Dr. Amanullah was ready in about an hour.
The taxi pulled aside.
"Jehangir Nagar. Off Naipura" Boarding the vehicle he said. "What is your name, brother"
"My name is Gurucharan, the boys call me Guru and others Charan! Fantastic world, isn't it sir ? You can call me Charan, sir"
"I will call you Guru. You are the custodian of my life and limbs!"
Both of them had a hearty laugh.
"You are great sir. And a good joke"
"How far is this place. I am vaguely told that it would take an hour and a half to two."
"Easily two hours sir, if the road is clear. You know it is foggy. Risky to drive fast. You never know from where another vehicle or a stray cow appears before you have time to jam."
"Okey. Drive carefully. I am going to close my eyes for a while. Wake me up as soon as you arrive at the Public Health Centre, the PHC. I snore a bit, very loudly at times. I hope you wouldn't mind."
"Not at all, sir. Please make yourself comfortable. The road upto the PHC is good. Thereafter, so so. I will be careful to see that you are not disturbed."
It was an old Ambassador, a heavy one, with thick and comfortably soft upholstery. He locked the door firmly and sat up with his back against it stretching the legs on the seat. For a while the posture was comfortable. As the sleep took over, the body slowly slid down and he lay curled up on the seat with the knees planted into the stomach.
Guru kept the stereo on with a jingling Punjabi song, loud enough to sink the snoring but so soft as not to disturb the sleeping VIP. He would occasionally look behind, at times turning his long neck backwards and at other times through the clean rear view mirror, to make sure that the guest is properly set on the seat.
Dr. Amanullah did sleep well, though once or twice he half woke up to turn sides and tried to sit up, but then fell back to sleep and slid on the seat. He was still asleep when the car pulled at the PHC. Guru hesitatingly touched him to wake him up. The touch was more than enough to sensitize the old man. He got up.
Dr. agrawal, Annamma and Fatima were waiting for him. They greeted him with a 'Namashkar' as he was alighting from the vehicle, which he responded with folded hands.
He asked for the rest room to wash his face and get fresh.
As he returned, Rajju, the hotel-boy from the nearby teashop was there with steaming tea in kulhads (earthen cups), filled to the brim, neatly arranged on a big crumbled aluminium plate, that had already lost its lustre and blackened at the depressions, owing to oxidation. Some tea had spilt on the plate as he was running with the plate balanced on his little palm. There stood two glass tumblers closed with small plastic disks in the centre. The eight year old removed the disks and extended the plate to the visitor.
"Hot tea for you Saheb. Specially made for you with less sugar and more milk. Good for the chill. But it will go cold in no time. The wind is too chill."
Dr. Amanullah took one of the kulhads.
"Sir you may take the glass. The kulhads may not be clean. There will be dust, ash and other particles. They lay in the open after they are taken out of the kiln and may be contaminated by rats and insects. And by dirty hands which gather them."
Dr. Amanullah smiled and asked. "How clean are these glasses. Don't they use the same water over and over to rinse them. Are you sure if this water is clean by your medical standards. The kulhads are at least heat treated! And you know the rats and insects are more sensible than humans! They wouldn't go near them when they are warm, and certainly not if there is no food in them. They are more hygenic – I only wish that they are not dipped in the same dirty water"
"Saheb, doctor saheb told us you are a big doctor. So I washed the glass with fresh hot water and we dip the kulhads in clean water, they are kept in water to cool so that they do not break when we put boiling tea into them."
"God has bestowed us Indians with enormous amounts of immunity. Otherwise, with billions of germs cultured in this mud and filth, we would have all gone before we were born !!" That was Annamma. They had a hearty laugh, The little boy Rajju too.
On the way to Jehangir Nagar Dr. Amanullah asked:
"Tell me doc. What is the climate like in Jehangir Nagar"
"Sir, it is pretty bad. Half the population is against. They do not even allow us see the kids. They are locked inside and women sit on door steps blocking the entrance. All persuasion by these two ladies also failed."
"How about the rest?"
