Iqbal

A young boy living in a dream world of greatness and glory, of great deeds and spectacular success, finds himself unable to speak or move when opportunity dances its way to him.

“Iqbal!”

Qasimbhai’s voice tore through his beautiful, silken dream.

“Get the hair oil from the store room.”

Iqbal got up and shuffled off.

“Get the hair oil, get the chai masala, get this, get that. All this will stop one day, when I am world-famous,” he muttered to himself. “People will come from all over just to see my Resham-e-Iqbal! You wait, Qasimbhai. Then you will have to get things for me.”

Sunlight from the window suddenly hit his face. He saw her coming toward the shop. Light played around her, air floated about her. Half walking, half dancing, her feet kissed the ground.

Iqbal rushed to the front of the shop. 

“Oil,” he said to Qasimbhai as she came up to the counter.

“Masjid?” she asked, pointing to her map.

Iqbal’s mouth fell open, his arms froze. Her voice was as soft and sweet as the champa. Light danced on her hair, it played with her eyes. He could almost feel the soft fragrance of her skin.

“Yes, yes, that way,” said Qasimbhai. “This is best oil for falling hair,” he told the waiting customer. “I can give you 20% discount on top of sale price today.”

Qasimbhai turned and spat on the ground outside the shop as the prospective customer walked away. “He missed his chance to change his life. This is what happens when you think too much and don’t do anything. Here! Put this bottle back.”

Iqbal took the bottle as he watched a street dog walk up to her, wagging its tail. She smiled, patted its head, and floated away.

“Hai Allah!” Even that dog’s kismet is better than mine.” Iqbal moaned as he watched her disappear into the sunlight. “I could be walking with her to show her the masjid in my lunch break. Oh! Why did I not say something!”

Silence lay draped over the stones. Light squeezed in through the jalis and lit bands of dust floating to the center of the hall. She stepped softly, carefully weaving her way inside the deserted hall. Her eyes followed the clean lines of the building while her mind wandered to the time when the world must have gazed at them in awe. 

“Well, hello there,” she said to the dog as it slid in and curled up on the floor.

The dog looked back with its melting brown eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered as their eyes met.

The dog looked up and wagged its tail tentatively, sending a cloud of dust fairies her way.

She smiled. “Can I share the floor with you?”

They gazed at each other silently, peering into the other’s eyes, probing the heart, and divining intent. Then, the dog settled back and went still as she stepped into the light. 

She started dancing.