Speech of a hungry locality

Just a while ago, Kutub Uddin was sitting among the leaders and activists at the sitting room in the downstairs. The adda had become lively. Someone was chewing betel leaf while some were drinking tea or smoking cigarettes. One story after another in response. This time there will be a hard contest. Victory is surely yours, leader. Everyone was saying the same in unison. He was nodding his head. A faint smile on his face. Everyone is talking about victory. Having lost three times, he is quite anxious about victory. However, this time the tide is rising. That tide will carry him to the port of victory. No one can stop this current of the tide. Can't even stand in front of it. That belief in his heart is growing stronger day by day. Last time too, he dreamed of being covered in garlands of flowers in victory march. But that dream disappeared at night as the opponent gained victory. So, this time too much excitement couldn’t take hold of his mind.

At this joyous moment, without any warning, Kutub Uddin suddenly stood up. Entering the northern room, he latched the door. That was quite a while ago. He isn’t opening the door. No one is calling either. Everyone is sitting with worried faces. The conversation has also dried up. What happened! A concern has taken over everyone’s face. Question in their eyes, the leader hasn’t done this before. He has shut himself in the room. This is not the time to sit inside the room. Leaving everyone sitting outside, is he smoking cigarettes inside? Or listening to music? Maybe he's trying to get his mind right. His PS, Moti Molla, can’t understand anything. Today is the final campaign rally. At 4:30 in the afternoon, Kutub Uddin will deliver a speech. This is his final speech at the final campaign rally.

Last night Moti Molla informed, “Sir, this is the last speech. Do you know where you’ll give it? In a hungry locality. This region is a vote bank. It determines victory or defeat. If you can bag these votes, victory is certain. I can write it down. No one can stop it.”

Kutub Uddin smiled. He is desperate for victory. How many times will he return home with the shame of defeat? He must win this time. This is his final election. Back then, he didn’t give importance to Moti Molla’s words. Addressing a hungry locality. It is not that much tough. Suddenly, his mind shifted. It won’t be as easy as he thought. He will have to gear up a bit. So, he entered the room, closed the door, and sat alone. Smoking cigarettes in deep thought. Thinking what he will say in the starving region. He will have to say it very tactfully. He has to win their hearts. The matter isn’t difficult. But suddenly it feels difficult. He stood up again. Stood in front of the mirror. Looked at himself. His morale increased. He will be able to win their hearts. For a while, he gave a speech. Not shouting. In a calm voice. Waving his hands.

Delivering speech is nothing new to Kutub Uddin. He has given speeches before. Has stood on the dais more than a thousand times. At massive rallies. In front of hundreds of thousands of people. He is also well known as a great orator. People get captivated. They can’t leave the venue. Still, he wanted to test himself. Something feels off today. What if he has to stop midway? What if he faces a shortage of words? Today’s speech is his final bullet for victory. This is not an ordinary speech. In this speech, he has to act. Like the greatest actor in the world. He has to cry, wipe his eyes. Make the people sitting in front of him cry. They must not realise this is an act. He has acted before too. It’s nothing new. Politics itself is acting. Acting that fools people. Today again he will fool a group of people with deception. This excitement made him restless. Suddenly the excitement cooled down. Another thought came to mind. He will address the starving region. Remembering this cooled his excitement. Felt like this is not something difficult. He knows what to say. These people are easy to fool. Because hunger is the world’s greatest trap. The people of that region are caught in that trap. No need to lay a new trap. By using the hunger trap, people can be exploited to the fullest. There’s nothing that can’t be done. Anything can be done. What he needs is votes. Just need to bait the hungry people with greed. Can make them run around like monkeys. Their opinions can be bought easily. Their heads can be bought. Their hearts can be won. With just a little food, they become happy. They will vote, will chant slogans and join rally in his name. they will even give their lives believing thousands of false promises. Their faces will be filled with excitement. Not once will they think. Won’t ask questions. People can be fooled like this. People believe false promises again and again. Get caught in the same trap many times. If you fool an animal once, it’s hard to earn its trust a second time. But humans are deceived by humans. False promises are given. And people believe them again. Thinking all this, Kutub Uddin burst out laughing.

Suddenly his laughter stopped. He sat silently for a while. He will give a speech in the hungry locality. Will deceive a group of starving people who have been deceived many times before. Have been made fools. Will be fooled again today. Still, they will believe false promises. Will smile. Rejoice. Dance. Clap their hands. With a false dream they will build the path of the future. They will vote. He will be elected. His life will be changed drastically and they will remain stuck in the land of hunger. Will not be able to break that wall. He will not let it break. He will build the wall even stronger so that he can deceive them many more times.

