Chhappanno Hajar Borgomail
(Fifty Six Thousand Square Miles)
Original in Bangla: Humayun Azad
Translated by: Subrata Kumar Das
Very often deep sleep engulfs Rashed – it seems he has died in his sleep or he has not been born as if he was none of the humanity or society or of the world; as if he was none with trousers or pajama or lungi or nakedness; or as if he was none of this walled buildings or mapped land; he will never be none of them; and then happens an incident of great importance around him, among the awakened people, which we name history. For the first time in his childhood such an incident occurred which he can recall till now, which he will never forget. Maybe before that another such occurrence took place at the time when he embraced his mother like a third breast, which he can remember no more. Rashed, a little lump, just began to go to the formidable primary school near the mosque surrounded by tombs of multicolour. In such a time there happened an incident alike today’s. He was asleep those days also as if he had not been born or he would never take birth. That night an adjacent house was set ablaze as such fire-incidents due to toppling down of the lamp or spreading of flame from the chula were very usual in the farmers’ houses. The fire enlightened the night as a day, people from the nearby areas rushed with buckets, among whom a good number shouted more than they sprinkled water, some other only became fixed at the beauty of fire as if they had been blind, no sound of that fire reached to Rashed. He was deep asleep like the mud of the pond. Mother sat by him all the time that she could move through the field across the pond of the north lest the fire should engross their house also. Mother did not awaken Rashed, rather she felt happy thinking that her kid could stay far, even though he was near the fire.
Rashed was sleeping in this Chaitra night as he did that day, he guessed nothing, nothing like reality haunted him in his sleep; similarly he slept like the plastic mud in the dreadful night of March. Not that he is prone to quick-sleep, rather he awakes quickly if anyone gives a little push, and comes back to human reality; but in the nights of great mishaps, on which man along with nature materializes some conspiracy, Rashed goes back to the pre-natal darkness striding the boundaries of them. On the night of March 25, he went to sleep at 10; before that he had walked through the city of Dhaka the whole day, he had once tried to bring out the meaning of ‘Ebarer songram muktir songram, ebarer songram swadhinotar songram’ – how much dazzle or reality is there; participated in the controversies why the meaningless talks between Mujib-Yahia stopped suddenly and the people could not know it; in the evening while returning home he saw the youths create dumps by broken wall and logs of trees on the roads and asked the hilarious youths about the longevity of them before the arrival of military, and after a self-controlled Bengali sleep asked his mother about the causes of smoke in the eastern sky.
Spring, for a long time, before reading a poetic line on such theme, seems to Rashed a very rude season. When the green leaves appear piercing the twigs like rusty nails, when the beggar-like trees become red or yellow, Rahsed can hear the screams about him. The cruel spring has arrived, March is reaching the end, and Rashed falls in deep sleep. Last night also he woke up by the cry of the maid of neighboring house, and as the girl did not give a second cry he got asleep again, but Rashed is like an embryo today, he did not get after eighty. His eyes opened hearing the call ‘Ab-bu’ by Mridu. When he opened his eyes he saw her in a tottering condition like a water-drop by his bed, school uniform on her person, a small bunch of hair like the wings of a bird, seems it will fly to a guava tree any time, but she was trembling as if she will drop down right now. Rashed thought he committed some great mistake to Mridu. In the same manner his offence never diminishes. He committed so many offences to man, birds, trees, insects, wind, cloud, lightning, straws and even to herbs. That he swore not to make any offence to Mridu – the strange human creature while standing on the corridor of the clinic at the time of Mridu’s birth. Before Mridu fell off, Rashed embraced Mridu and asked: What’s happed Mridu? Who hurt you? Mridu replied: Why didn’t they allow me go to school. Rashed, afraid, asked: Who? ‘Military’ Mridu replied.
