Amal Unbound(37)

A giggle escaped when I saw the screen. An elephant, a dog, a cat, and a mouse grinned at me on-screen.

“I warned you.” Asif laughed.

I clicked on the green arrow. It opened a new page with the story.

The elephant chases the dog.

The dog chases the cat.

The cat chases the mouse.

The mouse chases the ant.

The ant chases the elephant,

and around and around they go.

“Okay, now that that’s done”—he rolled his eyes—“let’s go to the multiple-choice part. Click the prompt below. It will open a smaller screen with the questions.”

I stared at the screen.

“Amal? Something wrong?”

“It’s cruel.”

“What do you mean?”

“This poem. It’s trying to say there is always someone to go after someone and keep the balance of power equal. But it’s not true. The elephant is in control. The mouse. The cat. The ant. They can do what they like, but sooner or later they will all be gone except the elephant. Pretending otherwise is foolish.”

“There is a saying: Elephants fear no other animal but ants. Who is to say if it’s true or not, but—”

“It’s not true. The biggest are not afraid of the smallest. In the end, the biggest wins.”

“The story is trying to teach young children about justice and fairness . . .”

“But life isn’t fair! I will be a servant for the rest of my life because I spoke back to the wrong person. I will be indebted to him my entire life. I was going to be a teacher. I was going to go to college. All my dreams are gone because one person has the power to crush them. And guess what happened to the last group of people who tried to stop him? He burned their village to the ground. I saw the deserted village with my own eyes. They lost everything, and Jawad Sahib? He gained more. The bigger always have all the power. They aren’t scared of the little people. It just doesn’t work like that.”

My hands shook. I placed them on the desk to steady myself. Why did a silly poem affect me so much? I moved to apologize, but he spoke first.

“Amal, I’m sorry. I had no idea of your circumstances. But even in difficult situations, especially in difficult situations, you can’t lose hope. Things change. They might even change for you one day.”

He said it with such conviction, he could have fooled me if I didn’t know better.

“My great-grandfather was a judge,” he continued. “My grandfather was a lawyer. My father is a lawyer. He’s argued cases in front of the highest courts. When I told him I wanted to be a teacher, he laughed at me. Then he threatened to defund my education. But I held strong. I found a way. I’m the first one to be a teacher in my family. No one supported me, but I did it because this is what I always wanted to do. If I thought nothing would change, nothing ever would. I know the situation is different, but things can change even when you don’t think they will.”

“You’re from a big city,” I said. “It’s different here.”

“That’s not true. Things are changing in villages all over the country, even here.” He hesitated before adding, “Especially here.”

He minimized the poem on the screen and clicked a new website. He typed for a moment, and then a news story flashed across the screen.

Salim Mushtaq Still Missing as Local Landlord Is Investigated

A photo of Jawad Sahib stared back at me.

“The son of a diplomat disappeared not far from here,” Asif explained. “Apparently, he’s one of quite a few to go missing around here. But considering who he is, and that election season is approaching, the police are forced to take it seriously, and they’re looking into Jawad Sahib’s possible involvement.”

I stared at the eyes gleaming back at me from the screen.

“No one would have bothered to investigate a family like the Khans even a few years ago,” Asif said. “But people all around the country are fighting the status quo. Things are changing.”

I hoped what Asif was saying was true, but I found it hard to believe. Asif couldn’t understand how things worked here and the absolute power a family like the Khans held in a place like ours.





Chapter 40





Nabila, Bilal, and I lingered by the door to the main verandah, watching Nasreen. She sat on a wicker chair, the tea in her hands long cold, a folded newspaper resting on her lap.

“What’s going on?” Nabila asked. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Jawad’s been gone for days and hasn’t returned a single call,” Bilal replied.

“I heard her this morning,” I admitted. “She also left a message for her husband. She was so upset, I thought she might cry.”

“Jawad Sahib is in some sort of trouble,” Bilal said. “I think that’s why he doesn’t take me along with him on his trips anymore. He thinks if he doesn’t take me, I won’t find out what’s going on.”

“I read a news article about it,” I whispered. “They are investigating if he had something to do with a missing person.”

“Who was it?” Nabila asked me. “It had to be someone important to have the police poking their noses around here so much.”