In this old novel by KA Abbas, the hero grapples with colonial rule and the need for a revolution

The Maulvi Saheb’s venerable beard was a source of never-ending wonder to Anwar. It was long and white, and as the morning breeze blowing from the Jumna played upon it, it assumed the most fantastic shapes. Now it was pointed like the tail of a sparrow, now it was blown about like the wings of a pigeon in flight; at one moment it was peaceful like a sleeping cat, and the next moment it would be wild like a stray street dog feared by all the children of the neighbourhood. It was fun to watch the old scholar struggling with his beard when an unusually strong gust of wind spread it fanwise, for then he would forget to scold the children for not attending to their Quran lessons.

Anwar’s body moved rhythmically backward and forward as he intoned the verses, continually repeating them, for great virtue lay in learning the Quran by heart – even if it was in a parrot-like fashion, without any understanding of a single word of the difficult Arabic language. The Maulvi Saheb did not fail to tell the children that this was the surest way of ensuring one’s place in jannat, the paradise where only the...

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