{"id":34323,"date":"2024-09-06T10:31:18","date_gmt":"2024-09-06T08:31:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/?p=34323"},"modified":"2024-09-06T11:30:35","modified_gmt":"2024-09-06T09:30:35","slug":"made-to-measure-fiction-from-farah-ahamed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/made-to-measure-fiction-from-farah-ahamed\/","title":{"rendered":"“Made to Measure”\u2014fiction from Farah Ahamed"},"content":{"rendered":"
The makeshift fitting room was nothing but the corner of a storeroom cordoned off with a shabby pink curtain. The walls were plastered with posters of calligraphic Quran texts and the Pakistan flag was stuck behind one of them. Next to these was the image of the Kaaba in a gold frame, garlanded with plastic purple flowers. Above it was a hand-written notice:\u00a0<\/span><\/h5>\n
DON\u2019T ASK FOR CREDIT, IN ALLAH ALONE WE TRUST.\u00a0<\/span><\/h5>\n
Underneath this was an outdated calendar advertising cheap flights to Mecca. In the corner was a folded prayer rug.\u00a0<\/span><\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n

Farah Ahamed<\/b><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

These days you can\u2019t trust anyone, most of all those who are closest to you, especially if you live in Lahore. Once you tell someone your secrets, they have a power over you, and even though they could be teasing when they say they could blackmail you, there is always the fear it could turn out to be true. Sometimes, even the most ordinary thing becomes the biggest fiasco and you\u2019d wonder how it was even possible. Take the neighbors, for instance. No one could have ever predicted that Mrs. Musa, a simple woman, could end up in jail. According to Mrs. Musa, it had been a normal, everyday argument that evening when she\u2019d said to her husband, \u201cSwear on the Quran, that you\u2019ll never hit me again.\u201d The Quran had been lying on the table and he\u2019d laughed and without thinking, he put his hand on it and said, \u201cThere you go, do you think that this will stop me doing what I want?\u201d and in her anger, she\u2019d picked up the holy book and hit him on the head, and the next thing she knew, her husband had gone down to the police station, complained that his wife had struck him and accused her of breaking the Blasphemy Law. The fact that he\u2019d been drunk, and Mrs. Musa had explained her side of the story a dozen times, made no difference. She was charged with being a traitor of the faith, and a shameless woman. The police jeered at her, calling her \u201cbeshaaram,\u201d and locked her up. No one in the neighborhood defended Mrs Musa or spoke up about how her husband used to regularly abuse and beat her. No one knew when or if she\u2019d ever get a proper trial and no one really cared.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But after this episode everyone in the neighborhood told each other, \u201cDon\u2019t forget what happened to Mrs. Musa, she was Muslim, so think how easily it could happen to you.\u201d We began to suspect those inside our houses and in the basti more and more, and when we went outside, we wavered between believing in strangers completely or not at all. But how does one navigate one\u2019s life without being able to trust anyone?<\/span><\/p>\n