Then he sat down to calculate. What changes will come into his life. Today he will go riding an X Corolla. After the election, he will use Parado. To deceive for the second time, he will go by helicopter. Just thinking of all this gave Kutub Uddin a shiver in his body. One speech can change his life. Laughing, he came out of the room. Everyone was surprised to see him. What did he do behind the closed door for so long? Where did he find so much joy? Did he see a dream? Is he ensured of victory? Something like that. After losing in the election three times, where did he get so much confidence? Unbelievable. But one has to believe. After seeing such a long laugh, it’s impossible not to believe.

Kutub Uddin laughed and said, “Were you scared? I just geared myself up a bit. Today is the final speech. After that begins the laughter. I will laugh.” He burst out laughing loudly.

Moti Molla said, “Whom did you gear up?”

“Whom else would I gear up? I geared up myself. For some reason, I feel I’ll have to do a hard act. Haven’t I acted enough already? Politics itself is acting, full of false promises. Still, it feels like today’s acting must be flawless. No one must be able to understand. A lot will depend on this performance. I will become the greatest actor.”

Everyone nodded. Karam Ali said, “You can do that. You've become a seasoned actor, leader. Once you get power in hand, you'll change. We won’t even be able to tell what’s acting and what’s not. The public will be dazed. They won’t be able to reach you.”

Kutub Uddin smiled. “It’s all for you all. This acting, this deception. I’ve done nothing for myself but the public didn’t understand. I lost three times. This is the last attempt. The party won’t nominate me anymore.”

Kutub Uddin sat down to eat with the party activists. Sat tight and ate tight. He can’t get up. He remembered the starving locality. Can he stand in front of them with this stomach? He got very worried. Thought—this too is part of the act. He’ll pose as if he is starving. Will moisten his eyes. There’s no problem. No one will press his belly. They’ll look at his face. He’ll act with his face.

2
Four in the afternoon. Kutub Uddin went to the rally ground. He had not come to this region before. He was startled by the sight. Where has he come? That excitement isn’t in him anymore. His thoughts have changed. He has forgotten his imagination. He got out of the car. Stood upright. Hungry people are running toward him. Surrounded him with shouting and cheering. His companions are pushing them away. No one should come close. Kutub Uddin walked toward the stage. This region is unfamiliar to him. He couldn’t even imagine it. The people also seem distant to him. It’s as if he and a few of his companions are not people of this planet. Or perhaps beings from another planet, living here. They’re staring in amazement. People made of bone. Where has the flesh gone? The trees have dried up. The soil has burned and turned to copper. Rainwater hasn’t touched this soil in ages. There’s not a bird anywhere. No melody rings from a bird’s throat. Flowers do not bloom. People do not sing. Poets do not write poetry. Leaders do not come to cut ribbons. Here, even the moonlight is terribly faint. What kind of region is this! It feels like the visual expression of an artist’s imagination painted in oil. Has hunger alone changed the scenario of this region? That must be it. Hunger has great power. It can change people’s faces, the heart of a whole region. Anyway, now this region will change his fate too.

Kutub Uddin got on the stage and sat down. White panjabi, black coat over it. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table. He was thinking something. Then he put the glasses back on. Looked ahead. In front of him sit countless hungry people. Their faces glowing with joy upon seeing him. He can’t turn his eyes away. He is looking at the image of a starving land. A group of skeletal people. Most of them have no clothes on the upper body. Their bodies are burnt and blackened. Some have towels over their shoulders. Torn vests. The women wear garments just enough to cover modesty. Those with nothing on their bodies reveal their rib cages, bent like bows and protruding. Hair, beards matted like jute fiber clumps. Eyes sunken deep into their sockets. Kutub Uddin froze. Looked left and right. He sees the same image. He’s searching for one different person. But sees none in this land. Has no one escaped hunger? A little farther stands a dog. Not a trace of meat on its body. Standing on four legs. Its drooping tongue hanging out. Why is the dog standing? Does it seek freedom from the torment of hunger? Or does it want to listen to his speech? Now he is afraid. While he may deceive people, deceiving this dog may be harder. He turned his eyes elsewhere.

The line of starving people is growing longer. Everyone is rushing to the rally field. Their eyes and faces are overflowing with joy. A boy has come with a plate. Naked. A head placed over a few bones. He’s talking. Asking his father, “Is it true they’ll give rice here? Ma said so. I’ll eat rice. Where’s the rice? Give me rice.”

The boy’s father made him sit beside him. “Don’t talk nonsense. They will give rice; don’t you see that one man?”

“Where is the man?”

