Daughters Of The Brothel: Stories from Delhi's Red-light District by DEEPAK YADAV

Daughters Of The Brothel: Stories from Delhi's Red-light District by DEEPAK YADAV

Author:DEEPAK YADAV [YADAV, DEEPAK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bigfoot Publications Pvt. Ltd.
Published: 2019-10-05T18:30:00+00:00


The pigeons of Jama Masjid flew high. They soared up from the enormous courtyard and settled on the imposing dome. The Muezzin was about to call for the Maghrib. The sun was setting behind the dome. Only the scarlet rays were visible from the walls of the Masjid-e-Jahan numa. Shahjahan must have been a visionary, I thought. This largest Mosque with two elevated minarets and three giant domes attracts thousands of Muslim worshippers to profess Namaz here every day.

The smell of slaughtered chickens could also be detected from the stairs of Jama Masjid. Once, outside the Masjid, there used to be a large fish market, Meena Bazaar; today, this market has been replaced by regular meat shops.

Reshma wore a burka. The hijab was lifted up to her face. She smiled while passing through the metal detector. It was the first time I had seen her smiling in the entire day. Islam does not permit the intermingling of sexes. Females are prohibited in Masjids after the Maghrib prayers.

At Jama Masjid, it was sort of an unsaid rule, but at the shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin, it was stated in bold words on a placard, ‘Ladies are not allowed’. Exceptionally, it was never written in any verse of Quran.

Putting my hands into my pocket I pulled out a small pack of millets which I had purchased from Munshi’s shop to feed the pigeons. On Fatima’s insistence, I had brought Afzal and Shaheen along with me. Though Jama Masjid was only one kilometre from G.B. Road, they had never been here before; neither had Fatima. The big veranda of the mosque was crowded with local Muslims who were professing namaz, wearing a taqiya (Muslim cap) on their head.

Naeem had barely talked since we met. The creases on his forehead showed that he was worried. He took Reshma inside the mosque while I waited outside near the water tank with Shaheen and Afzal. They were feeding the pigeons. Pigeons didn’t fear Afzal and freely hopped around his feet. Afzal jumped in joy. His smile was beautiful. His small milk teeth were as white as pearl. The mileu was peaceful. The muezzin called for the Mahgriband once again, the pigeons scattered all over the sky. Shaheen, being the older of the two, sat beside me on a stone base which was sculpted at every corner of the mosque.

“Could we take one home?” asked Afzal from behind, indicating to the pigeons.

“No. Your mother will never agree. Ask your father if you want a pet.”

“Could we come here again, some other day? I want to play with them. They seem to become my friend. They don’t seem afraid to me,” Afzal asked me, with eyes full of joy and excitement.

“Would you become a veterinarian when you grow up?” I asked him.

“What does a veterinarian do?” he asked.

“They treat ill animals, and the animals love him.” Without thinking for a second, Afzal agreed to my idea and went near the flock of pigeon that was feeding upon the millets.

“Don’t you have such ambitions?” I asked Shaheen.



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