When Sarah left the house that morning to start her new job at the university, her mother had made the sign of the cross on her and cautioned her, as she had so often before. \u201cBe careful, don\u2019t take risks.\u201d Sarah had waved off the warning as she usually did, \u201cYou worry for nothing, Ma.\u201d Now, standing at the curb, she waited for the traffic lights to change. The November sky was gray, the sun hidden by smog. The two women in niqabs next to her were discussing the cover story of every newspaper: the Supreme Court\u2019s verdict on Asia Bibi.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey should keep Asia in prison,\u201d one said. \u201cIt\u2019ll teach them all a lesson.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is a Muslim country and if they can\u2019t respect our Prophet, they shouldn\u2019t be here.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut they\u2019re born like that, ungrateful. They\u2019ll never change.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah turned the other way and pretended she hadn\u2019t heard. When the light turned green, she let the two women walk ahead to cross the road. This wasn\u2019t about Mrs. Musa. This was about being a Christian woman in an Islamic state. Hundreds of Christians had been prosecuted by the state for things they had supposedly done or not done. Women were more targeted. Sarah\u2019s mother had been right when she\u2019d said today was not a good day to be out walking on the streets. \u201cPeople are unpredictable,\u201d she\u2019d said. \u201cYou don\u2019t know when they\u2019ll flip.\u201d Even at church every Sunday, the priest reminded them, \u201cNever forget you\u2019re a Christian, don\u2019t go making trouble. Be a peacemaker, like Jesus.\u201d\u00a0 At school she\u2019d been called names like \u201cchura\u201d and \u201cfilthy Christian.\u201d Sarah had accepted this was what it meant to be a Christian in Pakistan; to live with an internal anxiety about who you were and never feel wanted even in your own country. Being a peaceful person meant keeping silent; accept that you would never be equal to the others. Especially not a man. You were a woman, and a Christian. Know your place. Stay within your limits.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah walked along the narrow pavement towards the bus stop, stepping aside to let a woman with two children pass. As she did, she caught the sleeve of her jacket on a nail protruding from a dead electricity pole. This was another problem with Lahore, everything that was broken and defunct was never cleared away to make place for the new. Wherever you were you could smell the sewage and rot from the Ganda Nala canal and the rubbish lying in heaps at the street corners. And now her jacket was ripped. Damn it. Today, of all days. She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she\u2019d have just enough time to get it repaired. She turned onto a side street remembering that it had a row of fabric shops. Maybe one of the tailors there would help her fix it.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In the entrances of the shops, floor boys were draping mannequins in the windows with bright sarees and fabrics. Others sprinkled water on the pavement and swept the entrances. It was still early; she would be their first customer. She made her way towards the shop which had a large sign in bold red letters:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

AL SAKEENA FABRICS.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

LADIES TAILORING<\/span><\/p>\n

ALTERATIONS WHILE YOU WAIT.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

WE FIX HEMS, BUTTONS, MISSING THREADS.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

MADE TO MEASURE, FOR YOUR PLEASURE.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

An old man sat on a stool by the door. He had a long, white beard. He beckoned to Sarah, squinting at her through his thick glasses. \u201cSalaam, beti, how can we help?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She returned his greeting, and cast a quick glance around the shop. From floor to ceiling, the shop was filled with reams of textiles. The back of the shop was in darkness. In the middle, busy behind a sewing machine, was a man with his left arm in a sling. The whirring stopped, he fixed a cold stare on Sarah, while his fingers turned and smoothed the fabric under the needle. That was another thing about Lahore, men were always watching you. But you never got used to it. She pulled her handbag strap across her middle.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cWell,\u201d said the old man. \u201cWas there something you needed?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She showed him the tear in her sleeve. \u201cCan you help me repair this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat you need is a new jacket.\u201d He gestured to the rolls of colourful material behind him. \u201cChoose any fabric you like and we\u2019ll make it for you. Made to measure.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot today,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m in a hurry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

From behind the sewing machine, the man gave a loud smirk. Sarah was tempted to ask him what his problem was, but his head was bent over his sewing machine. Better to ignore. You couldn\u2019t argue with every man who whistled and snorted at you.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

From the street came the sound of cars honking and a couple of loud shouts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is that you do, beti?\u201d the old man said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m starting a new job,\u201d she said. \u201cAt a university. I\u2019m teaching a course on how to dress like a business professional.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The old man laughed. His whole body shook and he looked like he would fall off the stool. \u201cNow isn\u2019t that an irony? You\u2019re talking about what to wear when your own jacket is falling apart.\u201d He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the corner of his salwar. \u201cDid you hear that, Bilal? All my life I\u2019ve been advising customers for free on what to wear, and now she\u2019s getting paid for it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal rotated the fabric around the needle and snipped off some threads. \u201cWhat does your husband think about your job?\u201d he said, looking at Sarah.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy husband?\u201d Sarah said. \u201cIt\u2019s really none of your business.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal broke off a piece of thread with his teeth. \u201cHa, from your answer I can tell you\u2019re <\/span>that<\/span><\/i> type of woman.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat sort is that?\u201d she said, in spite of herself.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe <\/span>modern<\/span><\/i> kind.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBas karo, Bilal. Don\u2019t start first thing in the morning.\u201d The old man smoothed his salwar over his knees. \u201cYusuf,\u201d he shouted. \u201cWhere\u2019s that good-for-nothing boy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A skinny teenager in a white kanzu came running from the back. \u201cYes, Baba.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re waiting for you to say our morning prayers.\u201d Baba lit two camphor sticks and fixed them on a stand. \u201cAnd make sure today you add a special one for Pakistan.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This was too much. \u201cMy class starts in an hour. I can\u2019t be late,\u201d Sarah said, looking at her watch. \u201cLeave it, let me take my jacket and go, I\u2019ll come back later.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe prayers will take only two minutes,\u201d Baba said, calmly. \u201cBe patient.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Yusuf took a white skullcap from his pocket and put it on his head. He pulled out a stool from under the counter, sat down and began chanting verses from the Quran, rocking back and forth as he recited them in a monotonous tone.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah folded her arms. She should have gone to another shop. She ought to just leave.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

