"Jannat!" Mehak yelled as she ran after a half naked Ali. "Grab him!" Ali looked around in a panic as he realized that his half naked run was soon to be cut short by his mommy and auntie. "Ahhh!" He yelled before abruptly turning ninety degrees and crawling underneath the living room's coffee table. "Ali!" Mehak cried out in exasperation. "It's too early to run after your tiny butt!" "Has Ali gotten loose again?" Amina asked as she walked into the living room with her morning cup of tea. "Mama, he just took a bath and scrambled out of Sulaiman's grip," Mehak sighed and got on her knees to look under the coffee table. "Get your bum out here, now." Ali giggled and shook his head before darting out the other side of the table. Jannat dived over the couch to grab him, but missed by mere inches and instead slammed her arm against the table. "What's going on here?" A soft voice asked from the front door. "Has Ali gotten loose again?" Mehak looked up and sighed in relief, "Aisha! Grab him!" Aisha smiled and scooped Ali up in her arms before kissing his cheek gently, "Why do you run away from your mommy?" Ali looked at Aisha in surprise and smacked his small hands against her cheeks in delight. Aisha laughed and carried him to Mehak, "Yes, your Aunt Aisha is happy to see you too." "Thank you," Mehak sighed and carried Ali back to her room. "Why do you insist on making my life so hard?"
At that moment, a very sleepy Dawood walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge as he rubbed his eyes. "Huh? Is that who I think it is?" Aisha asked in surprise as she spotted him. "Why didn't anyone say anything?" "Mama," Dawood called out, "do we have any waffles?" "Check the freezer in the garage," Amina called back. Dawood shuffled off towards the garage, still oblivious to Aisha standing in the living room. "You two were on vacation," Amina began, "which is why you didn't know that he's been home for two weeks." "Mama!" Amina heard a familiar voice call out as the front door opened again. Amina looked up as she sipped on her tea and said, "Vacation's over, Musa?" Musa Khan beamed at his mother as he walked inside. He waited for her to put her cup down and picked her up only to give her a massive hug, "Yup! Vacation's over and I missed you." "Put me down!" Amina exclaimed as she struggled to break free from her second oldest son's grip. Musa laughed and put Amina back down before kissing her forehead, "Like I said, I missed you, Mama." Whenever Amina looked at Musa, she felt as if she was looking at a much younger Harun. He looked exactly like him, from the way he stood; down to the way he parted his hair.
"Mama! We have no syrup," Dawood called out as he shuffled towards the living room. He yawned and rubbed his eyes before stretching a little, but stopped in mid-stretch once he spotted Musa, "Bhai?" "Dawood?" Musa said in equal surprise. "When did you come home?" "Couple weeks ago," Dawood replied and squinted his eyes. "When did YOU come home?" "Just now," Aisha replied. "Oh, hi, Bhabi," Dawood smiled. "How are you?" "I'm doing well," Aisha replied. She approached Dawood and looked at him at arms length, "You've lost weight." "I swear the next person that says that is going to be force fed butter by me," Dawood sighed. Aisha smiled and ruffled Dawood's hair, "It's good to have you back." "It's good to be back," Dawood admitted. Aisha smiled and glanced at her husband who seemed to be at a loss for words. She knew that Musa and Dawood weren't close, but when his little brother was hurt in Afghanistan, he was the one who was up all night praying that he came home safely. "You guys need help bringing your stuff in?" Dawood asked as he tried to break the awkward silence. Musa snapped out of his daze and said, "Yeah, if you're up for it." "Sure. Can I borrow your car then?" Dawood grinned. "I need to buy syrup." "Should have known you had ulterior motives," Musa sighed as they headed outside.
"They're so awkward," Aisha said as she cringed. "How can they be brothers?" Jannat rubbed her wrist and finally spoke up, "He's the baby. I guess we never really wanted to hang out with the baby, which is why he's so different." "Still with the way Musa worried about Dawood, you'd think he'd give him a hug or something," Aisha sighed and sat down next to Amina before giving her a hug. Amina patted Aisha's head and said, "What's bothering you, my love?" "Nothing," Aisha sighed, "well, actually I did have some news to share." "You're pregnant," Mehak said matter-of-factly as she walked back in the living room with a fully clothed Ali. "You're what?" Sulaiman asked as he walked into the living room as well. "Is this true?" "Yeah," Musa said from the doorway and handed Dawood the luggage he was holding. Dawood huffed as he was burdened with two extra suitcases on top of the suitcases he was already dealing with. "You're home," Sulaiman said and gave Musa a hug. "Congratulations!" Dawood gnawed on his bottom lip as he watched Sulaiman smile and embrace their brother. "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise," Aisha sighed and spotted Dawood who looked at his brothers in contemplation. "Dawood," she called out. Dawood shook his head and looked at his sister-in-law, "Yes, Bhabi?" "Don't you want to chime in?" Aisha asked. "Yeah, sure. Let me go put these bags away first," Dawood said quickly. "That can wait," Aisha said as she stood up. "It's not a big deal if he actually does work around here, Aisha," Sulaiman said offhandedly.
