The Garden of My Imaan (9 page)

Zayd told on me the second we stepped inside, but my grandmother pooh-poohed the whole matter. “Allah gives full credit for one’s intentions and yours were flawless, Meri Jaan.”

“I ate a curry puff in the middle of my fast when I was this high.” Badi Amma held her hand three feet off the ground.

“What’s a curry puff?” I asked.

“You never have curry puff?
Arre arre
! Curry puff is special vegetable patty, very nice. Mint chutney inside … so tasty.” Badi Amma smacked her lips.

“Hey, Amma,” Zayd said. “Let’s eat curry puffs for dinner tonight.”

My dear grandmothers had coaxed a smile out of me, but my brother hadn’t finished his tattling.

“Aliya ate Funyuns on the bus!” he announced as soon as Mom returned from work, like I’d wolfed down a whole bag on purpose. And then he added, “I’m telling Choti
Dahdi when she comes and she’s going to be sooo mad!”

The crimson streaks faded from the sky and dusk settled over everything like a smooth, dark blanket. My grandmother consulted the timetable stuck to the refrigerator and told us that sunset was five minutes away. I ran upstairs to make the required ablutions for the prayer that would soon follow.

“Make sure you wash in and around your ears,” Amma reminded me.

“I know!” I cried. I was so hungry that I didn’t think I could last another minute.

I splashed water on my face three times and rinsed my mouth. I washed my arms to my elbows and last of all, I washed both my feet in the bathtub.

“It’s time!” Amma called.

“Coming, Amma!” Nothing and nobody could keep me away from my iftar now! I ran downstairs two steps at a time and made a beeline for the table, but Zayd had already beaten me there.

“Here she is,” Badi Amma announced grandly, “the brave, fasting girl!” She motioned me to sit.

“You better not eat until I do,” I warned my brother, who was eyeing the many delicacies Amma had prepared especially for me.

“Not to worry,” Amma reassured me. “There’s plenty
for everyone.”

And she was right! My grandmother had enough food to feed a herd of hungry elephants.

“Dua, dua,”
Badi Amma reminded me. Dutifully, I cupped my hand in front of me and quickly recited the short fast-breaking prayer at the table with Amma.

Then I lunged for the food. I bit into a soft, sweet date and ate lentil dumplings swimming in yogurt sauce. The minced-meat samosa was flaky and the fruit
chaat
was out of this world!

“Don’t gobble,” Badi Amma instructed. “You must chew your food like this.”

“Badi Amma, you look like a fish,” Zayd giggled.

“Kya bole?” my great-grandmother asked.

“Nothing,” Amma said, giving Zayd a warning stare.

After iftar, we got ready for the evening prayer. With mats angled properly and with bodies facing the holy Kaaba, we touched our thumbs to our earlobes and began with an Allahu Akbar. I tugged on my slippery scarf to keep it perched on my head, but it just wouldn’t obey. I finally let it go and turned my full attention to Allah.

Praise be to Him, my first fast had come to an end, glitches and all!

We sat down to dinner as soon as Baba returned from work.

“How was your first fast?” he asked.

“Pretty good,” I answered.

“She ate a Funyun on the bus,” Zayd piped up.

“Stop being such a tattletale, you jerk!” I shouted.

“She called me a jerk, Baba!” Zayd said. “Is she allowed to do that when she’s fasting?”

“I’m not fasting now, double jerk!”

“Quit it, both of you!” Mom ordered.

“A certain amount of amity would be welcome about now, eh?” Baba speared a chunk of chicken with his fork. “After all, it is a big day for us with Aliya fasting and it would be nice indeed to end it on a friendly note.”

We ate in relative silence after that. It had been a long, hard day of fasting; I was tired and welcomed a little peace and quiet. I ate all the food on my plate that night.

Weird Headgear

I
was on a roll. Waking up early the next day was a lot easier and it was fun to eat suhur with Mom and Amma. We spoke in hushed voices so Baba’s sleep wouldn’t be disturbed. My father wasn’t very regular about fasting—not because he was a bad person or anything, but because he was always making important decisions at his work and needed 200 percent energy. Badi Amma understood completely but it gave our Choti Dahdi one more reason to disapprove.

Amma had prepared another elaborate breakfast for me.

“I can’t eat this,” I mumbled. My dinner from the night before was still heavy in my stomach.

“Eat up, Aliya!” my grandmother urged. “And drink plenty of water to keep hydrated!”

“I’ve written a note to excuse you from P.E. today,” Mom said. “Be sure to give it to your teacher.”

That afternoon Winnie and I headed toward our lockers, glad to be going home soon. I wasn’t looking where I was
going and bumped into Austin again in the hallway.

“Hey!” he yelled. “I’m getting tired of you running me down!”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“Somebody ought to give you a speeding ticket.”

“
Hooold
on!” Winnie intervened. “This isn’t a road and I don’t see cars or cops anywhere! Besides, she apologized.”

“Apology not accepted!” Austin barked.

“I didn’t see you,” I said.

