They conspired against me
I was startled.
“What? You want me to fuck you every day?”
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was not Just Eighteen Just Adult.
It was I that was eighteen years old.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was thirty one.
She put her legs on my shoulders shifting them.
“Don’t I?” I winked at her fucking her passionately, “Sālī, I want to fuck all of you.”
“In this nineteenth year of your age?” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb teased me.
I winked at her.
“Am I not fucking you properly?”
“Properly? You are marvellous, mérī jān.” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb pulled me on her and kissed me, “Even my husband hasn’t given me that pleasure what you are bestowing on me.”
“Thank you Kħālidah, I was afraid that you wouldn’t appreciate my eighteen years old Just Eighteen Just Adult Uncut Hindu Lund in your fully grown up thirty one years old Musalmān Pussy.”
“Nonsense, Nādirah said your Uncut Hindu Lund was miraculous.”
“Your nanad? Your sister in law?” I smiled.
“Al Nādirah Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ is marvellous on bed.”*
Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ grasped my hand, said,
“I’m very pleased to meet you once again, Mr. Durgesh. I hope my wife is not draining you more than you want to allow her.”
“Forget her, Doctor.” I squeezed his hand respectfully. Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ is a fantastic medical specialist, a fantastic Doctor and a fantastic sex therapist. I’m really proud of her that she loves me and shares my bed.”
“Thank Allah, thank God.” he sighed in relief. I was afraid I’ve burdened you great with my infinitely sexy wife.”
“Not at all.” I smiled, “I’m sexier than your wife even.”
“That’s right. But it was my duty to ask you.”
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ any more. She is sexually my responsibility now, not yours. She is your legal wife now only. Physically she is my wife now.”
“You are most welcome.”
“I have to discuss this case with you. Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb is Bhāījān’s greatest problem now.”
“Well, as you requested I’ve started fucking your daughter in law now.”
“Bhāījān, Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ, doesn’t want her now in our house.”
“He isn’t justified in framing her, anyway.” I said curtly, “If he weren’t your Bhāījān…”
“I know. But Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb is not my daughter in law exactly. She is Bhāījān’s daughter in law.”
“And,” Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ smiled significantly, “Similarly, Al Nādirah Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ isn’t my daughter exactly. She is my niece. My elder brother’s daughter.”
“That’s right too.” I smiled artfully, “And she insists I’m Just Eighteen Just Adult?”
Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ laughed,
“You can’t blame my niece, my friend. Al Nādirah Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ is Just Eighteen Just Adult. She’d never admit you are forty eight actually.”
“Eīshān!” I sighed.
“How do you feel fucking a Just Eighteen Just Adult young woman?”
“Well, your niece isn’t the ever first Just Eighteen Just Adult that raped me.”
“I understand, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt.” Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ smiled appropriately.
“I wonder of two real brothers, how the elder one is so communal and the younger one is so superbly humane.”
“Thank you, but don’t wonder ever. Bhāījān is exact replica of our father, Muħammad Ibrāhīm Sheikħ.”*
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ smiled impishly.
Shifting her legs on my shoulders, she said.
“Increase your pace, you teaser.”
“I asked you something, Farīdah.” I increased my pace, “Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī. You’ve had her hospitalized several times within the last few months.”
“I never knew the bitch too belonged to your Ħarem.” Farīdah winked at me.
I kept gravely fucking the extremely beautiful Sex therapist.
“It may be a serious business, Farīdah. Don’t try to avoid my questions. Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī’s lawyer has joined politics now. He isn’t interested any more in courts and trials.”
“I know. You are talking about Taymūr Murād, don’t you?”
“That’s right. Waħīd Murād, his son, has taken now his clienteles.”
“And how is it related with the hospitalization of my friend, Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī?”
“Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb is your friend, Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī’s sister in law. Isn’t she? Both Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī and Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb are daughters in law of your elder brother in law, Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ.”
“I see.” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ was somewhat furious now, “Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ is my elder brother in law. That’s right. But he is so utter Communal that he believes the Two Nation Theory of Muħammad Ålī Jinnāħ is universally right. He divides entire human race in two major groups−Musalmīn and Kāfirūn.”
