Visitors from the village

"M a!" Rajkumar came running into the kitchen,
breathless. 
"What's the matter, Raja?" asked his mother,
adding ghee to the potato curry she was making. 
"You know, Ma!" Raja gasped, "Ahmed has come
from the village." 
"Ahmed! Will he be staying with us?"
"Don't you know? His father has been posted here. 
They will stay in Sarai Chowk."

Raja's words were interrupted by a tap on the door 
and a tall boy of about fifteen came in.
"Bansi!"
Bansi greeted Ma and Raja. "I came along with 
Rafi Saheb to the city. Thought I'd see you all and the
city too." 

Bansi, who had lost his parents when he was only
six, had been brought up by Raja's grandmother in the
village. After the old woman's death, the family had
moved to the city. But Bansi had stayed on in the
village with the Maulvi Saheb. 
As they were exchanging pleasantries, there was
another knock. "That must be Ahmed," said Bansi.
"Ever since he came he's been dying to meet you
Raja." 

Raja ran out to meet his friend. "Look who's come,

Ma!" he cried, leading Ahmed in. Ahmed was carrying

a basket of mangoes for the family. 

Ma was happy to see Ahmed. She smiled warmly at

him and, putting down the spoon with which she was 

stirring the potato curry, went up and hugged him. 

* * *

Raja and Ahmed talked and talked and Raja 

promised to show both Bansi and Ahmed the city.

As Id drew nearer, the three friends made plans to 

celebrate the festival together. Bansi, being the eldest,

was the chief advisor. 

One day, two weeks before Id, the three boys were

standing outside Ahmed's house, talking about the new

achkan* Ahmed was going to wear for the festival. 

"Ahmed!" called his mother.

"Coming, Ammi!" 

Ahmed ran inside for a few minutes and came out

wearing a broad smile. "Raja, Bansi, come with me,"

he said mysteriously. And to all his friends' questions

he would say no more as he led them to the bazaar, to 

the old tailor's shop.

"Masterji, these are my two friends that Abba** was 

talking about. Take their measurements for achkans."

And, despite all Raja and Bansi's protests, the tailor 

swooped down on them with his measuring tape and

took their measurements. 

Id was very close now. One afternoon, Raja and

Bansi were returning from Ahmed's house. 

"Raj Kumar!"

That was Chaman, a local hoodlum. He wore a 

fierce moustache and made a living by dubious means.

As the boys stopped, he came up to them, 

staggering. 

"Who's this boy?" he asked, pointing at Bansi. His

breath reeked of strong liquor. 

"O, this is Bansi Bhaiya, who is visting us from the

village." 

Bansi extended his hand, but Chaman did not shake

it. "I thought he was also a Muslim," he said. "These

days you are so lost in your Muslim friend." 

"You mean Ahmed," Raja interrupted him.

"I don't know his name. The one living in Sarai 

Chowk".

"But he is my best friend."

"Your best friend? A Muslim boy?"

Raja was too stunned to reply. But Bansi retorted 

sharply, "So what! We're like brothers."

Chaman laughed unpleasantly. "Just you wait. 

We're not going to let the residents of Sarai Chowk

pass through Hari Ka Bada on their way to the Idgah." 

"And why not?" Raja exploded.

"Will the Muslims allow the Hindus to take their 

Ram Naomi procession through Machli Bazar?" asked

Chaman, with evident glee. 

Raja and Bansi wasted no more time arguing with

Chaman's taunts and made their way home. 

"The drunken sod!" murmured Bansi.

"Disgusting fellow!" Raja supplemented. 

Back home they told Raja's father what Chaman

had said. 

"It's a pity," he said sadly, "that a handful of

jooligans like him should go about causing trouble

and creating misunderstanding. Right behind our

house, in that tumbledown, rickety old hutment, something

fishy is going on. I wonder what they are up to."

Raja and Bansi spent several sleepless nights trying

to find out what was going on in the hutment.

Crouching close to a window, they could hear the 

clinking of glasses and whispered plans. One voice they

could easily make out was Chaman's. 

Finally Bansi was able to piece together their plan.

Chaman was to knock at the door of a street vendor

called Bhadru, the night before Id. Bhadru would open

the door and lead Chaman to his terrace. There on the

terrace was to be hidden a sack filled with garbage

which was to be thrown down on the procession going

to the Idgah the next morning. 

Bansi felt his stomach lurch as he thought of what

would follow. Such an insult would surely be followed

by communal riots. 

'I won't let it happen,' Bansi vowed silently,

thinking of his friend Ahmed whose father had so

lovingly had new achkans stitched for Ahmed's two

friends in celebration of Id. 'I won't let it happen!' 

He went to the temple and bought a huge basketful

of flowers. These he filled into a large sack which he

hid under his bed. At 3 a.m., when they were sure the

household was fast asleep, Bansi and Raja crept out of

the house with the sack of flowers. Noiselessly they

made their way through Hari Ka Bada to the far end

where Bhadru lived. It was a still night. Somewhere

near by a dog barked. 

"Now," whispered Bansi. "I'm going up. Pass the

sack to me when I signal." 

He climbed up the lamppost near Bhadru's house

and swung himself over the edge on to the terrace.

Just in time. Footsteps sounded on the street. Bansi

ducked and Raja froze in the shadow of the lamppost. 

His heart was thudding as the footsteps died away.

Then Bansi took a rope from his pocket and tossed 

one end down to Raja. Quickly, Raja tied the sack to it

and Bansi hauled it up to the terrace. Untying it, he

replaced the sack of garbage with the sack of flowers. 

Then he lowered the garbage sack down to Raja. In a

moment Bansi himself followed, sliding down the

lamppost. The boys hurried home and slipped back

into the house. 

But they could not sleep. Up again before sunrise,

they bathed and, dressed in kurta and pajama, went for

a walk through Hari Ka Bada, past Bhadru's house,

into Sarai Chowk. The place was bustling with activity.

The whole chowk wore a festive look. 

After they had looked around a bit, they hurried

home, donned their new achkans and waited for

Ahmed. 

Raja's parents looked fondly at the three boys.

"How smart they look!" exclaimed his mother. 

"And how fond they are of each other! Just like

brothers!" 

The boys then headed towards Bhadru's house on

their way to the Idgah. 

The Id procession too was slowly wending its way

towards the Idgah. As it passed by Bhadru's house,

there was a sudden commotion at the far end. 

Chaman, twirling his moustache, stood leaning

against a lamppost nearby. His drink-sodden mind was

picturing a bagful of garbage being emptied on the

festive crowd. 

Instead, a rain of rose petals bathed the processionists.

The fragrance of rose filled the air.

"Hurrah!" someone shouted and the crowd took

up the cry. 

A dumbfounded Bhadru glared down from the

terrace. But no one saw him. 

Raja, Bansi, and Ahmed were busy hugging one

another.