Dawood nodded and shuffled off to Musa and Aisha's room. Amina had her back towards Dawood and didn't notice the way her youngest looked at his brothers, but Harun did. He quietly stood in the kitchen, watching his children interact with one another and nearly yelled at Sulaiman for being so cold towards his little brother. He sighed and wondered where he went wrong in raising the boys to cause such an emotional divide amongst them. "Honey," Amina called out once she stood up and spotted Harun, "Musa and Aisha are home. They bring good news." Harun put on a smile and walked over to his family. At that moment, a finely dressed toddler came dashing into the room followed by her equally finely dressed parents. "Yo, Moose!" Jalal yelled out as he spotted Musa and ran towards him to give him a hug. "When'd you get back?" "Just now," Musa smiled. "Hi, Baji." Mariam smiled as she looked at her twin brother. He called her baji because she was two minutes older than him, but even if she wasn't, Musa always felt that Mariam was emotionally older than him. "Welcome home," Mariam said and gave Aisha a hug. "Why are we all gathered here?" "I was about to head out for work," Sulaiman explained. "Weren't you two as well?" "Yes, but I take it some family announcement is being made?" Mariam asked. "They're pregnant!" Mehak smiled. "Oh, wow! That is news!" Jalal said and gave Musa a hard smack on his back. "You're going to have sleepless nights too! Welcome to the club!"
At that moment, Dawood watched his family from down the hallway. These were the moments when he felt like an outsider. Everyone was congratulating each other and he was sent to put luggage away. No matter what he did, he was still the annoying little brother who was thought of as a pest. "Hey. Baba was calling you," Jannat called out as she spotted Dawood standing in the hallway. "Uh, yeah," Dawood nodded before running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I was putting their things away." "Don't tell me you're bothered by Sulaiman and Musa Bhai's behavior with each other," Jannat said as she raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. It'd take a miracle for them to stop being who they are," Dawood said simply. "Yup, come on," Jannat said as she began to head back to the living room. At that moment, Dawood's phone rang, making Jannat pause to listen to who it was. "Hello?" Dave answered. "Hey, man." Jannat smiled, knowing it was Ahmed, but her smile faded as Dawood whispered, "Oh no. What? Do you need my help? Yeah, yeah. I'll be right over." Dawood hung up the phone and looked troubled. "What is it?" Jannat asked in concern. "You know Auntie Abida? Uncle Raheem's wife?" Dawood asked. "Yes, of course," Jannat said as she remembered the Pakistani woman who made sure to give them cash gifts on all religious holidays. They always called all of the adults in their Pakistani community uncle or auntie because that was just a part of their culture. "Her oldest daughter committed suicide," Dawood whispered. "I have to go to the mosque." "What?" Jannat asked in disbelief. "That's impossible. That girl's barely in high school." "Yeah, I know," Dawood whispered. "I'm heading out. Let the others know."
Dawood parked his brother's car in the lot and ran to the mosque's front door just as he spotted Ahmed standing there. Ahmed was talking to an old man who had tears in his eyes. "Uncle, I'm so sorry for your loss," Dawood whispered as he looked at the tired old man and added a verse from the Qur'an that was recited whenever someone passed away. "Surely we belong to Allah and to Him do we return." "You're Harun's youngest, right?" Raheem whispered. "Yes, sir," Dawood nodded. "Thank you, my boy. I see he's raised you right," Raheem whispered. "I have to go make sure Abida's alright." "Yes, sir," Dawood whispered. "If you need anything, sir. Let me know." Raheem closed his eyes to fight back the tears and nodded, "Thank you, boys." "How did this happen?" Dawood asked Ahmed urgently. "I don't know yet," Ahmed sighed. "She has only one brother, man. I thought we could help out." "Of course. Of course," Dawood sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I knew her. She always used to tag around her mom." "She was a good kid," Ahmed sighed, "I can't imagine why this happened. Heck, I saw her last week helping out in the Qur'an class." "You think we should ask Nedim if he needs help?" Dawood suggested. "Yeah," Ahmed nodded, leading the way inside the mosque.
There were many people already inside the mosque. Nedim stood near the podium and was reading through a binder he had propped up there. Dawood looked around and noticed that there were many men there, conversing amongst themselves. Some were on phones; others comforted Raheem and his wife. "Imam Nedim, do you need any help?" Ahmed asked, causing Nedim to look up. "Brother Ahmed, Dawood. You guys came." "It's tragic, what happened," Ahmed whispered. "I know. It's sad enough losing a member of our community, but one so young. It's unfathomable. I can't imagine the pain she was in for her to think death was better. I keep thinking about my own children. I just want to go home and hug them. We're waiting for the hearse to bring her body so we can begin the janazah," Nedim explained. "I wish we were talking under different circumstances." Dawood nodded and sighed. Janazah was the Arabic word for Islamic funerals. The funeral itself consisted of many elements. The janazah consists of ritual washing of the body, or ghusl, shrouding of the body, or kafan, prayer for the deceased, or salatul janazah, and finally burial, or dafan. The basic belief in the Muslim community was to have the burial as soon as possible after death, but prior to that, the body must be washed according the Islamic law and shrouded in simple plain white cloth for modesty, respect, and a way to signify that we come into the world simply and are leaving the world simply. It was also the custom in the Pakistani community for the brothers or male relatives of the deceased to offer a shoulder to the body as they carried it to prayer and to burial.