“A large number of educated Musalmīn disagree with him.” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ declared savagely. “I disagree with him. My husband Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ disagrees with his elder brother.”*
I kept fucking the wonderful Sex therapist, Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ, patiently,
“That’s not the point my darling. Moreover, you know it very well. I think, not only Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb but your friend, Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī, is also in somewhat danger, if my deductions are correct.”
“But Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī is not my patient exactly. Jalāl is actually her doctor.”
“Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ? Your husband?”
“Well, he isn’t paying proper attention to his patient in this case I think. The trouble with your husband, Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ, Farīdah Jalāl, is that he is too good a humane to suspect his own elder brother, Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ.”
“Well, he is his elder brother, Durgesh. Have a heart. How the hell can you criticize him?”
“I’m not criticizing him, you idiot. I’m trying to save him from a potential murder charge.”
“Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ has never compromised with the greatness of his younger brother, Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ. He is still against that Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ should allow you to sleep with me.”
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ hesitated somewhat.
She avoided meeting my eyes.
“Well, it doesn’t make any difference.”
“That’s what you and Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Sheikħ thinks.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve reason to believe that Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī made a will clandestinely. She perhaps didn’t want to bring in the knowledge of your ever communal brother in law, Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ.”
“Well, you can’t blame her.”
“I’m not blaming her. I don’t blame anyone ever. It’s always dangerous to the parties concerned.”
“Allah! Yā Allah! You and your human psychology. Can’t you forget ever that you are a human psychologist? I don’t need your damn human psychology now. I need your wild animal Hindu sex kicks now in my ravenous Lebanese Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt. Damn you.”
“Sālī, I never stopped fucking you.”
“But you are concentrating on other things more.” she complained.
“Listen to me. Your ears and tongue are not being used in our lovemaking. Are they? You are a Sex therapist. You can enjoy sex even when we are talking of your husband. He is a very good human being. I don’t want him to be trapped and framed as Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was.”
“Listen to me.”
“The will Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī made was, I think, executed in the office of an attorney named Taymūr Murād. Taymūr Murād has joined politics now entrusting his clienteles now to his son Waħīd Murād. Persons, including Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ perhaps, I’m not sure however, are interested in surreptitiously, sneakily, obtaining a copy of that will. The persons associated with Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī may be taking an active interest in a search of this kind.
“Now, I am asking you this. Are you completely satisfied with your diagnosis in the case of Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī?”
“Naturally. Otherwise Jalāl wouldn’t have discharged her.”
I kept my patience.
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ wanted sex.
She wasn’t in a mood of discussing any patient with me.
I understood it very well, but her husband’s liberty and future was at stake.
I couldn’t ignore or tolerate it.
“I understand, generally, that Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī had a gastroenteric disturbance.”
“Well, what of it?”
“I’ve gone through several authorities on forensic medicine and toxicology.”
“Listen to me, you idiot.”
“Yes, sir. We are not making love. We are Sex therapists always. We haven’t our personal life. Have we?”
Increased fucking her more wildly, more passionately, more lovingly.
But kept on talking on the problem nevertheless.
I was a responsible person.
I had to.
“I find that it is generally agreed that cases of arsenic poisoning are seldom diagnosed by the attending physician, since the symptoms are those of gastroenteric disturbance.”
“You are crazy. You aren’t a doctor. You are a Sex therapist only. Let Jalāl decide what your dearest Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī is suffering from. Okay? ”
“Were there abdominal cramps?” I asked patiently, “Cramps in the calves of the legs? A burning sensation in the stomach and−”
“Allah! Yā Allah! I’ll be damned.” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ interrupted, “How the hell did you know?”
I ceased talking, but kept on fucking her nonstop.
I was waiting for the doctor in her to say something.
There was a long period of silence.
I kept on fucking her unwearyingly.
“No one would possibly want to poison Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī.” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ said ultimately.
“How the hell do you know?” I asked belligerently.*
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb gritted her teeth.
She had watched everything.
She never knew, neither she had even imagined ever, her elder sister would be so selfish.
She was enjoying Durgesh alone.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was following the stream of passengers filing past the HVSI Airlines flight attendants.
“Thank you. Allah Ħāfiz.”
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb watched.
She kept watching.
The passengers left the fabulous HVSI jet plane.
They inched their way to the broader corridors of the HVSI Airport of Ved Nagar.
