Namal {COMPLETED} (English Translation) By Nimra Ahmed

Chpt 17: "The Right to Defend Oneself."

(PART 2)

There is a law

that is not written anywhere

but is inscribed in our hearts!

That law which we did not receive

from education, customs, or books,

but we have absorbed and embraced it

from nature itself!

That law which did not reach us through theory

but has come to us through practice.

We were not given it through commands

but we have learned it through inspiration!

I am talking about that law which states that

if our life is in danger

from conspiracies,

from violence,

from armed attackers,

or from enemies,

then any means

and every method that we use

for our defense

is justified.

"It is morally right and lawful!"
(Marcus Tullius Cicero)

...

The morning fog spread in the jail compound. The prisoners had awakened and were pacing around. Amid this, he sat quietly at the edge of his mattress, wearing a white kurta over jeans, with a face showing two days of unshaven stubble, his silent eyes resting on his hands as he wrapped rubber bands around his fingers. There was deep despair in his eyes, but patience was also present. Suddenly, someone placed a hand on his shoulder and sat down beside him. Faris turned his neck slightly to see a man with a Sikh-style beard and mustache. Smiling, he said to him,

"Are you worried, Ghazi?"

"Why would I be?" he shrugged with annoyance. "Just go outside. Don't worry. What does it say in the law books? The accused is the favorite child of the law. All the benefits in the law go to him." He smiled and flicked a fly away with his nose. Faris didn't reply. He continued to wrap and unwrap the rubber band rapidly around his fingers.

"You used to pray a lot back in the day, Ghazi."
"I still pray sometimes. I pray for a few days, then skip a few. I shake my shoulders and say it," he replied, his eyes focused on the rubber band.

"Why don't you make it a habit?"
"It doesn't become a habit. For a few days, my heart feels alive. Then weeks pass, and I wander around with a dead heart." He shook his head, quickly wrapping the band around his fingers.
"I only pray during Eid."
"Well, I do pray, but..." Atash cleared his throat and leaned back against him, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"My faith is strong." Faris looked at him with a bitter smile.
"Look who's talking." Everyone knew the history of Atash, but you would hear that story another time.

"I'm telling the truth. Your faith in God is weak."
"I no longer believe, Atash, that God exists. I said it seriously while wrapping the band around my finger. Blood had stopped flowing. Half my finger was turning red, while the other half was turning white.

"Why not?" he exclaimed. "If God existed, he wouldn't let my brother be killed like this, he wouldn't let my innocent wife be killed, and my four years in jail wouldn't be wasted. I no longer believe that God exists, or that religions were created merely to control people." He spoke bitterly. Atash looked around nervously. The one he feared was sitting nearby. The cleric. The bearded young man who had been imprisoned there for six months was sitting there, listening intently to their conversation. Atash, scratching his beard, scooted closer to him.