Nedim frowned as he thought of the loss of such a young person. There should have been safe guards for the girl to reach out for help. He felt as if there wasn't enough being done for the Muslim youth of this city and sighed before rubbing his face. At that moment, Ahmed spotted a familiar woman walking into the mosque, also holding a binder. "Hey, I think I've seen her somewhere before," Dawood whispered as he looked at the woman. "Dude, that's the professor from the debate a couple weeks ago. She's in charge of youth services here," Ahmed reminded. "Oh yeah," Dawood nodded. "Forgot for a minute. We have youth services here?" Ahmed nodded, "Sister Iman was the spearhead behind having activities for the youth." Iman rubbed her eyes as she approached the imam and whispered, "How are you, brother?" "I wish we were here under different circumstances, sister," Nedim sighed. "This is truly tragic." "It is," Iman sighed. "Natalia's mother has asked us to investigate what happened after this." "Her name was Natalia?" Nedim asked. "Yes," Iman nodded. "Do you know what happened?" Dawood asked as he approached Iman. "I have an idea," Iman whispered and frowned. "I'm sorry, have we met? I feel like I know you." "I don't think so," Dawood shook his head. "You are the soldier who humiliated the police officer," Iman remembered. "Yeah," Dawood nodded. "Dawood Khan." "Nice to meet you. I'm Iman Abdullah," Iman said as she inclined her head a little in greeting. "I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. I have never met a Muslim in the US military before. Another time, God willing."
Ahmed sighed and whispered, "I can't imagine what the family is going through." "Pain," Iman said simply. "A pain we can never imagine." At that moment Nedim noticed a man walking in, looking confused. "Uh, excuse me," the man said, "I'm looking for Mr. Hashemi and Mr. Khan. Mr. Raheem is calling them to the front of the mosque for unloading." Iman felt her breath hitch and gulped as she wiped a tear from her cheek. She cleared her throat and said, "She's here." Nedim looked at Iman and whispered, "Most would say the body's here." "She was a human being. She's still who she is, even if she is no longer with us. How cruel would it be for us to refer to her as an object, merely because she is deceased," Iman whispered. "I can see why you are in charge of the youth here, sister," Nedim sighed. "Many would not care." "I know what it's like. I converted when I was sixteen. I had no one to rely on. I don't want that for any other child," Iman whispered and watched as Dawood and Ahmed headed outside. "I think we should head outside as well. The janazah arrangements are made outside since her family has numerous family friends," Nedim suggested and headed outside.
Jannat spotted Dawood standing near the hearse with Ahmed, his head hung low as Natalia's brother thanked them for coming. She watched as her little brother helped Natalia's brother in lifting the coffin and hoisting it up on their shoulders before slowly taking the funeral procession to the area prepared for the prayer. She watched as Natalia's mother openly wept against Amina's shoulder, whispering over and over again, "Not her, Amina. Not my baby." "Sabr," Amina whispered, using the Arabic word for patience as she held the weeping mother. "All we can do is have sabr, Abida." Everything seemed surreal as car after car parked in the parking lot and entire families rushed to console the grieving family. Jannat watched as Raheem wept silently and whispered to Nedim, "Children are supposed to bury their parents, Imam Nedim. Not the other way around." Jannat watched as the coffin was placed in front of Nedim. The young imam sighed a heavy sigh as he began getting ready for the prayer. The men lined up behind Nedim and Jannat then lined up behind the men with the women. She was terrified of this prayer and had been since she was little. Not because it was a terrifying prayer, but because she knew that one day, she would be in the exact same position. She sighed and cleared her thoughts as the prayer began and began praying for the young girl's afterlife.
After the prayer, Dawood and the other men lifted the coffin again and loaded it back in the hearse. He then spotted his parents and headed over to them, "Mama, Baba, I'm going to the graveyard." "I'll come with you," Harun suggested. "Did no one else come?" Dawood asked as he thought of his brothers. "No," Harun said softly, "they don't have the decency that you have." "I was nearly in her position once, Baba," Dawood said vaguely as he headed to the car. "I'd be an asshole not to help out." Harun's eyes widened in surprise at Dawood's revelation. Had his youngest once considered suicide? How had he not known? Amina seemed to be sharing her husband's surprise as she whispered, "Did he just say what I thought he said?" "We'll ask him later," Harun said as he followed Dawood to the car. Dawood waited until Ahmed and Harun climbed in and roared the car to life. "After this, what are you going to do?" Harun asked Dawood. "Probably head home. I know Mama is heading to Auntie Abida's house. Do you want me to drop you off too?" Dawood asked. "Yes. I'm sure Raheem could use all the support available at this time," Harun sighed. Ahmed looked at Harun and noticed that there was a strain on the older Khan as well. The Pakistani community in this city was tight knit, even if they didn't get along with one another. When tragedy struck, they came together, even if it was for appearances, which Ahmed knew wasn't the case for the Khan patriarch.
The graveyard wasn't that far away and within fifteen minutes, they had parked the car and joined the funeral procession. Dawood and Ahmed went back to the hearse and helped Natalia's male relatives carry the coffin to a prepared grave in the Muslim section of the graveyard. The Muslim section all had graves that were perpendicular to Makkah, the holiest city in Islam, which was a requirement for Islamic burial. Dawood watched as Natalia was laid to rest and everyone in attendance poured three fistfuls of soil into the grave as they recited Qur'anic verses. Nearly everyone in attendance recited the Qu'ranic verse, "Surely we belong to Allah, and to Him do we return," This was a reminder of their faith, that nothing was permanent in this lifetime, and that they would return to the One who created them after death. Once the burial was complete, Natalia's brother fell to his knees and sobbed as Raheem tried his best to console his son. In an instant a happy family of five had become a grieving family of four, Dawood noted and remembered the janazahs he had seen when in Afghanistan. Back then, he watched as decades of civil war destroyed families, leaving grieving families wailing near their loved one's graves. "I'll drop you off at Uncle Raheem's house," Dawood said to them as he cleared his throat and pushed back any emotion he felt. He didn't expect the death to affect him in such a way. He had been trained to keep his emotions in check, but to him, this death hit close to home.
