If You Aren’t a Saint, You Aren’t Less Than Him

Written by: Hafizullah Turab
Translated by: Kalimullah Turab

 

Due to Bakhtawar’s constant chatter, Hamesha gul would have given up cutting hair for the entire village if he could. But he had no other option, as he wasn’t skilled enough to take up labor in the city. He could only shave heads, and he couldn’t abandon the whole village just because of Bakhtawar. Hamesha gul relied on this work to make a living.

Who was Bakhtawar? His character wasn’t less than cartoon of children, with no beauty to redeem him. Though looks or beauties aren’t crucial for men, but he had another problem—he was compeletly foolish.

Every morning, Bakhtawar loaded forest’s woods onto his donkey and walked for six hours. By evening, he would return to the village from the city.

Villagers also sold wood, but Bakhtawar’s work was strangely unique. He didn’t care either blazing summer or rainy winter: People would often tell him:

“Bakhtawar! We’re poor too and sell wood, but at least we take care of ourselves. You’re treating yourself harshly just to earn forty rupees! Why don’t you ask God for help? You won’t escape from poverty by this routine.”

Upon hearing such talk, he’d spit his snuff and laugh deeply, replying, “You all laugh at me, but I would buy a helicopter. One day, you all will be running after me, and I’ll be flying in the air.”

The villagers would laugh even more and say, “There he goes with his nonsense again!”

But Bakhtawar would respond, “It’s not nonsense! Everything is possible for God. Turning my donkey into a helicopter wouldn’t be difficult for Him.”

When Bakhtawar would leave, villagers would giggled, “He’s started talking nonsense again.”

Although Bakhtawar was a simple, decent man, the villagers loved him despite his quirks. Only with Hamesha gul had conflict. Hamesha gul would try to avoid shaving Bakhtawar’s beard, knowing he’d talk endlessly about airplanes, a topic Hamesha found exhausting.

Bakhtawar wasn’t less than a ghost, as he would return exhausted from the city, he would still go straight to Hamesha gul’s house, ignoring his own fatigue. Hamesha gul didn’t like these visits and would have done something about them if he could, but as a fellow villager, he couldn’t refuse him openly. Bakhtawar would get his beard shaved every two days, filling Hamesha gul’s ears with endless chatter. This only increased Hamesha gul’s irritation.

One evening, as usual, Bakhtawar sat down, talking about airplanes, while Hamesha gul listened silently. Midway through his shave, Bakhtawar said, “Uncle Hamesha gul, pray for my donkey to turn into a helicopter. It’s my big dream to sit in the helicopter and fly! No matter what happens to me after, even if I die.”

As always, Bakhtawar continued, “And when that day comes, you’ll be shaving my beard in my helicopter!”

Finally, Hamesha gul became impatience. Furiously, he said, “Enough with the helicopter nonsense! Look at yourself—poor as you are, yet you keep talking about helicopters. Rich men cannot buy helicopters, so how will you? Your name changed into ‘Helicopter!’ in the enitre village, Even the children calling  you that!”

Any other person would’ve been offended, but Bakhtawar just laughed heartily, saying, “Everything is possible for God, Uncle Hamesha gul. He can make me fly above the village in a helicopter!”

Hamesha gul grew even more frustrated. He said: “If you ever sit in a helicopter, come back and cut off my nose! Your stupidity has no limit!” With that, he entered into his house.

The next day, Bakhtawar loaded his wood and headed to the city. Hamesha gul’s harsh words had only fueled his dream. Silently, he prayed, “God, make me the owner of a helicopter.” He longed for the day sitting on the helicopter, and thereafter I would tell Hamesha gul, “Come and cut your nose.”

Time passed, and life took a darker turn when the communists staged a coup on April 27. The event was a disaster, bringing terror and violence as Russian forces entered. Villages were demolished to dust, and Bakhtawar’s village, nestled in the mountains, faced relentless airstrikes. Forced to flee with his villagers, Bakhtawar was profoundly affected by the displacement of immigration.

In Peshawar, he found a new happy life, though he constantly missed his village. After a short while, he joined the jihad, acting as a guide for refugees and moving them safely through dangerous areas. Seeing Russian helicopters during the war, he wished deeply for one of his own.

His many years has been passed in jihad and other took advantage from his simplicity. He was sitting till the end, anywhere commanders having operations, while other had already left their places due to haveay firing, but whom whould get up Bakhtawar!? During that time, his friends lost their live and martyred. One day, he was coming with a family as security guard that faced a planned attack of the enemies on the way. he bravely escorted a family safe to pakistan, rescuing them from russian’s violence. The family’s elder, connected to a prominent party member, was grateful and promised to reward him. A few days later, Bakhtawar was called to meet with the party’s military chief and told him:

“Our party will give you arms. You will be our commander. Go and gather your people!” Bakhtawar was overwhelmed with pride and joy, and when he returned to the village with his story and they didn’t trust him at the begaining, but many joined him due to his oath.