They quickened their pace, walking down the long runway toward a huge illuminated sign bearing the word ‘Baggage’.
There was an arrow pointing downward where an escalator descended to a lower level.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb looked at Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ.
She never thought he would be present there personally.
What the hell the scoundrel wanted now to do to Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb?
Wasn’t her exile enough?
He never allowed Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb to prepare anything for Āsiyah Siddīq Kāzmī.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb steadied herself by putting her right hand on the rail of the escalator.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb hoped Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ hadn’t seen her.
It was a surprise to Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb that Al Nādirah Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ was too with her ever communal ever wretched father.
She thought Al Nādirah Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ wasn’t against Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was enjoying her beautiful sex sessions with me.
Durgesh couldn’t believe she was still a virgin at her thirty-second year.
She was carrying a topcoat and she was tired.
In her earlier thirties, Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb had a tremendous figure and a superb way with clothes.
She never minded working hard.
Taymūr Murād compared Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb with imaginary Della Street, the ever-efficient secretary to Perry Mason, a fictional character created by late Erle Stanley Gardner.
When Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb smiled, her beautiful face lit up.
She stepped from the escalator at the lower level and walked briskly toward the revolving platform.
The baggage would appear on it.
It was too early, yet for the baggage to make its appearance.
Yet, it was indicative of Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb’s now constantly improving confident character that she walked with utterly firm rapid steps, hurrying to reach the place she may have to wait for several long minutes.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb wondered what a great positive change it was in her elder sister’s original somewhat nervous character.
Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ was surprised.
He couldn’t imagine what he was observing now.
He had seen his daughter in law in Taymūr Murād’s office too.
She was of course efficient, but not so aggressively confident ever.
She was a good girl.
And in Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ’s opinion, hell, no good girl might be as aggressively confident as her daughter in law, Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb was now.
What the hell has she gained?
He couldn’t imagine a young woman, expelled from her husband’s home on sinister suspicions, and still now, she is gaining self-confidence more and more, instead of losing it.
He was worried now.
Should he have to change his strategy?*
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb felt herself jealous of her elder sister.
Durgesh is improving Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb immensely, tremendously.
She isn’t worried any more.
She is quite confident now.
She hasn’t lost husband.
She has obtained a husband instead.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb lost Anwar Jamāluddīn Sheikħ.
But she has obtained Durgesh.
Anwar Jamāluddīn Sheikħ was a nerd.
Durgesh was wonderful.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb wasn’t unlucky that she lost Anwar Jamāluddīn Sheikħ.
She was lucky that Durgesh has found her attractive.
At length, baggage began to appear on a moving belt.
The belt transported the baggage to the slowly revolving turntable.
Both Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb and Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ were immensely attentive now.
Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ hadn’t given any impression that he had seen Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb too, as Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb had seen him.
Passengers began to pick out baggage.
Porters with claim checks stood by, occasionally pulling out heavy handbags and putting them on hand trucks.
The crowd began to thin out.
Finally, only a few pieces of baggage were left on the turntable.
The trucks moved away.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb moved over to a porter.
“My baggage didn’t come in,” she said.
He looked at her,
“What was it, lady?”
“A single suitcase, green, and a small oblong overnight case for cosmetics.”
“Let me see your checks, please.”
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb handed him the baggage checks.”
“Before I start looking, we’d better wait,” he said, “and see if there is another truck coming. Sometimes there’s a second section of trucks when there’s an unusually large load.”
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb looked at the porter gravely.
“Alright.” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb surrendered, “I don’t think I’ve another option except to wait.”
Porter bowed politely.
“It’s okay. You aren’t responsible.”
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb waited impatiently.
After two or three minutes, more baggage showed up on the moving belt.
There were four suitcases.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb’s and two others.
“There they are now. Those two are mine,” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb said, “The green one−the big one in front−and the oblong overnight bag in back.”
The porter smiled respectfully,
“Okay, ma’am. I’ll get them for you.”
The suitcase, followed by the overnight bag, moved along the conveyor belt, then hit the slide to the revolving table.
A few seconds later, the porter picked them up, put the bags on his hand truck and started for the door.
A man had been standing there well back.
He came forward.
“Just a moment, please.” he said.
The porter looked at him.