Two days passed by and Friday prayers came around again. The Friday prayers were somber this time around since Raheem and Abida's family were still in mourning. According to Islamic tradition, the period of mourning if the deceased is a person's sibling or child is three days. Dawood and Ahmed, who decided to spend the past two days at the Khan's house, both left for the prayer, earlier than usual, hoping to help Nedim out since they all expected a rather large turn out this Friday. "I'm so tired," Ahmed whispered. "I can't sleep." "I know the feeling. I keep seeing her face when she was little and would follow me around the mosque," Dawood whispered. They both continued the rest of their journey in relative silence only speaking once they had parked their car and were heading inside the mosque. "Not a lot of people here yet," Ahmed noted. "We must be extra early." Dawood shrugged. He spotted a sign on the lawn and read aloud, "Board meeting at 12:30 p.m. Oh there's a board meeting right now." "That might be why people are late," Ahmed yawned and opened the mosque's doors. As the doors opened, they both were met with an earful of yelling coming from down the main hallway. "What the heck?" Dawood said in complete perplexity as both of them ran inside to listen to the commotion.
"This is a fiasco! How dare you insinuate that we are responsible for this?" A rather heavyset Arab man with a pencil moustache yelled at the room. Dawood opened the door and watched as Iman stood in front of a table, looking absolutely furious. "Who else will take the blame?" Iman asked as she slammed her fist on the table. "This entire incident could have been prevented! A child could still be alive!" "You are out of line, professor," a South Asian woman said as she fixed her scarf, which was only perched on half of her head. "How can you say we are responsible for her death? If anything, blame the parents. Who knows what the child was involved in?" "How dare you?" Nedim asked angrily as he stood up. "A child died because she thought she had nowhere to go, no one who would listen to her. Who voted you on the board if you act so un-Islamically by slandering the dead?" "Have you any proof, any inkling that our intervention may have saved her?" Another man chimed in. "I will not lose sleep over speculation." "I do," Iman said as she picked up a book. "This is her journal. Would you mind if I read from it?" "Go on, we're all very busy," the Arab man said as he rolled his eyes.
Iman picked up a pair of thin-rimmed glasses and put them on as she cleared her throat and began, "What's the point of following religion when all you get is pain in return? Who will stop the pain? God? God is a joke. If God exists, why doesn't He stop them from hurting me? I wish there was someone, anyone, who has gone through what I go through daily. I can't talk to mom and dad. They weren't born here. They don't know what high school is like here. Why am I asked to take responsibility for the people who did the September 11th terrorist attacks? I wasn't even born when it happened so why do I have to be responsible? Why do they beat me up for following God? Why am I kicked around for being Pakistani? I'm alone. No one cares that I come home broken daily. I'm alone and I just want to die. Won't anyone stop me?" Dawood gulped as he heard Iman speak. Her voice brought emotion to the words she read, sharing the pain and desperation of the author through her narration. Ahmed noticed the board of directors murmuring amongst themselves before the South Asian woman stood up and said, "We cannot afford to coach every child at the mosque, that's not our job. The motion to start a youth suicide prevention hotline is revoked."
Dawood walked into the room and said, " You have to be kidding me. You all are the reason we never shared our bullying stories. When the adults fail to listen to children, they get hurt. What makes you fit to lead? You sit here making decisions for the mosque when none of your family members are even part of our congregation. Dr. Shaista Anwar, you are on the board of directors at this mosque, but all of your family members pray at the downtown mosque. What do you truly know about this mosque? What do you know about the kids that pray here? Dr. Hamid Wahab, sir, you recently moved here. What do you know about our community? All of you are here merely for tax benefits, not to help the congregation. Heck, our imam has no authority to govern the mosque because of all of you and he's the one who actually studied Islam. You have a fine professor here, a woman who studied Islamic history and cultures, telling you something is wrong with our society and our twisted cultures. You'd be fools to turn your backs on this issue and their advice." "Ah, you must be the hero soldier we keep hearing so much about. There are no news reporters or fans here. You're a murderer. I don't think you have a say in this," Shaista said as she looked at Dawood with a sneer on her face. Dawood furrowed his brow at the personal jab, but kept his composure. "It's evident that you don't like me. The feeling is mutual, ma'am, but unlike you, I'll say it to your face. I laid the first brick for the minaret when this mosque was being built. I think I have more of a say here than any of you."
"Do you know what it's like, being the only Muslims in school? Do you know what it's like being called a terrorist for something that happened years ago?" Ahmed asked as he entered the room. "Do you know what it's like to be held down and beaten daily and for what? For our faith?" "Natalia couldn't speak to her parents because she felt that her parents couldn't understand what she was going through. She feared being treated exactly the way you are treating her memory now. Her parents were immigrants, much like you all. What do you understand about going to school here? What do any of you know about being raised here? What do you understand about having your loyalty to your country being questioned at every turn?" Iman asked in anger as she pounded on the table again. "It is regrettable, but not a common occurrence," Hamid said offhandedly.
