A child, who had not uttered a word since his birth in the ominous last October of the last millennium, suddenly spoke this week. He left his parents surprised. More than ten paediatricians had told the middle aged couple that their son was born dumb. He won’t be able to talk for the rest of his life. The doctors’ diagnosis saddened everyone. As the folk tradition goes, the parents of the child visited the shrines of the departed saints, and the living saints. One night a departed saint appeared in dream to the father of the dumb child, and declared, “Be it known to you, sleeping man that your son would emerge as silent spectator of the awesome events in history.”
The father woke up, and touched his forehead. It was wet. He tried to comprehend the saint’s phrase, ‘silent spectator of the awesome events in history’, but to no avail. He understood nothing. More he thought of the phrase more he felt confused. He discussed his dream with a lunatic who once, people believed, was the wisest man in the community. Father asked, “Dervish, enlighten me, and tell me what is meant by the phrase, silent spectator of the awesome events in history.”
The lunatic, wise man of the yesteryear, looked at the worried father, and said, “History doesn’t forgive the silent spectators of awesome events in an era.”
The lunatic’s reply further baffled the already bemused mind of the afflicted father. He revisited the shrine of the living saint. He too spoke the truth, nothing but the truth, and reaffirmed what he had divulged to him before, “Your child is blessed one. He will not create problems either for himself, or for the family.”
He pleaded with the saint, and said, “I want my son to speak.”
The saint said, “Let him remain silent, for silence is wisdom.”
Thereafter, the afflicted father felt relaxed, and gave his dumb son a name, Khamosh.
Last week Khamosh created stir in his family and in the neighbourhood. What was hitherto improbable he made it probable. He spoke. I called on Khamosh’s father, Badal. We have lived in the same vicinity behind Cantonment Railway Station, Karachi, for years. He appeared appalled. “Why do you look so frightened, Badal?” I asked.
“Khamosh talks.”
“What is so terrifying about that?”
“You don’t understand, Giddu.” “Since when talking has become enigmatic?”
Badal said, “He who talks creates problems for himself, and for his family.”
“Oh come on, Badal!” I hugged him, and said, “You have been talking all your life. Have you created any problem for your family!”
Badal suspiciously looked around, and whispered, “Khamosh speaks big for his age. He is not yet three years of age.”
“What does he say?” I asked.
“He says...... “ Badal did not complete his sentence. He again looked around, and spoke in whispers, “Khamosh says, he is the strongest.”
I couldn’t help smiling, and asked, “Can I see the strongest one?”
Badal took me to his house. On seeing me, Khamosh a child of two years, eight months and some days smiled, and said, “I am the strongest, uncle Giddu.”
He spoke in a clear diction. I overcame bewilderment, and asked, “Are you stronger than a lion?”
“Haven’t you see caged lions?” Khamosh rebuked me, and said, “Lion is not the strongest animal in the world.”
I scratched my head, and asked, “Are you then stronger than an elephant?”
“I pity you, uncle Giddu.”
“Then, are you stronger than a hippo?”
“Your speculation is miserable.”
“A rhinoceros, or dinosaurs?”
“Your IQ is poor, uncle Giddu.”
I thought for a while, and then asked, “Are you stronger than Hercules?”
“Which Hercules?”
“Are there more than one Hercules in the world?”
“There are two Hercules, a Biblical Hercules, and an American cargo Hercules.” Khamosh said, “Biblical Hercules brought an end to the reign of Goliath. And, American Hercules brought an end to General Ziaul Haq’s reign.”
He puzzled me. Badal rebuked him, and said, “Don’t try to be over smart. Why don’t you tell uncle Giddu how strong are you?”
Khamosh turned his face towards me. He pointed towards a chair, and said, “If I like I can make you occupy that chair. Thereafter, if you do not come up to my expectations I can pull you out from that chair, and dismiss you from this house, once and for all.”
I held my head in both hands. What Khamosh spoke was beyond my comprehension. I talked to Badal, and said, “I don’t know what your son is talking about!”
Instead of Badal, his freak son spoke. Khamosh said, “Uncle Giddu, you are silent spectator of the awesome events in history.”