The man produced a leather folder from his side pocket, opened it and showed a gold shield,
“Ved Nagar Police,” he said, “Was there some trouble about this baggage?”
The porter hastily assured him,
“No trouble. No trouble at all, sir. Only it didn’t come in with the first load.”
“There has been some baggage trouble,” the main said curtly to the porter.
Then he smiled politely at Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb,
“Is this your suitcase, ma’am?”
“Yes, officer.” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb said in somewhat reserved manner, “Why are you interfering? I’m already detained unnecessarily. For your kind information, officer, hey, may I know your name? Can you identify to me too before asking anything?”
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb clearly noticed.
Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ was worried now.
The Police Officer looked at Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb inadvertently.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb immediately hid herself behind a fat man.
She didn’t want that Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb could see her there.
She never intended to be seen by anyone there.
Even it was unfortunate that the Police Officer had sseen her there.
“Captain Shekhar, ma’am,” he said to Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb was still avoiding Captain Shekhar’s gaze.
Captain Shekhar winked at Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb significantly, as if assuring her.
Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb looked around.
Then she herself winked at Captain Shekhar as if to assure him that she had got the message he wanted to convey so desperately.
Captain Shekhar smiled at her understandingly.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb, unfortunately, wasn’t smart enough to notice all these interchanges.
She asked Captain Shekhar instead, irritably somewhat,
“What do you want?”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am.” Captain Shekhar said respectfully and politely, “There is some baggage problem here. There are some complaints about it. Will you mind to identify your baggage to the Police?”
“I see,” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb watched Captain Shekhar from his head to his feet entirely, “weren’t you standing here all along?”
“Of course, ma’am. That’s my duty.”
“If I am not mistaken, Captain Shekhar, you know me very well personally yourself, don’t you?”
Captain Shekhar hesitated somewhat.
“I’m sorry, Bājī.”
“You loved Sājidah Muħammad Ħabīb, my younger sister, don’t you?”
“I still love her.” Captain Shekhar said grimly, “Damn your sister. She didn’t marry me only because I’m a Hindu, despite the fact that we have a son too.”
“Oh, she never told you?” Captain Shekhar was sarcastic somewhat.
“Well, well, well,” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb smiled, “she wouldn’t be forgiven. Tell me where my nephew is.”
Captain Shekhar hesitated.
“He is at my home. But Bājī, I’m sorry. You are framed by some scoundrel, I think. The Police have a tip that you are carrying drugs.”
“I see. That’s why my baggage was late. Someone has added drugs in my baggage and informed the Police?”
“I have to arrest you, Bājī. Sorry, I’m too under surveillance. I can’t do anything for you.”
Captain Shekhar’s eyes were filled with tears.
“Hell,” Al Jamāluddīn Al Sheikħ scowled to himself.
Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb controlled herself surprisingly in a quite dignified manner,
“It’s alright, brother. Nothing to feel guilty for yourself. I understand that it’s your duty. Can I call my husband?”
“I suspect Anwar Jamāluddīn Sheikħ is himself behind it.” Captain Shekhar said controlling himself.
“Hey, Shekhar,” Kħālidah Muhammad Ħabīb laughed, “you didn’t hear me attentively. I didn’t say my ex-husband. I said ‘my husband’, Durgesh I mean. Damn it.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
“I’ll call Mrs. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad to the witness stand.” The Public Prosecutor, Waħīd Murād, announced gravely.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, attired in black, moved slowly forward.
She held up her right hand, was sworn and she took her place on the witness stand.
Waħīd Murād’s voice held that synthetic sympathy that was the stock in trade of some prosecutors examining bereaved widows, as he questioned her.
“Mrs. Nadīm, we have to perform the disagreeable duty of identifying the decedent. You are the widow of Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad. I believe you were called upon to identify his body after it had been found in the place referred to generally as the Palmdale subdivision.”
“That’s right.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās said.
“You saw the body?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās controlled her tears with obvious efforts.
“You loved your husband?”
“Yes, sir. But not any more if what the police claim about him is true.”
Waħīd Murād watched Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās sympathetically.
“The police claim he was working against the interests of United States of America. If it’s true, I no more love the man.”
“It was your second marriage?”
“Fourth.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās amended the Public Prosecutor gravely, “I’m the unfortunate enough that’s still virgin despite my four marriages in last three years.”
