While here during the day, even though her parents had approved her routine morning and evening trips out there already, she sought to give back in any way she knew she could. She would fetch fresh and sweet drinking water and then she would use some extra time to reflect on life, and to take in the scent of the flowers she had nurtured around the area, courtesy of Khalim, and think of her friend, Tayi. She would also, and very frequently, help Khalim to help her father on the farm, which allowed their sense of trust for each other and teamwork together germinate and grow. When Khalim wasn’t there she would find a friend within herself, study the volumes of books in her secret hideout, or enjoy her very own view of the world in those small moments of liberty. Sometimes she would spend her moments, in deep thought, lying down on a large boulder gazing up at the clouds, the skies, or even the stars. At other times, she would sit overlooking the river with a view of the mountains to the southeast and take in the beauty that seemed unique to this location alone. She had memorized every tree, rock, flower bed, and turn of the river in Jam.
“I wonder what the full story with this place was here, so many years ago,” She thought out loud to herself. She looked at The Minaret of Jam and its surrounding charm, now filled with color of all sorts, courtesy of Khalim, this was her shrine of peace from the rest of the world—a place where she could think out loud, breathe in the beauty of Nature blended with the gentle care of all that was good in humanity and be equal to every other living creature around her, to meditate, to contemplate, to ponder, and to make sense of the world and everything she learned, she would even contemplate upon all that she knew about the Universe itself.
It was the night before Shayeena’s big wedding day and it seemed the entire village had begun to be abuzz about getting ready to celebrate the impending nuptials. For the villagers, it had been long enough to forget their merciless treatment of Shayeena’s friend, perhaps they had never considered it at all, and tonight more than ever, she wanted to make an escape, to absorb some personal time, and to allow contemplation of life—deep thinking with regard to where she wanted to go following the proceedings of the ceremony tomorrow, and then return, ready.
Shayeena found herself time and again peacefully dazed with thoughts of the past and plans for the future as she lay there enjoying the beauty of the Heavens and each moment of life before her.
Khalim, on trips between her home and into and through the village, would always accompany her, yet with enough space to avoid unwanted accusations from the villagers, yet also close enough to protect her from his brother or any other ill-intended individual, and had worked for her father for five years. After many opportunities that allowed them to share dinner together before he left for the village, she had begun to fall in love with him. Everything about his demeanor suggested innocence, strength, kindness, and protection.
Her father’s genius and honor combined with Khalim’s humor and noble intentions as well as her favorite private location to be free gave her peace within. Notwithstanding, she always looked for every excuse to meditate in harmony with her environment and enjoy her day at the Minaret of Jam, where she could be without the hassle of too much exposure or unwanted advances from those who caused her to fear them by the way they stared and the way they exercised their religious and political status and in the village. Her mother and father constantly and gently reminded her of how beautiful she was and how much she needed to protect herself from malevolent eyes and intentions. In most cases the people in the village were kind, but the village was certainly no stranger to defeat and mourning, and they had blood on their hands.
Life was certainly simple, but it was not easy, especially for a young woman who wanted to comply with the whims of men for fear of punishment and death. Her parents had told her that her beauty was a blessing from God, that she should be proud of it, but they always followed by telling her how much they cared for her and did not want her to suffer the same fate as her innocent and dear friend. At times she was confused by the purpose of her own beauty if it was something that could be used to inspire the highest virtues in the hearts of others, why did she need to fear recourse for abuse from others. Many times, Khalim would converse with her outside the village limits and away from prying ears, and soothe her, “You are beautiful in every way. That is a blessing from Allah. While I am around, you will always be safe.”
As it was, Shayeena had completed the routine of the day, and despite oppressive-extreme-mandated curfews, she was able to find her privacy and serenity via a quiet, private, and unused path, because of her father’s efforts and his care for his daughter. She appreciated her father and loved him deeply—hoping that Khalim, and the character she saw in him, was very much the same.
The cool breeze grew until it became cool enough for a chill, so she gathered her things and returned down her private pathway and to her room. She woke up eight hours later knowing that this was her big day. She and Khalim were to be married that afternoon and according to the customs of the village. Following which Khalim would move in with Shayeena’s family and help her father with the farm just as he had for the last five years and he would be with his wife and her family. Since there were two spacious rooms built on the north side of her parents’ master bedroom, for privacy’s sake, both Khalim and Shayeena would share the room furthest away, and her mother and Tayi’s mom saw to it that everything there was squared away and ready for them and their post-nuptials. This room also happened to be next door to her room for the last 18 years. Soon her father would convert her room into her own private study, so she could still have access to her secret pathway to the Minaret of Jam. She would apprise Khalim of their shared pathway in due time, the path in their new room that connected to the path in her old room, maybe that night.
The wedding was going to be beautiful; her garments were going to be dazzling, her beauty would finally be on display before God and everyone, and in the most prudent of ways, of course. Shayeena, Khalim, her parents, the Imam, Tayi’s parents and grandparents, and everyone in the village were excited to see the wedding take place. Everyone was glowing and ready for this exciting and endearing event, except Jalal.