"Not so bad. One section of this half has already taken the drops. The other section – they have no objection as such. They think that there must be some sense in the protest by the Mohammadans. They are waiting for a resolution of the conflict."
"Are they violent"
"No. Not at all. Very peaceful. The problem is that they are adamant. No budging. There is so much unity among the people that everybody speaks the same language – and equally firm!"
"Did you talk to the religious heads in the area ?"
"The Imam of the local mosque was out of station. He had gone to Delhi or somewhere thereabout. Possibly, he would have returned by now. But he would not interfere."
"Any other leader, or group?"
"Yes sir. There is a tailor, Jalaluddin. He is the one behind the problem."
"But he doesn't come in the open and refuses to talk", Fatima commented. "He claims to be a medic, a traditional one, and says that this is all unnecessary and if a child becomes sick, he will treat it."
As they arrived, a small crowd gathered about the vehicle. Guru opened the door from outside pushing the people back. Dr. Amanullah came out and gave a smiling glance.
The Masjid was just ten feet away at the top of a small hillock. It could be approached by climbing some thirty steps. Dr. Agrawal went up to see if the Imam had returned.
The Imam was teaching a group of students. He offered to go down to meet Dr. Amanullah. In a few minutes they came down together.
The Imam, Nazimuddeen, was a stout, five foot six, middle aged person of pleasant disposition. He came running down embraced Dr. Amanullah in the traditional manner and kissed his hands.
"Doctor Saheb, I am very happy and proud that I could meet you and pay my respects. I am so grateful to Allah the immaculate. I have heard about you from my professor, Hazrat Mirza Saheb. He is all praise for you. I have also seen various reports in Ujala and Dainik Jagaran about your mission. Truly sir, you are doing a great job for the Umma (the community). We are proud of you sir."
"Alhamdu Lillah. (Praise be to the Lord). I am a small fry. I try to do what little I can. My job is only to remove the misunderstanding the people have and create awareness among them. Now tell me what is the problem here, that you are not able to solve."
"Sir, the problem is first ignorance. Second, the confusion created by the government people. Of course, some vested interests are also at work. On Saturday, I told them after the Maghrib prayer, what you said at the Naipura Industrial Area Masjid on Friday. Some of the merchants who were there and heard you after Juma told me all about your talk. I also told them about what Hazrat Mirza Saheb told about you. But these people are carried away by quacks and refuse to listen. It is mainly the women who resist and say that they would not allow their children to consume poison. The tailor, Jalaluddin, is the one who spreads the rumours."
"I think, I should talk to this gentleman"
"That might be good. But the grandson of Hakeem Rahmatulla Khan of Rampur wouldn't budge an inch" quipped the Mukri who was standing beside the Imam.
"Would you join me, Imam Saheb ?"
"No use sir, He is already up against me. He has asked the Jamath Council to dismiss me. If I go with you he will waste all your time charging at me. May be, you being an elderly person, he may listen to you."
"He is a nut. He refuses to listen to any one." Annamma interrupted. "Only Doctor Sa'b can tackle him."
"Let us see. In sha Allah, we will find a way. Doc. You be ready with your wares."
"Doctor Saheb, I will get you someone to show you the house"
" I will go with Doctor Saheb." The Mukri offered.
"That is better. A senior like you will be helpful to Dr. Saheb."
Winding through the narrow street they arrived at the tailor's shop.
"Jalaluddin Miya, Doctor Saheb has come to see you", the Mukri announced.
The tailor was extremely busy marking a certain piece of cloth, spread on the cutting table, with an irregular bit of marking chalk. The measuring tape hung from his neck. He took it, measured the side of the cloth, replaced it about his neck, and did some marking. This he repeated a number of times. His face looked so tense or confused that he measured the same side many times over. Dr. Amanullah was amused. With a smile he greeted him.
"Assalamo Alaikum, brother."
