Of Smokeless Fire by A.A. Jafri (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

they stood way above the law of the land. They guarded their self-made rules and broke the decrees for their benefit at every turn. And when Mansoor saw all this, he just shook his head.

General Behroopia rejected intellectual pursuits and cultural values and discarded the rich Sufi tradition that had made the country more humane and tolerant. The display of wealth reached a new altitude, and the age of materialism approached a new normal. His brand of tyranny paled the autocracy of General Dundda.

*

To his surprise, Mansoor found teaching to be a satisfying experience, and he threw himself into it with all his energy and enthusiasm. He busied himself with his life in academia. This was the only way Mansoor could deal with his break-up with Lisa. Thanks to his informal style and the Socratic method of teaching, he became one of the most popular lecturers in the college. But popularity breeds jealousy. The older professors did not like his enthusiasm and his relaxed style. They questioned his coziness with his students. To them, that was a perversion of the student–teacher relationship. In their academic world, professors kept a cold distance from the students and never got involved with them at a personal level. Mansoor, as if to irritate them, did just the opposite and incurred their wrath. By introducing the students to topical materials and fun activities, he created a learning-friendly atmosphere in his classes, and that didn’t go down well either. He called his students by their first names and asked them to do the same with him, thus bringing further derision and condemnation.

With a few like-minded colleagues and progressive students, Mansoor started the al-Ma?arrī Club, named after the eleventh-century blind, heretic poet of Islam. Some nine hundred years before John Lennon wrote his iconic song ‘Imagine’, al-Ma?arrī imagined a world without religion. The name of the club puzzled many in the college. Some thought that it was the Almari Club, the Urdu word ‘almari’ meaning a wooden closet for storing clothes. Others joked that Mansoor was going to teach his students about refining their sartorial tastes. The homophobes dubbed it ‘The Closet Club’, a gathering place for homosexuals. But the club’s mission was to promote intelligent conversations about forbidden topics and to encourage the students to think critically about politics, religion, philosophy and literature. If he had his druthers, Mansoor would have started a chapter of his club in every college in Pakistan.

Every week, the members of the club met in an empty classroom to discuss ‘non-permitted’ topics. With a roguish sense of humour and a caustic logic, Mansoor set out to upset the foundational trajectories of his country’s life—the economy, the beliefs, the government, the class structures and the gender biases. He was at once daring and disarming, his enthusiasm prompted by his aspiration to create students who thought rationally and desired a caring society—one that General Behroopia was hell-bent on destroying.

Mansoor never took attendance and never asked a stranger as to why he or she was there. And so, when Athanni heard about the al Ma?arrī Club and its activities, he planted a mole, Farid Kidwai. A petty thief and a new convert to General Behroopia’s cause, his job was to record anything incriminating on a videotape. Mansoor, in his naiveté, did not think much of that. The videotaping of lectures by students in America was not uncommon. For him, it was just another way to democratize education. So he welcomed Kidwai to make the recording.

But he pushed the objectives of his club a bit too far beyond the acceptable boundaries. For the college administrators, it was too much heresy; it was too much to take. His methods were upending the age-old system that had stood the test of time. Someone reported him to the principal of the college, who summoned him to his office and got right to the point.

‘Mister Mansoor, you are not in Umreeka. You are not going to lead our students down the wrong path. Do you understand?’

‘No, sir, I don’t. All I am doing is trying to teach them how to think critically.’

‘Don’t give me your critical thinking bullshit. If someone reported you to the authorities, you would be charged with blasphemy. Do you know what the punishment for blasphemy is?’

‘Yes, sir, but I have not committed any blasphemy,’ Mansoor replied.

‘Look, Mister Mansoor, I am good friends with Haider Rizvi; he has done me lots of favours, so I will pretend that this never happened.’

‘But, sir—’

‘And here’s a piece of advice for you: don’t walk on a path of no return. You may still have a future at this college.’

‘Thank you for your advice. I will leave now.’

Mansoor got up and left the principal’s office, the fancy trimmings of his idealism pared away by crude triviality.

*

After a hiatus of fifteen months, the hearing on Mansoor’s lawsuit finally began. Much to his disappointment, however, it was held in the sharia court. Although it was supposed to be a case where Mansoor was the plaintiff, the judge, in all his wisdom, decided that the original suit and the countersuit were a waste of everyone’s time. So, ignoring all judicial norms and precedence, he merged both the cases, despite his lawyer’s vehement protestations. Mansoor had suffered a setback even before the arguments began.

On the first day of the hearing, Athanni arrived with his family, steadfast in his hate and resolute in his treachery, convinced that the sharia court would help them dry-clean his loot. To Mansoor, here was another proof that property trumped blood relationships. Ever since Farhat’s death, Athanni made no attempts to hide his feelings towards his cousin. His festering childhood hatred had erupted like a full-blown malignancy. That Mansoor deserved to die because he was a blasphemer had become Athanni’s drumbeat to anyone who would listen. Liberally using pious zeal to condemn Mansoor on every occasion, he lashed out at anyone who spoke favourably of his enemy.

S.M. Abrar launched a withering attack on Athanni and his family as he opened