The Mullah in Ripped Jeans

             
              He was not a guy that anyone can easily forget. He was handsome; dashing as the ladies say. Perfect body. You know the ones you see in biology books that show the human anatomy. Always smiling. And the smile that bastard had. Charmed every girl that crossed his path. So basically speaking the type of guys you see in commercials. Oh sorry... his name was Omar, Omar Sayir. He was my batch mate... how I envied him

                Don’t be judgmental about me. Every guy hated him. Believe me... all girls fell for him, all of them; yeah he was that good looking. Reading in a government engineering college where there is always a scarcity of good (read hot) looking girls and full of girls with hair gone astray and wearing specks like binoculars, he always got the creamy layer. All the girls talked about was how handsome he was, how charming he is and other bullshit. Pardon my language... just thinking about those days gives me the willies...

                Well back to the story then, (you know before you start thinking I am gay) I was in love... she was a branch mate, Meghna. Beauty redefined. A bit short in height. Always wearing heels too big for her. I had eyes for no one else... no, she was my dream girl( yeah I am a filmy guy) just looking at her made my day. With all friends maintaining counters as to how many times I looked at her,  sneaking a peek at her was same as solving the Fourier equation ( I flunked Maths III). With the guys (read bastards) hovering like hawks around me, just a look at her was all that made me tolerate the boring classes in the college...her eyes, her hair... straight and smooth....

                She was in love with Omar. I didn’t exist for her. Well no guy existed for her except him. So u see why i hated the guts of Omar. I hated him more because he didn’t love her back. What’s  wrong with u man, I used to think. How could anyone not like her? She was lovely, intelligent and smarter than most of the girls combined in the class. Sorry I am getting sentimental; after all she was my girl (at least that’s what I convinced myself to think... looser me)

                It’s not a story about a love triangle... its way different than that.

                Omar was a nice guy. Very helpful. He was the cool dude of our class; very good in studies. He was friends with everyone. All craved to be in his company. He was a fun guy, shared the casual cigarette with us, drank with us, made fun of the Profs with us, jumped into the bay of Bengal with us. He was a friend any one would dream of.  I though maintained some distance with him; after all she had the heart of my Meghna. I sometimes felt bad. He also knew that I avoided him because of Meghna. He always said” Arre yaar mera us me koi interest nahi hai... she is all yours”. It was earnest but I didn’t’ feel comfortable around him. Yeah I was that jealous.

                It was like nothing could go wrong with him; like his world is perfect. How wrong I was.

                You see he was never religious. That guy didn’t have time for religion. He was too busy living life, king size. But he transformed somehow in him in our pre final year. His mother suddenly fell ill during our 5^th semester exam. He left for home immediately. Fortunately his mother recovered. I don’t know the details but the event changed him somehow. When he came back he was different. Different than the Omar we knew. It seemed that the smile had left his face. Like forever. He was always serious then on, never joking and shying away from all social gatherings. We thought it was the studies taking a toll on him. He hadn’t appeared 3 subjects in the 5^thsemester exams. So he had to appear 9 subjects in the 6^th semester exam. Meghna was very upset about it. 

                It all started when everyone noticed that he wasn’t cutting his beard any more. No more French cuts, no more goatees. But instead he started growing his beard like a Mullah u see in the movies. When we asked he just smiled, avoided the question and left. He gave up smoking and drinking. He had suddenly become religious, and religious like a fanatic. He started leaving the classes at odd times without any explanations. Nobody knew why. One day i had bunked a class and was about to return to the class when I saw Omar running up the stairs. I followed him. I couldn’t help it. I got up the stairs panting (I weigh 85 kilos... and don’t smile). I saw that he was sitting on the roof knee bended on a sheet of cloth with a skull cap on his head and praying. I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed. I retraced my steps and went back to the classroom. After sometime Omar returned to the class. He gave me a weird smile...did he know?

                 Things started getting weirder and weirder. Generally we guys don’t talk but rather swear all the time (yeah I see the smile on your face). Fuck this fuck that and the usual favourite local slangs. But Omar didn’t find them funny anymore. He started lecturing us more and more about not using the slangs and how they are derogatory (as if we didn’t know). Some laughed, others sweared more and left. Day by day his antics started getting worse. He started rebuking us for making fun of the teachers, talking about girls (you know the other type of talking), drinking habits, hell even for listening to music. He was all about this is good and this is bad, this is moral, this is immoral. He started giving us examples from Quran, their holy text. In short he started becoming insufferable. Guys started avoiding him, girls started avoiding him and even teachers started avoiding him. Meghna looked at him desperately, seeking answers....

                I had to find the answers. If not for myself then for her.

                I tentatively asked Shahid, another of my batch mate. He was a Muslim. I asked him why Omar was behaving like this. He didn’t speak for the next few minutes. Finally with a tinge of guilt he said”Yar ye hamare religion me normal hai”. But I was adamant ”You don’t have a beard.. u don’t go around giving us lecture about what pleases or displeases Allah..”. He said according to their holy scriptures when a Muslim boy comes of age then he must stop cutting his beard, stop smoking, drinking or any type of amusement and stuff like that. He should even stop listening to music and lead a devout and pious life. But I said” Arre uski umar hi kitni hai. Don’t you do these stuff when u grow old or something”. He said a bit guiltily that according to the scriptures whenever the person starts feeling religious he should start doing it. He couldn’t explain any further; maybe he didn’t want to. I sat there confused. Shahid left, a bit shaken himself.

                Omar started wearing plain kurta and payjama to the college. No more ripped jeans, no more funky t-shirts. He started avoiding one and all. His grades dipped drastically. I heard that all he was doing at home was reading the scriptures. He started missing classes.” Kya hoga class karke... jo sab tehezeeb bachon ko padhana chaiye wo to padhate nahi hai” he said. His attendance started falling. But not body cared anymore. They all started avoiding him.

