‘Bolo beta. What do you want to ask today? You seem troubled. I have noticed this during your visits here over the past few weeks. You always ask questions and I try to answer them, but you lack patience. You interrupted me, though I was yet to be done with my sermon,’ Qasmi said, a tinge of irritation in his voice.

The young man was seemingly unfazed. ‘You said Paradise does not know old age or sickness and does not have space for the doers of wrong deeds, that there is absolute peace and contentment there.’

‘Yes, I said that, so?’ the imam asked impatiently.

‘My abba, a sixty-eight-year-old retired schoolteacher, was killed by a mob in my village when a riot broke out.’ The young man’s eyes bored into Qasmi as he waited for an answer.

‘May your father’s soul find peace and succour, may he get accepted in paradise. May the wrongdoers repent for their sin. May the Almighty give solace to your wounded heart, may you get the strength and forbearance to get over your pain,’ Qasmi said, haltingly.

‘However, son, I notice a sea of anger welling up inside you, thanks to the misfortune that befell your family as you have just described. Be wary of anger since it clouds your judgment. Those who wronged your father will need to account for their barbarism on the Day of Judgment and will be sent to hell.’

‘What do I do, where do I go and for what? How will I know if those killers get what they deserved? How will I know if my abba got justice, something that he did not get from the authorities?’ the young man demanded, his voice heavy with anger.

‘Have patience,’ Qasmi said.

‘Easy for you to say that, imam sahib. You have probably handed out the same empty nonsense to the victims of the Bhagalpur riots of 1989 in Bihar and the 1992-93 riots in Bombay. You must be an agent of the oppressors, not a spiritual leader of the hapless!’

‘Watch your tongue! Throw him out, take him out of here,’ Qasmi bellowed. His eyes were burning, his body shaking with anger.

A group of men grabbed the questioner by his collar and dragged him out of the prayer hall and then outside the grounds of the mosque. There, they decided to punish the young man for his temerity, raining blows on his head, face and chest.

‘You come here to insult the saintly imam? How is he responsible for your father?’ said one of the attackers.

‘You rascal, do something about your intelligence before you dare to bombard the imam with your questions,’ said another attacker.

Eventually satisfied that they had taught the impudent young man a lesson, they left to return to the prayer hall. Only one of them stayed back to rain more punches and kicks on the man, who was writhing on the ground by now.