"You have a son in middle school. Ask him how many times he's been called Osama's nephew or a terrorist," Ahmed began. "Not a common occurrence? I know personally that it has happened to him. I've talked to him myself, but unlike you, I listened. Unlike you, I knew how he felt. There is nothing worse than being called a sand nigger, a towel head, or a terrorist, but it's accepted and swept under the rug because the one's in power in society don't want to acknowledge that bad things happen. He came to me, Dr. Wahab and not you. Why do you think that is?" "Do you know what's the real kicker?" Dawood began. "I know why you all fail to talk about this. You don't want to acknowledge anything bad in society because you don't want society turning on you. More importantly, you don't want to be in some investigation that may have you deported to your home countries. First of all, America is wonderful. Everyone has rights here, which encourage us to speak for the truth. Second, you may be trying to save yourself from being deported to your home countries because you may have done something shady to get to America, but have you thought about us, the ones who are born here? We speak for the truth, knowing full well that we could end up in jail or some illegal detention camp. Your fear is nothing in front of ours."
Dawood sighed as he sat on a bench located near the mosque's playground. "You okay?" Ahmed asked quietly. "No, man," Dawood sighed. "I mean they basically deemed that a teenager deserved to die because they didn't know the situation she was in. Is this how low our board of directors have sunk?" "It seems like you weren't here when these people were elected," Iman said as she approached Ahmed and Dawood. "Sister Iman," Ahmed whispered, "thanks for standing up for her." "No. Thank you. You two conveyed everything I have felt in my entire life in less than two minutes. Whereas I have been fighting this board for months," Iman sighed. "What's going to happen now?" Dawood asked. "Is there any way we could get a new board of directors?" "We could petition for elections," Iman began, "but you probably have no idea how the elections were last time." "What were they like?" Dawood asked as he stood up. "Basically, no one had any issues they wanted to stand for or anything like that. As you can see, the majority of the members of the board are doctors and lawyers. They voted each other up because they knew each other and had stakes in each other's businesses and whatnot," Iman sighed, "When a brother who had worked at the mosque pro bono for most of his life tried to run, they set up a smear campaign in their ethnic communities so no one would vote for him because he wasn't Arab, Indian, or Pakistani."
. "That's ridiculous," Dawood whispered, "but not surprising seeing as the majority of ethnic communities put their cultures first before Islam and Islamic culture." "I have never been so disappointed in my life," Iman sighed in exasperation. "I can't understand how such people think it's okay to be on the board of directors of the mosque, but can't come together when the community is in crisis like right now." "That's our community," Ahmed sighed. "I have to get ready for Friday prayers," Iman said. "Thank you, gentlemen. Excuse me." "She's been trying hard for a proper youth center for a while, not just for the boys, but for the girls as well," Ahmed explained. "I can understand her frustration, especially when this very board thought it's justified to build a football field for the boys because they have nothing to do at the mosque. I mean look at it. It's just a waste of space. I have yet to see actual kids play there." "Probably used their donations for the field to help when filing taxes," Dawood sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, man. When did this place get so screwed up?" "It's kind of always been like this, Dave," Ahmed sighed. "Remember when we were little?" Dawood shook his head and growled, "Power, ego, and social standing trump everything for these people, even their faith." "But then there's always oddballs like you and now sister Iman who do fight for the greater good. That's why this mosque is still running," Ahmed smiled and patted Dawood's back. "Let's go inside and get ready for prayer."
"Brother Dawood!" Nedim called out once Ahmed and Dawood walked in. "Brother Ahmed, may I have a moment?" "Sure," Ahmed and Dawood replied in unison. "I want the Friday sermon to be for the youth and their parents today. Do you mind both speaking in front of the congregation?" Nedim asked nervously. "About what?" Ahmed asked. "About your bullying stories," Nedim began. "I know it's a lot to ask, but you two have experienced this first hand. I think you could help." Dawood looked at Ahmed and asked, "What do you think?" "I think we've been quiet long enough," Ahmed nodded. "If we could help someone with our story, why shouldn't we? I'm not burying another kid when we can prevent it." Dawood nodded and rubbed his head with his hands, making his short hair spike up involuntarily. "Thank you, guys," Nedim whispered. "I didn't want my first month here to be this eventful, but it's my job to lead everyone in difficult times." "We get it, bro," Dawood nodded and looked at the podium. "Can we get some paper to collect our thoughts?" "Yeah, sure," Nedim nodded. "Help yourself. If you guys need a place to sit, you can use my office in the front." "Thanks," Ahmed said before heading to Nedim's office. "You guys have roughly half an hour," Nedim added. "If you guys could collect your thoughts within half an hour, that'd be great." "You got it," Dawood nodded and followed Ahmed.
Nedim cleared his throat and greeted everyone once he stood at the podium half an hour later, "As I'm sure some of you heard, we lost a promising young woman in our community a few days ago. Today's sermon is about hope and reaching out to the youth. I hope the young ones that have joined us today can learn something from our guests. Today, I will not be giving the sermon, but will have two brothers from this very community share their experiences with Islamophobic bullying." There was widespread murmuring amongst the crowd as Dawood and Ahmed headed to the podium. Dawood noticed his father sitting only a few rows back on the carpet, looking at him in question. Dawood approached the podium and greeted everyone before beginning. "How many people here have ever been subjected to Islamophobic bullying?" Dawood began. "Raise your hands." Dawood nodded as he noticed a bunch of teenagers looking around unsurely before shaking their heads and leaving their hands down. "Okay, I guess only we were two of the unfortunate ones," Dawood said as he shrugged. "Do you know why we're speaking here? It's because one of our younger sisters felt that death would be better than facing ridicule everyday."
