Narrator’s Name: Unknown, Still
IV. Except Time and Its Self-made Appointments
Hint/Confession: The truth is next to the reason I am telling you all these and it’s also the place all these exist. I exist only in these two things. Reason and place.
For something so old, the palace looked strikingly new. The tapestry of colors was lustrous. But then the brightness became secondary when your eyes met the king’s. He wore a silk sheet that covered his face leaving only his eyes and his nose. And when he spoke, every word was transcribed in those eyes.
I present to you King Nasir Abdulazeez – The nineteenth king of Dihaara.
“I can see you’ve arrived safely,” King Nasir said while seated on his throne and the space – the humongous space – collected his words with a sharpness and closeness that interrupted your inner voice. It interrupted your thoughts. When the king spoke, you listened. “My grandsons, please come closer.”
“Your Majesty, may Allah preserve you, yes we arrived not long ago. I hope Your Majesty is doing well?” said Saleem.
“I apologize for bringing you here. There’s much to be done in so little time. Only a fool thinks he has forever but even forever is countable if it is given in this world,” He said, then paused. “Yes, I am doing well all thanks to my Maker. The reason you’re here isn’t about my wellbeing and the extent of it. Remember, anything in the world can wait. Except time and its self-made appointments. And so nothing and absolutely nothing can wait. Please sit, will you? You’re here because I have nominated the two of you and also Abdullah, my late brother’s son. You remember him, don’t you?” – the brothers nod. “The three of you together with four other nominees from The Table will be screened. One of you will be the next King of Dihaara.” This news startled both Saleem and Umar.
The Table consisted of six most knowledgeable men from the five different regions of Dihaara. And these six men must be free from any blemish and must be well versed in Islamic Jurisprudence. The job of The Table was to search, bring forward, and unanimously agree on four of the seven nominees who will be screened to be the next king of Dihaara in a case where the sitting king simply chooses to step down or was suffering from a sickness that rendered him unable to discharge his duties or was on his deathbed. Under no circumstance can the sitting king crown his son king, or can his son or grandson take over the kingdom after his demise.
The sitting king can and should nominate three people he thinks are fit to rule. If, however, the king dies before nominating anyone, The Table would be left to decide on only five members then screen those members until they choose who’d be the next ruler of Dihaara.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Saleem said. There was no point arguing with the king. There was one to seven chances of Saleem becoming King. He didn’t love the idea but he wasn’t one to run away from responsibilities. But he had one worry and voicing it to the king is wasted energy so he didn’t. With a pure heart, Saleem hoped and wished and prayed that his brother Umar doesn’t become King. Umar wasn’t ready and The Table might not see that – and that was his worry. I need to get Umar out of here, Saleem thought.
The king looked at Umar. The words he was about to utter were, for the most part, meant for him. “There’s no other truth man needs other than what he is and what he needs. Anything else is a waste of time. Living simply means trying to find the right answer to these two questions. And once you do, you must stay true to them. Falling short is human. Refusing to rise tall is a waste of time.”
***
On days like this, the king had dinner in the Iris with his family. The palace was always open for everyone and when it was mealtime, the king always ate with his subjects. But when he wanted to have private time with his family, he spend those moments in the Iris. The Iris was a huge aesthetical space for a dining area. That night, the Nasir Family had dinner in the Iris: the king, Hajia the king’s old wife, Abdullah, Saleem and Umar.
Hajia was delighted to have her grandchildren there with her. She sat close to the king and her three grandchildren sat opposite her. She said directing her question to Abdullah Jibrin “Abdullah, how’s your wife? I hear she’s pregnant.”
“She is fine. Yes, she is,” Abdullah spoke like he was counting his words. He was the silent type but he had an aura that tells you he was not to be reckoned with.
Abdullah’s grandfather and the king were brothers. That made Abdullah and the Ja’far boys cousins, however, Umar and Saleem knew very little about Abdullah. Abdullah studied Engineering at Oxford University. He was married and he was older than Umar by three years and older than Saleem by a year. A long time ago, he proposed to Safiyya but she rejected him. He told her he loved her. She didn't know what to do with them. The words. The thought. Let alone the feeling.