Rashed sits up straight. Mridu was going to school slinging her bag from her shoulders with grandpa, so eager she is to go to school as Rashed himself was. No sooner had they gone to the main road across the alley, the army personnel shouted brandishing their rifles. Mridu did not see such people before, so she took time to understand that they were humans. Grandpa told her that they were humans, though they were military. They scolded them to go back home, if not obeyed they would open fire, they told that all outing is prohibited. A military shouted loudly that everything in the country has been stopped, school is also closed. Mridu got afraid of it, sorrow rather than fear engulfs her. A big experience on her face flashes, this morning she comes from outside taking history with her. At this tender age of five she achieves such experiences, which cannot be pardoned, the obscene spot of it will never famish. A nightmare hovers over Mridu, at this age, her country has pushed her to the ditch of nightmares, from where she will never be able to come out. Earlier Mridu thought no one forbids one to go to school, till now none forbade her to go there; she thought none forbids to walk is the streets, as no one forbade her to do it; rather everyone becomes happy seeing her go to school, Mridu thinks so; the traders wave their hands even though she did not buy chocolates, unknown people fondle her check. She thought, the school may remain close only by the headmistress, by no one else. The military people do not teach in the schools, she saw them never in the schools, why will they shut the school? Mridu gets hurt, someone has snatched away her happiness in her ignorance. Embracing Rashed she throws her questions: Why shan’t I go to school? ‘As military has come’, Rashed replies again. Mridu again asks: When military comes, everything closes? Rahsed replies ‘Yes’. Mridu again inquires, Flowers stop blooming? Rashed answers ‘Yes’. Mridu makes more questions, Rains stop? Yes, comes an answer. Another question: People stop dreaming? Rashed replies affirmatively. Mridu cries out: Then why does military come in the country? And in the country will only they stay? Giving no answer Rashed looks at her through her face, tries to read the bloody heart through her face where pictures of bayonet submerged. The face of Mridu becomes Bangladesh, the nation, where the obscene stamps of boots flash. Mridu continues with her questions: Why did the military want to kill us with the rifles? The headmistress hasn’t closed the school, then why does the school close? Is our school of the military’s? Looking at Mridu’s eyes Rashed got afraid, he saw innumerable questions there. It seemed she would raise such questions for an indefinite period. Rashed took Mridu on his lap and kept his cheeks with his, caressed the nose, then told, Mridu since today all the roads of Bangladesh are of the military’s. Your books are of the military’s; rhymes are of the military’s. The sky is of the military. The air is of the military. The songs of the birds are of the military. Your dance and smile are of the military’s. Rains are of the military’s. Our country is of the military’s. Mridu sobs and says: Baba I’ll go to school.
Observing the taints of boot on Mridu’s appearance, Rashed understands that the saviors have come again. He feels guilty to Mridu; it seemed to him that he himself is riding the trucks on the roads, he himself caused fear to Mridu jumping down from the olive trucks in olive dress, he himself has shut Mridu’s school down by force, he himself kicked Mridu to a ditch of nightmares. He understood the protectors in olive, who were preparing to arrive and have at last of democracy has again arrived. Rashed, since his boyhood, has experienced such arrivals of some great souls; they have moustache of various turns, colorful stars on their chests, and twisted cords. Hugging Mridu Rashed tries to visualize another great soul’s face; has that clown come, who was tossing in pain, demanding a part of the power? – Rashed asked to himself. Rashed could hear different promises, his ears were about to deafen by obnoxious declarations and parades. Again we will get much democracy, Rashed thought; the ghulam of democracy will pour out from the radio and TV boxes, again the backs of the country will be swelled up by kicking on it. Bangladesh, much felicitations to you, said Rashed, you have disgorged so many great souls from your uterus. Rashed wanted to have a piss. The pressure he feels today is more than that he feels getting up at dawn; it seem to him that thousand ghulams of democracy and peach and prosperity and discipline have already stagnated in his abdomen. Rashed called for Mridu’s mother who was swallowing the olive announcements and rosy promises from the radio. Mamtaj, Mridu’s mother, came with a small radio and told: Well, martial law has been imposed. As she will not have to go to office today, she was wearing a sort of slowness, though the tendency of vomiting is clear. If she could vomit on those announcements, she could come up. Rashed wanted to say: Go and have a vomit. Urination pressed Rashed severely; he was even failing to talk for that pressure; only said: First that’ll go over the balls.
Mamtaz is a woman of strong culture. The olive announcement created nausea in her but could not destroy her good tastes; she became angry in a polite way. You’ve begun obscenity in this early morning, she said. It doesn’t suit you. Rashed answered: Where do you see my obscenity? That you said it’ll go over something! Then came from Rashed: Is my word more obscene than those announcements? Rashed desired to do some obscenity. Bengali people say to do something from backwards, when they get angry. They want to tear the buttocks. Rashed also wanted to do the thing opening all the olive clothes of the world, but failing to do that he only utters the word. Rashed would repeatedly hear the word in his boyhood from his father; when he got angry he would tell it; Rashed can not pronounce that word so loudly, but utters inwardly, balls. At first he could not understand the word. But the word entered his head without understanding. All the people of his village would utter it to denote the most trifle thing, he also wants to utter, but feels unwell, as he can’t Rashed tells: I told of an organ. I know what you told of, Mamtaz replied. Don’t come to teach me linguistics, Rashed retorts, M-a-r-s-l-l-a-w. The olive colored clowns. Yonder they’ve come out full of trucks having arms with them, but they can do nothing but clipping hair; neither their generals can. You’ll see they’ll make revolutions over the long hairs of the youths.
