A night at the Garden.

This is an imaginary and fictitious dialogue between the Padshah of Hindustan and me.

Preface: Today, India is a modern nation-state, racing with the world in technology, manufacturing, social media, and communal acrimony. Today’s India is also the India of the late nineteenth century when the present communities were taking shape, redefining themselves in terms of animosity against the other. The scenario is no different today. In this mashup, one night, I heard whispers of Gabriel. He told me that someone wanted to meet me in the other world. I asked him who s/he was? He didn’t say the name but insisted on me coming with him. I asked him, “For how long will I be gone?” he snapped his fingers and off we went.

I found myself in a daylit garden with all sorts of colourful, aromatic flowers and streams of milk and honey, flowing mostly parallel but crossing each other hither and thither. On my right were a round table and two chairs, beautifully carved out of wood and ivory. On the table was an hourglass, but instead of sand, it had water in it, dripping down to the lower bulb of glass. DROP… DROP… DROP… I started towards the table to examine the curious-looking hourglass when I felt someone tapping on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a man several feet away from me, holding a diary and qalam in his hands. How did he tap on my shoulder? I enquired who he was, he said, “His Majesty will be with you shortly.” And then he vanished, as mysteriously as his tap on my back. I looked around and sited a well-built man. I cried, “HELLO!” waving at him. He was walking towards me. He appeared before me just the way the previous man had vanished. I looked at his face and realised who he was. I have seen him in paintings and portraits. My eyes had seen him a ton of times before that moment. He was the Padshah of Hindustan, Akbar.

I nervously bowed and stuttered, “Your Majesty!”. He stepped forward, a faint smile on his face, held me by the shoulders and said, almost whispered, “Let’s talk.”

He gestured towards the table. I obliged and sat opposite him.

“It’s good to see someone from Hindustan after so long! The last person Jibril brought here was in… when was it…”

“8 years ago, my liege.” Came a voice from behind the Padshah, but no one was there. It sounded like the voice of that man who had vanished into thin air.

“It’s good to see you too, Your Majesty.” I said. “Do you meet people from Hindustan regularly?” I said in bewilderment.

“I used to. Every year. To talk about what is happening in my beloved country. Jibril tells me that his passage has been blocked. This time, he somehow managed to get through to you ”

It clicked in my head. The government knows that the Padshah is still interested in the country’s affairs, even after almost half a millennium, and they didn’t want him to contact anyone to block his source of information.

“Tell me young one, how my country fairs?”

“Well, what can I say, my lord. The country is in a state as it was back in the late nineteenth century. There is a rise in communal animosity between the communities. The regime has decided to take sides and I cannot say how long will this fragile peace last.”

“The regime is taking a side?” he exclaimed, “After all the things we have been through together!”

Till now, I was suspicious of how much the Padshah actually knew. But it appears he has been following the events quite religiously. Still, to be double sure, I asked, “So you know everything we have been through?

“Of course I know. I didn’t build an empire just to abandon it after I left for the other world. Although I did feel helpless at not being able to do something to save my country from the bloody Europeans. I would have smacked them in their faces and thrown them back into the waters where they belong. I did file a PIL to Rizwan to not let them in here. But my writ ran down there, not here.”

“Am I hearing right? Did you say PIL? You mean a Public Interest Litigation?”

“What else would a PIL mean?” the Padshah laughed. Then it dawned on him, “Oh, you don’t know. We have been keeping up with your world up here.”

“What? What do you mean? You guys have been keeping up, what does that even mean? Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying your time here, cut off from the world?”

“Naah, not really. There isn’t much to do here. It’s just flowers and rivers here. So all the souls decided to take out a march from the waterfall there,” he pointed towards a waterfall at a distance, “to the Gods’ house, demanding the technology be allowed up here. You see, that is our Right to Afterlife. But the technology up here is heavily censored. We all don’t want pollution like you guys do.”

I was taken aback. If the people on my side of the world figured out what is happening here, it would cause a brouhaha. LOL. But then I was curious to find out what is actually happening here.

The Padshah continued, “Some years back they introduced a thing called Netflix. We can watch all sorts of shows or movies on it. I have become a bit obsessed with it, you know. I binged The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, Downton Abbey, and The Office. But I left watching The Office after Michael Scott left for Colorado. I mean why would they remove such a fun character from the show? And then I was so pissed at the ending of Game of Thrones.”

“That is true, my Lord!”

“I shall file a PIL to Rizwan against the showrunners of Game of Thrones to barr their entry here! Then I watched The Crown. Oh boi! Seems like God gave that woman the secret of elixir!”

“That is also true, my lord!” I giggled.

“Badauni keeps criticising me for watching too much of Netflix.” We both burst into laughter. Then he said, “Anyway, enough of me talking, now you speak. What seems to be the cause of this turmoil in the country?”

“I think it is anxiety, my lord. Both sides are becoming increasingly afraid of the other side destroying their culture and religion! The perceived danger is driving people to resort to attacking the other side. We hear of skirmishes here and there, throughout the country, everyday.”

“I see. And what is the state and the police doing?”