Ahmed noticed that a few of the younger ones sitting in the crowds were fidgeting as Dawood spoke. "I know how sister Natalia felt. There was a time in my life that I wondered if death would be better than the ridicule I faced everyday," Dawood continued and gulped, as he thought of his past. "How long would I suffer the wrath of the ignorant who correlated me with the biggest terrorist event in American history?" Ahmed felt his own pulse race as he thought of what had happened in high school. "There was a group of students that wore shirts that said they were soldiers of God in school. That wasn't considered wrong, even though they had white supremacist ties and proudly displayed swastikas. They were accepted and even applauded for spreading God's word and even if teachers disagreed with them, they were allowed to spew hate because they had the right to freedom of speech. I remember wondering if God's word included beating up two kids who were from another religion," Dawood added. "I hated seeing that group. I hated knowing that I was hated for merely being Muslim while others could walk around enticing violence against us. I would've hated going to school if it hadn't been for my best friend and brother. He was right there wit me, supporting me."
Ahmed took over as Dawood stepped to the side and greeted the crowd before adding, "You know, what the worst thing in the world is?" It seemed like the entire congregation was listening keenly by now. "The worst thing in the world is being held back by a bunch of goons as your brother is beaten to a bloody pulp. Do you know what for? For speaking up against an Islamophobic teacher? For being Muslims? The worst thing in the world is being suspected of starting the fight after the one's who instigated it, ran away. The worst thing in the world is being suspected of being behind every bad thing that can happen out there, just for being Muslim. The worst thing in the world is having people tell you to go back to where you came from. There wasn't one person who believed us or our story," Ahmed sighed. "That was our lowest point. We couldn't share this with our families because we thought they wouldn't understand. How could they understand what is happening now when they were raised in a different time?" Dawood watched a young man wipe his face with a napkin as he hid his tears.
"Our daily life consisted of being called terrorists, traitors, sand jockeys, sand niggers, Muzzies, Muzrats, and every other derogatory term you could think of for Muslims. Our school projects were stolen and destroyed. Our gym clothes would be dunked in the janitor's mop bucket. If the psychological stress wasn't enough, we would get beat up, spit on, and harassed physically. Daily. It was hell on Earth, but the only thing that kept us going was knowing that we had each other's back. I know that I would have easily contemplated suicide if I didn't have my best friend with me. We made sure never to be alone and took the same classes," Ahmed added. He finished his speech by adding, "School is a place where we should be safe. That's our right as Americans. Unfortunately for many of us, it's become a thing of nightmares. We're Americans, born and or raised. Why does our loyalty have to be questioned at every turn? If these questions have ever crossed your mind, know that you are not alone. We've been through the exact same thing. Now, how many of you have been called a terrorist in school?" There was a murmur as many teenagers now held their hands up. "Now you know, you're not alone," Nedim finished.
After prayer Harun walked up to Dawood and gave him a hug. "Baba? What's wrong?" Dawood asked in surprise. "You went through so much and never made a sound. You never let me or anyone else know," Harun whispered as he looked at Dawood. "It's okay, Baba. You guys were always so busy working that I never wanted to be a burden," Dave explained. Ahmed walked up to Dawood and was also embraced in a hug by Harun, "Thank you, for being friends with my son." Ahmed smiled and said, "Uh, Uncle, Dawood became friends with me. It wasn't the other way around." Harun smiled and led the men outside, "I think I need to treat you both to a meal after sharing your secrets like that." "That's usually Mama's line, Baba," Dawood smiled. "When in doubt, feed the children." As if on cue, Amina walked up to Dawood and gave her son a hug as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Mama?" Dawood asked in concern. "Why are you crying?" "Because my baby went through so much and I had no idea," Amina whispered and squeezed Dawood tightly in her arms. Dawood smiled and kissed the top of Amina's head, "I'm okay, Mama. That experience didn't break me, it made me stronger." "And you!" Amina called out as she gave Ahmed a hug. "I'm so thankful that you are in Dawood's life." "Thanks, Auntie, but it's really Dawood who helped in my life," Ahmed repeated. "Dude, just take a compliment," Dawood chuckled.
"Do you think it'll make a difference?" Ahmed asked as he lay on his bed in Dawood's room later in the day. "I hope so," Dawood whispered. "It was hard though, wasn't it?" "Thinking about all that stuff again? Yeah. It was hard," Ahmed whispered. "Hey," Aisha called as she walked into Dave's room, "heard you shook up the mosque." "Who told you that, Bhabi?" Dawood asked. "Iman," Aisha said simply. "You know Professor Iman?" Dawood asked. "Yeah, we went to school together. She chose Islamic studies and I chose medicine," Aisha smiled. "She says the board of directors are in a frenzy because parents want a team set up for the youth of this city, so they can talk to someone if things get tough." "Well, that's what the professor was working for anyhow, right?" Ahmed asked. "Yes, and she thanks both of you for that," Aisha smiled. "When did you two grow up? I swear it was like yesterday when I caught you two jumping from the roof onto a trampoline wearing capes." "I think it was yesterday," Ahmed said. Aisha smiled and fondly looked at the young duo, "You two are quite a team." "Oh! I forgot!" Dawood said as he looked at Aisha. "Congrats on the baby, Bhabi." Aisha ruffled Dawood's hair and said, "Thank you. I hope you guys make as much of a difference in the baby's life as you did today."