                I couldn’t bear the look on Meghna’s face...I just couldn’t. She would desperately try to talk with him, share her feelings with him, but he avoided her supremely. Once upon much bothering by Meghna Omar said angrily” Arre hume maaf kar do... hame tumse kuch baat nahi karnahai”. She was really hurt. When nobody was watching she wiped the sole tear running down her face... the way her beautiful eyes craved for him. But i watched and I just couldn’t bear. I did the most stupidest thing a guy could ever do. I wrote her a mail( yeah its hopelessly romantic and stupid). I explained the situation about Omar and asked her to forget him. When I reached the college the next day she confronted me in front of the class and spewed all the ugly things that a girl holding her decency can say. “How could i say such a thing about Omar... how could I be so jealous” she said (yeah she knew about my feeling towards her). She stormed out of the room. All I was left was a sore toe I got from kicking the table in front of me.

                After the 7^th semester exam Omar stopped coming to college. He was nowhere to be seen. Well frankly speaking nobody cared enough to track him down. Some of his friends tried to contact him but without any result. He had long shunned his mobile phone. He was unreachable. permanently. After a few month his friends gave up trying to contact him. He was lost forever. But I had him in the back of my mind, always. How could I forget him... the handsome dude, the cool guy of our class. The guy who was the star of Meghna’s eyes. The guy in ripped jeans turned mullah.

                 I didn’t see him for 6 months. I had just finished the 4 years in captivity and finally got out with a job in hand (TCS guys.. nothing more). I was in my home town Cuttack. Few days were left before my joining. I was passing through the crowed road in Buxi Bazaar when suddenly my eyes caught sight of a guy. A young guy in blue kurta payjama with long black beard, a skull cap on his head and beads of rosary in his hand entering the Moinudin Chisti Jama Masjid, a well known masjid in Cuttack. I stopped my bike. Could it be Omar? I parked my bike and followed him inside. I stood in the corner while hundreds of Muslims did their namaz. Some of them stared at me. But my eyes were locked on the guy in the blue kurta. Yes...he was Omar. But not the Omar Sayir I knew from college days. He was unrecognizable. With the foot long black beard I bet none of my classmates would have recognized him. i recognized him though. I was in one way or the other always looking for him. I was so obsessed with him. The namaz had ended. I had stood too long in the same spot for Omar had recognized me. With a big smile on his face he came up to me and embraced me.” Aur sab thik chal raha hai to dost” I could not utter a word. I was too startled to talk after seeing him after  so long and him recognizing me. I somehow muttered him some incoherent words.

                All he did was smile. He accompanied me to the exit of the masjid. He told me all about his life after college, how he had started feeling suffocated in the polluted environment of the college and after sometime how he couldn’t take it anymore. How he came in contact with Mullah Sahir ji and how he had changed his way of life for good. How he had arranged a job for him in the masjid. He now lives in a small cottage in Shekh Bazar, a Muslim locality in Cuttack. He was living alone. He taught small kids Urdu in their home as it was a duty he had to perform according to Quran. His mother had also moved in with him to and was looking for a nice Muslim girl for him. He had twinkle in his eyes and the smile of a happy man. He then suddenly remembered something from the long forgotten days and asked me with enthusiasm” Aur bhai Meghna kaisi hai? tumhara aur uska kuch hua?? I could see a flicker of the old Omar in his deep dark eyes, for however short time it may be. it tore my heart just remembering her. Pain and anger burst out through the imaginary walls I had created to block her from my memory. All I could say was” Nahi”. “Bahut achi ladki thi. Khuda kare usse koi acha sa sohar mil jae” he said oblivious to my pain. I offered to drop him home but he said that he had to sweep and clean the masjid. It was his duty in the masjid. I bid him farewell and rode off in my bike. I looked back... there was the Omar I knew from the college days waving his hands with all the vigor and enthusiasm, the Mullah in ripped jeans. The traffic light turned green. I couldn’t turn back anymore....

                I sat down by the river Mahanadi thinking. All my repressed anger towards Omar, Meghna, religion, fanaticism was slowly melting away. I had been very angry for a very long time. If religion was supposed to make our lives simple and comfortable the how could it turn a fun and adventure loving guy like Omar into something that he was today. He was just a cool 20 year old guy starting to live his life. He would have graduated, got a job, worked his ass off for a company, one or two love affairs, would have spent his salaries on parties and drinks. Would have married a beautiful girl. But no, he was a strict and a pious Muslim now, wearing nothing other than kurta and payjama. No enjoyments, no music, no telling lies... no nothing. He had turned 40 in the age of 20. How he had lost the innocence of his age. And Meghna. Why the hell couldn’t see anything beyond him. Am I that bad...didn’t I deserve any of her love... was I that invisible. But today when i saw Omar I now think differently. He is happy. He may not go to parties or spend his money on booze or women, but he was happy. He was happy living in the small cottage in Shekh Bazaar with his mother and teaching Urdu to small kids. He would say his namaz 5 times a day...he would clean the masjid everyday...he would count the beads of his rosary but he would be happy. Maybe he was more happy than he would have been in a job maybe more happy than i would ever be. Isn’t that what life is all about, being happy. No I didn’t envy him anymore.

                My mind was free again. A load had been lifted off my chest. I felt lighter. With the breeze from river Mahanadi setting in and the dusk approaching the surroundings looked surreal. I took out my phone...I pressed M and then I pressed E... Meghna... I pressed dial. I waited with bated breaths... someone picks up...”Hello”...it’s Meghna...my girl...”Hello Meghna”... ”Gourav... hi... how are you............