Prince from Paradise | ✔

II. A Pair of Gentlemen

Adar

He gazed at the girl. Her doe-like brown eyes had watered from first glance, bringing her knees to her chest as she let out a soft cry. Adar couldn't understand why, but his heart broke at the sight. Losing a loved one was hard, but losing two people made the heartbreak even more unbearable, a knife to the chest, a wound too deep to heal.

Adar learned of the girl's family. Although he had never seen her in his entire twenty years of existence, he heard the hushed whispers on the street, the silent pity in the villagers' eyes as they watched the dead body be brought to the house. The women in the family, three daughters, had grasped one another as their visions blurred at the memory of their father, emotions torn apart under the cloudy sky. 

One girl, the niece, ran off to another direction, finding comfort in her grandfather's luscious garden of ember. Trees surrounded her, a pond stilled underneath her. Not even the memory of his work seemed to ease her sorrow, and Adar wished for nothing more than to help her. Even from afar, her anguish violently cut through him, and the crate began to feel heavier on his arms.

His best friend, Miraj, uneasily glanced at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he strained, readjusting the crate. 

"You seem distracted."

"I'm fine," said Adar, voice quiet. 

Seeming convinced, Miraj nodded. With one last glance at the girl, Adar followed his friend. They had promised his father that they would deliver the handmade cloths to the buyer before the Janazah (funeral prayer). Adar had no time for distractions when he had work to be done. 

"So, did you hear the rumors?" asked Miraj, his voice low as he suspiciously glanced among the villagers. 

For the humble age of twenty-one, Miraj was a star born from wealth in the city. He was a merchant, who relied heavily on the goods that he bought from Adar's family and other producers. Most of the time, Miraj would be on a ship to ports in Indonesia or British-owned African lands while Adar could only dream of new worlds to explore. Through the use of letters, he had kept close contact with the merchant. 

The thought of rumors gave Adar great qualms. "I haven't heard a thing," he replied. 

"You always were the the type to stay out of trouble," remarked Miraj, visibly amused. 

Adar scowled. 

"Anyway," he began, leaning close to Adar's ears, "there are rumors that East Pakistan is seeking independence, taking the name of Bangladesh instead."

"Why?"

Miraj shrugged. "After decades of colonialism from the British and Pakistan's independence from India, we have been deprived of our freedom, becoming East Pakistan instead."

Adar was very familiar of his country's political problems, but he was also practical. "What are your thoughts on the revolution?" he asked, cautious of offending Miraj with his own beliefs.

"Personally, I'm not the biggest fan. The extremely liberal leaders will cause the Muslim ummah (community) to compromise their religion for the purpose of poor leadership. We can fight all we want, but at the end of the day, Islam should be our priority. Allah comes first."

"How can they believe that independence will solve our problems? Have they not seen the failure of the Haitian revolution a hundred years ago? They still don't have a prospering economy," argued Adar as he supported his friend's belief. Independence did not solve core problems and was very dependent on new leadership. 

Miraj smiled. "I see you have taken your history classes very well."

"I want my people to survive, Miraj," he stated. "I want the Muslims to prosper. A painful war may cause too many heartaches for the community to heal from."