“Over there, sitting on the stage. Different from all of us. Wearing such fine clothes. Fat and sturdy like a buffalo. He will give rice. He has brought rice. Today everyone will be able to eat rice. Just sit here.”

The boy did not sit. Instead, he ran with the plate toward the stage. He is now standing holding a bamboo pole, looking excitedly at Kutub Uddin. Searching for rice. Where is the rice kept? Doesn’t see rice beside him. Doesn’t see the rice pot. Where did he keep the rice? He ran back to his father. “Where is the rice! I can’t see rice. He didn’t bring rice. He is lying.”

“No, no, he did bring rice. His people said so. The leader will come with rice. There will be no hunger in this region anymore.” The father grabbed the boy and made him sit beside him. “Sit, sit. They will give rice.”

“After eating rice, I’ll take one plate away. I’ll eat at night, father.”

The father looked at his son’s face. After a moment, he said, “Oh yes, yes. They’ve brought a lot of rice. You’ll be able to take. We won’t have to stay hungry anymore.”

The boy smiled faintly. A smile of rice. The father’s face grew serious. He sighed deeply and said, “Ah, rice!”

Phulbanu is standing under the jarul tree. Covering her face with her shawl, crying with sobs. Tears rolling down. Why didn’t this leader come earlier? Now he has come with rice. If he came earlier, her husband wouldn’t have died. Her husband died for rice. How will she show her face if rice is given today? How will she eat rice? No, she won’t be able to eat rice. Her heart broke and she cried. She turned her face away.

Johora’s mother held her. “Oh, Phulu, why are you crying? Don’t cry. You said they will give rice. You’ll be able to eat. Eat your fill.”

“I won’t cry for rice, aunty. I lost my husband because of this rice. Now the leader has come with rice. How can I eat this rice?”

Tears came to Johora’s mother’s eyes. “Everyone’s heart is in pain. What can we do? Phulu’s husband won’t come back.”

Kutub Uddin was watching the eyes of the hungry people. Their hunger was not only in their stomachs but also in their eyes. Seeing the intensity of that hunger, he felt afraid. Would they devour him? Could they rush toward him and eat his flesh? Their hunger would be satisfied. Their bony skeletons would become fresh again. Their bodies would gain muscles. Their faces would shine. Strength would return to their whole body. They would run, spreading out to the horizon.

Thinking all this, Kutub Uddin’s mind became chaotic. Fear shook him. He couldn’t find the words to speak. He forgot everything. He lost the strength to talk. His words failed him. It seemed he would not be able to perform the act. He was trying to strengthen himself, to control himself, but couldn’t. His body was trembling. His throat felt dry as wood. He drank water. Sat up straight. Sweat dripped inside him. Now he was acting only with himself. He showed those sitting nearby that he was fine. He could not afford to be scared. Those sitting in front of him were his bullets for winning the election. He must win. The hungry people could make him win. That thought kept coming back again and again. He had to use that bullet correctly. It had become very difficult. He had to please them. Give countless false promises. He must not get entangled in trouble. He had to make space in their minds.

Mati Molla stood by the microphone. “O hungry people of this region, now before you will speak the friend of the hungry, the one who has come to bring smiles to your faces, whom you have been waiting for, the one who will provide rice for this region’s people, your beloved leader, the people’s leader Kutub Uddin.”

There was applause. The sound of clapping echoed. The bony people played instruments. Those who were a little far off rushed toward the stage, thinking that the rice distribution had started. They thought they must fight for rice. If they lagged behind, they would not get rice.

Kutub Uddin came to the dais. His face was serious. The fear inside shook him again. He stood expressionless. Countless hungry eyes looked at him. What he was about to say was the source to alleviate the hunger of this region’s people. His words would become rice in their stomachs. It would drive away hunger. With this hope, they looked at him like a bird of prey. There was no noise. Complete silence fell over the entire region. A deathly silence. Hunger had made them patient. Not only that, it had turned them to stone. It had stolen their strength to walk. They could not make a sound. Their voices were dead. One dream had taken root in their minds: today they would eat rice. Strength would return. They would be able to walk. They would fight again. They would run to other localities.

Kutub Uddin was standing there. He couldn’t speak. He rubbed his cheek with his hand. His throat felt tight. Words were stuck. Behind him, Mati Molla whispered softly, “You have to speak, leader. This is the last speech. The last bullet for victory.”

The dizziness passed from Kutub Uddin. He was searching for a word to start with. But he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to speak. The microphone hummed. He raised his head and said, “I know you are hungry.”

The silence broke. Everyone raised their hands. Their hands looked like dry bamboo sticks. They said, “Yes, we are hungry.”

