Chad You got a problem, brother?
Shahid (snaps) Don’t call me brother! Why should you be more of a brother than any other man in the street?
Chad You confused, brother — (To the others.) Or he hiding something.
Riaz This writer has abused us in the same way that racist abused the old man and his family in the East End.
Shahid Do we have a monopoly on hurt? Why should our feelings of hurt be greater than his? If we attack him we become no better than the racists we oppose! We should debate with him. Censoring him will only limit what we can be, when the whole world could be ours.
The door opens and Zulma enters.
Zulma Shahid — come. Attend, darling.
Shahid Auntie? This is a meeting!
Zulma I’ve told you before, don’t call me Auntie! Sometimes censorship is necessary! Who is in charge? (To Riaz.) What are you doing, having a political meeting?
Riaz This is a private meeting, madam.
Shahid We’re discussing the fatwa.
Zulma And you’re going to demonstrate in his favour?
Shahid No. Not in his favour, I don’t think.
Zulma (appalled) Students are supposed to have bloody brains, aren’t they?
Riaz Have some respect, madam.
Zulma Don’t raise your voice to me! Religion is for the benefit of the masses, not for brainbox types like you. Those simpletons require strict rules for living, otherwise they would still think the earth sits on three fishes. But you mind-wallahs must know it’s a lot of balls.
Riaz (controlling his ire) I am a peaceful man. I urge all to love those of other religions, yes, even the wretched Christ-killers who lack faith in their own faith. But we need to send a clear signal to everyone, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, that our faith is not a matter for fictional debate.
Zulma Arey, practically the whole world is ringing me about this hullaballoo, as if I wrote the novel personally. Darling, things are getting so extreme I may have to read it, and I only read on the toilet.
Riaz (to the others) Come, brothers, we have work to do.
They leave, casting murderous glances at Zulma.
(To Shahid, as he leaves.) I will pray Allah guides you to the true path, Shahid.
Zulma As if my head weren’t burning up in flames with the problems your entire family has given me, thank you very much.
Shahid and Zulma are left alone.
Why are you in with those people? Oh, Shahid, what has happened to you?
Shahid Please, Auntie, I need to think.
Zulma You will certainly be needing to cogitate after I give you one tight slap.
Shahid You can’t hit me.
Zulma Well, I’m in the mood. (Tuts.) You had a decent upbringing. And now I see you hanging round with beardies who’ve already messed up Pakistan. I can’t tell you the problems darling sweet Benazir Bhutto is having with these tufty cunts.
Shahid The problem is not people like Riaz, but your class, Zulma. You and your school friend Benazir, with your foreign bank accounts, doing nothing for the country but leeching it for yourselves.
Zulma It’s people like her who help maintain some decent image of the country abroad, darling. If it weren’t for us, you’d see ZZ Top on TV, and then where would we be?
Shahid Can you hear how arrogant you sound?
Zulma How dare you speak to me in that fashion? I thought you were one notch better than that brother of yours. You don’t go in for prayers as well, do you? With that girl who should cover her whole bloody horse-face?
Shahid At least Tahira is not materialistic like you and Chili.
Zulma Let me tell you, next time I’m going to be demanding an arranged marriage. These free marriages — what are they but bad manners in the day and bad smells at night? Oh, Shahid, we’ve not always been the best of friends, but it makes me feel rotten to know you’re running in that direction. They will slaughter us soon for thinking. Have you stopped thinking, Shahid?
Shahid No.
Zulma Good. Then go back home at once and help your poor ammi.
Shahid I’ve got to finish my course! Papa wanted me to be educated.
Zulma Yes, he did. But you are spending all your time with those religious fools. Now you have to take charge of the family. When you see that wasted brother of yours, be kind enough to inform him that his place will be taken by you. Ring me when you get to Sevenoaks — I’m going back to Karachi soon.
Shahid You can’t put the mess of your married life on me, Auntie!
Zulma It’s your family I’m thinking of — you have a duty to your ammi.
Zulma storms out. Shahid sits at his desk, finally alone. Puts up Riaz’s poem on his computer screen.
THE MARTYR’S IMAGINATION
by Riaz al-Hussein
The windswept sand speaks of adultery in this godless land,
Here Lucifer and colonialists dance and Ibrahim weeps when the sun sets.
Wet bodies and captivating tongues reek of Satan’s hot breath,
But Gibreel’s fragrant green sword will veil the unveiled on the day the sun finally sets.
As he starts editing, we hear the sound of his fingers tapping on the keyboard. This segues into sounds of fists pounding on desks.
SCENE ELEVEN
The canteen at college. Fists pounding on desks and tables. Shahid enters, sees Hat, who is with Tahira.
Shahid What’s happening?
Hat Democracy in action. Student protest full on.
Shahid What about?
Hat This morning, that woman, Miss Osgood — she hold up the book.
Tahira That book. You hear?
Shahid (sarky) A book, in a college?
Hat I say, ‘Put down that book before I … You know what I’m saying, Miss Deedee Osgood?’ I say straight out, our parents pay taxes, here should be British scholarship and brainwaves, not curses. She keep going, ‘This is a classroom. There must be discussion, debate, argument!’
Shahid She’s right …
Tahira Then we start fisting the desk.
Hat All the class take it up, smashing down together.
Tahira Dr Brownlow say we have to be listened to. Our voices suppressed by Osgood types with the colonial mentality. To her we not cool, we coolies.
Hat So Miss Deedee has to stick the book away before someone sticks it –
Tahira That pornographic priestess encourages brothers of colour to take drugs. Then she force them into orgies. They tattoo one another.
Hat (curious) With what?
Tahira Tattoo equipment.