We rushed out of the hut and ran towards the sound. Not far away, we discovered a noisy mob of men, women, and children. We pushed our way to the centre, where two young men were wrestling and punching at one another. Their names were Faroukh and Raghuram.

Qasim Ali stepped between them, his presence quieting the raucous crowd at once.

“What is happening here?” he asked, his voice unusually stern. “Why are you fighting?”

“The Prophet, may Allah grant him peace!” Faroukh shouted. “He insulted the Prophet!”

“And he insulted the Lord Ram!” Raghuram countered.

The crowd supported one or the other with shrieks and condemnations

“Faroukh, Raghuram, you good friends,” he said. “you know that fighting is no way to settle your differences. And you both know that fighting between friends and neighbours is the worst fighting of all.”

“But the Prophet, peace be upon him! Raghu insulted the prophet. I had to fight with him,’ Faroukh whined. . .

“And what of insulting the Lord Ram?” Raghuram protested. “Isn’t that also a reason to –“

“There is no excuse!” Qasim Ali thundered, silencing every voice. “There is no reason that is good enough to make us fight with each other. We are all poor men here. There are enemies enough for all of us outside this place. We live together, or we die. You two young fools have hurt our people, your own people. You have hurt all of our people, of every faith, and you have shamed me terribly.” . . .

“You must both be punished for this,” Qasim said, a little more gently, when the crowd was quieter. “your parents and I will choose a punishment for you tonight.”. . .

New murmurs buzzed through the crowd. Conflicts based on religion were potentially dangerous, and people were glad to see that Qasim took the matter seriously.

I realized that what Qasim had said was true – the fighting between close friends of different faiths had hurt the community.

Then Qasim removed the long green scarf that he wore around his neck, and held it aloft for all to see.

“Faroukh and Raghuram, I will bind you together with this, my scarf. It will remind you that you are friends and brothers, while cleaning the latrine will fill your noses with the stink of what you have done to each other today.”

He knelt then, and tied the two young men together at the ankle, Faroukh’s right to Raghuram’s left. When it was done, he stood and told them to go, pointing with oustretched arm in the direction of the latrine.

The crowd parted for them, and the young men tried to walk, but they stumbled at first, and soon realized that they had to hold on tightly and walk in step if they were to make any progress at all. They clasped their arms around one another, and hobbled away on three legs. The crowd watched them walk, and . . . suddenly there was laughter where a minute before there’d been tension and fear.

. . . when the two boys, Faroukh and Raghuram, had presented themselves for punishment, having spent a day tied together in work at the latrine. . . Wasim Ali pronounced the punishment that had been decided upon by a council of Hindu and Muslim friends and neighbours.

Their punishment, for fighting about religion, was that each had to learn one complete prayer from the religious observances of the other.

Excerpts from Gregory David Robert’s ‘Shantaram’ (p.217-228)

Illustrations by Esther ten Zijthoff