A few young men followed Dr. Amanullah and the team. They also entered the shop with him. They took position near the wall opposite the cutting table. There was a bench and two stools at the far end of the shop, which, actually, was the only room of the house where he lived. It doubled up as the shop and drawing room in the day and as bedroom in the night. A few partly veiled faces appeared at the door behind, which led to the interior, perhaps the kitchen, from where smoke, like thick locks of curly hair, was pumping into the shop. The smoke carried with it strong smell of burning wood and boiling herbs.
Quietly watching, for a while, at the busy work of the tailor, which was not progressing at all, Dr. Amanulla addressed him. "Son, won't you say Salaam to a visitor?"
Slightly startled at the word 'son' the tailor muttered "Wa Alaikum Salaam"
"Why don't you stop that futile exercise for a few moments and relax. You appear to be confused over the design of the garment you are going to make. I have come to seek an advice from you on some very important matter."
The fellow must have been confused. What advice this old man is going to ask from me, an illiterate quack!. He mused. He dropped the tape and the chalk on the table.
"Okey. You take your seats, on the bench or the stools. There is nothing else I can offer."
Dr. Amanullah and Dr. Agrawal sat on the bench. Others stood beside.
"Now, what is that you want from me ?"
"Tell me son, how are you, how is your family, children..."
"Oh ! We manage. We don't beg."
"You don't look to be a professional tailor, you look very much an amateur; or is it that you are creating some new designs?"
"A professional? If I were a professional tailor, I should not be stitching cholis and repairing knickers – I should have been making suits and sherwanis."
"I can understand your frustration. How can you make enough money from so small a job and maintain a large family..."
"Yes, it is difficult to keep going with two wives and eight children. That is why I have turned again to my ancestral profession of medicine."
"What medicine do you practice? Unani or Ayurveda?"
"It is something of everything. Mostly it is massage-oils for paralysis and medicines for bath (rheumatism). "
"That sounds great".
"You came to ask my advice. You are going on asking about me. Now spell out what advice do you need from me ?"
"Well, I must first know about your capabilities before I can ask for help. You must be from the family of Hakeem Rahmatullah Khan of Rampur, son of Hakeem Bahavulla Khan?"
"You know him" was the trembling reply, for he had never mentioned the name of his father to any one as he was better known as a vet for horses and cattle than as a medic.
"Yes. I used to know the old man before he died in the accident". He had read about the Hakeem Rahmatullah Khan's death years ago when he was in Delhi on some visit – Hakeem Rahmatullah Khan was the court physician to the Nawabs of Rampur and very famous for his treatment of 'unknown diseases'. The picture of the Hakeem given in the papers flashed across his mind.
"I still remember the way he wore his turban.... With a long tail twisted over a red turkey cap he looked like Kama Pasha, Ata Turk of Turkey"
" I am his grand son."
"No wonder you have acquired his paramount skills, genetically."
".....". Confusion. Confusion. 'This man knows my grand father so well. He might also know about my father.'
"You should have stayed back with your father and helped him. Poor man....."
That was a blind man's throw.
"I am sorry for that. I couldn't help him. In his last days....."
So his father is no more !
"Well, death follows every one like his own shadow. One day all of us will have to go under its shroud. But son, don't you think that to lay paralyzed or live half dead like vegetable is worse than death?. Your father....".
He was going to say 'was lucky that he left this world without being in bed for long..' The truth was but otherwise. He was paralyzed for years and died in distress. The words did evoke a strange feeling of regret in the tailor.
"Yes sir, you know, my father was in bed unable to move or talk for six years and I couldn't be there to serve him. I had gone to make a five star tailor of me and ended up as a repairer of old trousers! Worse than a wayside mochi (cobbler)!! He died a miserable death."
There was a need to cheer him up without ruining the favourable atmosphere created by the deep sentiments. His reaction to the immunization might have arisen out of his anxiety to protect his livelihood or it could be the subconscious expression of his vengence to fate that left his father paralyzed.
Dr. Amanullah was stealthly watching the uneasy movements of the women at the door step. It occurred to him that the women might pull him out of the 'trance' as their half hidden faces appeared to show a kind of disgust at the slow defeat of their man. He couldn't allow that to happen. He suddently turned full square towards the door and asked loudly,
"Daughter, your old family friend has come, a personal friend of your grand-father-in-law and of your father-in-law; won't you offer him a cup of tea?"
