A Place for Us

by Fatima Farheen Mirza

Sometimes, Amar thought he could blame the distance between himself and his father on his own lack of steadfast belief in God. He could not claim to know God existed with any certainty. But there was love in his heart for the men and the women from the stories, the people of the holy book, love for the man whose name Mumma traced on his forehead, or pointed out on the moon, whose name was evoked in the naray; and even if Amar said to himself he did not believe, still his mouth opened to respond to the call.

“I don’t think I will make it,” Amar said. “I’m sorry.” “Of course you can’t come back inside, Amar—you can hardly sit up.” “No, I mean to the other place. The next place. I don’t think I’ll make it. I don’t think you’ll find me there.”

Maybe there was no God. But maybe the God of his parents was there, watching him tonight as on all nights. And if He was there, He had revealed ninety-nine names for them to understand him. There was the Avenger, the Firm, but there was also the Forgiving, the Patient.