Dawood woke up the next morning and shook his head as he felt a headache brewing. He hadn't slept well since memories of high school flooded his dreams. He sat up and looked at Ahmed who was snoring loudly. He smirked and shook his head before standing up and heading to the bathroom. Dawood looked at himself in the mirror and stared at his reflection. He spotted a thin white line on his bottom lip. He remembered coming home and telling his mother that he had fallen off a dirt bike at Ahmed's home. His mother had been skeptical back then, but Ahmed had vouched for him so Amina let it slide. He touched the scar at the corner of his eye and then shook his head to clear his thoughts. These were relics of the past. A past where he had overcome many hardships. A past where it had seemed that both Ahmed and him wouldn't make it out alive. They had overcome the hardships associated with them and needed to move forward. Dawood nodded at his reflection and whispered, "Keep going. Keep beating the odds. For Natalia's sake."
"Dave! Are you talking to yourself again?" Dawood heard Ahmed mumble as he pounded on the door. "Hurry up, man. I got to pee. Have your monologue later." Dawood rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt on before wrenching the door open, "You always ruin the moment." "You can tell yourself you're pretty later," Ahmed said as he pushed past Dawood and flipped open the toilet's lid. "At least wait for me to leave," Dawood groaned in disgust as he closed the door. "Sorry!" Ahmed yelled out through the closed door. Dawood sighed and rubbed his chest as he felt a tinge of pain at his clavicle. While Dawood winced and rubbed his chest, Jannat walked in quietly and said, "What's wrong?" Dawood quickly stood up straight and said, "Nothing. Well, heartburn, but mostly nothing." "Heartburn? See? I told you not to exercise so much," Jannat scoffed and pushed past Dawood before saying. "What's your plan for today?" "I don't know, yet. Why?" Dawood asked. "Want to go to work with me?" Jannat asked and looked at Dawood expectantly. "Do I look like your kid?" Dawood asked with a laugh. "Sheesh, I'm just asking. It's not like I want you to go to work with me. Mama wanted me to make sure you had some sort of plan for the day so you wouldn't be thinking about depressing stuff," Jannat explained. "You know, I'm not some emotional wreck that will spontaneously combust into tears when I think about the bad things in life," Dawood said with a huff. "Plus I think I'll go to work with Baba today." "Fine," Jannat sighed. "I'll tell Mama."
That became a routine for Dawood. He decided to start going to work with Harun at their grocery store headquarters. It helped stop the family from nagging him about his bullying in high school. "Baba," Dawood called out as he stood in Harun's office. "Yes, son?" Harun asked as he looked at a roster of employees who were working that day. "How does it feel, coming from nothing and becoming successful? Would you ever change anything about your life?" Dawood asked as he lifted boxes of files and shifted them to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. "I would give my children more time," Harun said simply. "I have worked so hard in life that I feel as if I didn't give all of you the time you deserved in life." "You did pretty well, Baba," Dawood smiled. "Your Mama did well with you. Sometimes I feel that if maybe we didn't work as hard as we did, the others would have turned out like you," Harun sighed as he sat at his desk. "I don't think everyone would appreciate being compared to me, Baba," Dawood laughed. "I'll be honest with you," Harun said as he looked at Dawood. "I always wanted my sons to join me here, running the stores, but you all had such big dreams. I never wanted to hold you all back from them. When I was little I also had dreams, but poverty made me forget them. Now that I had money, I didn't want to take away your chance at your dreams." "All you had to say was that you wanted me here, Baba. I would have given up my entire life for you," Dawood whispered. "That's not what I wanted. Your choices make you who you are. You wanted to improve the image of Muslims in America. You're doing that, my son. You're working for a greater cause. I just wish your brothers had that drive. I think Mariam has more vision than both of them combined," Harun sighed as he shook his head.
Dawood laughed, "Baji is pretty driven." "You know, when you became friends with Ahmed, I thanked God that you were moving away from your brothers," Harun said and pulled a bottle of water out of his mini fridge. "Why? You guys always made them seem like they were perfect. I wanted to be perfect," Dawood admitted. "I wanted you guys to look at me like you looked at them, with pride." "Oh, Dawood. We were always proud of you," Harun sighed. "I know I'm not good at showing you that, but I have always been proud of you. You, more than Sulaiman." "What?" Dawood asked in complete disbelief. "Come on, Baba. Sulaiman Bhai is your super son." "No," Harun said simply as he looked at his water bottle. "I failed to see that early on. He was ambitious, but he didn't mind stepping all over people to be that ambitious. That is where you both differ. You would look at things from other people's perspectives and Sulaiman, he didn't. He still doesn't. He is selfish." Dawood felt uncomfortable talking about his big brother this way. He had been raised to respect his elders and this put him in a tough spot. "Baba?" Dawood began. "Can we not talk about him like this? I don't feel good backbiting about him." "See? Still thinking about him," Harun laughed. "Go take a round outside and see if everyone has clocked in." "Yes, sir," Dawood nodded, thankful to the end of the Sulaiman bashing.
There were plenty of people milling about the office. None of them seemed to recognize him as he went to the front of the office. "Excuse me, sir? Can I help you?" The receptionist at the front desk asked. "No, thank you. My dad just asked me to do a round of the office," Dawood explained. "Your dad?" The receptionist asked in confusion. "Uh, Mr. Khan," Dawood explained. "Oh! Sir, I didn't know you were his son!" The receptionist exclaimed in surprise. "Well, actually sir, you wouldn't be, Dawood Khan, would you?" "Yes," Dawood smiled. "How'd you know?" "Uh, actually, sir, some gentlemen came looking for you about fifteen minutes ago," the receptionist explained. "Unfortunately, I didn't know you were here or who you were." "Oh. That's weird. Well, I'm here. You can ask my dad for me if they come back," Dawood explained and decided to head back to his father's office to tell him what happened. "You're back already?" Harun asked in surprise. "Baba, the receptionist said that there were some people looking for me here earlier. No one knows I'm here, but our family," Dawood said in confusion. "Well let's pull up the cameras," Harun suggested and clicked on his computer for security footage. "How long ago?" "She said about fifteen minutes ago," Dawood explained. Harun rewound the footage and frowned as he noticed three men standing in the lobby, "Hmm, I wonder who they are." "Well if they come back, I asked the receptionist to call here," Dawood explained. "Alright. Just be careful and stay in public if you go to talk to them. I have to go to a meeting now down the hall. Stop by if you need me," Harun said.
