by: Taj Begum Renzu
(Taj Begum Renu was born on July 13, 1931, in the Khanayar neighborhood of Srinagar. Passed away in 2015. She received education until Adeeb Kamil. In 1954, she was appointed as the chairperson of Radio Kashmir’s program for women, which sparked her interest in writing in Kashmiri. Her first Kashmiri story, “Yeli Rav Khasi,” was published in the magazine “Kogposh.” Her first collection of stories titled “Alav” was published in 1970. The author was awarded the first prize by the State Cultural Academy in 1971 for this collection. She had a special inclination towards the literary movements of the state. She officiated herself with the ‘Kashmir Cultural Organization as its Vice President for a couple of years.
Taj Begum Renzu’s ‘Under the Dome of Dargah ’ is a deeply emotive story about the destitute female beggars who haunt holy shrines. It tries to analyze their past and why they are the way they are. They remain victims of exploitative patriarchy. The story invokes readers to see individuals beyond their immediate self.)
Under the Dome of Dargah
It was just a pleasant morning. I heard some noise and I woke up from my sleep. Yahoo Pagal had created a hubbub under the dome of the shrine. Holding a stick in his hand, he was moving back and forth. He was hurling abuses at himself and other madmen. Some poor mad women had taken refuge behind the doors of the shrine. Some were peering at Yahoo with eager eyes from under the chinar tree. Yahoo had caught two madmen and was beating them.
“Why didn’t I tell you to ask for money instead of bread?”
“Why, didn’t I tell you to sit far away instead of sitting closer?”
“Why, didn’t I tell you to face the direction of the Qibla?”
The roaring voice of Yahoo Pagal (lunatic) was draining the life out of these madmen. Not a word came out of their mouths. How could it be? Compared to the other madmen lying on the steps of the shrine, Yahoo was quite aggressive and tall. Something had happened to his mind. He believed that he was the leader of all these madmen and madwomen, lunatics etc. and he ruled over them in whatever manner. All the madmen were afraid of him. When Yahoo went out for a stroll in the morning, they would save a small portion of the alms they received for Yahoo. When Yahoo made noise and raised dust in the afternoon, looking at the sky with terrifying eyes, he would return and start showering random abuses at the shrine’s courtyard. He would give abuses to everyone in various ways. The Governor, the Governor’s daughter, the ruler, the ruler’s mother, and who knows who else he would remember. He would make his imaginary opponent his target and say, “Hey, go away, go to the ruler, what will he do to me? Have I borrowed something from someone? Go, you scoundrel, go to the Governor…”
And in this way, from the moment Yahoo left the steps of the shrine in the morning until he returned in the afternoon, he kept emitting abuses. There was one particular abusive phrase that was repeated over and over again: “The Governor’s daughter… the ruler’s mother…” As soon as these words reached the ears of the madmen, they would immediately sit together. Yahoo would arrive and sit on top of all of them.
Abuses would come out of his mouth like foam. The worn-out shoes that were usually up to his knees with disappeared soles, would be taken off. He would place the stick against the wall and remove the torn (long coat). During this time, he would continue to spew abuses “Ruler! Ruler!! Why don’t you go to the ruler? The ruler’s mother…”
“Hey, you beautiful madwoman!” After giving twelve abusive phrases, he would say to the beautiful madwoman, “Why, do you just sit here and make your thighs fat, why don’t you do any work?”
From the other side, she would also start: “You fat-bellied beggar! Why are you spewing abuses? Has the time for eating arrived?”
“Hey, wife of the food! Why are you babbling like that?
The girl named Sundar Pagli had a defect in her legs. Therefore, she hobbled and stumbled to collect food for Yahoo. She went to each one to gather the remaining portions, saying, how long should I gather food for Yahoo? I am fed up.”
“Seems like you’ve started liking him,” another girl said to Sundar with a sarcastic tone.
“Shut up, you bitch! Otherwise, I’ll break you into pieces right here and now,” Sundar said in an agitated voice.
Sundar Pagli collected the saved portions for Yahoo from all the lunatic people: bread crumbs, green chilies, dried rice, a little vegetable, leftover rice, and apple chutney. She gathered all these ingredients and slammed them in front of Yahoo with a jerk, saying, “Take it, you lazy goon! You won’t work even an ounce.”