Chapter 47: Shayeena Arezo, Section 2
Khalim’s older brother, Jalal, felt on top of the world in his own way, of course. He wasn’t lost on narcissism and all kinds of feelings of claim to power within the village. His father was the village Imam, the judge, the jury, and the one who would decree the death sentence of all who did not comply with his edicts or the demands of those closest to him. He also enforced the strict rules of the oppressive-extremist-hierarchy. As such, Jalal had learned from his father and was brilliant when it came to ensuring things would go his way. He was an actor, a word-smith, the leader’s son, and as such he was the undisputed heir to lead the people should his father ever pass that title on, perhaps sooner if he were to loosen his grip on this mortal coil, not that he had any plans to that effect. At times, however, his untouchable angel of a little brother would infuriate him to the core; he was a saint and had not dirtied his hands in any way, no matter how hard Jalal tried to lure him into something mischievous, cruel, or treacherous, so he could use that as blackmail or a leash.
Khalim had always been a kind and gentle soul, but with the stature and strength of a giant. Jalal knew his little brother was handsome, he saw the burkas slightly turn as his brother would walk by. With Khalim’s dark and golden-speckled eyes and dark hair, which he kept cropped close on the sides and back, most likely to cause the frustration of his brother, and to lend to that his shaved face every day and excellent hygiene, Jalal was seething with jealousy. Khalim would jog around the village, use a weight set which he had purchased one year in Firozkah to maintain his physique, he would greet everyone he saw, and he was loved by many. It was obvious to Jalal that when Khalim saw displays of compassion he was moved.
Jalal and his father loved him too, in their own way. They were flesh and blood after all.
But they barely tolerate
d his unique character. “He’s too affable, he’s too pretty for a man, and his kind and nice demeanor will lead to fragility, but he’s your brother,” his father would tell Jalal.
Jalal, on the other hand, did not shave, he felt he was more like a beast and more of a man with his beard. He rarely jogged around the village; his thick mid-section suggested he was of a powerful and wealthy lineage, and if he saw villagers, they’d better do his bidding or consider the unpleasant consequences. He was still older than his brother, he was a man, and he was proud, yet he also aimed to feel accepted by the other men in town that were his age and he would often do brash and cruel things to impress them. He was a man’s man. No one corrected him on anything, more so out of fear than anything else. Jalal took this subservience and fear as a show of love and respect and lived and lusted after it. He would inherit his father’s position, after all, once his father began giving way to lackluster health and grew to have too much dependence upon Jalal, due to aging. Most of Jalal’s character was learned from the closest role model he had—his father.
His father, the Imam, had very little respect for anyone, much less women. Early on in the Imam’s childhood, he had grabbed a pot of boiling water and spilled it on his mother’s feet. His own father had whipped him something good. He blamed it on his mother and ever since he had a vendetta against women. Nevertheless, he had carried that secret with him well, and rose quite successfully, through his connections to the oppressive-extremist-hierarchy around the land, and other worldwide deals, to the ranks of an Imam. From then on out, he wasted no love for the mother of his children. He’d married her when she was twelve and beat her into submission often. Eventually, she learned to comply with and appease his every request, without thought for reward. She had been broken and only lived for her sons; she also knew how expendable she was if she failed to impress them. Everything was a pretense for her. She was scared but knew that if she didn’t put up a fuss she was left alone. However, she grew to favor Khalim and his promising nature. She had secretly raised him well, and certainly when out of sight of her oldest son and husband.
Luckily, Khalim was much greater in character than his father or his brother and he understood quickly the necessity of the secret he shared with his mother, and he kept it well. He was also larger in stature than his older brother, Jalal, so his brother left him alone, if only because the Imam asked him to.
When Khalim was only fifteen, he’d overheard the malice from Jalal’s cantankerous acts, and his wily way of explaining it all to his father, who was only too happy to issue the ultimate justice and penalty—the stoning of Tayi. In shock, his young mind knew not what to do. Khalim hadn’t been sure when this would occur, so he had gone south to the Hari River to think about how to approach his father to give this young girl, who was clearly the potential victim, some clemency, or at least a voice for mercy. When he had returned to town, he had heard the screams, he had seen the large crowd encircling Tayi, and he stood in shock at the brutality. It had been too late.
