Amal Unbound by Aisha Saeed

Author:Aisha Saeed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-05-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Nasreen Baji had a migraine headache. I had spent half the night massaging her head, but it hadn’t helped, and now she grimaced over lunch.

“I can draw your bath when you’re finished,” I offered. “The steam helps sometimes.”

“Rest will do more good.” She clasped a hand to her forehead and stood up. “Mumtaz is gone for the afternoon to visit her sister. Keep an eye on the kitchen until she returns.”

“And tell Bilal I’ll be in the library catching up on some work,” Jawad Sahib told me. “He shouldn’t bother me unless I call for him.”

“What kind of work?” Nasreen Baji asked.

“Just some accounting and paperwork.”

“But why? Zaid should be doing that. What do we have an accountant for?”

“Whether or not he is an accountant is debatable, and the only one I can trust is myself anyway,” he said. Then he looked at me. “How are things going with her?” He nodded toward me.

“Very well,” Nasreen Baji said. “She is a gift from God.”

“Good. I’m glad it all worked out,” Jawad replied.

I’d settled dirty dishes into the sink and had just turned on the faucet when I felt a tug on my kamiz. Fatima looked at me. Her expression was somber.

“What’s wrong?” I turned off the water.

“I heard about what happened yesterday. About the books.”

I flushed. Toqir must have told everyone all about it.

“So you know how to read?” she asked.

“Yes. I learned at school.”

“Could you teach me?”

I paused at the unexpected question.

“Baba said he could get me paper and pencil.”

I glanced at Hamid. He covered a pot with a metal lid and rested his cooking spoon to the side. He gave a small nod.

“But I might not be able to learn,” she continued. “My mother used to say I wasn’t very bright.”

She said it without any affect, as though it was simply fact.

I picked up a butter knife and held it out to her.

“What is this?” I asked her.

“A knife.”

“What kind of shape does it have?”

“Long. Straight?”

“That’s the first letter in the alphabet. Alif.”

“Alif,” she said slowly.

“See?” I said. “You’re learning to read already. I can teach you whenever we have time. It’s not so hard, I promise.”

Her eyes widened. She took the butter knife from me and rushed off to show the cook.

I finished the dishes and wandered out onto our verandah. With Jawad Sahib back, it was empty. Fatima’s words kept coming back to me. Why would any mother say something so cruel?

Something moved in the distance. I squinted. It was a cat. Orange and white. I walked over to where it was stretched out under the sun.

“Peaceful out here, isn’t it?”

Nabila stepped outside and joined me in the garden bordering our verandah. She set down a metal bowl filled with milk on the grass. The cat walked over to Nabila, brushed herself against her, and purred.

“She’s a stray.” Nabila petted the cat. “She wandered over my first week here. Been giving her milk ever since. I named her Chotu.”

“She’s pretty,” I said tentatively.

“She is,” Nabila said.

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