It was early December when the endowment department forcibly appointed me to the Amir Mohalla of an ABC city diamond market (prostitute market) from Jamia Masjid changed into an old mosque in an XYZ city. the rationale was that I had refused to go with the loudspeaker of a close-by councilor's mosque. Luckily for Shumai, he was the nephew of a senior councilor. As a result, I used to be stationed within the most infamous area of XYZ city. Of course, I used to be visiting the imam of the mosque but the notoriety of the world has its place. Anyone who heard would laugh or make an apology.
A clerk of the department did just that. once I visited him to resolve a salary issue, he listened to my posting and blinked one eye
Qibla Maulvi Sahib, it's as if your five fingers are within the ghee and your head is within the frypan.
Then may Allah bless my wife who comforted me and explained
Imam is that the same, even in any mosque. And what's mine? I do not prefer to leave the house anyway. there'll be no issue of vail. so we've got no children who are petrified of getting worse.
Listening to his wife's words satisfied my heart touch and that we started packing. As soon because the children were mentioned, it had been said that despite the passage of twenty-two years of marriage, Allah had deemed it appropriate to deprive us of the blessing of getting children. Well, now both husband and wife had left the fantastic complaint. after I was saddened to work out someone's child, I'd put my heart in remembrance of God, which good man would put his face in an exceedingly corner and shed some tears.
After packing, we took the name of Allah and boarded a personal bus to XYZ city. Badami Bagh landed at the bottom and commenced trying to find a ride to travel to the diamond market. A Tangi man looked me up and down when he told me the address then saw a girl in a very burqa with him and offered to require forty rupees. When Tanga left, the coachman added to my poor information by saying this
"it's known as Tubby Street, not the diamond market (prostitute market)."
In fifteen or twenty minutes we arrived. it had been noon. Maybe the market did not have time to open. it absolutely was a standard neighborhood. they're the broken streets, the naughty children wiping their noses from the filthy feet of the fairies, the black water within the gutters, and therefore the innumerable flies hovering over the rubbish heaps. Women hanging out of the fruit and vegetable stalls and arguing with them halfway through the windows. the sole difference was that there have been more pan-cigarette and flower shops. The shops were closed, but their new and old boards were announcing the particular business.
Tanga stopped ahead of the mosque, believing that it'll be the Eid of the people of the neighborhood. it's not known from which corners the kids and girls began to assemble. Mixed voices lifted the sky overhead.
'Abe, he's the new Maulvi'
The wife is additionally with him. Better a poor horse than no horse in the slightest degree.
"Do you recognize, sister, what's the man's trust?"
‘Yes, yes, yes. The bearded man is even more dangerous.
The strange storm was rude.
From the dialogues and phrases it absolutely was clear that there was no Maulvi in the neighborhood of the prostitutes, no prostitute had arrived within the neighborhood of the nobles. Before that, the size of my confiscation would are full. seems he's a servant of the mosque and has been performing his duties diligently and honestly for 25 years. Brother Nature is happy to satisfy him. Thin skinny old man Long white beard Clean white pajamas, a red and white thumb with four compartments on the shoulder. Black arch mark on the forehead, white hat on head, and lower eyes. an easy and sort man and not a word of the complaint within the mouth. He was an old man, but he had great courage.
It took ten days every week to handle the products and fix the house. What was the house? Quarters of two rooms were connected to the mosque. A tiny low kitchen, a good smaller bathroom, and toilet, and a little courtyard. Anyway, why did the couple need a big house? There was plenty for us. There was plenty of darkness simply because the encompassing buildings were tall. Even at twelve o'clock in the afternoon, there was a dim shadow within the evening. Ghulam Shabbir helped plenty in fixing the house. From cleaning to whitewashing walls. It clad that Ghulam Shabbir Ghar also worked with every imam of the mosque who came here. within the name of salary, the poor person wont to raise two meals on a daily basis and sleep within the mosque at midnight. during this way, he got an area to measure, and also the mosque was protected.
One thing that had been on my mind ever since I came here. So sooner or later he asked Ghulam Shabbir about the last imam.
He hesitated a touch so took her aside so no sound can be heard in Begum's ear.
To be continued...