They have brought revolutions. Thinking about it the pressure of urination again becomes severe. They come at nights and name the days as ‘The day of revolution’; with their arrival they begin to shorten the hair of the boys, give veils on the heads of the women. Rashed saw, jumping from a truck the olive dresses prostrate a boy of long hair, the other two olive dresses cut his hair here and there. Since his boyhood Rashed saw hair is the main problem of the country. Why are they so enraged with hair? Is hair the symbol of freedom for revolt? Or are they not worthy to do any other thing than cutting hair? The pressure of Rashed’s urination is more acute now; Rashed enters the toilet giving Mridu to her mother. He thinks a large lake is rebounding in him, the name Caspian comes to his mind, though a fall will flow with much sound, but he observes nothing different from other days. Like other day it flows for a minute and stops, his abdomen continues to remain weighty; the fall is groaning inside, when he tries again everything inside seems as dry as wood. He makes a ‘s-s-s-‘ sound which, he thinks, his mother would use in his childhood, and hoped a result today. He sees his organ forgetting all memories, failing to recall the past. Rashed comes out of the toilet with a roaring fall in his abdomen. Coming out from there he enters the drawing room and views the face of the great soul on the television and comments: What a worthless warrior, a tiny great soul has appeared in the country. The great soul is trying to make a pose of a savior and great man, possibly for six months he has been practicing the pose in the toilet. With a good number of stars on the chest and twisted cord round the arm, swords on shoulder he seems no better than a clown. Bangladesh is a land of silt; here great clowns appear with great sound, Rashed smiles. The great soul has two small ones by him, who are also posing goodness, have plates on their person. They are posing such that they have not come of the jute-field or hyacinth. A large laughter wants to spread over Rashed. Rashed tries to see the biggest and the two smaller souls from a close-view. Mamtaz asks: What’re you viewing? Rashed don’t answer, rather tries to see from closer view. After a long period he says: I’m trying to unrobe their uniform and see whether they are Bengalis, if Bengalis then are they humans? With so heavy dress and cords, I can’t see them well. I want to put off their underwear. Mamtaz again opposes: You are getting indecent again. But Rashed can’t do that indecency, which he wants to do, and so he feels – without obscenity one can not come out obscenity.
The great soul is now seen on the whole screen, a grave mood, as if the Bangali never saw such great soul, he is showing a great soul to them. Seeing a clown on the whole screen Rashed give roars of laughter, with him Mridu also laughs. Mridu say to Rashed: The man causes laughter in me, possibly he can make us laugh, if he would have been seen on television earlier, it would be a great fun. Rashed tells Mridu that this man has closed his school. The laughter of Mridu stops, the previous nightmare comes back over her face again, her face screams with hatred as if she was spiting on the face of the man. Rashed has the Caspian in his abdomen; he doesn’t know when to be relieved from it. He has experienced many revolutions in his thirty six years age, revolution of different countries have ended in smoke; again they have come out of that destruction; again a revolution has come and filled his belly up. Rashed utters: Revolution, of left-right. He utters the word lopsided down. Rashed begins to think of the meaning of revolution and only garbage swells up. Thinking to see the dictionary he fears that the word was missing from there. He asks himself – Rashed, can you tell how many offers are necessary to impose revolution in the late night? Like Rashed Bangladesh is also in sleep, and getting up sees herself in the grip of the robbers. Her forests, rivers, paddy fields, mist, dew, robin, water-lily, Dhaka, Chittagong, Comilla, Khulna, Sylhet, pathway through field, boundary lines of the fields, clouds, Rarikhal, Kalapara, Kamargaon, have gone under the boots. Have they come of he womb of Bangladesh, did Bangladesh give them the honey flow from her breast, have they wetted themselves with rain? Has the shade of her Neem tree never fallen on them, has the smell of her soil never entered through their nostrils?