“Won’t you explain it to the court and to the jury, ma’am, if you don’t mind?”
“My first husband was my University mate. We loved each other very much. Zāhid Rashīd loved me very much but I never knew he was a criminal. The police shot him in an encounter before he could celebrate his first night with me. I thank my Creator, Allah tabāruk tålā Rabbul åālmīn.”
Judge Keyser, plainly interested, leaned forward to listen to every word Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was speaking.
“How many days after you married your second husband, Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?” Waħīd Murād asked.
“I loved Zāhid Rashīd so much that it took me two years to forget him enough to marry Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī; however Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī wanted to marry me as soon as Zāhid Rashīd was shot in the police encounter.”
“How old were you when you married Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?” Waħīd Murād asked sympathetically.
“Meaning you married Zāhid Rashīd at your nineteenth?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“What about Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?”
“It turned out that the scoundrel was Zāhid Rashīd’s cousin and he actually married me to keep my mouth shut of Zāhid Rashīd’s criminal activities if I knew anything of them.”
“He was himself a criminal?”
“He was himself a criminal.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās said, “I feel shame in admitting that, we Musalmīn are not as educated mostly as the non Musalmīn are. Consequently it’s easier for the criminals to use us Musalmīn for their criminal activities more than they can use the non Musalmīn.”
“I know.” Waħīd Murād said gravely, “I belong to the same community as you do. What happened to Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī, your second husband?”
“He and my third husband, Akram Sultan, both were hanged for murders. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was my fourth husband.”
“Very very unfortunate.”
“Thank you. Perhaps I am foolish enough not to distinguish criminals from non-criminals.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Kambakħt! She deliberately married all of them one by one.” She commented.
“How do you know?” I looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
“Hindu Piyā, all the four of them were multi-millionaires. The bitch is playing in billions now.”
“She seems innocent. But she isn’t. She is a great actress. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās deliberately married those criminals and helped the police in encountering and hanging them.”
I watched Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, incredulous.*
“Ma’am, you saw the body?”
“Yes,” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās once more tried to control herself, “Being his wife in his lifetime, I had to.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Yes, sir. It was the body of my fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad.”
Public Prosecutor, Waħīd Murād, went on similarly compassionately.
“Now then, do you know any Imām Muħammad Ħasan, ma’am?”
“Sure, he was my fourth husband’s, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad’s, one of the very close friends.”
“Have you met Imām Muħammad Ħasan personally too?”
“Yes, sir. My fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, wanted me to meet him. I obeyed my husband.”
“Did Imām Muħammad Ħasan lend you a HVSI .22 revolver some time ago?”
“Noooooo?” Waħīd Murād was immensely surprised.
“I tried to. But Nadīm instructed me to keep it with me.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I kept it in my safe.”
“Yet you don’t have it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Would you explain?”
“Sir, there was a theft. I found that someone had evidently been in very much of a hurry. A framed picture of my husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, with his ex-wife, Saåīdah Åbbās Rashīd, had been ripped from a wall and torn out so that the picture of Saåīdah Åbbās Rashīd had gone to smithereens. A section of wallboard had been taken from the wall and hadn’t been replaced. Behind that section of wallboard, was an oblong recess. It was in that recess my very high grade, fireproof, burglarproof wall safe, unlocked. Its door was partly open. The safe was empty.”
“What did you keep there?”
“All my precious belongings that I needed every now and then, my revolver given to me by my husband, and hundreds of thousand dollars we kept there for any potential emergency.”
“Nothing was there?”
“Nothing was there including the said revolver too.”
“That’s all, ma’am. Thank you.”
He twisted to me.
“You may cross examine, Mr. Durgesh.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan squeezed my hand.
“Rip her wide open, Durgesh. Please. The bitch is too smart to be handled for that damn fool Public Prosecutor. I bet no theft was there. She has all the money herself.”
“It might have been taken away. But not the money. The bitch is too smart for the burglars.”
I assured Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and advanced to the witness stand.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was watching me austerely.
I stood facing the slender woman with the downcast eyes once again.
“Mrs. Nadīm,” I asked her equally compassionately, “Where did you meet your fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?”
“What were you doing at the time?”