All through the recitation Bilal kept on with his sewing; the intermittent whirring and snipping a backdrop to the prayer and Baba stood with his hands folded and his eyes shut. When Yusuf had finished, Baba said, \u201cTake her to the fitting room and bring me her coat, I\u2019ll repair the tear myself.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can do that here,\u201d she said, and began taking it off.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Baba said quickly, \u201cNo, no, not here. Go to the back.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She would never understand some people\u2019s modesty rules: it was only a jacket, she still had her salwar kameez on. It wasn\u2019t like she was getting undressed or anything. She followed Yusuf to the back of the shop. He switched on the light.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The makeshift fitting room was nothing but the corner of a storeroom cordoned off with a shabby pink curtain. The walls were plastered with posters of calligraphic Quran texts and the Pakistan flag was stuck behind one of them. Next to these was the image of the Kaaba in a gold frame, garlanded with plastic purple flowers. Above it was a hand-written notice:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

DON\u2019T ASK FOR CREDIT, IN ALLAH ALONE WE TRUST.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Underneath this was an outdated calendar advertising cheap flights to Mecca. In the corner was a folded prayer rug.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah took off her jacket and gave it to Yusuf. He folded it over his arm and stood watching her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs something the matter?\u201d she said, irritated. He continued his insolent stare and did not reply. She loosened the scarf around her neck.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t have been more than 15 years old and his face had a mean look. As she took off her scarf, the chain and crucifix which she always wore, became entwined in its tassels. He snickered as she tried to untangle them.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYusuf,\u201d Baba shouted. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cComing, Baba, coming,\u201d Yusuf said, and left taking her jacket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Sarah waited a few minutes in the fitting room, trying to compose herself. Something about this shop made her uneasy. Bilal or Yusuf, she didn\u2019t trust them. As soon as her jacket was ready, she\u2019d be out of here.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She went back to the front of the shop. Baba was seated on his stool, rummaging in a box filled with coloured threads.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow long will it take?\u201d she said.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPatience beti, patience,\u201d Baba said. \u201cOne or two minutes, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal gave her a sly look, slung a measuring tape around his neck and reached out his good arm for the radio. The newscaster was giving a summary of the Asia Bibi trial. He turned up the volume.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pakistan awaits the verdict of the Supreme Court. Ten years ago, Asia Bibi, a Christian and mother of five, was picking fruit during the harvest season when the landowner asked her to fetch some drinking water. This annoyed her Muslim co-workers who accused her of contaminating it because she had touched the bucket. During a heated exchange, the woman called Asia an infidel, and later that evening thugs entered Asia\u2019s house and attacked her family. The following day she was charged under the Blasphemy Law. At the trial,<\/span><\/i> the judge found Asia guilty, and sentenced her to death. Since then, Asia has been in solitary confinement, without access to her children or husband.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Baba fumbled in the box, and held a reel against the jacket trying to match it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know beti,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve a daughter just like you. But she\u2019s refusing to marry because she says she wants to study. What good will it do?\u201d Baba sucked the end of a thread, and drew it through a needle. \u201cIn the end she has to stay home.\u201d He jabbed the needle into her jacket.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she could be a career girl,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cLike me. She could work.\u201d She had been lucky. When her father had fallen down a sewer and broken his neck, her uncle had taken charge of their family and insisted she be sent to a convent school. Her grades had been excellent so the church gave her a scholarship to attend a teacher training college. Now, she was starting her first job and her mother would relax. She had worked hard as a single parent to raise\u00a0 Sarah, doing domestic work and babysitting. All of that was over now, with Sarah\u2019s new salary they were looking forward to happier days. In fact, Sarah thought, looking at the floral patterned fabrics, she ought to take the pink patterned one for mother. She would like that for a night dress. Her thoughts were interrupted by the FM 101 jingle from the radio.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Breaking news. The Supreme Court of Pakistan finds Asia Bibi not guilty of the charge of blasphemy. The three-judge bench found no evidence to support the charge and ruled Asia should be released. Chief Justice Nisar told a packed courtroom that th<\/span><\/i>e decision of the high court and trial court were being reversed and Asia\u2019s conviction was being set aside. He said, \u201cThe <\/span><\/i>prosecution has categorically failed to prove its case beyond reasonable doubt<\/span><\/i>.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