“Not just hungry. You are tired. Exhausted. The terror of hunger has left its mark on your faces and eyes. The signboard of poverty hangs on your bodies. In this entire region, no tree, no animal has escaped the claws of hunger. My question is, why are you hungry? Why are you just bones? Why are you half-naked? Why are you trapped behind the walls of poverty? This region is not a land of hungry people. This region has fertile soil. There are people here. There is morale here. You have infinite courage and patience. Gold will bloom in this land. It will not be a land of hunger, but a golden land.”

Kutub Uddin could not finish his speech. Someone stood up and raised both hands, saying, “We don’t want gold, we don’t need gold. What will we do with gold? We want rice, rice. Our stomachs are hungry. Very hungry. Rice is our gold. We will eat rice. Give us rice. Talk about rice. Don’t talk about gold. You take the gold. Give us rice.”

The crowd started to raise an uproar. Everyone wanted rice. No one wanted gold. Many stood up. On everyone’s lips was the same demand: rice, rice. The crowd was clamoring. Some even started chanting, “Rice! Rice!”

A faint smile appeared on Kutub Uddin’s face. The speech was gaining momentum. This time, he raised both hands and said, “Stop, everyone. I will give you your rice. I will plant rice trees in this region. No one here will remain hungry. No one will die of hunger. There will be no skeletons. No one will be without clothes. The muddy roads will be paved. No one’s feet will touch the dirt. The youth of this region will not grow old prematurely. They will go to the city and get jobs. Birds will sing here. Flowers will bloom. This land will be filled with peace. You will smile. I will bring smiles to your faces. You will forget your sorrows. That is why I have come to this region.”

The people sitting at the meeting stood up joyfully. Kutub Uddin’s words empowered and inspired them. They would eat rice. Hunger would no longer exist. They would be freed from the pain of hunger. Everyone was bustling with excitement. Waves of joy spread throughout the hungry locality.

Kutub Uddin smiled with his lips closed. He was successful. The people of this region were swallowing his bait. They would swallow it too — such a tempting bait could not be refused. He had never imagined it would be swallowed so easily. Such simple, innocent people. They believed immediately as he spoke. They swallowed it whole. Their faces lit up with joy.

After the celebrations died down, Kutub Uddin said, “For that, you all have to do one thing.”

Everyone stopped. What would they have to do? They looked at Kutub Uddin with curious eyes. They couldn’t do anything! They just wanted to eat rice. One person said, “I can’t do any work. I want to eat rice.”

Another person stopped him. “Be quiet. Sit down. Listen to what he has to say.”

Everyone looked at Kutub Uddin, wanting to hear what he would say next. Kutub Uddin said, “You have to give me one vote. It’s not very costly. It won’t cause you any pain or expense. You will just put a mark on a paper — a ‘pump’ symbol. It won’t benefit you directly, but it will benefit me. I will be elected. Then I will arrange rice for you all. I will bring water through a pump. We will grow crops. You will eat. I believe none of you will die in the meantime. Hunger will surrender to you. If I win, hunger will surely lose. I promise to kill hunger. I say this with strength. I was once hungry like you. I defeated hunger. It took me close to death, but I fought and came back. I know the mantra to defeat hunger. Only your one vote can drive hunger away from this land, free you, and ensure my victory.”

The entire region fell silent. No one dared to speak. But their minds had no joy or excitement. In an instant, the region turned into a land of death. Kutub Uddin looked at the hungry people sitting before him. What had happened? The people had gone lifeless! Suddenly, he couldn’t understand their feelings. Why had they become silent? Fear gripped him. He searched for the joy they had moments ago — but couldn’t find it. Why had all their joy disappeared?

Breaking the silence, someone stood up, trembling with anger, shouting, “Liar! Trickster! Fraud! Did you gather us here just to say these things? We will not vote. We want rice. We want to eat rice.”

Everyone stood up. The powerless, bony people were shaking with anger and excitement. They picked up stones and started throwing them at Kutub Uddin. The atmosphere changed instantly. Kutub Uddin could no longer stand in front of the stones. Their faces gradually transformed into monstrous shapes. They advanced toward the stage from all sides. Fear overwhelmed him. Tremendous fear. They wouldn’t spare him. They would devour him. He looked around with frightened eyes. Where did they find so much strength? He was completely confused by fear.

A group of hungry people stood right in front of him. He could neither run away nor think of what to do. How had this happened? Just a moment ago they swallowed his bait. When he mentioned rice, their eyes had once sparkled with joy. But now those eyes were bloodshot, throwing stones and shouting at him, rushing forward. Why? There was no time to find the answer to this question. He saw no one beside him; everyone else had fled. There was no way to survive.