Rashed heard the boots and remembered the first revolution. That time, a great soul came with a good appearance who stormed the weather and Rashed, for the first time, got acquainted with such weather. He had not met the word earlier, the conscious books of Pakistan prohibited the word. But that great soul pushed revolution through the villages like a wild animal. There was no radio in the village, no newspaper was available, but in the month of October there appeared revolution with much groaning. Rashed had the habit of looking at the pictures of great people, the great man Vidyasagar caused much sentiment and he collected many pictures of various prints cutting from different books and papers. Rashed detected the difference of Pakistan’s great soul from that ones; his conception of great soul changed. He thought: If this were a great soul, Vidyasagar was not a man, or if Vidyasagar is a great soul, this one is a pirate. He feared that such a thought was a crime. It anyone knew about it, he would be punished. After some days seeing the posters of the pirate on the walls of schools and bazaars he believed this pirate to be a great soul. Rashed got stunned with the pictures and mustaches observing that all other ones had already been astonished. One day while Rashed was looking at those pictures with such astonishment, a dog, driven, stood still before the pictures. It might be that the dog stood still because of tiredness, or it might be because of fear of a beast before him, yet Rashed thought even a dog didn’t mistake in recognizing a great soul. In the eastern areas of the bazaar there was a large picture of the great soul on the wall of tea-stall. Whenever Rashed went to the bazaar he would look at the picture, the cord round his shoulder astonished him, made him afraid also. Then an old man told him: My boy this son of Khan will demolish the Bengalis now. He seemed very glad and if it was possible he himself would demolish. It was not possible on his part and or behalf of him that great soul would demolish.
The garbage is overflowing. Rashed hears: As the economic life has been upside down, as the non-military administration has failed to work properly, corruption has engulfed the whole society and the people have befallen in great misfortune and the law and order system has dangerously deteriorated and peace and stability are at peril, as for the greater interest of the nation and for national sovereignty martial law has proved a must, with the whole patriotic nation I myself, as the Chief Martial Law Administrator, is receiving all and the whole power of the government of Bangladesh and I, hereby, declare that in no time the whole nation will come under the marital law. While listening to that announcement Rashed realizes that those are turning to urine in his abdomen. Age-old rubbish, a cliché! Talks on so-called economy, patriotism and Almighty! If the rascal would have said, we want to kick the country, it would prove some substance in them. They have come for power only, thought. Some pot bellied generals with stars and cords are seen. Their swelled bellies prove that they have emerged for power only and they have had no sex for long.
That known clown has possessed power and now he is the Chief Martial Law Administrator. Two more small clowns are around him. He is now the Sultan Sahanshah of Bengali, no limitation of power. He has adjourned the constitution, dismissed the parliament and the government, and dropped the former president alive as a sack of potato at his home. That old haggard has possibly breathed his last for the pangs of losing power. Let him die, Rashed does not care, none of the nation does care. Had he died before! As if when a new one calls him to give a piece of meat, he will repeatedly address them as ‘sir’. The clown is now the almighty of the fifty six thousand square miles. Rashed hears his announcement: I can nominate anyone as the president of the country who will take oath from the chief justice or any justice of the Supreme Court selected by us and will take the responsibility from time to time – I can change or cancel the nomination and select another one as the president. The elected president will be the head of the state and govern the country according to my advice, the chief martial advice. He will perform the duties that I bestow on him. Rashed hears the announcement of appointing a servant, he knows a good number are anxious to take the role of that servant. In one or two days he will be seen worn by another ornamented justice. Rashed assumes the oath: I hereby, swear as a servant of the clown that what the great clown will order I will obey, if he orders me to lick his boot I will do it gladly, if he orders to wash his underwear, I will wash, if the orders to massage his legs, I will do that with thanks, if putting off his trousers he orders ….
The country is now being shared, like the pieces of a pumpkin, Rashed can hear the sound. Rashed hears that two other deputy clowns have already been employed under the greatest clown. They try to swell their chests that even the screen of the TV trembles, make a cracking sound. An announcer begins to announce with the enthusiasm of a frog that the country has been marked into five regions: General Kharamali for region Ka, General Kharamali for region Kha, General Garamali for region Ga etc. Rashed can hear general, general, general! General, general, general, lieutenant general, major general. Rashed becomes attacked with two pressures – one in his abdomen, the other gorging in his chest and the termed it as general pressure. Rashed says, congratulation Bangladesh mother of generals, congratulations. You are motherless; you have so much space in your uterus. Rashed visualizes a scene, the mother Bangladesh is groaning on the streets, storming her birth-canal tanks are coming out with generals having black sun-glasses.
