"—You can be damned to hell for all I care—!! Throw him out!" She screamed through eyes burning with loathe and before I could say anything else, the guard had roughly pushed against my chest and I fell down the steep slope, outside the main gate.
"Sahab—!" I heard Azam call behind me, as I sat wincing on the ground, clutching at my prosthetic leg.
"I am alright—" I tried to reassure him, who was now helping me up. His face had scrunched up in anger after witnessing the similar thing happening for the third time, in the past year.
"I don't get it, sahab—! Why do you bother coming here? These people don't deserve an apology—" He went on furiously beside me on the driving seat, while I kept my gaze fixated on the passing by scenery. Before he could say anymore, I stopped him with a shake of head.
"Don't, Aazam—She has every right—" My voice trailing towards the end as I had to gulp down the lump of guilt.
I knew that my coming here would solve nothing. I couldn't return her son. How could I even expect her to forgive me after being the cause behind their ruin. I didn't take the life of her son, only. I took away their every single moment of joy and replaced it with misery.
While I was roaming around guilt free in the US, Muiz was hanging between life and death. Right after he died in coma, his parents got a divorce. His father had agreed to a settlement with my Dad for blood money. The life they once used to know had turned to ashes because of my evil deeds.
The first time, I had come to beg her forgiveness, I found out that his sister had run away from home a year ago. After hearing this, I could only gape at her, unflinching.
"You have now come to redeem yourself? You are hoping for Kaffarah? Fine. I'll forgive you. Only, when you die a miserable death like the one you gave to my son. Just as you murdered the happiness of my family—I wish you death, too. You only lost half a leg? I wish your every inch was handicapped—and every misfortune in this world befalls you so that even death may seem like an easy escape for you. When you die, alone and miserable; without receiving a single moment of rest—that's when I'll forgive you—"
"Naveed?"
Huh? I looked up at Ammar's voice to find him watching me worried.
I had met Ammar, a year back; few days after I had started going to the masjid. He was the one who approached me first, saying he had heard about me. I assumed that he was talking about the news about my tragic accident, but was surprised to find that he was referring to my interview that I once gave for a renowned Pakistani magazine back when I lived in the US. It had featured an article about me, as the upcoming leader of the Pakistani business world—under 30.
Ammar was a business man himself and owned a restaurant in the city. He was starting a new business venture and wanted me to be his partner for it. I felt reluctant initially, but then gave in after realising that it was a better option than returning to Dad's company, which I could now see; ran under corrupted policies. Ammar was a regular at the masjid and alongwith him, I liked his proposal too. So after consulting with Imam who suggested me to do istakhara for it, I agreed to become a 60-40% partner with him; 60 being his share, as he was the one bringing in all the investment. It took us a few months, to initiate the franchise but nevertheless Allah blessed it with barakah and within a year we had managed to setup 4 successful branches around the country and more would come, if Allah willed.
"Are you okay? You don't look—" Without letting him finish, I turned my gaze back to the reports sprawled on the table infront of me.
"Ammar? I—I don't think Allah would ever forgive me—" I felt my voice quivering with emotions and had to tighten my grip on the side of the table to get a control over myself. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. It was complete silence in the after hours of the office. Finally, he broke the quiet; starting in his solemn voice.
"You know the hadith, right? 'Allah says that I am as My servant expects Me to be.' You have repented and changed your ways, Naveed. Not wanting to return to the sin is a sign that your repentance is accepted—and Allahu alam (Allah knows best) but you shouldn't give consequence to these thoughts. These are Shaitani waswasay (whispers of Shaitan). When Shaitan sees someone getting closer to Allah, he tries to dissuade him from Allah's mercy, by putting such thoughts in his mind. So that he returns to the path of evil." I heard him say over me, but didn't dare lift my head.
"You only need to focus on doing more and more good deeds. Surely good deeds wipe out evil deeds. That is a reminder for the mindful. (Quran 11:114) Just keep praying to Allah that He helps you remain steadfast on the straight path."
"But what if the people I've hurt dont forgive me—what then?" I felt my voice coming from somewhere afar. A moment passed but I didn't hear him say anything and just when I looked up, he begun slowly.
"No amount of guilt can change the past, and no amount of worrying can change the future. Go easy on yourself, for the outcome of all affairs is determined by Allah's decree. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from it you cannot flee. (Umar Ibn Al-Khattaab)" I continued to gawk him unblinking, as the tears pooling in my eyes began to stream down my cheeks. Unable to hold his unwavering gaze any longer, I turned my eyes downcast with a sharp gasp.
"You can only beg for their forgiveness, Naveed and offer the kaffara for your sins against the people you've hurt; which Allah knows that you have done. You can't change their hearts—but Allah can—He, alone is the turner of hearts and if Allah wanted to forsake you, He could have left you there under the heap of your car and let you die without ever giving you a chance to repent to Him. So, don't think about anything else—okay? Allah loves us and that is enough a reason for us to be grateful for His blessings and expectant of His mercy, since Allah is the most Merciful and the most Beneficent." I looked up and found him watching me with a small smile.
Allah loves us.