Jalaluddin had no alternative but to ask for tea for all. "Begum, get us some good tea. Borrow some tea dust and sugar from Sahebjan. I will pay him later."
'This is the time to strike'. Dr. Amanullah thought.
"Will all of you please stay outside for a while. I have some very personal matters to talk."
He gestured Annamma to go out and help the women. She was a clever woman and understood the message. When everybody went out she went upto the shop across the narrow street. She bought some tea dust and sugar and took it to the kitchen from behind.
Dr. Amanullah went upto the door and closed it. He asked the women to close the door and not to eavesdrop from behind it. That was also a signal to Annamma to take care of the ladies.
Jalaluddin was further confused.
Dr. Amanullah pulled a stool near to him. Sat on it and put his eyes into the eyes of his 'prey' – so to say – and said in a firm tone: "So you know, paralysis is horrible. Yet you do not want to save the children from it.?"
"Who said that ?" His voice was trembling
"That is what the people say..... You stopped them from giving drops to their children"
"No. I didn't. It is their own decision. Their wish and will. Who am I to stop them?"
"Then why do you refuse to give the drops to your children?"
"....."
"Come on! I need your explanation. I think you are trying to hide something. Somebody is behind you ... Who is threatening you from behind.... A terrorist? Who has asked you to play this dirty game?"
"None. By God, none."
He became uneasy and much nervous at the very suggestion of connecting him to a terrorist. Already there is a rumour that all Indian Muslims are agents of Pakistan and terrorists. Any such suggestion was more than enough to ruin him completely.
"There is nothing of that sort ..... absolutely nothing."
"Then why?"
"It is my wish ..... simply my will. I do not want my children to be given drops. That is all." He paused. "You have the forces with you. They have been threatening us of arrest and court and all that. You can have me arrested if that is your law."
"Listen, there is no question of police or law coming in here. You have, but, no right to play with the life of your children, and much less with the lives of other children. Think what happens if your children get Polio ?"
"I will treat them."
"Are you sure you can cure them."
"Of course that is my profession, traditional profession of my forefathers. I am confident"
"Have you ever spent at least one day learning how to treat paralysis .... If you had you wouldn't have run away from your father and left him to die a miserable death. You were never convinced of their treatment."
"........"
"Don't you know that there is no remedy for the paralysis caused by polio?"
"That is all humbug. I am treating many..."
"And they ....? "
"Improved...."
"Not yet cured fully ...?"
"That will take time."
"How long ? A life time or more ?"
"Look my son, Polio affects the brain and kills the brain cells which control the limbs. Your father suffered because his brain cells were damaged by high blood pressure – and none of your uncles could save him! Of course, you were not there and could not have saved him even if you were there. You may treat temporary paralysis like things caused by rheumatism. You might be able to recover partly damaged cells, perhaps. But you cannot revive the dead brain cells."
"I do not know all that. But I am confident of my treatment."
"Can we go to see one successful case, right now. I have the car and I will bring you back here."
"That is far away. Too far in Aligarh. You won't be able to return today."
He is getting caught. Both realized it.
"Have you registered as a medical practitioner, as a traditional doctor. Otherwise you can be prosecuted. You know that?"
He was more shaken now. He needed some consolation.
"That is not my worry. If you can show me at least one case with some recovery or progress I can straightaway get you registration as a Practitioner of Traditional Medicine."
"If he doesn't want to give the drops to his children why do you worry about it and force him. Leave him alone. The poor man is breaking down" came a sharp voice from inside.
So they were eavesdropping.
"My worry is not whether you will go to jail for practice without registration or not. But my worry is about the innocent children". He was trying to ignore the woman. But she wouldn't leave.
"They are our children. We know what is good for them and what is not." She persisted.
"Begum, children are Allah's trust with us. We have no right to gamble with their lives or to speculate on good and bad."
"Don't try to teach us religion. We also know a bit of it. If we do not want, it means we don't want, that is it. You should be going now, without bothering us anymore."
