Of Smokeless Fire by A.A. Jafri (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

will have no problem walking on it, but the sinners will fall like dead flies into the deepest hell. And—’

Before he could finish, Mansoor interrupted him, ‘Excuse me, sir, with all due respect, you are not telling me anything new. I learnt about these things in the fourth grade.’ He deliberately used the word ‘sir’, realizing the need to keep a healthy distance from him.

‘Aah, yes! We all learn about our religion at an early age, but we soon forget it. Temptations, glamour and other worldly pleasures mislead us. My job as a Muslim is to remind you of your most important obligations and to guide you to the right path. When I was your age, I, too, was brash. I, too, thought that I would live forever, but my perspective changed when Allah showed me the true light.’

‘Are you saying that I have been misled by these so-called worldly pleasures, and that you are on the right path?’ Zakir’s self-righteous speech had bristled Mansoor.

‘No, please don’t misunderstand me, beta. All of us have been misled. All of us are sinners. To be honest, I am one of the greatest sinners, but I try to atone for my sins by guiding people to the right path. Do not misconstrue what I say, beta; I am not saying that you are a sinner, for that is between you and the Almighty.’

‘Let’s hear what exactly you are saying then!’ Mansoor said, his hackles rising.

‘I am just asking you to expiate for your sins every day. And the best way to do so is by praying five times and reading the holy book every day. If you remember, I told you the same thing when you came to my house several years ago, and from what I remember, you promised to do that.’

‘Well, if you are not saying that I am a sinner, then what should I expiate for?’ Mansoor, much like his attorney father, cross-examined him.

‘Let me ask you this: do you pray?’ Zakir persisted.

‘First of all, whether or not I pray is none of your business. But to answer your question, I worship my own god and in my own special way.’

Zakir had a look that said ‘don’t get cute with me,’ but he took a deep breath and with perfect equanimity, continued, ‘There is only one way to pray, my son.’

‘And I suppose that way is your way?’ Mansoor retorted.

‘It is not my way or your way. It is the Islamic way.’

‘Listen, Zakir Sahib, you don’t have a patent on how to pray, and the Kingdom of God is not your personal fiefdom that you inherited from your forefathers,’ Mansoor shot back. He remembered his dead father, and as far as he was concerned, Zakir had murdered him. And now the man had the gall to sit across from him and try to show him the righteous path.

Zakir kept his patience intact, but the others in his party fidgeted with anger. They had sat there tensely, listening to the conversation, but now they felt challenged by this neophyte. Nothing like this had ever happened to them, at least not in a Muslim household. And they regarded Mansoor as a Muslim and Joseph’s apartment as a Darul Muslimin, the house of Muslims. They had never expected such a showdown. Sher Khan, openly displaying his disgust with Mansoor and the way the conversation had unfolded, stepped in on behalf of Zakir.

‘Brother Mansoor, Brother Zakir is telling you what is good for you.’

‘I think I know better than anybody else in this world what is good for me,’ Mansoor’s burning stare and his rising voice unnerved Sher Khan. Lisa, who had quarantined herself all this time in the bedroom, got concerned and came out to check what was happening.

‘Is everything okay?’ she asked, looking at Mansoor.

Mansoor just nodded his head. Sher Khan ogled Lisa intently, while all the others bowed their heads. She remained there for a few more seconds, in all probability trying to discomfit them, and then dashed out of the apartment ‘to get some fresh air’.

‘Look, Mansoor, I don’t want to argue with you. I regard you just like my son. My only request to you is that you accompany us to the mosque and join us for the evening prayer, just for my sake.’

‘Look, if I go to the mosque, it will be because I want to go and not because you want me to go, and it will definitely not be for your sake.’

‘You forget, Mansoor, that you are in America because of me. If I had not arranged for your visa, you would still be languishing in Pakistan,’ Zakir said this in his most clipped English.

‘No, Zakir Sahib, I have not forgotten that. And I have also not forgotten that you murd . . . that you were the cause of discord between my father and my mother.’

That was the breaking point for Zakir. His eyes flashed with anger and he wrung his fingers as he thought about what to say next. But Mansoor had lost his patience by then. He got up abruptly and said, ‘And now, gentlemen, I would like to end this conversation for it has gone far beyond its limits. Besides, I have better things to do.’

‘Better things like fornicating?’ the Lion Prince disgorged the last sentence in English. Like a word from his subconscious, it had sneaked out without his realizing it.

‘Get out of here, all of you!’ Mansoor ordered the men, as if it was his apartment they were all in.

‘Well, this is not your apartment, you ungrateful son of a—’ Without finishing his sentence, Zakir got up and stormed out. All the others glared at Mansoor as they walked out, while he frowned back at them, seething with anger.

*

When Joseph came back that evening, Mansoor told him everything. He felt ashamed about Zakir’s behaviour and apologized profusely to Mansoor. As it turned out, it was Joseph who was inadvertently responsible for Zakir’s showing up with his entire entourage. He had