ON HOLD The perks of being a Hafizah

The voice from the corner of the room

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Yahya's POV

"Come in"

I reached for the handle and pulled the door open letting my self in and holding it out for Amatullah. She on the other hand stood outside the room holding the door wide open.

Within the large room stood figures slowly averting their gaze towards us. By us I mean glancing at me and staring at Amatullah. Where is the haya (shame)?

"Assalamualaykum wa rehmatullah" croaked a voice in the corner end of the room but it was evident that it was directed at us.

"Urm wa alaykum salam" I replied.

"Wa alaykum Salam" Amatullah spoke very quietly and softly and so her response was in audible if you are in the other side of the room.

"I'm sure I called in 2 people. Am I right? Yahya and Huma?" The voice spoke again

"Amatullah you mean?" I spoke.

"Oh yes. I guess she has gone"

Gone?

Where?

My heart beated faster? What was this? Some sort of kidnapping scheme?

Not only did I feel so weirdly displaced, I also felt the displacement that Amatullah May had been feeling. They say the ummah is one body? Well it felt like we all excreted signs of displacement or even more so danger.

"The other Salam I was waiting for?"

"Wa alaykum salam" Amatullah managed to shout as her voice shook out of shyness.

"Good" the voice replied.

The room was spilled with an edgy silence.

"Yahya full Quran Hifz am I correct?"the voice spoke.

"Urm yes"

"Arabic?"

"Na'am" I hesitantly spoke a response.

What was this?

"Amatullah, half Quran Hifz am I correct?"

"Na'am" she spoke while nodding her head in the hope that one of the types of communication had reached the voice in the corner.

"Don't worry. I don't expect an Arabic response from you" the voice then Let out a soft chuckle.

"Ok both of you come here"

. The group of boys that were huddled near the man as it were, moved to the side revealing a medium built midish aged man.

Engraved in his face was challenge and all things that seemed impossible. He had a very blank expression that was suited up with a medium length beard that looked as if it was straightened with one of those straightening thing that women use.

His features was deep and hollow but from what was evident, a bright light like glow eminated from his forehead that was stamped with a mark of Iman and his cheeks and the bridge of his long thin nose.

The silence became piercing but what's more was his stare that penetrated through me and unto Amatullah.

Suddenly the silent broke out.

"4 weeks" he said staring at me awaiting for a reaction.

4 weeks? It's statement played no significance to me but meant a lot to this man.

"One competition" his gaze averted to Amatullah and within a split second moved his gaze to the ceiling.

Competition? Wait, what?