"I will leave now. But tell me my son, really how much confident are you about your treatment or medicine. I have already sent a report to the Minister for Health about the way the Sitapur fellow is cheating the people claiming that he is treating polio. He has already confessed that he is only keeping some kind of massaging going on as that is his only livelihood. People come to him after getting affected with polio and also otherwise. He makes them all polio cases. When there is improvement on non-polio cases he shows them to the people and they are made to believe him. He knows very well that polio cases cannot be treated. Now on he will advise people to give drops and whenever any cases come to him, he will report to the surveillance unit for conducting a test to ascertain if it is a case of polio or not. This report will help the doctors to immunize the children in the locality where the case is found."
"...."
"You can have the same option. You may treat non-polio cases and also help the polio victims keep maintain some hope, if that is a question of your livelihood. But you should encourage them for prevention with the drops. Mind you, the earning by cheating is haram. One day you will have to pay for it – in this world or the next, if you believe. If your claims were real you deserve a Nobel Prize – the world's greatest honour! Unfortunately your claim cannot be real until you invent something to re-generate the already dead brain cells in order to reactivate the limbs."
Dr. Amanullah got up and turned towards the door.
"Doctor Saheb, Please wait."
He stopped. Turned towards him. Jalaluddin took a deep sigh.
"I must tell you something in confidence"
"Sure, you can tell me any secret with confidence. It will not be divulged, I promise..."
"May be what I am doing is in one way wrong. I do not know." His voice was low. "But I cannot give this particular medicine they have brought here to my children. There is poison in it." He paused for a moment and then continued. "I don't care if they become paralyzed with polio; I don't care even if they become impotent, as some people say. But I want them to live ... I don't want them to die..."
"What do you mean ....?"
He paused again, now longer.
"Doctor Saheb, they brought medicines of two colours:
one pink and another yellow. They gave the pink one to all the Hindu children on the other side of the mosque, near to the temple. When they came to our side they took out the yellow one. They had enough pink ones, though. I wanted them to give the pink one to our children. But they refused and insisted on giving the yellow only. Then I stopped them and took my children away. You know my wife was the first in the queue with my three children. I know they want to kill us – all Muslims. You know what they have been doing in Kashmir, in Afghanistan and in Iraq –all on false pretexts. It is all an American conspiracy and that is what the Hindu Government wants - eliminate Muslims by all means."
Doctor Amanullah was stunned.
How can anyone influence this man when he is so much convinced, wrongly though, about something so sensitive. Jalaluddin was quiet for a while. Then he continued.
"I cannot say this in the open. There are many government spies around. In no time my family will be cleaned up."
"...."
" I was afraid that you will also force the children to take this poison. I was restless, I could not even hold the marking chalk firmly nor could I read the tape properly."
"No. No. Nothing of the sort. It is all your imagination and a misunderstanding."
"No Doctor Saheb. You are mistaken. Here I have the full bottles in two colours and empty ones. See for yourself."
He pulled open the drawer under the sewin machine table and handed to him the bottles he had collected.
"Look my son, the vaccine comes in different colours, depending on the company which makes it. I have seen pink, yellow and clear colourless vaccine. They are all the same and tested by the World Health Organization."
"No sir, you don't know. We know what's happening around us. They will play every trick to kill us. The best way to eliminate Muslims is to kill the children or make them impotent"
This is now a question of restoring confidence. In a potentially dangerous situation created by lack of mutual trust; any wrong move would only result in undesirable consequences. Silence prevailed while Dr. Amanullah was thinking about various possible solutions to the situation. He must convince Jalaluddin, and his wives, to give the drops to his children so that others could be encouraged to follow suite. At length, he asked, "Son, I will see if there is enough pink vaccine for all the children here, will you give the drops to your children if it is pink?"
"I will do whatever you ask me to do. Somehow I feel that as a Muslim yourself, you will not cheat us. If you do Allah will punish you. We must surrender to our fate anyway. But I don't think others will agree if it is different."