She watched Baba thread his needle again, when all of a sudden, from the street came the sound of gunshots, shouting and people running. \u201cWhat\u2019s happening? Allah have mercy.\u201d Baba jumped off his stool.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShut the shop,\u201d Bilal shouted.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah ran to the door.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGet back in,\u201d Bilal pushed her aside and Baba caught her hand.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me go,\u201d she said, pulling her hand. \u201cYou can\u2019t keep me here.\u201d His grip was firm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBilkool nahin, nothing doing,\u201d Baba said. \u201cAllah help me,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t want your blood on my conscience.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

On the street, the traffic piled up; cars and buses honked at rickshaws and motorbikes tried to edge their way through the narrow spaces between the vehicles. A cyclist navigating lost his balance, a man leaned out of his car window and swore. From the distance came the sound of police and ambulance sirens. Bilal dragged the mannequins into the shop, yanking one under his bad arm and hauling the other with his good one. The head of one dummy fell off, and he kicked it inside. Dumping the figures on the floor, he pulled down the window shutters with a hooked stick and locked the door. With the windows boarded up, the stench of sweat and dusty textiles was overwhelming. Baba pulled out a stool from under the counter and pointed at it. Sarah hesitated but then sat down, placing her handbag near her feet.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need to ring my mother,\u201d she said, taking her mobile phone from her purse. There was no signal. She tried the university admin office also, to tell them that she\u2019d been delayed, but no luck. She told herself, whatever it was, it would pass in a few minutes. Lahore was like this, full of drama, people got excited for nothing and then things settled in a few minutes. Just like the weather at this time of year, a passing thunderstorm, followed by sunshine in the same hour. The atmosphere in the shop was taut, and she didn\u2019t trust Bilal, but she needed to stay calm. It was a question of a few minutes. A few feet away Bilal sat cross-legged on the floor listening to the radio, his chin resting on his good hand. Now she looked at him properly; he must be about 30 years old. He had a pencil-line moustache and thick hair oiled into a wave above his brow. When he turned his head she noticed the brown dirt ring around the inside collar of his white kurta. He caught her staring and his eyes narrowed, and he smiled maliciously. She looked away.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the radio the newscaster was giving an update:<\/span><\/p>\n

Breaking News. Rioters led by extremist parties have refused to accept the Supreme Court\u2019s judgment and insist Asia be hanged. All roads around the Supreme Court are under police control and major cities are in lock down. The government asks citizens to stay calm and not panic. The army is in charge.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cThe army, always the army,\u201d Bilal said. \u201cWho else could it be?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Yusuf?\u201d Baba wiped the back of his neck with his skullcap and replaced it on his head.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe must be in the basement,\u201d Bilal said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRing him,\u201d Baba said.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal picked up his phone. \u201cThe government\u2019s switched off mobile signal, Baba,\u201d Bilal said, after he\u2019d tried.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll the lines are dead,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cThe army must have switched off the internet. How long will we be here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, beti,\u201d Baba said. \u201cIt will all be alright.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal smirked.<\/span><\/p>\n