“Hey, you bitch of a prince, there’s too much salt in the vegetables,” Yahoo exclaimed while eating.
Angrily, Sundar replied, “Your father has prepared the vegetable today.”
Upon hearing this, all the bonkers burst into laughter.
On this uneven staircase of the shrine, the number of these lunatic men and women should be around twenty. Some are from the city, while others are from rural areas.
Urban madmen consider themselves superior to the rural ones. The madwomen sleep in a room specially made for women, known as “Noorkhana.” The remaining madmen sleep in another room located a short distance away from Noorkhana. Their routine begins when the Mullah recites the first call to prayer. As soon as they hear the call, they wake up from their sleep and quickly sit on both sides of the main staircase of the shrine in a queue. The visitors to the shrine give them alms. They continue to sit there until around nine in the morning, and their hustle and bustle is mostly like this:
“Give something to this helpless one in the name of God.”
“Give something to this blind one, Baba, and God will bless you.”
“Hey brother, give something to this widow, God will give you a lot.”
“Hey sister, give something to this disabled person; I’ll give you my blessings.”
Basically, until 9 o’clock, there is noise on the threshold of the shrine, and after that, everyone quietly counts his earnings, avoiding the gaze of others. These insane souls tie their earnings in a bundle, which remains stuck to their backs most of the time. Then they leave the shrine and go begging in the surrounding neighborhoods, returning by noon. The insane souls who make earnings do not keep it with them, which is surprising. Whatever they accumulate during the day, they hand it over to the caretaker of the shrine, Ahad Sahab, in the evening. Although Ahad Sahab’s job is to take care of the shrine, he also keeps a record of these insane people. The insane people have immense faith in him, and they present everything they earn to Ahad Sahab. He has a register for them. In the evening, he comes out to the courtyard with a pen, and all the insane people gather around him. Each insane person presents their earnings and Ahad Sahab counts and writes them in the register. Every insane person happily gives two or four annas to Ahad Sahab for maintaining their accounts. Only God knows how much Ahad Sahab writes in each person’s account, maybe only Ahad Sahab himself knows. Each insane person makes around sixty to eighty annas per day. But they wonder why Ahad Sahab only credits thirty or forty annas when he counts the coins. If any insane person complains, Ahad Sahab angrily says, “O, so am I a thief? If you don’t trust me, then why do you come to me?” While saying this, Ahad Sahab would turn red like a chili. The other insane people scold the complaining insane person. Ahad Sahab angrily throws away the pen and register. The poor insane people start kissing his feet and finally convince him through persuasion. In completing this virtuous work, Ahad Sahab earns an income ranging from five to seven rupees per day, they say. After every fortnight, when a relative of any of these insane people comes to the shrine, he would ask Ahad Sahab for money and collect it on behalf of these lunatics and remit it to their homes.
One day, a madwoman couldn’t resist herself. She rebelled against Ahad Sahab’s mischief and went to deposit her earnings with Nanabai’s wife, who lived nearby. Nanabai’s wife felt pity on the madwoman and agreed to accept her beggarly coins and open an account for her. When Ahad Sahab learned about this, he turned red but didn’t say anything directly to the madwoman.
One day, there was some commotion at the lunatic asylum. People eagerly rushed towards the asylum. After a while, a man came out smiling, covering his ears, and started repenting, “Even if the sky were to fall in this age of darkness, it would be insufficient.” Fact of the matter was that a madwoman had been caught red-handed with her lover. Two madwomen were giving testimony. This madwoman was the same one who had stopped depositing her money with Ahad-Sahab and switched to Nanabai’s wife. After this incident, no one ever saw the madwoman at the shrine’s threshold again.
On some days, when these madwomen have a quarrel among themselves, the entire neighborhood has to come to intervene and pass on a decision. This conflict is even more intense than tribal invasions. Seven or eight madwomen on one side and seven or eight on the other. Some wield sticks, while others ring drums. Some jump like monkeys, while others bleat like goats. One day the fight ends, and the next day it starts again.
One day, a beautiful madwoman lost her mind, “God will punish the one who stole my belongings. He will vomit. He will be destroyed, remember that…”
Unable to tolerate the other madwoman sitting under the chinar tree, responded in the same tone, “Wretched woman, why are you cursing everyone? Curse the one who stole your things.”