Dawood was sitting in his father's office when the phone rang, "Hello?" "Sir, uh the gentlemen are here looking for your son. Dawood Khan. They say they are with law enforcement," the receptionist explained. "Uh, it's me. I'll be right down," Dawood said quickly. A million questions ran through his mind as he wondered why law enforcement was looking for him. He had never attempted anything even remotely illegal, so it made no sense for law enforcement to see him. Dawood headed to the lobby and spotted three men standing in a circle with their arms crossed across their chest. "Uh, hello," Dawood called out. "Are you looking for me?" "Mr. Khan?" one of the men spoke up. "Yes," Dawood replied. "How can I help you gentlemen?" "Is there somewhere private we could talk?" Another man spoke up. "Uh, let me see," Dawood said and turned to look at the receptionist. "Is there?" "Conference room six is available, sir," the receptionist informed before leading them to the room. "Thanks," Dawood said before having a seat. "Um, so how can I help you?" "My name is Agent Hoffman and these are my associates, Agent Steed and Agent Farmer. We are with the FBI, Mr. Khan," Agent Hoffman began. "What does the FBI want to do with me?" Dawood asked in confusion. "We just wanted to talk and maybe offer you a business proposition," Agent Farmer explained. "We hear you did quite well in Afghanistan while stationed in Kabul." "Uh, you're talking about the tape?" Dawood asked. "Not only that, Mr. Khan, we've also had reports filed by your seniors on your good work," Agent Hoffman explained. "We also have heard you speaking up on behalf of American Muslims." "Not to mention being actively involved with the mosque," Agent Steed finally spoke up. "Yeah, but what does this have to do with you?" Dawood asked cautiously.
"Mr. Khan, as you know, the FBI does it's best to protect the citizens of this fine country," Agent Steed began. "We like to weed out trouble before it even begins." "That's very admirable, sirs," Dawood spoke up. "Of course that is kind of your job." "I'm sure you know that we do not do this alone. It's up to every citizen of this country to pitch in and keep it safe. With your level of comfort in your mosque and your drive to do what's right, we think you could benefit this country some more," Agent Hoffman added. "Well, I'm currently still active in the military," Dawood pointed out. "We realize this," Agent Steed explained. "We just think if you ever hear or see anything suspicious, you could let us know. Take for example, your new pastor, Nedim Ibrahimovic. If you find that he's acting suspicious, maybe you could let us know. Even if you find any other congregation member acting suspiciously or saying something that may need to be investigated, you could pass it along. You'd be rewarded handsomely, Mr. Khan."
What the agents were saying, finally clicked inside Dawood's mind as he said, "You want me to spy on people? You want me to spy on the imam?" "We call it preventative surveillance, Mr. Khan," Agent Steed explained. "Isn't that illegal? I mean there's a thing called privacy," Dawood said in disbelief. "Mr. Khan, we have laws in place that help facilitate our work, such as the Patriot's Act. We're doing this for the greater good of our country. I'm sure you understand," Agent Steed continued. "How does this help the greater good? This is flat out wrong," Dawood added. "No, Mr. Khan. What's wrong is being an American and plotting against America. We have to protect our interests and our future," Agent Hoffman expressed angrily as he slammed his palm down on the table. "I understand that, sir, but I've done my part. I will not spy on people I consider part of my community. While you sit here at your cozy desks, I'm actually fighting for our rights, and that includes my right to respectfully decline your offer," Dawood explained. "I'm going to be straight with you, son," Hoffman said as he looked dead at Dawood, "the time's come where you have to choose sides. We're making you an offer so you won't make the wrong decision. Don't let it get to the point where you no longer have a choice. We'll let you sleep on it, Mr. Khan."
Dawood frowned as he paced his father's office. Were they threatening him? Why did they even approach him to begin with? What did they mean that he had to choose sides? A million more questions were racing through Dawood's mind as his father walked back into his office. "Dawood?" Harun called out and noticed that his son was lost in his own world. Harun placed his hand on Dawood's shoulder and watched his son jerk before whispering, "Baba." "What's wrong?" Harun asked in concern. "Baba," Dawood whispered anxiously, "the FBI was here looking for me." Harun's heart started racing as he gripped his son's arm, "Are you in trouble?" "No, Baba," Dawood sighed. "They want me to help them." "How? How do they know about you?" Harun asked. "Baba, they know about everyone. They're the FBI," Dawood sighed. "How do they want you to help?" Harun asked cautiously. Dawood frowned and sat down before whispering, "They want me to spy on our community." "What?" Harun asked in disbelief. "They said I needed to choose sides while I still had a choice. What do you think that means?" Dawood whispered. "I don't know, son. What are you going to do?" Harun asked. "You raised me better than to spy on people, Baba," Dawood began, "I know that." "This is the government, though," Harun said in concern. "Can you even say no?" "I just did, Baba," Dawood smiled slightly. "They're not used to it, but I have that right."