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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Property theft.
Not a word unknown to the dictionaries of the people of India, and yet, one that is faded and distant — forgotten about completely until it comes to your doors. And when it comes, it comes banging. It becomes bold and big; till your eyes can grasp nothing else.
It came as a disbelief to them in the beginning. Surely, there had been a misunderstanding. Some sort of a mistake — Mahrosh watched Walid trying to reason, Aleena's face going white with every passing second but to no avail.
The sharpness of the men's voices transformed into threats. "We have the papers to prove it. If you do not empty this house by tomorrow we will be bringing the police."
The police. What hope, Mahrosh thought, recalling the uniformed men attacking Walid and the other civilians, tremors running down her spine, what hope have you left for the people where it is the righteous and the innocent that fear the police?
When they left, Walid did not move. His back was towards them, but Mahrosh noticed the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the bars of the gate. Silence comes in many languages; sometimes serene and peaceful; but other times, filled with hundreds of muted screams.
Walid turned around eventually, and his gaze flickered towards the canvas behind her; Mahrosh followed his gaze —
HasbunAllahu wa'nimal wakil Sufficient for me is Allah and He is the best disposer of affairs
Mahrosh’ hands unclenched by her sides. Al-Wakil.
Walid dropped Aleena and her back home, where they were immediately bombarded with questions by Ammi and Dadi; before echoes of ‘Haye Allah’ filled the bramda. They fretted and they worried; and they tried to think of solutions.
If there had been a bureau in the midst of town, with a board; Leave all of your affairs to us — solution, guaranteed; Mahrosh wondered how crowded it would have been. She wondered how people would be lining up day and night, coming from afar with sacs of gold and silver .
Abbu came; was informed, and he went away as well after inquiring about Walid. This time, silence filled the house; Ammi tried to busy herself in making dinner, Dadi picked up her tasbih, and Aleena sat quietly in the corner, her face white.
And what if the bureau claimed to handle all affairs? Were it personal, marital, about relationships or finances — you name it! Mahrosh thought of the crowds that would gather and the popularity the area would gain.
It wasn’t till near midnight that the men returned, carrying a hefty weight upon their shoulders. Abbu was furious and his tongue was unfiltered; for apparently, Sarjot Singh was not in the city — a land-owner renowned for the lands he falsely claimed as his, it came as no surprise that the property bought by Walid’s father from him years and years ago now proved to be the perfect place for him to play his terrible tricks. The house was sold to another party — with all of the false papers to prove it, and enough connections in the police to ensure Sarjot Singh’s safety.