“Why is your heart quivering, You! If I don’t curse, what should I do? Someone has taken away my half a plate of rice.”
“Enough! curse only the one who stole the rice.”
“Oh, you spoilt bitch! It looks like you’re the one who has stolen the plate. Sundar just said this much that Mogal got up from her place and went straight to Sundar and pounced upon her. She grabbed Sundar’s hair tightly and started pulling it. Sundar screamed. All the mad ones gathered. Those who were on Sundar’s side attacked Mogal, and those who were on Mogal’s side attacked Sundar. And thus, a small battle ensued. After a while, both Sundar and Mogal moved with their respective parties. Sundar and her supporters sat on the steps of the bathroom, while Mogal and her supporters sat under the chinar tree. In the courtyard of the shrine, where both groups clashed, there were piles of hair. Cups were broken, combs were broken, many dolls were torn, and many sticks were broken into pieces. The whole neighborhood crowded to see this battle. Sundar’s supporters raised their voice sitting under the chinar tree, ‘Rice thief! rice thief, rice thief!'”
“Mogal’s rage rose. She shouted, ‘Shut up, you with a foul mouth! Yahoo’s woman ! Yahoo’s keep! Yahoo has come, oh, Yahoo has come!”
After that, the scene that appeared was worth seeing. A crazy woman stood up and wrapped a torn sheet around her waist. Taking another mad woman with her, she slowly started increasing the steps. She wanted to show that in the same way, the Pathans had chased away the Mogal . One of Mogal’s women hung a piece of cloth on top of the stick and started rotating it, saying, ‘Son of a bitch, oh, son of a bitch, oh!'”
This verbal battle would probably have lasted for a longer time had the voice of Yahoo didn’t reach everyone’s ears: “Governor’s… Ruler’s mother…”
And in the same way, these lunatic people spend their lives on the threshold of the shrine. If any of them falls sick, God Himself is their guardian. Instead of showing compassion towards them, other lunatics keep their distance. Perhaps, when poverty reaches its extreme, the zeal for compassion also dies within humans. Unaware of the blessings of humanity, these wretched creatures live their lives on the threshold of the shrine, like parasites. If one of them ever dies, the people of the neighborhood gather money and fulfill the final rites, and the money that was tied to their waist is put in the donation box of the shrine. One day, when a madman died, four hundred rupees were found tied to his waist. This news spread like wildfire in the surrounding areas, and people ran not to see the unfortunate person but to see those rupees, as if the appearance of those rupees was different.
Out of these crazy people, some of them frequently visit me. One day, three or four of them came together. I ordered tea for them. In the course of conversation, I came to know that three of them had lost their husbands and one had been divorced by her husband.
“Alright then, Ashmi, tell me, how was your husband?”
Ashmi lowered her head and became shy.
“Look, you swear at him.” I asked again.
“He was a landlord,” Ashmi said shyly.
“Okay, then what happened to him?” I asked with interest in her story.
Ashmi raised her head. Tears were flowing in her eyes. “He was bitten by a black snake.”
The second lunatic woman was the darling of her parents in her time. After her parents’ death, her uncle married her to a sixty-year-old man. After some time, she became pregnant. Due to some negligence in the delivery operation, she became partially paralyzed. Later, the baby also passed away, and so did her husband. She went to her brother. Her sister-in-law took advantage of her. Finally, to escape from this exploitation, she came to the shrine.
The third mad woman had been married three times, and all the three husbands had died. She had no children. When her third husband passed away, her stepbrothers forcefully grabbed all her land and property. She had no support even in her parental home, and eventually, she also reached this shrine. The story of the fourth mad one was quite pathetic. Her fourth husband divorced her because she didn’t know how to make tea. One day, her husband humiliated her in front of the village patwari (revenue officer) due to this reason. Without any consideration or hesitation, he kicked her out of the house. Her parents had already passed away, and she had no one in her parental home, so she had no choice but to seek refuge in the shrine.
In this way, each of these lunatic people’s life is intertwined with a poignant story. Many came and many went. An entire lifeless and strange world resides on the threshold of this shrine.
Translated into English by Dr.Shiben Krishen Raina
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