Breaking the Fast

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was eleven o’clock in the morning when Zayed got into the train. It was late by three hours. Not surprising, considering it was a passenger train.  He was lucky he had been able to get reservation in a first class coach. Otherwise on a train like this, there were only second class coaches!

He made his way inside the coach, wiping his face with a handkerchief. It was the middle of May and Central India was reeling under a heat wave. It was Ramzan and he wondered how he was going to get the through the day.

“Must be over forty degrees Celsius” he thought to himself as he slid open the door of his compartment. The window shutters were down and it took him some time to get adjusted to the dimness.

From what he could make out, there seemed to be only an elderly couple inside. The man looked like he was  around seventy plus and the lady  a few years younger. He saw them both start when he entered the compartment.

He would have liked to think that it was because he had come in silently and startled them out of their reverie. But he knew what might have been the actual reason.

A tall, hefty young man with a beard and a skull cap was not a welcome sight in India nowadays. He smiled wryly at them, apologizing for the disturbance as he pushed his suitcase under the berth.

The train had started and he settled down on his seat, taking out a book from his satchel. He switched on the reading light and opened it to the page where he had left off.

“So, you read Amartya Sen” observed the elderly man.

Zayed nodded, looking up at him and wondering what was so surprising that he should be reading Amartya Sen?  Did the man think that someone who looked like Zayed should be either reading Urdu poetry or some Islamic propaganda material?

“I am Dr. Hemant Trivedi. I used to work for the railways as a senior medical officer” he said introducing himself.

“I am Dr. Zayed Khan. I teach Chemistry at the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research in Bhopal.” he said folding his hands in a “Namaste”.

“Oh…! So you are travelling to Bhopal” he asked

“Yes. And what about you Sir” Zayed asked politely.

“We will get off the train at Bhopal. We have a connecting train to Nagpur. Our son works there. We are going to visit him. He is recovering  from an accident he had a few months ago” he said.

“Oh! Hope it wasn’t serious” said  Zayed

“He and his wife were travelling by car on the highway and were hit by a truck. Thankfully nothing serious. They escaped with some minor injuries. My son had a fracture on his elbow” said Trivedi.

“It was Santoshi Mata who saved his life” murmured the lady, softly.

Zayed looked at her properly for the first time since he had come into the compartment. She was thin and frail looking. She had in her hand, prayer beads which she was moving as she read from a book on her lap.

“My wife is very religious and a big devotee of Goddess Santoshi Ma” said Trivedi with a laugh

“Oh there is nothing wrong with being religious Sir. Faith is what keeps the world going” said Zayed.

He himself had been raised by a spiritual mother so he understood the comfort that religion could bring during times of crisis.  His father had died while he had been young and it was Ammi, his mother who had brought him and his sister up single handedly. She had been a teacher in a school and education was something that was very important to her. Though Ammi was no more in the world today, she had ensured that both he and his sister Zara had been highly educated.

He observed Mrs Trivedi as she continued to look into her book and chant her prayer.  She looked drained and exhausted.

“Why don’t you lie down Madam? You  look  very tiered ” he said

She shook her head and continued with the silent chanting.

“She is fasting and praying. She has taken a vow to do this for sixteen Fridays as thanksgiving to Santoshi Ma for saving her son’s life. Today is the fifteenth Friday. She plans to spend these last two Fridays with her son and offer special prayers” said Trivedi.

“No wonder she is looking so drained” thought Zayed.

Fasting was not something that was easy. He knew how he was feeling on this hot day in the middle of Ramzan in May on a train that was moving like a snail.

“When does she break her fast?’  he asked

“In the evening after a bath and special prayers” said Trivedi with a sigh

“So what does she break her fast with?” asked Zayed

“Puri and Halwa. They have to be cooked in special vessels by someone who has had a bath and purified themselves. And under no circumstances should anything sour touch this food. Otherwise all her efforts would be in vain” said Trivedi with a hint of exasperation in his voice

Zayed admired the will power of this lady who was traveling through the summer, fasting and praying like this. Almost like his mother, who had kept her roza right up to the year she had died. But Ammi used to be careful about herself when she fasted. She did not travel during Ramzan and usually stayed indoors.

