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“I feel exhausted,” he kept saying. “You know I would not throw a fight.”

When he saw that Kabira did not believe him, Tamami began arguing and broke into tears. Kabira then went to see Gulab Deen, whom he had seen quietly slip away after the fight ended.

Kabira thought Tamami’s body might be rebelling against his drug addiction. Despite his vigil in the last weeks, he had noticed that Tamami was increasingly drugged. At times he would jump out of his charpai in the middle of the night, brushing his clothes wildly, complaining of insects crawling over his body. Kabira saw that there were no insects, either on Tamami’s skin or on the charpai. Since summer, when he had kept the charpais in the sun, there had been no bedbugs either.

Sher Ali had looked strong in the akhara and was far more agile than Tamami. As Kabira was not certain that Tamami’s defeat was entirely the result of Gulab Deen’s orchestration, he was taken in by his convoluted arguments.

A rumor spread that Tamami had taken money from Sher Ali to draw the fight and that Tamami had done it to pay for his addiction. Kabira listened helplessly to the comments people made.

Kabira wondered if Ustad Ramzi would make up with Tamami, but he could not find the courage to broach the subject with him again.

Ustad Ramzi remained impassive upon hearing that Tamami had lost the bout to Sher Ali. It seemed that he had either expected the news, or else he was too sad to react in any way.

He wondered despondently if addiction and the lure of money had driven Tamami to lose fights and dishonor the clan. Ustad Ramzi did not go to Gulab Deen to settle the matter with him, as some suggested. He told himself there was no point in doing so.

When a pahalwan held himself back before an opponent in an akhara, he betrayed his oath to the clay of the akhara. Tamami had broken his oath out of greed. Once faith with one’s creed had been broken, it did not stop at one disgrace; a storm of evils was bound to follow. In days to come there might be more. A canker was eating away at Tamami’s soul and it could not be carved to any perfection, Ustad Ramzi told himself.

With a final effort he shut his heart to Tamami and all thoughts of him.

Addict

Tamami’s eyes looked sunken. His skin, which had once been radiant, looked pale. Weight loss had weakened his body. He complained of loss of appetite and did not consume even a third of the amount he ate when he had prepared to fight Imama. He complained that the food had no taste and stopped after eating a little. On occasion when he ate more at Kabira’s insistence, he threw up soon afterwards. Frightened by what he saw, Kabira stopped insisting that he should increase his diet.

Kabira suggested Tamami see a hakim but Tamami refused to do so. When Kabira threatened to withdraw himself from his affairs if Tamami did not go, Tamami said with bitterness,

“Everyone is forsaking me. You and Ustad Ramzi and everyone else are all the same.”

Tamami’s hands convulsed as he spoke, and the pitiable manner in which he complained made Kabira relent. When Kabira again pleaded that he visit a hakim, Tamami sullenly consented.

When the hakim pressed Tamami to disclose the quantity of drug he was using, he broke down and began yelling. Kabira had to take him away for fear he would become violent.

Tamami lay at home in a somber mood. His respiration had become feeble. Kabira was worried that he would be sick again, but Tamami’s condition gradually improved. He asked for water and drank an entire jug. That did not quench his thirst, and before half an hour had passed he complained again that his mouth was feeling parched. He drank another jug of water and fell asleep.

Kabira left the house on an errand and upon his return found Tamami sitting dressed on the charpai. He looked revived. Displaying complete presence of mind, he spoke about the second bout with Sher Ali.

Kabira decided to see Gulab Deen to ask for a change in scheduling.

The promoter was quite firm that the date of the fight could not be changed.

“Tamami would not want it,” Gulab Deen said, looking defiantly at Kabira.

“He cannot fight while he is in that condition,” Kabira protested.

“If he does not fight, it would mean that Sher Ali has won.”

“I will go and speak to Sher Ali.”

“Go! He will only tell you what you have already heard from me.”

As Gulab Deen had predicted, Kabira did not have any luck with Sher Ali. He was unwilling to change the date.

“Why are you asking for a postponement?” he asked. “Is Tamami not well?”

“Tamami has just recovered,” Kabira swallowed his pride. “I think he needs some more time to prepare.”

Sher Ali told him that he would be paid only if all the terms and conditions set by the promoter were met. If the fight were delayed by the pahalwans’ consent, but without Gulab Deen’s approval, their share of the proceeds from the ticket sales would be forfeited. Sher Ali said he could not afford that.

Tamami’s fee was too little to compensate Kabira for the money he had already spent on Tamami’s training. Kabira had heard that Sher Ali had been paid a greater share of the proceeds of the tickets.

A week passed and Tamami got no worse, though at the akhara his breaks between exercises grew longer with every passing day. The exercises had been curtailed, and he no longer ran laps. He could not grapple with more than two trainees at a time.

When they were alone one day, Kabira asked him if he wished to postpone the fight. Tamami suddenly turned upon him.

“Never! Never ever! I will fight! Nobody…not you nor anyone else will stop the fight!” He had trouble breathing and his hands shook. Kabira saw distrust in Tamami’s eyes.

Tamami began to think that his punishment by Ustad Ramzi was justified. His anger at Ustad Ramzi’s injustice surfaced briefly from time to time, but after a while it was buried under a sense of guilt that grew stronger when he saw that nobody but Kabira took his side.

He longed to exchange this situation with the one he had before found unbearable, and waited for the slightest hint of forgiveness from his brother, which would have redeemed him in his own eyes. As his addiction grew worse, and impairment set into his nerves, all other thoughts were driven out of his mind with the exception of this one. Gradually it became a fixation.

One day when Kabira returned home, he found Tamami looking preoccupied. He asked Tamami if he wished to discuss anything with him.

“Ustad Ramzi will come to my fight, Kabira,” Tamami said in a soft and eager whisper.

Tamami had not mentioned Ustad Ramzi’s name for several weeks.

“Let us hope he comes,” Kabira said.

“He will come,” Tamami said with an odd gleam in his eyes. “I know that he will come.”

“Yes, hopefully he will come,” Kabira replied, unable to get Tamami’s drift.

“You don’t understand! He will come!” Tamami burst out. “You don’t want him to come! That’s why you wanted to delay the fight! But the fight will not be delayed! He will come then!”

Feeling that Tamami needed reassurance, Kabira replied, “Yes Tamami, Ustad Ramzi will come. He will be there. I am sure of that.”

“Gulab Deen also said that,” Tamami said, as his expression changed to one of relief. “so don’t change anything. Don’t ask Sher Ali to postpone the fight.”

Kabira wondered if Gulab Deen knew that Ustad Ramzi would come. He was not sure if there might not be some truth in that. Ustad Ramzi might relent; after all, he was Tamami’s brother.

When Kabira ran into Gulab Deen, he asked him, “Do you know if Ustad Ramzi is coming to the bout?”