Tuesday, May 21, 2024
Year : 2, Issue : 21
FICTION
by Shahriar Shaams
The mosque committee was quite displeased with Rashed, their young muezzin. They feared he embarrassed them a bit too much these days. He was not even present at the meeting today on time. “I’m on my way,” he had said on the phone, assuring them that they could start in his absence. But they waited anyway. Tardiness was only one in a long list of their complaints about Rashed.
“We cannot fault him for running a business,” one of the grandees, Shafik Islam, said as they waited, “I’ve seen many of you lot do that. It is just the things he does for a little bit of cash…”
“What is he up to now?”
“Selling hair cream!” The Imam said, appearing exasperated.
“What, for hair growth?” asked the grandee. “Well, I suppose that would be of help to you, Imam shaheb.”
The Imam stuttered, said, “I am happy with the way I look, Shafik bhai. It is all Allah’s wish. Unlike our Jomir bhai here. I saw him buy one of the bottles from Rashed just yesterday.”
The Imam’s sudden finger-pointing at the man stunted the latter’s plan to remain invisible in the meeting. Jomir was a quiet man by nature, rarely speaking and only nodding away to anything that was being agreed upon.
Shafik asked, “Did you buy the ones for hair or for something down there, Jomir?”
They did not wait for the man’s mumbling defense. The snickering filled the small room. They were seated on plastic chairs, holding their cups of tea in their hands in the absence of a table.
Jomir put his cup down on the floor. “I only bought it to be polite,” he said, “He had caught me at a bad time, had me cornered…”
The men shrugged. “That happens with him around,” one of them said. “I once got cajoled into buying his jinn-repellent water! He even soft-soaped me into believing he had recited the entirety of Surah Al-Baqarah before blowing twice into the water.”
“And how did our young Rashed’s spit taste, my dear fellow?”
The man shut up, fearing he had overshared.
“Why does he do this, really? It is bad enough in a climate like this,” the Imam said, sounding hurt. “No one gives us any respect these days. They see him doing this nonsense and the repercussions fall on us!”
He was agitated, and his face turned pinkish as he furiously thumbed over his prayer beads.
“Calm down, Imam shaheb,” Shafik said. “It wasn’t that long ago you were selling jinn-sponsored tabizes…we all make mistakes.”
Jomir sprang up to deal a blow, “I remember that quite well, Imam shaheb, I had to fork out a fair amount of money to buy that. You had promised that if I put it over my daughter she would stop thinking about going to Canada!”
“You can’t blame me for that. The tabiz would never work once she’d already gone to Canada. It’s too far!”
One of the men interrupted to say, “I believe the jinn couldn’t get a visa to pursue her and work his magic,” only for the Imam to glare at him.
“This is no joking matter,” he was told, “I am seeing that the devil has begun to infiltrate our gathering…”
“Speaking of the devil, where is our muezzin? Can someone call Rashed and ask if he is really coming? We have waited enough already. Or do we need to mic him over now?”
The Imam said, “Let’s not go that far. Don’t give him any ideas. I already suffer enough when he calls everyone for prayer with that raspy, horrid voice. Imagine if he starts using the mosque’s microphone to sell his cream!”
As if to deny his seniors any further consternation, Rashed arrived at last. He bore an embarrassed face, “Apologies! I got caught up a bit on my way here.”
The Imam would not look him in the face. “Why, Rashed? Got busy selling some of your hair cream?”
Rashed smiled, saying, “We must survive somehow, shouldn’t we?” he said.
“But there is a limit,” the Imam said, “We can’t exactly be swindling, can we?”
Rashed kept smiling, opting to weather the snark.
“Tell us, young man, does the hair cream even work?” they asked, “Are there sightings of a full harvest?”
“Too early to tell, you know,” he said, taking off his skullcap to reveal a shining, barren dome, “I’m trying to figure it out myself.”