Safiyya couldn’t see herself with another man even after her husband, Malik Zubayr, died of cancer some months before she gave birth to Hafsa. So Safiyya turned down Abdullah’s proposal. And Abdullah never really moved on even after Safiyya’s death. Even after he got married to another woman.
“That’s wonderful news. May Allah bless you and your family,” Hajia said. She now faced the Ja’far boys, “Umar, I’m glad you’re back.” – Umar smiled, then lowered his gaze hoping she won’t talk about the ten months he was away. “And how’s my great-granddaughter?”
“Hafsa? She’s doing great, Hajia.” Saleem said. Saleem had just finished sending a text message to Jameel and Abubakar informing them of his plan. Saleem wanted his brother out of the palace as soon as possible. He had informed Umar of his plan and Umar agreed almost immediately.
“Masha Allah! May Allah bless her and have mercy on her mother. And when are you bringing her here to see her only great grandmother?”
“Soon.”
“If you are not bringing her, I’ll come to get her myself.”
“Hajia, you won’t have to do that,” Saleem said.
“Hajia, I think you might have to do that, because it seems Saleem is keeping her all to himself. Just the other day, I was telling umma that it isn’t that Saleem is reluctant in bringing Hafsa back home but he has no intention to,” Umar said.
“I’d really like to meet her,” Abdullah said. That was the first voluntary-and-not-a-response sentence he had made. “She’s what? Five years old now?” Umar was surprised by his interest in his niece. What does he mean by that? He hardly knows us even though we are relatives, he thought. Maybe he felt a sense of responsibility towards her because he was once in love with her mother.
“She’s six years now,” Saleem said.
“You want to meet her?” Umar repeated the question unsure he heard it right.
“After this whole matter is all over – however it turns out – I plan to bring my family back to Nigeria. I could stop by. Or better yet, I could go with you when all of this is over if that’s okay with you?”
“Oh that’d be lovely!” Hajia said broadly smiling. Even the king was vividly pleased to hear that.
“Sure, there’s no harm in that,” Saleem said, casually taking a bite of an apple he had been eating.
The king hardly spoke when he ate. He preferred just to watch his family as they talk, dine, and laugh with each other as though he was watching a movie in a cinema and so, he felt like talking would reduce the watching experience. One thing for sure was the king loved listening and possibly that was why when he talked, people listened in return. This had been the case even before he fell sick.
His sickness was the second reason he doesn’t talk much. It was also the reason he was stepping down. Only his family, Junaid and I, knew about his sickness.
There was also one man in Dihaara who knew about the king’s sickness. This man had a lot to gain from the king’s sickness.
And just as sure as I’ll tell you who I am, I’ll tell you the name of this man and the sickness of the king. I’d tell you these two things right after one of the Ja’far boys gets shot in the chest because of a text message.
Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!!
But tell you, I will. I’ll leak and spill and pour and burst. But first, bear with me. Because to hold a balloon you must learn its weight with your fingers – with patience and kindness. And my words are more fragile than balloons. And you don’t hold them, you wear them. Like a lightweight outfit.
“I’m sorry but if you’d excuse me, I’d like to check if my subjects are taken care of,” King Nasir said. He stood up from his chair while putting his weight on his walking stick and walked out of the Iris with Junaid, following him from behind.
“I hear you are a writer, Saleem,” Abdullah said. “Tell me about writing.”
“Well, what can I tell you? To write something is to keep something with time – the best preserver in the universe. All you need to do is make sure it’s worth the trouble.”
“Worth the trouble, huh!? Is that right?”
“That’s pretty much all there’s to it.”
“Umar, I hear you’ve been off the grid for quite a while. What have you been up to? Where have you been exactly?” when Abdullah asked that question, Saleem turned and faced Abdullah who was beside Umar, and gave him a queer look then he smiled. Umar, on the other hand, froze. Umar gritted his teeth – upset that that question was asked. Umar scratched the inside of his palm.