Democracy is pouring from the TV, law and orders are heaving, economy is improving; the sounds of pouring, hearing and improving ae taking particular existence to Rashed. Every where there is the curfew; like all the one hundred and twenty million people of Bangladesh Rashed is also captivated in the lumps of lies. Nothing true is all around, the truth will be uttered in the country, and falsity will dominate in the disguise of truth. In his boyhood Rashed first experienced such falsehood in the greenery of his country and then appeared the Khans one after another, Pakistan turned a Khanstan; the Khans – one following the previous one divided this country which is parted at birth. The monstrous Khans like Ayub, Azam, Omrao filled the whole Pakistan. There was a great repercussion in the East Bengal; none found the military as Rashed did not find. The man who sold betel leaves at a corner of the bazaar; Barek who never left the village for town and who understood these cows as Pakistan, and to whom the cow-dung was holier than Pakistan; their geography teacher; or the peon who rang the school bell – everyone of them became moved, Rashed understood. Even their servant happily uttered, the appearance of Ayub Khan is a good look! When the sheep hear the sound of the wolf, they become so happy.
Rahsed would peep into the teachers’ room then. Standing by the window Rashed heard teacher’ talks which proved they were happy with the arrival of the Khans. Most of them would say: Pakistan is save now. Only the assistant head master a Hindu one who would understand the best and teach the best would say, Pakistan is destroyed now. Rashed could not understand what disease had attacked the country, but he guessed that Pakistan had been attacked by some diseases and there was a question of life or death, where death was most possible. He feared because death was a usual event, he heard the death from cholera and pox and he thought a country could be attacked by these diseases. For a long time, after class V he had been in a fear, which he never exposed, that Pakistan had two limbs-one in this side, the other in the other side and it had no body at all. Then it seemed that Pakistan is a ghost because ghosts do not have any body. He believed as the assistant headmaster taught the best and always did sums correctly, his word would prove true, though his opinion was different from that of others. There came blackish and dirty dailies where the pictures of Ayub Khan were published with long captions such as: The savior of Pakistan, the great reliever etc.
The Bengali is such a nation that it hates itself and the Bengali Muslims along with that adore even a beast brought from the west. Rashed can recall that his teachers and the oldies of the village and bazaar got mad in praising those Khans. Showing him a picture of Ayub Khan a teacher told him: See here’s a Pathanka Bachcha. Without them the Banglalis will destroy Pakistan. Rashed felt helpless and after that troupes of Khans came in the village market. Immediately they caught hold some big merchants who did not get enough time to query about their faults, the Khans ordered them to take loads of 2/3 mounds and run. As it was even tough to stand aright with those loads, they would fall under the load and then the Khans whipped them. This spectacle made some give the ‘Pakistan Zindabad’ slogans. Later they caught hold those who were involved in politics and thus drowning the nation. They drowned those people without cloths and whipped. These processes of saving Pakistan made the Maulana arrange a prayer.
Rashed and his friends felt afraid thinking that the military would one day come to their class and give loads like benches on their shoulders and if they fail, they would be whipped. They did not come but their laws came. One day headmaster informed the military rule that everyone must have a army hair-cut. Consequently they all made their heads something like without hair and the class looked add. Seeing this, the assistant headmaster said that we had made our heads Pakistan. While thinking that the military rule has crossed over their heads, they heard another announcement that every one must clean all nearby places of his/her house.
There should remain no jungle in Pakistan; Pakistan should get ironed as the uniform, clipped as the moustache, get polished as the boots. With a beat of the drums the village folks were informed that martial law had been imposed, General Mohammad Ayub Khan had saved Pakistan. No utterance was allowed against martial law, every order of martial law must be obeyed, and all garbage and jungle had to be cleaned. In the announcement ‘whipping’ was announced repeatedly, how many whipping for what crime was also announced. Rashed understood, there were only two things in Pakistan, one was crime and the other was whipping; every Pakistani was a criminal and his only due was whipping. To save Pakistan every Pakistani had to be whipped and skinned and made vomit and excrete, and only then Pakistan would be saved. Daguzola of their village spitted in the Police station haat while selling clothes because he along with his fore fathers had spitted every time without any hesitation and considered it as a part of their freedom and culture, Dagu did not know spitting had been incorporated into marital law. For spitting on the road Dagu got twenty five stokes till he became senseless and consequently the others began to swallow spit to keep other Pakistanis alive.