He hid under the dais, but it was no use. They were rushing toward him and pulling him out. Now he stood up and raised his hands. “Stop, please! What are you doing? Why are you throwing stones? Why are you rushing at me? I am not your enemy. I am your friend. I have come to remove hunger from this region. You will get rice. You don’t have to vote. Please stop.”

The leader of the hungry people stood up and shouted, “Fool! Idiot! You have come to fight a war with old weapons and new soldiers. You cannot win with those. How many times will the soles of your feet be worn out? How many times we will drown in false promises? How many false dreams will we live on? Say it, say it! We have come to the brink of death dreaming those dreams. Now we want to live. We don’t want to dream anymore. Why do you make us dream?”

Kutub Uddin fell silent, realising his approach was wrong. Many had deceived people with the same formula and got trapped. What could he say? To hungry people, only talk of food would work. Singing won’t help.

He called the leader of the hungry people. “Listen to me. Calm them down. Don’t ask for votes. No voting needed.”

The leader of the hungry people calmed everyone down. Kutub Uddin asked, “Tell me, what’s really going on? Why did everyone suddenly get so angry? Hungry people are usually happy to hear about food. But these people are throwing stones. Why?”

The leader replied, “You are mistaken. Many leaders have come to this region before. They used the same formula. The results were the same. Yours would be too, if it weren’t for the bad timing. That’s your misfortune. Those who came before you shouted loudly: hunger is a curse for you. Hunger has destroyed your lives. We will remove hunger. For that, we need your vote. Without power, hunger cannot be removed. Everyone voted with high hopes. The leader was elected. But he forgot the people of this region. Didn’t remember, didn’t return. Hunger only grew worse. Like a monster, it devoured many. The people watched the road, waiting for their leader. When will he come? When will he end their hunger? Years passed. The leader never came back.

Yes, a leader did come—before the election. He arrived with a big car. Dust covered the region, darkness spread. People ran after the car blindly, unable to see. The leader didn’t get out of the car. Lowering his glass, he said, “Listen, I was hungry too. Hunger has lessened a little over five years. Now I will end your hunger. But you must vote once more. Otherwise, hunger cannot be defeated.”

The leader drove away. The people voted again. What could they do? No way out. No path. They trusted and followed. The leader forgot again. Didn’t come back to this region. After a long time, the leader came again—but not in a car this time. He came flying through the sky. People looked up, thinking he had brought rice in that flying machine. But he didn’t bring rice. He came again to ask for votes. His hunger was so great that it couldn’t be satisfied. First, he devoured the small car, then the big car. That didn’t end his hunger. Then he devoured the flying machine too. Hunger wasn’t ended. To satisfy his hunger, he left this region for another. Our hunger remained in place.

A few days later, another leader came. He promised the same thing: no more hunger here. With new hope, the people pledged their hearts. This time, hunger would disappear. They would eat to their fill. They would smile again. But after the vote, he too left and never returned with rice.

A few days ago, Phulbanu’s husband committed suicide—by hanging himself—because there was no rice to eat. The hunger in the people of this region is as intense as the disbelief on their faces. They cannot trust anyone anymore. Those who came before said the same things you are saying now: they promised to end hunger. But like them, you too will take votes and then run away. You will also devour cars and flying machines. A soldier with a weapon is different. That’s why no one can trust you. You are mistaken. If only you had brought some food with you, you could have fooled us once more—created a false hope in the hearts of these hungry people.

Kutub Uddin fell silent. He didn’t want to become an MP just by winning votes from the hungry. Everyone had played a game of tug-of-war with their fate. Their fate had never changed. Everyone changed their own fortunes but used these people’s hunger for their own advancement. He would end their hunger. He would build trust among them—not with false promises. But how? No one would believe him now. He had to earn their trust. He came down among the hungry people and mingled with them. He said, “Change will not come from the stage. Change will come from within you. I will fight hunger alongside you. I will free this region from the curse of hunger.”

Smiles appeared on the faces of the hungry people. The dark, bony people ran up and embraced Kutub Uddin. Cheers spread. Joy spread throughout. A true leader had come—one of their own. Not on the stage, but among the people.

The leader of the hungry people said, “You are mistaken again, leader. Change cannot happen from here. Change must come from the stage. If change could come from within the people, we would all have changed our own fate. We wouldn’t remain hungry. We wouldn’t wait for you. You wouldn’t have been able to fool us repeatedly.”

Kutub Uddin stared in astonishment. The sky was covered with clouds. Darkness had fallen all around. He looked up at the sky and thought, once again, he had made a mistake. Just then, rain began to fall from the sky. And the hungry land was filled with green once more.

Shams Sayeed: Fiction writer