But he was worried about this lady. He did not know what she had eaten at the beginning of the day and he was very unsure about whether she would reach her son’s house in time to break her fast with all the accompanying rituals. The speed at which this train was travelling, they were likely to be delayed by another couple of hours by which time their connecting train would have departed.

“Geeta, are you alright?” he heard Trivedi ask.

The lady had closed her eyes and stopped chanting for some time. She nodded and waved him away.

Trivedi ignored her and took her wrist in his hand, feeling her pulse.

“Is everything alright Sir?” asked Zayed

“Unfortunately not. Her pulse is slowing down and her sugar levels must be dropping. She is already exhibiting signs of mild hypoglycemia” said Trivedi with a worried look.

“Can I get some medicines for her? There must be a pharmacy outside in this station where the train has stopped” said Zayed getting up.

“Medicines cannot be had on an empty stomach my boy. She has just had a handful of chana and some jaggery when we started in the morning” said Trivedi.

“Can she have water?” asked Zayed

“Well, I don’t think that is prohibited in the rituals but she has added on her own rules for fasting. So I really cannot say” said Trivedi helplessly.

Mrs Trivedi had in the meanwhile collapsed on her berth exhausted. Her husband took her book and prayer beads out away from her hands and put a pillow under her head.

“I do not think all this nonsense is required to show ones love for God. I have told her so many times but she is so stubborn!” said Trivedi angrily.

“You cannot reason with a mother when it comes to her concern for her child” said Zayed quietly. He remembered his own mother taking on the tuition classes for children in the evening after her day at school so that it could pay for the medical entrance coaching classes that she insisted his sister join. They had both felt that Ammi was burning her candle at both ends, but she was insistent that Zara go for those classes. In the end the extra classes had helped Zara get admission in the medical college. Well, that was quite a few years ago… he thought looking at the dry countryside from his window.

His watch told him it was four o clock now and yet they were at least an hour away from Bhopal. Mrs Trivedi was still asleep.  Dr. Trivedi was occasionally checking on her to see if she was alright.

“Sir, what time is your connecting train” asked Zayed

“Well, it must have left by now” said Trivedi sounding exhausted

“What do you plan to do? The next train you can take is not before eight o clock. Shouldn’t you inform your son? He will be worried ” said Zayed.

“I have already sent him a text message that we will be only arriving tomorrow morning .. I will  see if we can  get some accommodation at the retiring room at the station till we board our connection at night. ” said Trivedi.

“But what about Madam’s special rituals around breaking her fast” asked Zayed

“Oh, either she compromises on her rituals or gets ready to buy a ticket to the next world. She will have to eat whatever is available at the station or outside. One cannot question the antecedents of one’s meals when travelling f” he said angrily.

“But you said she has followed this ritual for fourteen Fridays. She will feel terrible to compromise at this stage” said Zayed gently.

He knew that struggle of wanting to give up fasting by the end of Ramzan and overcoming it by sheer will power. Only those who fasted knew how important it was to complete it the way it should be.

But he understood Dr. Trivedi’s helplessness. An old man travelling with a sick wife, he was worried something terrible would happen to her enroute. How was one to balance health concerns with religious convictions?

It was then that he had this idea. He asked Dr. Trivedi whether it would be alright if he could organize the type of food required by Mrs Trivedi to break her fast.

“I assure you I will see that all requirements of purity are met with” said Zayed.

Mrs Trivedi seemed to suddenly wake up when this exchange was going on between Zayed and her husband.

“It has to be cooked in vessels in which no impure food has been cooked. The person cooking it should have had a bath and the stove cleaned before the cooking. There should be no hint of anything sour in the food or in any of the vessels in which it is being cooked” she said feebly before closely her eyes again.

