Scattered Pearls – لُؤْلُؤًا مَّنْثُورًا

Part 1:

Name: Aymen Akhtar
Age: 21
DOB: 5/10/1980
Marital Status: Married
Spouse: Fatima Malik

Accused of plotting suicide bombings, having killed a US personal, having ties with Al-Qaeda, hating America, possible contact with Osama bin Laden, funding terrorist activities and supporting the Islamist Jihad.

“Hmm… did he wake up yet?” the Commander growled. Two guards shook their heads negatively. “THEN FR**KIN WAKE HIM UP!!!!!!” Both guards made their way towards the isolated cells, unlocking the door, they crept into the room to find the man asleep with his head hung because of lack of support. They kicked his shin in order to awaken him.

“HEY! Get up, this ain’t no place to sleep! It’s time for yo interrogation!” They removed the shackles that connected his arms to the ground and forced him up, laughing at his inability to stand up properly due to a leg injury.

“Man, can’t even get up!” One of them mocked. They shoved him onto a an unpleasant seat in front of the desk of the Commander, who smiled smugly.

“So, Aymen… Hmmm… what does your name mean?” he asked.

“B-brave,” he replied, his head high, but his voice humble.

“Ha! So you think killing people makes you brave, eh?!” the Commander boisterously laughed. “Ya’ll are so loony. Really, you should be doing stand-up comedy instead of blowing up bombs!”

Aymen remained silent.

The Commander’s laugh turned into a stern expression. “So, how do the tea parties with Bin Laden go? Got any new plans to bomb up innocents?”

“I never had any plans to kill anyone.”

“Nasty little liar! How many suicide bombings did you plan?”

“None.”

“You won’t open up like this, eh? Looks like we gotta do some serious stuff with you… Don’t worry, we get lots of hard nuts here. Hard to crack…”

He got up and circled the desk a few times before stopping behind Aymen. “So, young man. Spill and you’ll be fine… Otherwise, prepare yourself.”

“SPILL!” He gripped Aymen’s neck and turned it up so his head was facing the ceiling.

“Where’s my wife?” Aymen chocked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. She was either in another prison or she was in some hospital with inadequate care suffering… Where ever she was, he was dreadfully missing her. His last moments with her left him terrorized. He clearly remembered what happened, but then he lost consciousness and found himself here. And now, he was accused of being a terrorist. Am I on the news? I doubt it, they don’t show this stuff on national television. But whatever the case, he didn’t remember what had happened after he smacked someone because they were aiming their guns towards Fatima. “Where’s my Fatima?” he asked again, only to have his face smashed onto the desk.

She silently sat in her own corner. Her in-laws had decided to keep her with them as they were afraid to leave her alone because of her mental state. And they were right. Her husband was snatched away from her. They took him away from her!! Fatima leaned towards the window sill, fat tears rolling down her eyes. The loneliness she felt at this hour was incomparable to anything else she ever felt. She missed cuddling up with Aymen during the evenings, the simple coffee they shared every morning, the ‘Bukhari* for Breakfasts’ they had every morning, the knowledge he shared with her while she listened acutely, the moments they prayed together, the moments they made dua’a together… She wished he was in front of her so she could wrap her arms around him and feel the love he stored for her. She wished he was cracking jokes with her at this moment. Tears rolling down her eyes, she fell asleep on the sill.