[6] JAWAD

JAWAD

The half moon stands in the middle of the dark, peaceful sky. Its dim rays shining on what it wishes. I'm standing a few meters from the Mashrabiyya window in my room. The weak rays of the moonlight cast the rhombic patterns of the Mashrabiyya on my face. I unfold my hands behind my back and take a few steps to the Mashrabiya. My forehead is resting on it, my two hands grips it base and my eyes are staring deeply at the moon.

The moon gifting the night with its light makes me remember someone. The one, who gave me light in this dark world. The one whom my journey in this world started from. The one whose smile brought a smile to my face. The one whom I have happy memories with, but so painful to reminisce. My mother, ummi.

Mere thoughts of her, fills my heart with joy. The joy evolved into sorrow and agony because she is no more. Her smiles, her words, her actions died with her. Only the memories of them linger in my head. Memories are imaginations; they do no justice to how she was in reality.

My mother was my light. Whenever it's dark, or I'm lost, I run to her and I find my way back. I'm lost now, I lost my light, and I lost my reason to be happy when she died 10 years ago. I lost my light, just like how the moon rays relax at dawn. I'm holding up to the string of hope that the night lost its moon to get the sunlight.

I stare deeper at the moon. Ya Allah will I also find my sunlight after losing my moon?

****

The hallway is quiet. The guards around my chamber are few; I guess some went to freshen up. The morning is still fresh. I want to take Aqwa on an early morning ride. The barn is close to Zayd's chamber. I pray I don't come in contact with him. I'm not ready for his dramas.

I'm almost close to the barn when I see Tahira. This is much worse than coming in contact with Zayd. Alhamdulillah I already have my hood over my head, I pray she doesn't recognize me. I lower my head as we pass each other. I've barely taken another step when I hear my name.

"Amir, is that you?" I hear, but I continue walking, even faster. I hear someone running towards me. I'm about to continue walking when I see Tahira in front of me. "I knew it, you're the one."

"salam alaykum." I say. Tahira is one of the reasons I'm dreading the upcoming bridal selection. I can't imagine living my life with someone like her. She's conceited, discourteous, and sly.

"Where are you headed to this morning?"

"I doubt that's any of your business, now if you'll excuse me." I try to move, but she blocks me again. What's she up to?

"You don't like that I'm in your way?" she asks, her voice very low. "I don't like that you're in my way also... my husband's way."

I'm quiet. She's married to Zayd doesn't mean she can talk to me in any manner she wishes. I'm letting her be, so as for peace to reign. She's still in my way, her arms folded against her chest.

"What's going on, Tahira what are you doing there?" A female voice reverberates from the hallway opposite where we are standing. Tahira unfolds her arms, her gaze flickers to the woman's direction. Her facial skin creases, she looks frightened.

"Where is what I asked you to come with?" She asks Tahira with a hard glare on. "Answer me... don't tell me you haven't checked for it." She continues querying Tahira. She's oblivious to my presence. I'll have like to leave without her noticing, but it isn't possible. They're both in my way.

"Salam alaykum Malika." Her cold stare shifts from Tahira to me. The glare disappears, her brows quirk up, she looks confused and shocked.

"Jawad?" she asks, unsure. "Why... why are you here?"

"I'm about to leave, you are in my way." She shifts a little from Tahira, paving way for me to proceed. I don't care to know the look she gives me as I walk away from her. I know I sound rude, but I can't accept her as my mother, even though she expects me to. She's Zayd and Khadijah's mother. I have forgiven her, but a part of me still blames her for what happened to my mother.

****

I'm walking back to my chamber after taking Aqwa for a ride. My guards are all present now. The palace is now full and rowdy with people trooping in and out. Haider-my head guard-approaches me as I'm about to enter my room.

He lowers his head. "Amir, the old woman you asked me to watch after slumped down yesterday-"

"And why am I just hearing of it now?" I'm starting to get angry, but I can control and tame my anger now. I've learnt how to do so. I'll rather lower my voice to make my anger not evident.

"I just heard of it today, but she's fine now." I relax a little when I hear that.

"Have you visited her?"

"No I haven't, but I'll after-"

"No need any more, I'll visit her myself."

He raises his head a little. His eyes are widened, he scans my face, maybe searching for how serious I'm. "Amir, you'll... vis-"

"yes, I'll." I say, then open the door to my room, leaving the guard behind. After helping the woman with the torn stall the other day, I felt a kind of connection to her. I assigned some guards to watch over her in case she needed something. If her granddaughter works in the palace, she must be lonely most times because all the palace workers live in the palace. She's aged; she requires someone to watch over her. I'm disheartened to hear she slumped. I just hope she's well.

****

I'm standing in front of a crooked mud house. The thatched roofing sparse, my hood is still over my head. Haider gave me directions to her house, but I asked him not to come with me.

I stride towards the loosely hanging wooden door. The door is open, but there's a transparent linen curtain hiding the inner part of the house.

"salam alaykum." I say, but I don't get a response. A slow breeze blows, causing the curtain to flow with its rhythm. I see the old woman lying on a mat, on the floor. She has a cloth put around her up to her upper chest. I know it's trespassing to enter a person's house without their permission, but if this woman is alone, I think I might just trespass.