They sat listening to the radio.<\/span><\/p>\n

Asia Bibi’s lawyer told\u00a0FM 101, this is \u201cthe biggest and happiest day of my life because it shows minorities can get justice in Pakistan.\u201d In the meantime, <\/span><\/i>Prime Minister Imran Khan has asked all citizens to stay calm and maintain decorum.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cAlhamdulillah,\u201d Baba said, \u201cinside here we\u2019re safe.\u201d He took a tasbih from his pocket, and raised the beads to his forehead. \u201cOut there, who knows what could happen.\u201d He began telling them about the time he\u2019d been caught in police crossfire near the Masjid Wazir Khana. \u201cEleven people died that day,\u201d he said, shaking the rosary beads at Sarah. \u201cI was near the mosque at my barber\u2019s getting a shave. I\u2019m alive only thanks to Allah\u2019s mercy. I told my daughter she\u2019s born under a lucky star, or she\u2019d have lost me that day. You\u2019re too young to understand,\u201d he said, kissing the beads. \u201cAnything can happen at any time, Allah alone knows our destiny.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah did not respond. She was wondering what her mother was doing at that moment and what she\u2019d say when she\u2019d tell her about Baba and Bilal.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Baba asked Bilal to serve them some tea. Bilal lifted a large basket covered with a cloth from under the counter and Baba took out a flask. He poured the pink milky tea from it into a chipped cup and pressed it into Sarah\u2019s hands. He offered her a greasy samosa from a plastic container. \u201cTake one, beti,\u201d he said. \u201cMy daughter made them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She reached out to take one, but then withdrew her hand. She was hungry, but her instinct told her she\u2019d better not.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, beti?\u201d Baba said. \u201cWhy did you change your mind?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m fine with this,\u201d she said, taking a sip of tea. It was cold and sweet.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019ll have two,\u2019 Bilal said, and dipped his hand into the container. His nails were broken and dirty, and Sarah looked away.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

On the radio, the newscaster said the situation in the city center was getting worse.<\/span><\/p>\n

While Amnesty International has described the Supreme Court decision as a “landmark verdict,” protestors have blocked the Rawalpindi-Islamabad road. In Karachi and Peshawar, police have urged demonstrators to disperse peacefully. In Lahore, paramilitary troops and<\/span><\/i> 300 policemen have been deployed outside the Supreme Court and Parliament House.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cYa Allah,\u201d Baba raised his hands. \u201cWhy are people so ignorant?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot everyone is,\u201d Bilal said. \u201cIt depends whose side you\u2019re on.\u201d He crammed a samosa into his mouth. \u201cAsia should\u2019ve known better; who does she think she is?\u201d He wiped the crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand. \u201cIt\u2019s a lesson for anyone who tries to be too smart.\u201d He turned to Sarah. \u201cDon\u2019t you think so?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah put down her cup, her hand shook slightly. \u201cI\u2019m not sure.\u201d She tried to keep her tone light.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome now, beti,\u201d Baba said. He was sitting on the stool with one leg folded under him. \u201cIf someone spoke against our Holy Prophet, don\u2019t tell me you\u2019d keep quiet?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI bet you, she would,\u201d Bilal said. \u201cWhy isn\u2019t her head covered?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBas karo, enough Bilal,\u201d Baba said. \u201cDon\u2019t start now, this isn\u2019t the time for arguments.\u201d He paused then said, \u201cOn days like this I wonder: what does God want from us?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah stared at the chipped cup in her lap, looked up and said, \u201cFor us to recognize our common humanity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBilkool,\u201d Baba said. \u201cYou\u2019re right, beti, you are absolutely right.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo good Muslim could deny that,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you say so,\u201d Baba said, \u201cI must be.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Just then, Yusuf came running from the back of the shop. \u201cDon\u2019t trust her, Baba; she\u2019s Christian.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cChoop kar, be quiet, Yusuf,\u201d Baba said, getting up. \u201cThis isn\u2019t the time for your silly, little games. There\u2019s a big fiasco in Lahore and you want to make jokes.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah bit her lip.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be fooled, Baba,\u201d Yusuf said. \u201cShe\u2019s wearing a cross on a chain, ask her to show you. I saw it myself. She\u2019s got it around her neck.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI knew it the minute she walked in,\u201d Bilal said with a furious cry, and with his arm, swept the plastic container and cups off the counter. \u201cYou\u2019ve contaminated us, you bloody chura, infidel.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah got up and walked to the door. \u201cOpen the door,\u201d she said. \u201cI need to get out.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait beti, you\u2019re one of us, aren\u2019t you?\u201d Baba said. \u201cTell me Yusuf is lying.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Before she could answer, Bilal jumped up and pulled a gun from his pocket. \u201cAllahu Akbar. If you\u2019re a Muslim, prove it,\u201d he shouted, waving the gun in the air.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPut that away,\u201d Baba roared.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal hopped from one foot to the other, his hand shaking as he handled the gun as though it were a toy. He kept it pointed at the ceiling. \u201cLiar. You\u2019re a liar. Besharaam, chura, liar.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarah covered her ears.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

