“What sort of Islamic thoughts do you carry in your head right now? What is your Islamic ideology at present, Sabira?” one of them asked her, sitting primly on the sofa in the living room, her language stilted, as though she were reading from a script. What to say to such a woman? Sabira wanted to tell them she was fine, that she wasn’t a mental patient, that a terrible situation had occurred—but given the simplistic questions they were asking her, she was certain they would never understand. If they wanted to know why she had tried to go, why were they asking about the “Islamic thoughts” in
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