Free A Deconstructed Heart by Shaheen Ashraf-Ahmed Page A

in their place.
    “This place is small. Why don’t you go haunt my house?  There’s plenty of room for jinns in there.”
    Khan Sahib lifted the tent flap, but the sharp slice of dawn hurt his eyes, and he breathed in sharply. He dropped the flap. “I cannot,” he said simply and sat down on the mat.
    “Besides,” he said, more cheerily, “I think there’s already one in there, no? Otherwise you might be where you belong right now, in that bed.” Mirza stared at him stonily. “So?”
    “What?” exploded Mirza. “Who knows what? You can tell me, I suppose.”
    “Suppose, shmoze. What is this nonsense?! Where is your wife?”
    Mirza rubbed the back of his head furiously but did not answer.
    Khan Sahib strolled around the small space at the foot of Mirza’s bed, his hands behind his back: “I married Mukhtar Begum when I was 31 years old, and she was 18. She carried ten children and buried two, figured out how much to pay the dhobi wallah, fed us all on a few goat bones and a turnip when times were tough, fresh lamb biryani when I had money in my pocket. Ask her for anything, a length of string, wax, brown paper , and she would have a box full. She saved everything and wasted nothing. We did not have much money, but she never let us feel it,” he said proudly, his eyes shining. “I told my father, you chose well for me, and I told my sons, you should have so much good fortune. That was a woman.”
    “Why are you here?” Mirza asked again.
    “I don’t know, beta, which one of us is dreaming. I see you living in a hut at the bottom of your garden like a servant. Your father deserved better than this, to have a son so… confused. A few more slaps of the shoe at the right time would have set you right.”
    Mirza harrumphed.
    “If you don’t know any better then be quiet,” continued Khan Sahib. “You are disturbing my rest for some reason. Hurry up and learn what you need to so that I can wait for my Lord in peace.” He winced as his student lifted the tent flap and strode out onto the grass, breathing heavily. Mirza took several turns around the garden, the dew running in little rivulets between his bare toes in their sandals. He saw Frank’s face at the window and waved an arm absentmindedly in his direction. 
    He could hear the familiar sounds of his niece moving about in the kitchen. He ran to the kitchen door, banging until Amal peered through the frosted glass. When she opened the door, her eyes were guarded against the morning light, her hair frizzing in a halo around her head like a wool sweater. “Uncle?”
    “Come, come,” he exhorted, taking her arm and pulling her into the garden while she looked back in bewilderment at Rehan, propelling her towards the tent.
    “What is it I’m supposed to be looking for, Uncle? Are you quite all right?” She stepped into the tent and out again, her face worried. He stuck his head through the flaps, and then looked wildly around the garden. Khan Sahib had gone.
    “Oh, it’s nothing really… I saw a badger in the tent, and I thought you’d like to see it. It was quite adorable really, must have wandered off.”
    “Ahh,” she said, already walking back up to the house, where Rehan was standing, watching.
    “Old fool,” said Khan Sahib, when Mirza ducked back into the tent. “She can’t see me, you know. I was called for you, not her. That I am sure of. Now, we will play chess, so you can learn how to seize your destiny, like a real man.”
    As the game began, Khan Sahib clucked and tutted whenever Mirza made a poor move. Eventually, he would look at his teacher before moving, only doing so if the face before him was placid. He lost anyway. Khan Sahib only shrugged. “We will play again and again until you learn.” They set up the board again, and Mirza played more cautiously this time, only to lose faster.
    “No more. No more,” he said as Khan Sahib moved to set up the pieces again.
    There was an awkward coughing outside the tent, and