“So? Get a pair of glasses like that new girl with the weird headgear,” he spat, “or your geeky friend here!”

“Are talking about me?” Winnie screeched.

Marwa closed her locker door and walked toward us. Her beige hijab looked great with her coral sweater. She held her head high, which made her seem taller than Austin.

“I don’t see any other weirdo around.” Austin made a big show of looking around until his eyes stopped at me. “Oh, my mistake. I see another one!”

“Cut it out!” Winnie said.

“What is it about my scarf that you find so strange?” Marwa asked. Her voice didn’t shake like mine had.

“Everything!” Austin said.

“Oh. And what about that hat on your head?”

“Huh?” Austin took off his baseball cap and turned it around in his hand. “It’s a New York Giants cap.”

“It’s something to cover your head with, just like my scarf. What makes mine weird and yours so great?”

Austin snorted. “Do you see anyone else wearing a scarf around here?”

“Just because you don’t see a lot of people wearing something doesn’t make it weird. Anyway, my hijab is not hurting you.”

“You bet it is,” Austin said. “It’s hurting my eyes.”

“That’s too bad,” Marwa said. “I can’t help you there.”

“I don’t need help from you, so just butt out.” Austin banged his locker door shut and stomped off down the hall.

Marwa slowly turned and walked away.

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself like Marwa does?” Winnie asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, barely holding back the tears. I was furious at Austin. On top of that I was starving. “He’s such a … such a …”

“I know you have to watch what you say when you’re fasting,” Winnie said. “But I’m not fasting, so I can say it for you. Austin is a complete loser and a total jerk!”

Pepperoni Pizza

E
arth to Aliya!” Carly snapped her fingers in my face. “You’re a million miles away.”

“I’m here,” I said.

We’d already ordered our pizzas, but fifteen minutes remained before my fast would end. I kept my eyes glued to the clock and tried to will the time to move faster. I held up my hands to admire how pretty and glossy my fingernails were. The manicurist had painted stars on every other one.

The pizzas arrived, hot and steamy, and my mouth watered. “Go ahead,” I told the others. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

No one waited. I couldn’t blame them. Nobody likes cold pizza.

“A few minutes won’t make any difference,” Winnie said between mouthfuls. “Just go ahead and eat.”

“I can’t.” I tried not to stare at the slices disappearing quickly from the pans.

“Hey, we should save some for Aliya,” Winnie reminded the others.

“We are, we are,” someone mumbled, but the mushroom slices were going pretty fast.

“Thanks, Winnie,” I said gratefully.

“
De nada
. But it’s best when it’s hot.”

“I know,” I sighed. Time ticked by slowly. I kicked myself for not putting a couple of slices on my plate; now the pans were almost empty.

“We’re saving you some,” Madison said. “Don’t worry.”

I eyed the glass of soda waiting by my empty plate. My throat was dry; I could almost feel the cold carbonation. I drummed my fingers on the table. At last, the minute hand clicked to the precise spot on the clock.

“Okay, you guys,” I announced. “I can eat now.”

Carly slid the remaining pans to me. There were two pieces of mushroom and two pieces of pepperoni left. I grabbed a slice of mushroom. It had cooled down some but it still tasted pretty good to someone who hadn’t eaten since dawn. I ate it quickly, and reached for the other one. After I finished, I was still hungry, so I picked up my third slice.

“That’s pepperoni!” Winnie warned.

“I know,” I said. “It’ll be okay if I pick off the pepperoni.”

“Did you have a good time at the party?” Mom asked.

“It was great,” I said. Actually, it hadn’t been all fun. It wasn’t easy being extra patient and extra disciplined when everyone else could dive right in.

“What did you eat?” Zayd asked.

“Super-yummy-delicious pizza!”

Zayd pushed away his plate of rice and hamburger meat curry. “I want pizza,” he whined.

I didn’t blame Zayd for rejecting his supper. Mom made this dish at least twice a week. She’d varied it a little this time by adding green peas. But I wasn’t through tormenting the little tattletale.

“Yummy yum yum!” I said.

“What kind was it?” Zayd asked.

“Mushroom and pepperoni,” I said. “Yum!”

Mom looked up. “You ate pepperoni?”

“I took the pepperoni off. There weren’t any more mushroom slices, and I was really hungry.”

“Have I eaten pepperoni, Mom?”

“Pepperoni is made of pork, Zayd,” she said.

“But Aliya ate it.”

“Are you deaf? I said I peeled the pepperoni off!”

“Is she allowed to do that, Badi Amma?” Zayd asked.

“Kya bole?” My great-grandmother cupped her ear. “Allowed to do what?”

“IS SHE ALLOWED TO EAT PEPPERONI?” Zayd yelled.

Badi Amma turned to Amma. “What is this pepperoni?”

“I didn’t eat it, idiot!” I yelled. I looked from Badi Amma to Mom to Amma. I had screwed up my first fast; I didn’t want this one spoiled too. “Was my fast ruined, Amma?” I asked.

“Of course not, Meri Jaan,” my grandmother replied. “Allah saw you remove the pepperoni.”