s address. She could ask Boote Shah, of course. But wouldn’t her foster brother see it as an insult? That she didn’t trust him to post her letter? Or that she had something to hide and wanted to send the letter secretly?
The morning gave way to the afternoon and Naseem was still lost in her thoughts. She was carrying a heavy burden and she felt that it would only be lifted once the letter was in the post.
She finished lunch and went to the room at the rear to steal a quiet moment. Sugara had gone to the haveli, having decided to visit Rukman after quite some time. Naseem sat on her bed and pulled out the two letters from the trunk, starting first by reading Yusuf’s letter, slowly and line by line. She moved on to her own letter, examining each line critically to make sure that there was nothing that could hurt Yusuf’s feelings at a time when he was already being swept away by the whirlpools of depression.
She had barely gone through half the letter when she heard a voice call out, ‘Seema!’ She quickly hid the pages under the bedspread and replied, ‘Coming, Bhaaji.’
Boote Shah was standing at the door. Naseem asked him to come inside and sit for a while but he declined. ‘There’s no time to sit today. I have to go to Lattiphala for some urgent errand. I’ve dropped in only to deliver an important message from Bapuji.’
‘Please tell me, Bhaaji.’
‘He said that you should not respond to Yusuf’s letter.’
Naseem gasped. ‘Why?’ she wanted to ask but couldn’t. Boote Shah was quick to see that Naseem was perturbed and wanted to know the reason behind the restriction. Without waiting to be prompted, he started, ‘As you know, Seema, I had shown Bapuji the letter Yusuf has sent you. In fact, I delivered it to you only after obtaining his consent. I don’t know what went on in his mind last night but first thing in the morning, he called me and instructed, “Go across to Seema’s place and advise her not to reply to his letter.”
‘I was stunned when I heard this,’ Boote Shah continued. ‘I asked him, “Bapuji, if he doesn’t get a reply to his letter, God forbid he should do something terrible.” Bapuji replied, “You don’t have to worry about that at all. These pathetic persons are capable of doing many things but sacrificing their life isn’t one of them. You know what kind of person can sacrifice his life? One for whom his word is his honour, one who would gladly give up his life than violate a promise. But this man’s character is so fickle that there is no reason to be afraid for him.” Bapuji also gave me strict instructions that I should not correspond with Yusuf for the next month or so. I guess Bapuji wants to send him a tough message. Be that as it may, we have to accept one fact, Seema. Bapuji has a lot more experience than me. He must have thought over this deeply before giving such categorical advice. I think it’s best that both of us follow it.’
Naseem had lowered her head and was staring at the ground as Boote Shah continued, ‘But Seema, I don’t want to break your heart. If you really do want to send him a reply, I’ll scribble down his address for you. You can post your letter to him. I won’t say a word to Bapuji about it.’
‘No, Bhaaji, no,’ Naseem’s hands covered her ears as she spoke. ‘Bapuji must have thought this matter through before giving this advice. We may think we are pretty smart but compared to him, we are just kids. I have seen on numerous occasions that when Bapuji says something like this, it is the last word on the subject. I am sure he had my welfare at heart when he sent this message. I won’t post the letter, you can assure him.’
Boote Shah was astonished by the faith that the girl had in the judgement of her adoptive father, particularly since he himself was pretty unhappy about his father’s intervention. But Naseem’s words convinced him that his father’s prediction was accurate, that Yusuf wasn’t going to take his own life.
He went off to complete his errands, leaving Naseem to retrieve the papers from under the bedspread. She wanted to rip the letters into tiny fragments but couldn’t muster the strength. She felt sad and disappointed, but she viewed it as the pain that must be endured when the surgeon removes a festering sore.