Waħīd Murād was immediately on his feet.
“Objected to,” he smiled, “as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It isn’t proper cross-examination too. It makes no difference what she was doing. It makes further no difference when the witness met the decedent or how she met him. She isn’t on trial. Zaynab Imrān Qurayshī is on trial.”
“Overruled.” Judge Keyser ruled.
Waħīd Murād requested patiently.
“May I be heard, your honor?”
“The court has already ruled on your objection, Mr. Public Prosecutor. In a case of this sort, I certainly intend to give the defendant every latitude in the field of cross-examination. Counsel undoubtedly has some point in mind or he wouldn’t have gone into this. Witness may answer the question.”*
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās looked at me,
“I was working in a rather varied capacity.” She said.
“Describe the varied capacities.” I said generously inviting her.
Her voice grew a little stronger.
Her eyes rose long enough to flash a glance of gathering seduction at me.
“I was a show girl, I think.”
“Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, you showed yourself in bathing suits, did you not?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled placidly.
“Oh, come on, Mr. Durgesh. We aren’t living in seventh century any more. Let the Pseudo Musalmīn fight to keep us all in seventh century. You are a Hindu, utmost ultramodern, I think. You allow your own Live in Relationship Partner, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, to be a nudist feminist. I was only wearing bathing suits.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you were resorting to double standards. Your Live in Relationship Partner can even make love to you openly in public places. And I couldn’t show my beauty even in bathing suits. Tut tut, Mr. Durgesh. I never expected this from a man, as ultramodern as you are.”
“You were a hostess?”
“Yet you married Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad subsequently. Didn’t you?”
“Sure, yet Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad too was a criminal is yet to be proven, sir.”
The Sālī was really smart.
She was even smarter than I thought she might be.
“So, let me understand, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, you were a shill?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“What do you mean?”
“You put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging. You circulated around the gambling tables.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You know Lily Turner and me?”
“You both are not as unknown, sir, as you erroneously think you are.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly, “Ms. Lily Turner is related to Stansfield Turner, the former Director of CIA. You are an utmost successful barrister, Sex Therapist, Writer and infamous as an ever unique Hindu lover of Musalmān Beauties from eighteen to sixty years old equally.”
“Thank you, sir, that you see it now. However, I don’t think it is worse to be even a shill than being a mole of a Pseudo Musalmān terrorist/ Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān. I preferred to be a shill rather than being a mole of a Pseudo Musalmān terrorist/ Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān. I don’t think you agree with me.”
“You are mistaken, ma’am.” I said gravely, “I too agree with you in the matter and appreciate the course you followed prudently.”
“Thank you.” She cooed seductively yet still not forgetting that she was a recent widow.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was very careful.
Even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was chewing her lower lip in somewhat vulnerability.
She had never seen me so incapable to rip wide open any witness.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās knew she had to face me.
She had come there very well prepared to meet my legal tactics.
Kambakħt never allows even Durgesh to put his hand on her anywhere.
She counter attacks Durgesh on his every legal attack.
She has studied Durgesh very well, very deeply, very adroitly.
Well, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t know, at least till now.
“Being a hostess, you made yourself easy to pick up?” I asked Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās.
“Well, I wasn’t picked up, Mr. Durgesh.”
“I see. Well, let me put it this way,” I smiled, “It was easy to get acquainted with you?”
“Sure, and as such, it was easy to get acquainted with you?” I asked patiently, smiling myself.
“I was simply doing my duty as a hostess.”
“That’s right. Therefore it was easy to get acquainted with you?”
“Not for everyone. Only for the person(s) I allowed to.”
“You made it that way?”
“Well, I love to make acquaintance with the persons I like. What’s wrong in it? We humans are social animals I think. Aren’t we?”
“Sure,” I smiled, “very well said. Yet, the fact was that you were particularly easy to get acquainted with as far as wealthy men were concerned who were in a position to spend money on the gambling tables. Isn’t that true?”
“Well, let me answer it somewhat in detail. May I?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“I am a woman. I had lost my husband. So it was quite natural I was in a hunt of a suitable husband for me. No woman wants a poor husband. Every woman seeks a wealthy and capable powerful husband. What was wrong there if I were doing the same as any other woman in the same position as I was in would have done? You imply I shouldn’t have done what any woman in my position would’ve done?”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan gritted her teeth.
