Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
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31st April 1933
I asked Walid the question I had asked Dadi. "What is the path of Al-Quran?" hoping against hope that he would answer it differently than Dadi had.
Walid smiled at me. He said there were some questions that couldn't be answered so simply. Like asking someone about a third person; who is so-and-so? And expecting a response equivalent to knowing them your entire lives. "Can you know someone unless you spend time with them yourselves?"
He told me that one day, he would ask me the same question and that I would have so much to say I would not be able to stop speaking.
My heartbeat fastens at the thought. I find myself at a road unlike any that I have seen before; and while the strangeness of the road and the unfamiliar path makes my heart skip a beat, I realize that the nervousness I feel is not unaccompanied by excitement. The sun seems to be rising, and from where I stand I see a silhouette on the path ahead. Even from a distance, I recognize him. He stops walking and looks back at me, waving me over —
Mahrosh ran.
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late — if things had gone the way she had planned she would have been fifteen minutes early but Ammi had put her over a chore at the last minute. I promised to meet him at two. Now he's going to think I'm not serious at all or worse, he will leave without me — she was running so fast that she almost missed the spot she had promised to meet him at till a hand grabbed her arm, steadying her.
Mahrosh' gaze snapped up to meet Walid's, a wave of relief crashing over her. "Ammi-" she bent over, struggling to catch her breath. "She-"
"It's okay. I wasn't going to leave without you," Walid said calmly, passing her a smile. He let go of her arm once she was steady enough. "Let's go."
And so it begins.
This time, Mahrosh recognized the path Walid walked her through. He remained quiet throughout the way, till the familiar board came into sight. Pir Mahal.
A strange anxiety bubbled in her heart as Walid led her up to the same house they had gone to the first time. The paint on its gate was faded and the strip of flowers overgrown from the hedge beside its entrance easily fooled someone into believing that this house was just as empty as its neighbors.
Walid peered over his watch, and Mahrosh could not help but shuffle behind him as the door pulled open. From behind him, Mahrosh stole a glance at the bearded man. He had intimidated her before, but this time, he did not raise any eyebrows or ask any questions at the sight of her. He greeted Walid, and when she tried to shuffle inside unseen, he even said salam to her. To her!
The hundreds of shoes outside the main door were missing and the room Walid led her into was empty except for a boy — perhaps not even older than twelve. He sat on the floor, painting something on a white banner. On Walid's arrival, he looked up and his eyes lit up. "Assalamoalaikum Walid Bhai."