"Okey. If there is not enough of pink bottles, will you give the drops to your children if I give all the children same vaccine."
"Once again ? Will they agree ? Is it not bad ?"
"It is not at all bad. Let us seek their cooperation for we need peace in the village."
"Doctor Saheb, I am not a cheat or a bad man. I must also live honorably and take care of my children and look after the family. If you don't expose me and keep what I said, to yourself, I will appeal to the rest of the people to cooperate. But make sure that there is no discrimination."
"I will do that"
Jalaluddin sighed deeply, as if he had been relieved of a big burden. He embraced Dr. Amanullah. Tears overflew his eyes wetting his shoulders. He gently patted the man on his back. "Be happy, nothing will go wrong, unless Allah desires. Here there is absolutely no danger for you."
They separated. Wiped their eyes.
"Can we have some tea now. I am tired."
"Sure sir."
Jalaluddin opened the doors. He asked the people waiting outside to step in for tea. A large crowd had already formed outsides, anxiously waiting to know what was happening inside. Jehangir, the local leader was informed by somebody about the arrival of Dr. Amanullah and that he was in secret consultation with Jalaluddin. He had just arrived when the door was open. He was introduced to Dr. Amanaullah and the medical team. Dr. Amanullah talked to him about the situation caused by the colour of the medicine. He told him that the only way to solve the crisis is to get enough pink vaccine or request the parents of those children who had already taken the drops to allow administration of two more drops. He assured them that two more drops will not be harmful at all.
The boxes were opened to check the quantity of pink vaccine. There were only 10 vials and that would be enough only for less than 200 children. There were at least 500 to be served. Jehangir and Dr. Agrawal would talk to the people and try to convince them.
Before proceeding, Jehangir said, "Doctor, this our colony is a secular place. I would say, it is a prototype of our country. You can't find one like this anywhere else in the world. All of us had suffered together in the slums, we fought together for this land, we put up our houses together. Only for the convenience of prayers we made this lay out, which again, if you look around is contiguous and criss-crossing. We will remain one; sacrificce our comforts for the total benefit of all. So do not worry, we will sort out every issue, but will not allow anyone to break us into splinters, because if we break down, the whole country will break down."
By the time the tea was served, they returned with a large following of the children who had earlier been vaccinated, carried by their mothers and fathers.
The verandah of the Cooperative Society opposite the Masjid was quickly converted into a polio booth. Two long benches were brought, one of them from Jalaluddin's shop; a stool was brought in to keep the vaccine case and other paraphernalia. Dr. Amanullah invited the Imam and the priest at the local temple, Mr. Acharya, to pick up a bottle each and to give it to Annamma and Fatima. While they were opening the vials, Dr. Agrawal and Jehangir mixed the children in a jumble and arranged them in a line. The two priests and Jehangir picked up bottles at random.
The kids were only too happy to get a second service; and quite a few children above five also received two to three drops each, on demand. The parents were relieved that a great tension was diffused.
The CMO and his deputy had been worried about the situation. They were afraid that the whole thing might get out of hands, as they knew from the reports brought by the vaccination teams that people were badly agitated. They were consoled because of the confidence they had on Dr. Amanullah and Dr. Agrawal. They were trying to get some news over telephone and the mobile. All that they could gather was that negotiations were going on for the last four hours or more. They decided to drive up to the spot and see for themselves what was happening. Possibly, they had to obtain some external help to assist Dr. Amanullah, though they knew pretty well that he would not allow any kind of interference.
The two officers were spell bound when they came down their car and saw the kids in a file with wide open mouths ready to receive the nectar, as if it were. The cheer that filled the faces of every one was so refreshing that he couldn't help uttering: "Miracles do happen even in this age – Kali Yuga. "
"If only your vaccinators had used a little bit of imagination and tact, we would have avoided all this tension and apprehensions. Of course, we would have been deprived of rejoicing the miracle too!" – Jehangir was quick to remark.
CMO only smiled and said "May we join the fun by giving a few drops ourselves."
Annamma gave one vial to each of them and they squeezed rich doses into the laughing tender mouths.
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