Kambakħt, smarter than even she thinks every time.
“Certainly not, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, certainly not.” I smiled sophisticatedly, politely and unwearyingly, “You too have every legal right that any other woman has. I agree with you hundred percent. However, nevertheless, having acquainted with the wealthy men, you didn’t cultivate them as a prospective husband for you. Instead, you made it a point to encourage them in their gambling.”
“How do you know what I actually did?”
“Well, well, come on, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās. I’m not on the witness stand. You are. You kept hanging around the gambling tables doing a little gambling of your own and chatting with these gambling men so that they would continue their gambling after they might otherwise have quit.”
“And if they have quit I wouldn’t have any prospective husband for me.” She smiled scathingly, “Mr. Durgesh, both as a hostess and as a woman seeking a prospective husband I had to be attractive. You aren’t a woman. You can’t understand it. But I’m sure any women in jury and in audiences as well, can very well understand what I was really after.”
“You were frequently at the gambling tables. Weren’t you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You used chips?”
“Always. The other gamblers too use chips.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly yet confidently.
“Now then, when you first met Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, he was gambling at a table. Was he not?”
“I don’t gamble with money. I gamble with wits, my lady. Yet, I’m quite aware of these matters too and Las Vegas and Nevada also. My so many Live in Relationship Partners, as well as my so many women friends, haven’t quit yet their gambling habits.”
“Sorry.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly.
“Never mind. You were gambling at the table Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was gambling at?”
“Sure. I’ve already told you. I always used chips.”
“Yet, they were not normal chips. They were special chips. Were they not?”
“What do you mean?”
“The chips you played with,” I pointed my forefinger at her, “were not redeemable. You had those chips given to you. You gambled with them, my lady, yet they couldn’t be redeemed for money. Your gambling was simply an act.”
“Sure. Every gambler there was aware of it. They were seasoned gamblers, Mr. Durgesh. They themselves were not born yesterday.”
“Not everyone. They know there are hostesses. But how did they know you were also one of them? So, you were a shill, a come-on?”
“Oh, your honor,” Waħīd Murād said, “this is attempting to browbeat the witness. The question is argumentative; it is not proper cross-examination, it―”
“Overruled.” Judge Keyser snapped.
“Answer the question.” I said.
“Well, you make it sound rather…rather…”
“Undignified?” I prompted.
“Something like that.”
“You considered yourself dignified?”*
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me scrutinizing.
“Well, I considered myself at least more dignified than the moles of the gangsters, terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn.” She said with immense pride. “I might haven’t been dignified with respect to the lucky women married with the sophisticated law abiding males, but I was certainly more dignified than the unlucky women who are married with the gangsters, criminal/criminal minded male e.g. a Musalmān.”
“You hate Musalmīn very much, Ms. Nadīm,” I smiled, “don’t you?”
“When you first met Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, you went to a table where he was already gambling, did you not?”
“Sure. I was a widow. I wanted a husband for me capable enough to give me what I needed. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad seemed to me quite capable in it.”
“Did someone direct you to go to that table, some person that represented your employer, the owner of that gambling house in Las Vegas, Nevada that pointed out Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad to you? Didn’t this person tell you to go over there and get to work on him? Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but I was already on my path to do the same anyway.”
“For your employer?”
“For myself. Mr. Durgesh, I was there hostess not to earn a living for myself. I was there hostess so that I may learn the inside gambling tactics to warn my potential husband and save his money.”
“Very noble of you, Mrs. Nadīm.” I smiled sarcastically.
“Thank you.” She cooed.
“What happened when you went to the table where Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was playing?”
“I went to the table, and when Mr. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad won, I smiled at him. That broke the ice.”
“What ice?” I asked curtly.
“I gave him a chance to be acquainted with me.”
“Did you think there was ice?”
She eyed me cynically.
“I used the expression as a figure of speech.”
“So did me.” I said authoritatively rather tersely somewhat, “I didn’t mean that there were icicles dripping all over this tight clinging gown that you were wearing. I realized that you referred to ice in a figurative manner of speaking. Naturally, I too used the term in the same sense. Now was there any ice to break?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam