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

Chapter 5: Odyssey (part 1)

He told him about the day Uncle and Aunty found him, and I could see the Mufti tense and his eyes flit as he listened. He told him about his learning and how he became a Hifz, and the Mufti leaned in without leaning in. He told him about his strength and speed, and the Mufti's breathing seemed a little haggard and his skin a little pallid.

He told him about the attack in the village, and the Mufti's mouth was agape.

He told us about his sermons on the street corners, and the Mufti smiled. He told us about the abuse that was sometimes hurled at him, and Mufti's eyes grew sad…and I hung my head.

He told us about his nightly excursions, and we panicked.

None of us knew that he had been doing these things. Aunty and Uncle looked at me with fear, and I lost track of what Ishy was saying as my mind raced and tried to figure out when, over the past few months, he had been doing these things. I knew about the sermons – I was almost always there or nearby – but these…these vigilante acts…

'I couldn't bear it. I could hear the whimpers and the clothes sometimes tearing; I could hear the cries of pain; I could hear the crack of a breaking bone…and I could see…through layers of brick and sheets of metal, and layers of flesh and skeletons of bone and wood and concrete…I could see people being hurt and abused and…and killed...

'I was enraged and I couldn't not help. I made dua and asked Him for guidance, for wisdom and for control, and I took action.

'I'm not…'insan'.

The Mufti held up his hand and Ishy was silent…and we held our breaths.

Hal ata AAala alinsani heenun mina alddahri lam yakun shayan mathkooran

And we all frowned.

'Has there not been over man a period of time, when he was nothing to be mentioned?' translated the Mufti, quietly.

He rose slowly and began to make his way to the window.

'There is…noise that we would normally ignore. As people go about their day to day business, they tend not to hear the children's voices on the street, or the car door closing, or a motor cycle being revved. There is so much noise around us that, without even realising it, we block out the sounds. Often, when these noises are brought to our attention, we will focus on them for a few moments before, quite unconsciously, I believe, quickly shutting them out.

'This is also the problem we have when it comes to our families, our friends, our communities, and our societies. The noises we ignore are the underlying cries for help. We ignore our sisters' pleas for help when they are being abused by patriarchs – we 'justify' it by telling ourselves that there are others who are better positioned to help. We ignore the oppression being imposed on those considered weaker – again, we 'justify' by telling ourselves that there are others who are better positioned to help.

'We know that 'God does not love those who oppress others' but we ignore our responsibilities and pass them on to others.

''Delegation' is the term, I think.'

The Mufti held on to the window ledge briefly, his eyes distant and lost in memory. We watched him quietly and waited.

'Many years ago, soon after I had established the school, I found myself awoken suddenly and a great sense of unease and dread seemed to cling to my chest. I don't know what it was but I believe it was Allah Subhanahu wa ta'ala's will that I had to rise from my bedding and go to the classroom.

'A'oodhubillah, what I saw sickened and enraged me. I saw-' I put my hand on the Mufti's arm and shook my head. We didn't need to know.

'Since that day, I was constantly vigilant. I did my utmost to ensure each student was safe. That each teacher was trustworthy and proper. That if any, whether student or teacher, had…inclinations. But that was only in my school. I…I couldn't do anything to protect the children of other schools.