His words kept ringing in my head for a long time afterwards. The One whom I had disobeyed the most was Allah—Yet, He was the only One who didn't forsake me. He didn't turn me away when I called on Him; begging for His help—
"I'll do everything—I'll become however you want me to be—!"
I had begged her; cried to her. Did everything to get her to love me—Yet, could only manage to sow more seeds of hatred in her heart for myself. If instead of changing for her, I had changed for Allah, then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here with a baggage of guilt. And maybe, He would've even turned her heart in love for me—but it's too late now. It's like he said, I couldn't afford to look back, anymore. There's a lot that I needed to do, still.
———————————
"Assalamualaikum, Khaala." I knocked even though the door to her room was left open. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixated to the window in front of her.
At my voice, she turned in her place and stood up with a smile. I slowly closed the distance to her and lowered my head.
"I have been waiting for you, forever—" She murmured, taking my face in her hands and placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Samra didn't come?" She questioned while looking behind me. I froze at her words but quickly recovered. Taking her hands in mine, I made her sit down on the bed.
"Next time, InshaAllah. Look, I got you your favourite pastries." I said without meeting her eyes. The only one whose life had come to a standstill with Aasiya's disappearance was her mother.
She had suffered a nervous breakdown on the day of her disappearance and never completely recovered after that. Uncle had gone back to Gulf, leaving Khaala here, all by herself. I had asked Mom several times to convince Khaala to live with us at my house, but Mom had made up her mind to direct all of her anger towards Khaala.
Nevertheless, I tried visiting her as much as I could but nothing could be enough to erase her guilt.
"Strawberry cheesecake—it was Aasiya's favourite. I think she started liking it after finding out that I loved it—-" Khaala's voice cracked with tears as she watched the open box in her lap. I couldn't watch her like this, so I averted my gaze.
"Naveed—Still nothing?" She questioned in a small voice, turning her tear stained face to me. I opened my mouth to say something but the lump of tears rendered me speechless and I could only manage to shake my head before wiping away her tears and pulling her against myself.
"It's been so long— Today, marks 1 year, 3 months and 1 day, since she left me. I don't know where she is—how—in what state—" Her voice broke with sobs and I felt my own tears breaking loose. Quickly wiping them away, I pulled her away from myself.
"Wherever she is—she will be safe, InshaAllah. She'll be fine, InshaAllah. She has your prayers, Khaala—" I tried convincing her by mustering a smile, who could only gape at me silently with tear filled eyes. Everytime I looked at Khaala, I could see Aasiya in her. Aasiya was her mother's spitting image.
"—you'll find her, yes Naveed? You promise—"
"I will—InshaAllah. InshaAllah, we'll find her soon. She'll return soon. She will come back to you—InshaAllah." I tried smiling through tears but before I could crumble infront of her, I got up to fetch her plates.
————————————
Standing outside the now completed construction site, I watched the sign board, which read,
AASIYA FOUNDATION
(YATEEM KHAANA/ ORPHANAGE)
"I can't wait to grow up and start earning my own money. I know what I am going to do with it." I turned to her surprised at this out of blue confession. Whereas, she kept her gaze fixated to the rain dripping on the cobblestoned porch infront of us.
"What?" I couldn't help but ask.
"I'll make an orphanage. For the little kids at the traffic signals and give them free education in the school which I'll build inside it." She continued in the same flow and I found myself smiling alongside her; as we sat on the short stairs, just outside the main house.
"I can do that for you. I'll obviously start earning before you—"
"Uff Navi. I don't need your money. I want to do this on my own—" She remarked exasperated with a shake of head.
"So what? I'll only be helping you out. Like an initial investment. I'll start and then you can add on. Also, I think you should leave the business stuff to me—" I added cheekily and earned a reproving glare from her.
"Well. I hate to admit it, but you do make sense. I can use your help, I think."
"That's right. So, I'll just make one in your name. You can do that, right? Give charity in someone else's name?" I added unsure and caught a similar haggard look on her face.
"I think so...I think I read somewhere that you can. But I feel a little wrong to take your money.."
"Oho! You're so silly Princess! Everything that's mine is yours too, afterall. Well—actually not everything. Only the good bits. I am not giving you my anger, my sadness and—Well, now that I am starting to think about it, there's mostly just bad parts, rather than good one's—" I slowly shook my head in disappointment, but was pulled out of my daze at her chuckle.
"You're such a helpless dork, Navi!" She was still laughing, when I turned to her with an embarrassed smile of my own.
I had finally managed to fulfill my promise to her. But, she wasn't here to see it anymore.
Ever since I started working with Ammar, I saved all of my earnings. Almost all of it went into the orphanage and that's how I plan for it to stay. InshaAllah.
With a sigh, I turned back towards my car, but was interrupted by an unexpected call.
"Assalamualaikum." I picked up Safir's call with an unfamiliar thumping in my heart.
"Walaikumusalam, sir. Sorry for disturbing you at this time of night. But I think, we might have got a lead—"
Even before he had finished, my heart began to beat loudly against my chest in faint glimmer of hope.
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