SHAHZAD AND SABEENA

After the weak monsoon is over and the holidays have passed—the last goat slaughtered and the last stains of blood washed away in the rain—the city is left in limbo. At the downtown mosque, at the southernmost tip of Mumbai, the men who work in corporate offices still show up to prayer on time. But elsewhere men are struggling. The monsoon came and went too quickly and set off droughts across the state. In Dharavi, the slum dwellers have to wait even longer in line at a common tap and do not know if they will get water. Shahzad visits Dharavi and meets with the builder, who promises the final big deposit of money soon.

At home, with the new fans on high, Farhan helps Taheem and Mahala with their homework and their memorization of the Quran. He teaches them about world religions and how similar they all are. He tells them that Christianity and Islam are almost synonymous in their belief in one God, and that the divisions between Sunni and Shia Muslims do not matter. He tells them that terrorism is wrong. “This is ego, this is power,” Farhan says. “Everyone is searching for some power.” The children nod solemnly.

Someday, Farhan thinks he will also teach them what he has learned about marriage. He will tell them that it is about small things, that when you marry you are young or unthinking or both and not aware of the many problems you will face together. Money. Time. And that you will always desire more than you have.

Taheem is not focused on his tuitions today, and Nadine hits him hard on the head. “Oww,” he shouts, and runs out of the apartment, over to his aunt and uncle’s flat. “Kya hua?” Sabeena asks, as Taheem plops down beside her. “I was making too much masti,” he says, wincing as she pats him on the head. Sabeena laughs, eyes twinkling, and tells him it will be okay. She knows that Nadine must have fire in the heart over her marriage again and is grateful she is old enough to be past this.

That afternoon, Shahzad lays out his prayer mat for namaaz. Recently, he went to see his local imam and asked about the old rules on adoption. The imam told him these guidelines were outdated. He said that Islam had no problem with adoption anymore. “You are doing a good deed by adopting a child,” the imam told him. “You can even give the child your name.”

Hearing this, Shahzad at first was excited. He told Sabeena he wanted to go visit Ajmer, where it was said that praying to the grave of a saint would magically grant you a son. But Sabeena told him she wasn’t interested. She gently reminded him that it was too late. She told him to focus on helping raise Taheem and Mahala, who saw him as a kind of father.

On the prayer mat today, Shahzad does not say his usual prayer for a child. Instead, he says a dua of the Prophet Muhammad, which goes: “Oh turner of the hearts, make my heart firm on your deen.” Deen can be translated many ways, but Shahzad understands it as “a complete way of life,” which is often difficult for a man to attain. Or difficult for a man to recognize even after he has achieved it.

After Shahzad finishes his prayer, he lies down on his bed for a nap and dreams of his father. This time they are at the cold storage shop together, which always left them stinking of meat and blood. When Shahzad wakes up, he thinks, Arey, Shahzad, your father is not here, and there is no shop. You sold it. It’s finished.

He is glad this is in the past now, and that his future is with Sabeena, Taheem, and Mahala. He is glad it is only a dream.