He also knows. But how? Umar thought. Why is he asking if he knew? Is he just curious or he just wants to make a thing of ridicule out of me, I’m guessing. What should I tell him?
“I can’t believe I’m just saying this now. We have a storyteller in our midst and not a single story has been told tonight. Saleem, my grandson, what’s the point of being a writer if you don’t entertain your fans.” Hajia said, trying to change the topic. Abdullah exhaled and focused on his meal, annoyed that he didn’t get what he wanted. At least that was how Umar saw it.
“Hajia, I feel shy to tell a story in front of my mentor. You tell the best of stories. In fact, growing up, I wanted to be a writer because of you. You are the best storyteller I know.” Saleem said.
It was true. Nobody means a prayer like an old woman the same way nobody tells the best stories – the stories of time – like one. And Hajia was the best there was on both things.
“Oh please stop. You are not getting away this time,” Hajia said.
“Okay, how about this – and I think this a fair deal – how about you tell us a story then – and then– I’d stick to my thing of not telling a story. But – but – you’d tell us stories all night long.”
“That’s definitely fair,” Umar said smiling, almost forgetting about Abdullah and his seemingly torturous question.
“How’s that fair? That’s the opposite of fair. Your offer entails I’d do all the work. Here’s mine. Saleem, you’re bringing me my great-granddaughter at your earliest convenience. And by earliest convenience, I mean within a week. Deal or no deal?”
“Hey! Grandma, I am next in line. You can’t just cut in line and say you are having her next,” Umar said feigning upset.
The room was silent and all eyes – including the now-interested Abdullah – were on Saleem. “Deal.” Saleem finally said.
Everybody was happy with that and their eyes shifted to Grandma. She began, “You know your grandfather was a watchmaker before he was king. He spent every day repairing broken watches. He always had a book on him. He loved reading – your grandfather. He used to keep his money in any book he wanted to read when he went out to his workplace and when there was no watch to repair. He’d always put the book in his pocket. And if the book was too large to fit his pocket, he’d get a smaller notebook – which was very difficult to get at the time – then he’d spend nights writing the book into the small notebook just so he can walk around with it in his pocket and read it anytime he wanted to.
“As I said, he puts his money in a book. And whenever the money made the book look too thick and too out of shape, he’d part with the money. He’d part with all or with just enough to not make the book look too thick and too out of shape. He’d say,
‘I don’t need the recesses. They are not mine to keep that’s why they don’t fit in my book. Money should never make words of knowledge go out of its way to keep it. Besides knowledge knows where all the treasures of this world and the next are hidden.’”
“So what did you do?” Abdullah said.
“What did I do? I loved him more. I loved him for it. Whoever was there when your grandfather’s book was thick was lucky because it meant that person would be going home with a large amount of money. Don’t forget, at the time, pockets were made considerably bigger than they are today. And so the book was fairly big and the money was usually a fairly large amount. Sometimes he was with me when that happens and he gives it all to me or uses it to get me something spectacular. This continued even after he became king.
“I’m sure he’d stop me from telling you this if he was here. Now that he is king he has about ten restaurants in the city that prepares food and shares it every morning and every evening. That’s just the one I know about because I’m sure it has reverberated beyond that. That’s why he left the Iris. Power never made him lose his ways.
“I know one of you might become the next king of our dear city Dihaara. I just hope you become a man like your grandfather. Better than your grandfather.” Hajia’s audience loved her story. Just then, Saleem got a reply to his text message. A reply from Jameel that made him pleased.
Hajia was speaking to the right audience. Because one of them would become king. Another would meet a fiercer fate than being king. And the third – oh the third – would meet the fiercest fate.
Like a watchmaker, they’d all drag hands of hour, minute, and second until it reads a beautiful storied tale of time. And the truth is, not everybody survives that. And soon you’d be a witness to that.