The boss was astonished to see so many people with Bakhtawar and thought to himself that he truly was a significant leader. He invited his friends to sit in the hall and went alone to the boss’s office. He said to him, “Congratulations, Mr. Commander!” and placed two bundles of money in Bakhtawar’s pocket, saying, “This is for the special order of the guns.”

Worriedly, Bakhtawar asked his boss, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The boss replied, “It belongs to you. Whatever you wish to do with it is up to you.” Seeing his sincerity, Bakhtawar asked innocently, “Please give me a helicopter instead of this money—I love helicopters.”

The boss laughed and said, “Bakhtawar! We don’t have any helicopters. But if you become powerful in the future, you’ll be the one giving us helicopters.” The boss shook hands with him, and Bakhtawar left.

From that moment, his luck seemed to come alive. Opportunities flowed to him, and he found intelligent advisors to guide him. He continued his work successfully, almost unaware of his own progress. After some time, the party gifted him a new car in celebration. His growing wealth attracted many group leaders to him. While others worked hard, he reaped the benefits of his title as “commander.” Day by day, his reputation increased, and he became a well-known figure in his province.

At the end, most of the country’s provinces fell under the coup led by the Khalqwano. During the jihad, Bakhtawar’s province also fell. To prevent conflicts among the parties, the government positions were divided among the commanders. Bakhtawar was given ownership of the airport. His party dressed him in military attire, and he became the commander of the airport.

As he toured the airport, he saw helicopters parked there. Overcome with joy, he cried tears of happiness. He nearly kissed one of the helicopters, but his assistant stopped him. Soon after, he gathered the pilots and said, “Take us somewhere!”

The pilot, under the supervision of the Mujahideen for several days, had prayed for such a moment. Commander Bakhtawar sat in the helicopter and enjoyed an hour-long flight, marveling at the landscape from the air. His smile stretched so wide that he could barely contain his happiness.

After the liberation of each province, immigrants quickly returned to their homeland. Hamesha gul, who was in Lahore, also came back to his province. After a few days, however, life became increasingly difficult for him because the prices of food were extremely high. One day, lost in his thoughts, he suddenly saw a familiar shopkeeper and approached him to complain about his financial struggles.

“Now, you will be helping me,” he said. “A man from your village is now an airport commander.”

Hamesha gul asked, “What is his name?”

“Bakhtawar Khan.”

“Listen, there might be another Bakhtawar. There was only one Bakhtawar in our village, and he used to load wood onto donkeys. There can’t be another Bakhtawar.”

“No, that’s him.”

Hamesha gul’s mind struggled to accept that Bakhtawar had become such an important person. Reluctantly, he decided to go to the airport. After some time, he reached there and approached the guard at the entrance.

“Brother! I’m looking for a countryman of ours named Bakhtawar. People say he’s a commander now.”

The guard became furious and quickly began kicking him. After beating him thoroughly, he shouted, “Rude man! He’s the commander of the entire airport, and you just call him Bakhtawar? If you weren’t an old man, I would’ve skinned you with my own hands!”

Hamesha gul was so badly beaten that he was almost in a state of unconsciousness when Bakhtawar came outside with his bodyguards. Seeing Hamesha gul’s condition, Bakhtawar asked the guard what had happened. The guard explained the entire story. At first, Bakhtawar didn’t recognize him, but once he did, he immediately ordered his men to start his treatment.

The next day, as Hamesha gul began to feel better, Bakhtawar greeted him warmly and said, “It’s alright, Uncle Hamesha gul. Don’t be upset, it happens. I’ll take you somewhere after the afternoon.”

Later in the day, Bakhtawar Khan told Hamesha gul to get into a helicopter. Once they were seated, Bakhtawar ordered the pilot to take off and said, “Take us over our village.” They circled their village several times, and as they did, Bakhtawar turned to Hamesha gul and asked, “So, when will you trim my beard?”

“It’s fine; we can deal with that another day, and I wouldn’t even cut your nose,but let me tell you, if God gives something to someone, it can happen in an instant, day or night. This is my personal helicopter. I take it out every day, and finally, God has granted me success.”

Hamesha gul’s mouth fell open in amazement. Everything felt like a dream, but it was real. Comparing Bakhtawar’s current status to his former life of simplicity with his donkey, Hamesha gul felt as if he were witnessing a miracle. Overwhelmed, he exclaimed loudly, “Bakhtawara! If you’re not a saint, you are not less than him!”

Heaven or Home? (short story)