I use a hand to shift the curtain out of my way. I bend my spine before entering through the short door. The building is short, so I have to bend a bit when I'm inside. Different dresses are arranged on the top of a wooden drawer on one side of the small room. The room is very scanty, with only two drawers and a wooden chair. I crouch down to where the old woman is lying.

She must have heard the shuffling of my feet against the floor because she opens her eyelids. Her red, puffy eyes come in contact with mine. I expect her to be frightened when she woke up to see my eyes boring into hers, but she isn't. She places both her hands on the floor to propel her body upward, and then she rests her back on the wall.

"My son... you came for me again. I wasn't able to thank you for the other day." I didn't think she will remember because I had a hood on. I notice the hood has ridden up my brows now. I straighten it back to the middle of the bridge of my nose.

"How're you feeling now?"

"I'm better Alhamdulillah... how did you know I'm unwell?"

"I asked of you in the market." She's quiet again. She must be really ill because the last time I met her, she was very chatty. Today she's quiet and her face is gloomy. "I'll take my leave now. I just wanted to be certain you're well."

"No, don't leave yet." She attempts to get up, but I gently push her back. "Don't leave yet... at least take milk. Amna just went to milk the camel." By Amna, she means her granddaughter. The name didn't leave my thoughts. I couldn't forget.

I ought to leave, but I stay. I recline my back on the wall close to her. It feels so natural and normal. She says her granddaughter will be here soon. I also want to know her.

"...ukhruj, ukhruj... get out of here. Don't eat that!" I hear a tiny shout. A figure moves behind the curtain, but I can't make a clear view of the person. The old woman chuckles, which makes me turn to her.

"That's Amna, she is chasing the birds eating the fruits on her little garden." She giggles. "Amna bring the milk here."

"I'm coming." She stresses her words. "Out... out... okay yes, and they are all gone... I did it again, Jida." She's silent for a moment, and then she moves the barrier between us. "Here's the milk, it's very fresh. I'm sure you'll enjoy it." She's looking at the milk while talking. "It will make you feel..." she trails when she raises her head and sees me sitting close to her grandmother. "Better." She's the one, after all, the maid with the blue eyes.

She drops the stainless jug containing milk on the floor, and then she enters into another room, veiled with a curtain. She comes back with two cone-shaped stainless cups in her hands. She drops one beside me and the other beside her grandmother.

She greets me while pouring milk into the cup in front of me. I reply, and I notice crease forms on her forehead. Does she know I'm the Amir?

"Amna he's the one I told you about." The old woman says. Her eyes widen again. She's now sitting close to her grandmother.

"You mean the man at... the market?"

"Yes, Amna, he's the one."

"Subhanallah," She mutters under her breath, but I still hear her. I gulp down the milk. It's so good, I didn't regret waiting behind for it. I stand up with my head bent a little to prevent me from destroying the roofing. Amna does same also.

"I hope to see you in better health next time." I look down at the old woman.

"Shukran Abni, insha Allah." I start making way towards the entrance.

"Let me see him out, Jida. I'll be back now." I hear Amna mutter.

I step outside, but I'm aware of the person behind me. "Amir?" she says behind me. I stay rooted to my position. "You're really the one... I can't believe this... you helped my Jida." I see she likes talking.

"You know I'm the one, but you didn't say that inside."

"I'm uncertain if you'll like for me to blow your cover, you are wearing a cloak and a hood over your head." She renders me quiet when she talks. I don't think I've ever been short of words, but I'm short of words with her. "Shukran for helping my Jida. Jazakallahi khairan."

I nod my head. "Is this why you keep ignoring me?" someone thunders behind me. I turn my head swiftly. A huge figure towers over Amna.

"Now isn't the time for this, Ayman." Amna grits out. I'm not seeing her, but I know she's pissed.

"What do you mean by that? I want you and I'll get you." He continues towering over her as she steps backwards.

"Get your hands off me!" she shrills. Her scream triggers me. I tap the man on his back, but he shrugs it off. I push him away from her, and he staggers backward a little. He's well-built, but not as bulky as I'm.

"Hey, who are you to push me... do you know who I'm." he flares his nostrils angrily. He moves closer to me, but I'm not fazed. He pushes my chest with his hands. His actions have no impact on me. He's about to touch my face, but I catch his hand in the air. I turn it backwards until he releases a cry of pain. I hear Amna telling me to stop, but my brain hasn't processed it. I hold his jaw tightly with my hand.

"Don't you ever lay your hands on her again!" I continue pressing his jaw. Red blood trickles down his lips. Horror is written on his face when he sees his blood dripping on my hand.

"Jawad!" Amna yells my name loudly. Her voice is like cold water poured over the fire burning in me. I push the man on the floor. He moves on his elbow on the floor to see my next move, he turns on his heels when he sees my attention is no longer on him. I stare at my hand slightly smeared with his blood.

I'm burning with rage when he left. It has been long I lost my cool this much. "I'm sorry." Amna says behind me. I nod my head then walk away.