“Like I told you before, the state has sided with the majority, fuelling their anxiety with the projection of an imminent threat to their identity. The role of the police is conflicted. Sometimes we hear that they acted quickly to save the victims, at others, that they helped the state. So the means to achieve peace are getting meagre every day.”

“How have we arrived at this?”

“And you guys are one of the tropes of the state to justify their hate campaign.”

“What do you mean you guys?”

“Your family!”

The Padshah was flabbergasted. “WHAT?” he gasped.

No one spoke for some time. He took his time to pull himself together. Then he said, “How are they portraying us?”

“As tyrants, who ruled in the name of a foreign faith, looted our money and resources, massacred the indigenous people, destroyed places of worship, and defiled the social fabric of the country. Your family is shown as the real culprit of pretty much everything wrong the country has faced.”

“Ya muin” whispered the Padshah and closed his eyes.

Then the voice from behind him almost shouted, “I did a hell of a job in writing Ai’n and you are sitting here telling me that we are defamed like a bunch of goons?”

“That is true.” Then suddenly I realised what the voice said. Abu’l Fazl wrote Ai’n. Is he still fanboying around the Padshah? My eyes searched for him, but he didn’t appear. I asked, “My lord, is Abu’l Fazl around?”

The Padshah opened his teary eyes and said, “Yes. Did you not see him before I arrived?”

“I did. But I can’t see him now. I can only hear his voice.”

“Oh, forgive me. Abu’l Fazl was granted the boon of invisibility by the God after he applied for it.” the Padshah said in a husky voice.

“Too much paperwork!” Abu’l Fazl exclaimed.

The Padshah continued, “You see, he decided to become invisible, after I arrived here, because of the treachery of Sheikhu Baba. He was too visible in everything at court. So, here he wishes to not be seen.”

“I understand. I respect your choice Mr Fazl.”

“I appreciate it.” came the voice.

There was silence again. Then Abu’l Fazl said, “My lord, ask our guest about him.”

The Padshah was still recovering from the shock. He joined his hands and said, “Tell me, is he-who-must-not-be-named still the villain?

“Lord Voldemort? I think so.”

“Not him. The blood of my blood. My great-grandson!” the Padshah almost closed his eyes again, this time in disgust.

“Oh indeed… indeed, very much. He is the biggest perpetrator of all time. I am just waiting for the regime to award him the title of National Villain.”

“I hope they do it sooner!” said the Padshah and cussed under his breath.

“Do you hate him so much? He is your family.”

“Don’t try to be Vin Diesel here. I lost my bet because of that cunt!”

Abu’l Fazl explained, “His Majesty put his bet on the heir apparent with his dear papa. But His Majesty lost the bet and was given a small quarter in the far end of the garden. His Majesty hates the place. But the words of a bet are kept seriously here. His Majesty’s papa won the bet and was given his lavish quarters.”

“That’s the only time he didn’t fall flat on his face.” I chuckled.

“Excuse me? I love my dear papa, okay. I just hate the place.”

“Sorry, my lord.”

“What else is happening in my country?”

“Well, we faced a pandemic. We were under lockdown for two whole years. Now we are getting back to normal.”

“Wait… what is a pandemic? And what is a lockdown?” asked the Padshah.

“There was an illness that spread in the whole world. To stop the spread, we were ordered by the government to not leave our houses. Everyone stayed inside. No contact with our friends or anyone. And not just us, the entire world faced this.”

“Hein? You guys didn’t do anything for two years straight? Didn’t meet anyone? How strange!” exclaimed the Padshah.

“Yup, felt strange to us as well. But we got over it.”

Then he looked behind and said to the air, “How would we have managed our empire if that pandemic thing had happened during our lifetimes.”

“You would’ve managed my lord, I am sure of it.” said Abu’l Fazl.

Akbar turned back smiling, and his eyes fell on the hourglass on the table. I looked at it too. I had forgotten that it was on the table. All the water from the upper bulb had dripped down into the lower bulb. The Padshah said, “Look, our time is up.”

“How time flies! How long have we been talking?”

“I don’t know, there is no time here. This hourglass is here to remind us that we can talk while it is dripping. Jibril will take you back when there is no water left to drip down.”

“Okay. Can I ask you something?”

The Padshah nodded.

“What should we do?”

“You know why was I able to create an empire that lasted so long? It couldn’t possibly last on hatred. Love is the key. Love your family, your friends, and your fellow citizens. Hater burns from inside, love spreads happiness and joy, and most important, peace. Clashes and conflict do no good to anyone. I was called Great. I didn’t call myself great. People called me great because they felt loved. They felt secure while I was the Padshah. Show and spread love. This is the way.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

By then, Gabriel had arrived to escort me back. The Padshah and I stood up. I joined my hands and bid him goodbye, and started trotting towards Gabriel when I felt a tap on my back. I looked back but no one was there. From the distance the Padshah cried, “Did Dwight marry Angela?”

I smiled and replied, “He did.”

I turned and closed my eyes. The next thing I know, I woke up in my bed in the morning. I was utterly puzzled and asked myself, “Was it a dream?”.