Benyamin: Goat Days

‘Off you go, dog!’ Hakeem cried in anguish. ‘Have you got us out to be killed? Is this what you had promised us? We were better off in the masara. Even the arbab’s torture was not as bad as this. I can’t! I am tired. Let me die if I have to. You can save yourself if you want.’

I saw Ibrahim Khadiri’s eyes getting wet for the first time during that journey. Helplessly, he raised his hands to the heavens. Then he knelt down and prayed.

The desert was boiling. I felt as if I was lying in Allah’s frying pan. Still, that rest after the long trek brought me relief. Initially I found the heat unbearable. But after lying like that for some time, I got used to it. By then, the sun, the desert and I were equally hot. What remained distinct was the insatiable thirst. But there was no way to quench it. Even the last drop of spittle in my mouth had dried long ago. I beat my breast and cursed my foolishness for not taking a little water in a bottle or some vessel before we ran away. We had left at a moment when all sense had deserted us. Now we had to face the consequences. What else to do?

We realized that what Ibrahim had said was true. The longer we rested, the more tired our bodies became and the more stubbornly they refused to revive. Darkness entered my eyes. I became dizzy. I vomited twice. After a while, Hakeem also vomited. Ibrahim removed his clothes and tried to make some shade for us with them. But that too was inadequate. He tried to raise us up and make us sit. But we just flopped down. I slipped into a deep sleep. Hakeem and I lay there like two stray dead bodies. If he wanted, Ibrahim could have deserted us and found a route to escape. But he kept watch over us till we opened our eyes when it was finally night.

My throat was aflame when I woke up. But where was the water to soothe it? Allah, how much water have I wasted back home! Now I am begging for a drop of it. I realize the greatness of my homeland. Is this, Allah, the punishment for that waste? Forgive me!

Water. I realized how precious it is.

Writers in every language and religion have seen the desert as a space for enlightenment and spiritual revival. There are writings that suggest life in the desert can create an explosion of knowledge in the brain. But the desert did not revive me in any way. I lived in the desert for more than three years. Then I tried crossing it. All through, the desert gave me nothing but grief and frustration. Maybe the desert gave spiritual knowledge to those who came seeking it. I didn’t set out to look for anything, so I got trapped. It must have decided that it had nothing to offer me.

With no idea of where we were going, we wandered in the desert for another two days. We didn’t get anywhere. Nobody saved us. By then we were absolutely tired. The blisters on our feet from walking on the hot sand burst. The swelling had gradually spread to our knees. Unbearable burning. Pain. It must have been about afternoon that day when Hakeem, who had been walking quietly, suddenly rushed forward, shouting ‘Water! Water! Allah, water!’

I stared fearfully in the direction in which he was running. I guessed, even with my little experience of travelling in the desert, that it was a mirage. I called him back. But, without heeding my cries, Hakeem ran forward shouting like a madman. Ibrahim and I ran after him and caught him. By then he was frothing at the mouth. Blood was dripping from his nose. I wiped his face with my clothes and we forced him to sit down. He told me he was feeling dizzy. After some time he began to make strange gestures. Suddenly he sprang up like a person who had contracted rabies and ran away.

We ran after him. After running for a while, he fell down exhausted. Then he began to cry very loudly. He pushed us away when we went to catch him and began to eat hot sand. Although Ibrahim and I tried to stop him, he shrugged us off with demonic strength and kept eating sand. Then, he started vomiting. There was nothing Ibrahim or I could do. We were helpless. After vomiting for some time, Hakeem began to spit blood. He writhed in the sand like a beaten snake. His eyes bulged out. More blood began to ooze from his nostrils and mouth along with froth and foam.

‘Ibrahim, do something! My Hakeem will die now,’ I cried. ‘Allah, my Lord, Lord of all the worlds, Let nothing happen … Let nothing happen to my Hakeem! Please protect him,’ I prayed beating my breast.

I looked at the heavens. The flaming sun met my eyes.

I went to Ibrahim again, crying, ‘Do something Ibrahim …’ He sat unmoving and in my anguish I hit him and kicked him and spat on him.

‘We can’t do anything but leave Hakeem to Allah’s care,’ Ibrahim cried. I had never seen Ibrahim look so helpless.

I was shattered. I sank down, closing my eyes. I couldn’t watch Hakeem’s convulsions. His grunts and shudders lasted for a little while. Slowly, I opened my eyes and glanced at him. He was lying there staring at me. He was trying to say something. I ran to him. ‘Dear Hakeem, don’t worry!’ I took him into my lap. His eyes moved once. Then slowly they became still. A pall of darkness spread over my brain. A deathly fatigue overcame my body. I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes, I was hanging from Ibrahim Khadiri’s shoulder like a dead body. The desert was blowing a furious dust storm. Even taking a step forward was difficult. Still, Ibrahim was carrying me on his shoulders and running fast. I couldn’t understand why he was running like that. But I was so exhausted that I couldn’t get down.

I looked around me as I hung on. There was some movement behind the sand dune. Wondering what it was, I looked carefully. The movement wasn’t behind the sand dune, it was the sand dune that was moving. Like a wave comes from the far corner of the sea, a sand wave was moving in from the desert. And behind that came other huge waves. I felt that we were not standing in a desert, but on a beach. The topography was constantly changing before my eyes. The sand dunes would rise up and fall down and vanish into thin air.

‘Shut your eyes tightly,’ Ibrahim screamed. He put me down and hugged me close. ‘Don’t move!’ We stood there embracing each other. Within a few moments, the fringe of a wave came and touched us. I could feel the hot sand burning my face, body and hands. I don’t know how long we had to remain like that in that cave of sand. When I was sure the wind had subsided, I slowly opened my eyes and looked. Embracing me was a sand figure! There was only dust in the air. I couldn’t see anything ahead. Sand everywhere. We were almost waist deep in sand. More than that, what amazed me was the fact that the sand mountain in front of me had moved ahead. As if a map had been redrawn in front of us. A mountain like that one have buried my Hakeem forever.

Somehow Ibrahim dragged himself out of the sand dune and he pulled me out too. He was about to put me on his shoulder and walk when I wriggled out of his grasp. ‘Ibrahim, abandon me here and save yourself. I don’t want to go anywhere without Hakeem. I don’t want to escape. We came together. I can’t go home without him. I can’t face his ummah’s questions or meet his sister’s eyes. Leave me here. I want to go with him. I want to go with him!’

I tried to rush towards the sand mountain that had buried Hakeem’s body. But Ibrahim grabbed me and forced me on to his shoulder, ‘Allah didn’t send me to that masara to abandon you like this. I couldn’t save Hakeem, but I will permit you to die only after I die.’

I didn’t have the strength to resist him. I hung on his shoulder like a wilted plant. I sobbed like a small child. Carrying me, he walked through that sand forest. Thirst, fear and hunger clung to us. I could feel my own heart beat. As moments passed it grew fainter. Even my breath became faint. My tongue felt heavy, as though I could never again move it. The world grew dark and moved around me. Like steam, heat came out of my skull. I began to lose control of my senses. I realized that I was becoming like Hakeem in his final moments. I don’t have much time left in this world. It was time to say goodbye. I tried to remember all those who loved me and those whom I loved. Not many human faces came to my mind. Ummah, Sainu, Hakeem … But the goats in my masara filled my mind’s eye one after another. Nabeel, Aravu Ravuthar, Pochakkari Ramani, Marymaimuna, Indi Pokkar, Njandu Raghavan, Parippu Vijayan, Chakki, Ammini, Kausu, Raufat. Maybe that was because those goats had loved me more than humans did. All of them bade me goodbye.