Among the people who went to the police station to see military men, who wanted to be blessed seeing the process of saving Pakistan was the well-known mad man of Kabutarkhola who was more well known than Ayub Khan before the injunction of marital law, who had a shaggy head and got special recognition for that and was formidable to others of his class. Going to Sreenagar, he stood before the military men and gave his unique salute. When he was expecting reply from the pure Muslim sepoys he was dashed by rifles and unrobed and given ten stokes one after another. He remained senseless on the street for three days, people stopped visiting Sreenagar, and the populace of the area became furious hearing about their favorite mad man. The people who became happy when the military men burdened the shopkeepers with heavy loads, who did not become happy rather unhappy when they whipped the President of the union Board because they themselves would skin his back if they could, now became angry when their well-known mad one was whipped. But they had nothing to do, they only ceased to go to Sreenagar; and got hopeless about the process of development in Pakistan. They began to love their own skin than Pakistan.
Rashed and their boy servant were then busy to execute an important military order without which Pakistan could fall in danger. He hung the picture of the great savior that he got from the school on their northern house, and it reminded that Pakistan had already rescued except the bushes of the north of their house and the excreta of the cattle. It seemed that if that was cleaned, there would remain no problem in Pakistan – it would endure at least one thousand years or more, though there flicked the question would it endure? The cow-shed was at the north west of their house, a jujube-tree east to that, some bushes east to that, not much enough to destroy Pakistan, though it could not be assured because Pakistan was at a peril from the very beginning. Everything in Pakistan was doubtful, everything was conspiring against Pakistan, so that bushes and insects in it were also very doubtful, who knew what conspiracy they were making. Rashed and their boy servant began to clean the bushes. Rashed first thought certainly there was something dangerous in the bushes, but he could see nothing. The boy said: Dada with what shall we do our teeth after cutting all these? He did not like to use coal, he used to remove a twig, did his teeth and threw it away. The boy shrieked seeing his bush of brushes abolished for marshal law. Rashed made him understand that if the military that were then mad to save Pakistan could hear his cry, he would be hanged for treason. The boy got afraid hearing this, but said: Dada is it a crime even to cry now? Will Pakistan die for this cry? While clearing the bushes Rashed observed a Shalik fly away; Rashed got ashamed to him thinking that possibly that bird had taken him as a military person, but Rashed felt pain because he could not tell that he was not a military man, never he would be. The Shalik made a nest what was fallen; Rashed understood that Pakistan was much more important than the nest. If necessary all the nest of the Shaliks would be destroyed to save Pakistan, if necessary a division of soldiers would be deployed to destroy the nest of a Shalik. Their cowshed was near there; Rahsed saw when they were cleaning the aram plants, an insect called bittle was flying excitedly. Its flight seemed very objectionable – mostly political – which was a breach of martial law. The bittles were living on the wall of the cowshed generation after generation, but to save the existence of Pakistan they must be abolished. As those insects are the inhabitants of Pakistan, they must abide by the marital rules. But at that moment an incident subversive of the state occured at Sreenagar.
A flow of rage spread across the whole locality after the caning of the insane man. The smile that originated from the caning incident of the Union Board Chairman and the traders, wither away and they began to whisper about it whenever they met. They became doubtful about them who could easily cane the innocent insane person, could cut off his hair tuft. The old beggar woman who came for alms before noon, began to talk about the mad person before asking for alms and foretold about their fate. Rashed tries to think about the fate of Pakistan where he could visualize the lines drawn by the Almighty Himself. Father commented: We should remain alarmed about the persons who can beat a mad man so cruelly. When everyone was passing his/her day in a very tumultuous condition, Sreenagar experienced a revolt. The mad woman, who was very jealous about the mad man‘s tremendous popularity and thought that the mad man had taken the lion share which she would have possessed, took an enterprise. For some days she remained gloomy or hilarious at different times. One noon when a group of saviors of Pakistan were crossing before her, she threw a black pottery on the leader’s face. The pottery smashed on the Major’s face and a piece penetrated his nose; his forehead bled. The military men opened fire from the machinegun relentlessly. Her body and Pakistan remained safe though the face of the Major got injured. After this incident all the people of the bazaar left, particularly the mad ones and they never returned to Sreenagar. To throw a black pottery on one’s face was very disgraceful – similar incidents on the faces of the devils like the Union Board Member or President by any woman were not very rare. But this was the first time of throwing a black pottery on the face of Pakistan….