Benyamin - Goat Days

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.

Throughout the night, we ran like mad, as if the sky was on fire. There was no specific route to the masara. The vehicles that came there had made a sandy road. We ran beside it, so as to not lose our way. We didn’t know where that path led. Winding through sand dunes that stretched as far as the eyes could reach, that path disappeared into a distant hill slope. Beyond that point, I had only seen the dust raised by vehicles. Anyhow, that path would meet a highway somewhere, we were sure. But we had no idea how long it would take us to get there.