“Give me the gun,” Baba said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNever,\u201d Bilal said. \u201cIt\u2019s mine, I paid for it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Yusuf lunged at Bilal and tried to grab the gun.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck off,\u201d Bilal said, and kicked him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShut up, Bilal, Yusuf, the both of you,\u201d Baba shouted.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They fell silent.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNow Bilal, give me the gun.\u201d Baba held out his hand and after some hesitation and swearing Bilal passed him the gun.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Beads of sweat ran down her back. Her hands were damp, her heart pounding.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSit down all of you, and not a word from anyone,\u201d Baba said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal and Yusuf settled on the floor glaring at her, Sarah sat down on the stool.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They listened to the update on the radio.<\/span><\/p>\n

Riots continue across the country. Police have advised citizens to stay inside their houses to avoid being arrested.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

After a few minutes, Sarah said, \u201cBaba, please let me out, my mother will be worried.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother?\u201d He said the words slowly, as though he recognized for the first time she was somebody\u2019s child. He ran his hand through his long white beard, his eyes soft and watery. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name, beti?\u201d He shifted the gun on his lap.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSarah\u2014I\u2019m called Sarah,\u201d she said, but she\u2019d hardly said the words when Bilal got up.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYesterday Asia,\u201d he sneered. \u201cToday Sarah. Tomorrow someone else. They\u2019re all the same.\u201d With a quick movement he pulled off her scarf. \u201cBesharam, chura.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStop,\u201d she cried, and covered her chest with her arms. \u201cHow dare you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t I tell you?\u201d Yusuf pointed at her chain and crucifix.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a shameless hussy,\u201d Bilal said, \u201cReally\u2014did you think you could fool us?\u201d He snatched the gun from Baba\u2019s lap and holding it at arm\u2019s length, aimed it at her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStop, Bilal,\u201d Baba shouted. \u201cOurs is a religion of peace. What the hell are you doing?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Bilal put his finger on the trigger. \u201cYusuf, check her bag.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Yusuf snatched and turned it upside down; her phone, wallet, and mother\u2019s blue rosary fell out. Yusuf picked it up and twirled it on his fingers.\u00a0 \u201cI told you. This isn\u2019t a tasbih, what is it? Kya hain?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cProof,\u201d Bilal said. \u201cShe\u2019s a nasty Christian whore.\u201d The gun was pointed at her, his finger on the trigger. \u201cBloody chura.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome here, Sarah,\u201d Baba said. \u201cYou\u2019re like a daughter to me.\u201d He held out a dry callused hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said, her voice low, \u201cI\u2019m also your daughter.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The deafening sound of a gunshot.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Blood on Sarah\u2019s hands. Her dress. Baba\u2019s salwar. Baba\u2019s kurta.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Baba on the floor moaning. \u201cLa illah ila allah. Today\u2019s my last day\u2026\u201d His hands were red where he held the side of his stomach.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have you done?\u201d she turned to face Bilal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShut your mouth, bitch.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2014no, I won\u2019t,\u201d she said. \u201cChrist have mercy on us all.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The gun in Bilal\u2019s hand trembled with the pressure of his grip; she watched his finger on the trigger, the dirty fingernail as he pressed harder and harder.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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