Read Online Boy vs. Girl by Na'ima B. Robert - Free Book Online

together in the front room, on mats that Ummerji had stretched out over the worn carpet. This was a rare treat, the family all praying together. They listened attentively as Dad recited from the shorter, more familiar verses at the end of the
Qur’an
and realised, to their surprise, that the last time they had heard him recite had been a year ago, last Ramadan.
    Why do we have to wait until Ramzan to pray together?
thought Faraz as his forehead touched the floor.
    Just two
rakats
and the morning prayer was over. The family sat quietly, mouthing their
dhikr
, counting remembrance on their fingers:
subhanAllah
,
alhamdulillah
,
Allahu akbar
.
    Farhana looked at her watch. It was still only 5:30am. Time for a few more hours of sleep before school. Except that she didn’t feel like sleeping. She looked over at Faraz. He looked just as wide-awake as she did.
    But Ummerji was already pulling up the mats, taking off the garment she always wore for
namaz
. Dad was on his way out of the living room.
    â€œYou going back to bed, Dad?” Farhana asked.
    â€œYes,
beta
, we’ve got a busy day at the shop today. You two should get some rest too or you’ll be tired at school.”
    â€œI feel fine, Dad,” said Faraz. “What about you, Ummerji?”
    â€œI’m going to tidy up now, Faraz, the dishes don’t wash themselves, you know?”
    Farhana jumped up. “No, Ummerji, you go to sleep. I’ll wash up. I don’t feel tired anyway.”
    Her mother looked at her, surprised. “Are you sure, Farhana? You don’t have to, you know…”
    â€œIt’s OK, you go get some rest, go on.”
    They could soon hear their parents making their way up the stairs.
    Faraz looked at his sister, impressed. “Not bad, sis!” he said. “Scoring points in the first hour of the fast, eh?”
    Farhana looked at him and smiled wryly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be alone: get in that kitchen!”
    Faraz tried to protest but Farhana bullied him all the way into the kitchen.
    â€œRight, you clear up, I’ll wash the dishes.”
    â€œOh, all right then.” Faraz was sheepish as he set about the unfamiliar task of stacking the plates and gathering up the cups.
    Farhana put on a tape of
Qur’anic
recitation then filled the sink with hot water and was soon elbow-deep in bubbles and
sehri
dishes.
    Faraz looked over at her. “It suits you, y’know,” he murmured.
    Farhana turned to him, puzzled, wondering what he was talking about. Then she touched her hand to her head and realised that she had not taken off her scarf. She bit her lip.
    â€œD’you really think so?”
    â€œYeah, I do… I always have. I think girls look much better with
hijab
, to be honest.”
    â€œThat’s not really the point though, isit?” Farhana replied crossly. Then her frown disappeared. “I’m thinking of wearing it full-time, y’know…”
    â€œYeah, sis, go for it… keep those guys in line, I say!”
    â€œOK,” said Farhana, rolling her eyes, “let’s get one thing straight. If I was to wear
hijab
, it wouldn’t be for any guy. I think that is so lame; it doesn’t even make a difference these days anyway. Guys still hit on you and stuff…”
    â€œThat’s true…” murmured Faraz, thinking of how he felt about Shazia, in spite of her scarf.
    â€œAnyway,” continued his sister, “the
hijab
,
if
I decide to wear it, will be
my
decision, and mine alone – and I don’t really care what anyone else thinks of it!”
    â€œI don’t think Ummerji will like it…” Faraz frowned. Although Ummerji always wore a long shawl, a
dupatta
, draped across her shoulders or perched on top of her head when attending religious gatherings, they both knew that she considered the headscarf and other Islamic clothing unnecessary and alien to the Islam she grew up