Superman Elseworlds: 'In the Name of...'

Chapter 5: Odyssey (part 1)

When the Mufti walked in there seemed to be aman (peace) and noor (light) emanating from him and I felt a sense of sakoon (calm). He greeted Yusuf with Salaam and extended them to me even though I was hiding away in the kitchen area.

My hands were shaking.

The Mufti did something odd after he sat down in the seat offered to him: he made dua:

'O my Lord! Expand for me my chest; ease my task for me; and remove the impediment from my speech; so they may understand what I say.'

Ishy slipped in to the kitchen and translated it for me, telling me it was part of a dua that Prophet Musa (Moses) (as) made when God told him to go to the Pharaoh. Why would such a knowledgeable and eloquent man need to make a dua like that? We were the ones who were under pressure. We were the ones who were about to lose everything.

We were the ones in danger.

I was in such a panic. More than I had ever been before. More than when the needle was used or the shots were fired.

The Mufti, I knew, was a powerful and influential man…

…and then Ishy held my hand and squeezed it gently, his head leaning against my arm.

***

(Kamran)

 

'Before we talk about whatever it is that Beta Ishmail has invited me here for,' said Mufti Mahmood in his melodious voice, 'I have a question I have been meaning to ask.' Aunty remained in the kitchen as Ishy returned to the room, and the Mufti's gaze swept over the three of us.

'Please, Mufti Sahib,' said Uncle, 'ask us anything you would like.'

My heart beat in my throat, and even though the Mufti was smiling there was no calming of my nerves.

'Why the name Ishmail?'

We looked at him, confused. What was wrong with the name?

From the kitchen, Aunty laughed.

'It's because little Hajra could only pronounce it that way,' she said. 'She's the one who named him.'

The Mufti smiled, nodded, and said, 'Understandable.' And with that, the tension seemed to ease a little.

'Brother Yusuf, please do not take this the wrong way but, as this seems to be a sensitive family matter, I do not feel it is appropriate for Sister Asiyah to be so segregated.'

And there was the tension again. A different kind, though.

Coming from London and from an open social circle, the segregation issue always weirded me out. In the village it was there but really wasn't 'apparent'. The women did their thing and the men did their thing. There didn't seem to a conscious and wilful segregation. In London, though, you'd turn up to a wedding and sometimes find that the families had to split up…and it felt weird. To me.

It's a touchy subject sometimes – on the one hand women would say they felt freer and more relaxed, on the other they felt sidelined and dismissed. As far as I could tell, there really wasn't a 'right or wrong' overall, it…just depended on who you were with at the time.

Ishy, though, was always lowering his gaze, and had done for years – but when you've got eyes like his…

'Sister, if you are not comfortable sitting with us, I understand; but if you would at least come closer?'

And tension was eased again. For a moment.

When we had settled, the Mufti nodded at Ishy and Ishy began to speak.