Season of Martyrdom ENG

Sari Abu Amineh

Sari Abu Amineh

Uroub sighed and then began an incantation seeking God’s protection from the devil, in a deep, undulating tone that transformed the Basha into a silent listener who didn’t make a peep or move in the slightest, except to wrinkle his thick eyebrows together at that very moment. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Uroub’s face.

She said to him, “Sir, people love to hear good news and hate to hear anything unpleasant. This is what causes them to lose sight of the truth, in favor of a moment’s satisfaction and happiness.”

He smiled at her and said, “Tell me what you see, no matter what it is, and you will have whatever you want, no matter how much it is.”

She nodded her head calmly.

“Your wealth will increase in heaps and piles, and God will open for you the doors of an obscure and enticing business venture that will bring you riches beyond compare, and those people who seek you out and who envy you will also grow in number.”

“That’s what all the fortune-tellers and astrologers say,” he said in a haughty tone.

She sighed and continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “But you will experience a difficult year. The heavens that have been otherwise preoccupied and have left you alone all the days of your life, are going to pounce on you in your coming days and do as they please, interfering in your life in order to uphold the fate that awaits you.”

Then she cupped her palm behind her left ear and said, tenderly, “I can almost hear the sound of fate’s hoofs galloping across the plains of your coming days. You must take heed against this year, sir. It is the year of your sorrow.”

Then the expression on her face made her look like she was seeing the events of his future unfold before her very eyes.

“There is only one person in this world who is of your own flesh and blood: your son, who is lost out there somewhere in God’s forsaken universe. But he will appear to you, pained by the silent fire that has been burning within him for a very long time, a fire buried deep inside him. I can nearly hear his cries reverberating in the heavens with my own ears. He will appear to you because your death will come at his hands.”

The Basha let out a listless laugh. “I have no children. My wife cannot conceive. But I wish I did have a son, even if my death were to come at his hands!”

She continued, showing no sign of his words having had the slightest effect on her. “Sir, you must seek out and find this son before he comes for you.”

What surprised me was the way the smile vanished from the Basha’s face, leaving behind the look of someone who believed the prediction would come true.

“And what else do you see in my future?”

“This son of yours is very bold. Nothing can hold him back and blood will not deter him from getting what he wants. He is living in a different era than yours, sir.”

The Basha and Uroub exchanged glances I couldn’t interpret. I felt there was some sort of unspoken dialogue transpiring between them.

“And where is this son?” he asked.

She raised her palms to the heavens in a prayer-like gesture and then answered, “Heaven has closed its doors, but I thank God, the Hidden One, the Noble One, for opening my heart and allowing me to see what I have seen of your future.”

Then she repeated what she had said but with more emphasis this time. “Do not forget, sir. You must find this son before he finds you.”

He looked at me, then at her. He rose from his seat and paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke to her. “OK. Let’s suppose that what you say is true and that what you predict will happen happens. Is there any way to change this fate?”

She answered, after letting out a sigh, “I am but one of God’s weak servants, sir. I have no power to alter the fates or to approach their impenetrable fortresses.”

She was silent for a moment and then added, “Our great sage and source of all authority in India, Harsha al-Hakim, is the only one who can answer your question for you. He is the only one who is able to speak directly to the fates and can attempt to traverse their fortresses by his works. Who knows? Perhaps they will turn their great locks and open their gates to you.”

The Basha stood there in all his greatness, not moving. He looked pale and worried. As for me, I felt I’d made the biggest mistake of my life bringing Uroub to this occasion. I feigned a smile and said, “Mr Basha, sir, this whole matter is nothing more than an unlikely surprise I prepared for you on your birthday. Don’t forget that men such as yourself determine the course of fate. You’re outside the realm of fortunes and fortune-telling.”

But the sudden look he gave me silenced me at once. I knew when I should be quiet in the presence of that man who now seemed very different from the man I had known before.