Read Online The House of the Mosque by Kader Abdolah - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kader Abdolah
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doubt.
‘We’re done!’ said one of the grandmothers.
Alsaberi stood up. He stepped out of the tub, placing his right foot on the towel that had been spread on the floor, but because he’d let go of the rim, he suddenly slipped and fell, his left leg still in the tub.
‘Dead!’ he blurted out in shock.
The grandmothers were upset, but they immediately pulled him up and tried to get him back into the tub because, having touched the ground, he was unclean and would have to be washed all over again. Just then one of the cats bolted out from behind the stove. Frightened by Alsaberi’s loud cry, it fell into the tub, brushed against his leg, leapt out of the tub and ran outside. The imam’s wet, bare leg had been touched by a cat! Just the thought of it made Alsaberi nauseous. Maybe there were mice too. Alsaberi shivered in horror. The bathroom was unclean, the water was unclean, the towels were unclean, the grandmothers were unclean – and all of this on the night of Ali’s death! The night on which he hoped to give the greatest sermon of his life. What was he to do? Where could he clean himself before the prayer? There was no time to waste; people were already waiting in the mosque.
‘Allah!’ he cried, with a lump in his throat. Then he stumbled outside, naked, and raced towards the hauz .
‘Come back!’ Golbanu screamed. ‘It’s been snowing. Come back!’
Alsaberi plunged into the hauz and disappeared under the water.
The fish fled to the far end, the crow screeched loudly and the grandmothers scurried down to the cellar and came back up with clean towels.
‘You’ve been in there long enough!’ Golebeh cried.
‘Please come out!’ Golbanu implored.
Alsaberi came up for air, then ducked back under the water again.
‘Come out of there this instant!’
Alsaberi stood up. He momentarily lost his balance, but managed to right himself. Then he stepped out of the hauz and went over to the grandmothers, who threw some towels around him. Golbanu raced ahead to turn up the heater in the library, while Golebeh went down to the cellar to get more towels.
The heater was red-hot and the extra towels had been warmed, but where was Alsaberi?
‘Maybe he went to his bedroom,’ Golebeh said.
‘Alsaberi!’ Golbanu called.
‘May God watch over him! Where on earth did he go? Alsaberi!’
The fish were huddled together in the hauz , the crow was screeching non-stop and the cats were peering over the edge of the roof as the grandmothers hurried over to the hauz . Alsaberi was stretched out in the snow, with the yellow glow of the lantern lighting up his face. His eyes were closed. On his lips was a frozen smile.
‘Alsaberi!’ the grandmothers shrieked.
But no one was home, everyone was in the mosque. The grandmothers ran up the stairs to the roof, scattering the cats as they went. Standing by the left minaret, which was Muezzin’s usual post, they shouted with all their might, ‘Alsaberi is gone!’
Inside the mosque, people heard their cry. Muezzin came charging up to the roof, followed by the caretaker and several men from the bazaar. They hurried down the stairs to the courtyard and went over to the hauz . The moment the caretaker saw Alsaberi’s lifeless body, he cried, ‘ Enna lellah! ’
At the familiar words, everyone knew that Alsaberi was dead.
The men carried him into the library. The grandmothers dried their tears, because they knew you were supposed to be restrained in the presence of death. Mindful of their duties, they went to an antique cupboard behind the bookcase, took out a white sheet – the shroud the imam had bought for himself in Mecca – and handed it to the caretaker. He unfolded it and draped it over Alsaberi, all the while chanting a sacred verse.
Aqa Jaan came running in.
‘ Enna lellah! ’ the men cried in unison.
‘ Enna lellah ,’ Aqa Jaan replied calmly.
He knelt by the body, gently pulled back the shroud and looked at Alsaberi’s face. Then he kissed him
‘We’re done!’ said one of the grandmothers.
Alsaberi stood up. He stepped out of the tub, placing his right foot on the towel that had been spread on the floor, but because he’d let go of the rim, he suddenly slipped and fell, his left leg still in the tub.
‘Dead!’ he blurted out in shock.
The grandmothers were upset, but they immediately pulled him up and tried to get him back into the tub because, having touched the ground, he was unclean and would have to be washed all over again. Just then one of the cats bolted out from behind the stove. Frightened by Alsaberi’s loud cry, it fell into the tub, brushed against his leg, leapt out of the tub and ran outside. The imam’s wet, bare leg had been touched by a cat! Just the thought of it made Alsaberi nauseous. Maybe there were mice too. Alsaberi shivered in horror. The bathroom was unclean, the water was unclean, the towels were unclean, the grandmothers were unclean – and all of this on the night of Ali’s death! The night on which he hoped to give the greatest sermon of his life. What was he to do? Where could he clean himself before the prayer? There was no time to waste; people were already waiting in the mosque.
‘Allah!’ he cried, with a lump in his throat. Then he stumbled outside, naked, and raced towards the hauz .
‘Come back!’ Golbanu screamed. ‘It’s been snowing. Come back!’
Alsaberi plunged into the hauz and disappeared under the water.
The fish fled to the far end, the crow screeched loudly and the grandmothers scurried down to the cellar and came back up with clean towels.
‘You’ve been in there long enough!’ Golebeh cried.
‘Please come out!’ Golbanu implored.
Alsaberi came up for air, then ducked back under the water again.
‘Come out of there this instant!’
Alsaberi stood up. He momentarily lost his balance, but managed to right himself. Then he stepped out of the hauz and went over to the grandmothers, who threw some towels around him. Golbanu raced ahead to turn up the heater in the library, while Golebeh went down to the cellar to get more towels.
The heater was red-hot and the extra towels had been warmed, but where was Alsaberi?
‘Maybe he went to his bedroom,’ Golebeh said.
‘Alsaberi!’ Golbanu called.
‘May God watch over him! Where on earth did he go? Alsaberi!’
The fish were huddled together in the hauz , the crow was screeching non-stop and the cats were peering over the edge of the roof as the grandmothers hurried over to the hauz . Alsaberi was stretched out in the snow, with the yellow glow of the lantern lighting up his face. His eyes were closed. On his lips was a frozen smile.
‘Alsaberi!’ the grandmothers shrieked.
But no one was home, everyone was in the mosque. The grandmothers ran up the stairs to the roof, scattering the cats as they went. Standing by the left minaret, which was Muezzin’s usual post, they shouted with all their might, ‘Alsaberi is gone!’
Inside the mosque, people heard their cry. Muezzin came charging up to the roof, followed by the caretaker and several men from the bazaar. They hurried down the stairs to the courtyard and went over to the hauz . The moment the caretaker saw Alsaberi’s lifeless body, he cried, ‘ Enna lellah! ’
At the familiar words, everyone knew that Alsaberi was dead.
The men carried him into the library. The grandmothers dried their tears, because they knew you were supposed to be restrained in the presence of death. Mindful of their duties, they went to an antique cupboard behind the bookcase, took out a white sheet – the shroud the imam had bought for himself in Mecca – and handed it to the caretaker. He unfolded it and draped it over Alsaberi, all the while chanting a sacred verse.
Aqa Jaan came running in.
‘ Enna lellah! ’ the men cried in unison.
‘ Enna lellah ,’ Aqa Jaan replied calmly.
He knelt by the body, gently pulled back the shroud and looked at Alsaberi’s face. Then he kissed him
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