When the crowd dissipated, Khalim witnessed Tayi’s father in anguish and agony on his knees holding his only child in his arms, a child he truly loved, and although it was almost too much grief to bare, somehow his strength grew from within and his heart sank for both Tayi and her father. He felt for Shayeena as well, Tayi’s best friend, he had admired Shayeena for quite some time through the years, and very much in secret, but there she was broken as she stood there in tears and helplessness to save her dear friend. He also felt rage percolating from within toward his manipulative brother and father, but over time he culled his anger and it dwindled to anguish. In his sorrow, he went over to Tayi’s father, apologized for the brutality of his father and brother, quietly explained to them what truly had happened, so as to ensure no one else heard, and then helped them to Shayeena’s farmland entrance, returned to the grizzly scene, picked Tayi’s lifeless body up from the bloodied ground, and carried her to her home, where her grandparents happened to be. He had carried her there, so she could be properly prepared for a more honorable burial. After all, for whatever crime she had never committed, she had certainly paid the ultimate price, and therefore deserved an honorable burial service, if not for her, for her father, her mother, and her grandparents.
This moment had left an indelible impression upon him, and he vowed to always protect Shayeena, no matter where she went. He also vowed to protect his own mother from his brother and father in every possible way. He was grateful for the protections his muscular and large stature afforded him. He was also grateful for their connection through blood, since that afforded him a little more levity in his choices and actions than many others in the village, but he also knew he had to be smart with regard to how he went about the beloved deeds of protection and kindness; after all, it wouldn’t take long for even a large man to be subdued by a hostile crowd or a properly guided dagger.
As with most men in his village, he spent a lot of time in Shahrak going through school. He studied intently, abided by the higher principles of his faith, but made sure humility, understanding, strength, and compassion were paramount in his life. When he would return every two weeks, or during Ramadan, if he saw Shayeena in her burlap burka and sack clothes, he’d also made it a point to ensure he knew where his brother and his friends were, and then escort her home.
As the years passed by, from time to time, and as he spent free time working on her father’s farm, he would have pleasant exchanges with Shayeena, and ever more increasingly he felt that she would be the one he would marry. If that were to be the case, once that was done, he could protect her even more. There was something unique, special, and wonderful that emanated from her character, and he loved her for it, and he wanted to allow her light to shine brightly.
Whenever he had free time, in-between studies, or during breaks from school, he would visit with Shayeena’s parents or help her father on their large acreage, at least through noon. He told her father that it was only because he wanted to save money for his future family and although her father paid him well and in accordance to the yield of his labors and his work ethic, he did this to spend time with her family, to protect her, and he enjoyed the opportunity to get to know each of them more fully, and he planned to return all that he had earned back to her family again in some way and someday. Khalim rather liked Shayeena’s father, since he was an honest, brilliant, and good man; he looked at him as more of a father than his own. As time grew by, Shayeena’s father loved Khalim too, as a son. While his other sons had moved on to greener pastures, Khalim was dedicated to both his daughter and the well-being of his daughter’s family. Her father could see that in him and be honored to share any burdens or even pleasantries with him. On occasion, Khalim would be over long enough to see Shayeena return from her morning chores, and then accompany her to and from the market on those lucky days, after asking her, of course, and with her parent’s permission. Her father could never forget when Khalim asked if he could use a small portion of the land to grow beautiful flowers. He had presented two large bags of bulbs and had gifted a small bag with instructions on how to plant them and tend to them, to his daughter. Her face had been filled with joy, and that melted Mr. Arezo’s heart.
While walking, Shayeena and Khalim would only talk if they were alone, and while doing so they would maintain the societally expected silence and distance in public to prevent dangerous rumors from forming. Because he was academically brilliant in his studies, excellent in his art and science classes, curious about his Universe, and had noticed in secret that Shayeena was as well and respected that, as well as physically fit and generally a very kind individual to every individual he met, he was respected more so for his own efforts and character than for the rank and title of his father. The villagers, always fearing the Imam and Jalal, actually felt at ease around Khalim, and they too protected him every time there was a need to do so.
As time flew by, Shayeena and Khalim grew fond for each other and the day came for his proposal to h
er with the proper dowry to her family. Her parents had accepted his offer, and she modestly demonstrated her internal excitement and graciousness as well. More time flew by and it was the night before the wedding.
Khalim thought deeply, sitting on the northern shores of the Hari River, miles away from where Shayeena sat too, thinking deeply as well along the shores of the Jam River. While contemplating the events that led to this wonderful oncoming event, he was moved internally that despite all of his worries and concerns, this wedding would no doubt be joyous, and he was overjoyed that for once justice might actually and truly be a beautiful thing. Once married, he would spend more time with Shayeena and loyally work with her family on the farm, to help it to continue to succeed. He would be inventive and creative, alongside her father to help the village to become more like Shayeena’s father, and to allow their lands to grow into the small diamonds of wonder that they could be if they were to learn to treasure the bounties of the Universe that Allah had been so kind to bestow upon all of humanity. Her brothers had honorably-secured positions as scientist, attorney, and medical doctor in Shahrak and each one had started their own families, so he would unite his strengths with her father, work with her brothers to strengthen their ties, and afford her the space she needed while she would privately pursue her dreams. She wanted to travel to the furthest reaches of the Universe someday and she wanted him to be there with him.
Further than Before- Pathway to the Stars Page 81