“Don’t worry Madam, I will ensure that the food is cooked as you have said” he assured as he pulled out his phone and walked out into the corridor.

Trivedi looked at Zayed as he was going out wondering what this boy was planning to do. Whatever it was, his intentions seemed to be good and that was all that mattered.

He himself was quite exhausted now. There were some sandwiches in the food basket with them but he was not feeling like eating anything either. He lay down next to his wife and closed his eyes.

The train was pulling into Bhopal when he felt Zayed shaking him awake gently.

“Sir, I would suggest you and Madam get down and go to upstairs to the retiring room while I get a porter to bring your luggage. Then Madam can bathe and complete her prayers by which time her food should be here” said Zayed.

“Oh thank you! Are you sure there is vacancy in the retiring room at the station?” asked Dr. Trivedi getting their things together.

“I spoke to a friend whose cousin is the station master” said Zayed.

Mrs Trivedi was groggy and feeling very weak. Zayed held her firmly and helped her out of the coach. He then got a porter and organized their luggage to be transported to the retiring room.

“Thank you” said Dr. Trivedi to Zayed as they walked into the room. It was nearly 5.30 in the evening now and he realized that Zayed who himself was fasting must be getting reading for his Iftar.

“Please go for your prayers and break your fast’ he said looking at Zayed.

“I will do that once Madam’s food is here” he said.

“Okay then please sit here with me” said Dr. Trivedi settling down on the bed in the room with a sigh.

Mrs. Trivedi was already in the bathroom taking a shower before her prayers.

It was about five minutes later that there was a knock on the door.

“I think her food is here” said Zayed walking towards the door to open it.

Dr Trivedi looked outside wondering who it was that had brought his wife’s so called pure, unpolluted fast breaking food.

What he saw surprised him. There stood at the entrance to the room a young woman with her head covered in a hijab, carrying with her a cane basket.

“This is my wife Fauzia. I had requested her to prepare the food the way Madam had instructed” he said ushering her in.

Dr. Trivedi watched with tears in his eyes as Fauzia opened the basket and took out leaf containers with food inside.

“Uncle, this basket has puris inside it. I fried them in ghee made out of cow’s milk. And those two leaf bowls have sooji halwa. Please don’t worry, I bought new cooking vessels and cleaned our gas stove before cooking this food on it” she said smiling at him.

“Sir, I think it is best we leave now. You can tell Madam that I had organized the food for her from a temple” said Zayed pulling Fauzia towards the door.

“Wait! Where are you both going?” asked a soft voice.

They turned round to see Mrs Trivedi coming out of the bathroom. She was in a fresh sari and her hair was wrapped in a towel.

“Aunty, I am sorry, I could not reach any of my Hindu friends who could cook your food. So I followed Zayed’s instructions and cooked it myself” said Fauzia with tears in her eyes.

“And after cooking this holy food, my son and daughter in law want to leave without sharing it with me?” she asked looking at Zayed and Fauzia accusingly.

“Madam we have our Iftar too” said Zayed quietly

“Sure. I think there is enough space in this room for all of us to finish our prayers and break our respective fasts” said Mrs Trivedi as she took out her puja items and arranged them on a stool next to the bed.

It was nearly seven when they all sat down together for a meal. Puris and Halwa accompanied by milk from the railway canteen on the ground floor.

“Religion is not bad after all” said Dr. Trivedi, the agnostic to the three believers.

“Sir, it depends on how one wants to use it” said Zayed with a smile.

Mrs Trivedi smiled at him. It had taken a complete stranger to convince her husband about something that she had not managed in the fifty odd years they had been married.

She was grateful to her beloved Santoshi Ma for fulfilling her desires. She would be spending the next Friday fast with Ashok and Pooja and this Friday she had been blessed with the company of Zayed and Fauzia.

( Based on  a true story narrated to me by a friend. I have taken some creative license which I hope she will pardon)