Barakah

- Blow For Blow

8th April, 2020.

An insight into his mind eh?

. . . . . . . .

Jalal

Jalal rested his thoughts as he strode into the park scenery. It was mid September, airy and moist.

One month and half of another.

It had been that long since he had lost half of himself in a sin that would certainly come to own him.

Cuff him in guilt.

It had also been that long since he last met up with Mahmud, his under wraps maternal cousin and closest friend. Jalal had been trying to reach him for months but couldn't.

Mahmud was pissed and Jalal knew it was because he turned deaf ears to the advice he had offered him about those people. If only he had listened, then he wouldn't have been in the condition he was at the moment.

It was no use now, sleep had quit on him. His chest was so heavy it could sink and his mind was murky, like a thick mist full of so much anguish and much more self reproach. He couldn't even hide in his mind, in his own thoughts because they were too sick for him.

"Mahmud, how are you? Been a minute?" His tone was relentlessly barren as he approached the one man in his life he most trusted in.

"No, it hasn't been that long for me Jalal but for you, it's surely been hell." Mahmud wasn't one to hold back as they met gazes, nothing but bitter understanding reflecting in both their eyes.

Jalal crumbled in his frame. Muh holding him by the shoulder. It didn't take long for the news to stretch within the families. Muhammad Ali could be cold-blooded, dangerous, vindictive.

Jalal Knew he would be screwed for life. At least, for as long as Muhammad lived. It didn't matter that his family was predominant. Jalal was on his toes because he was wise enough to tell that taking him to court was nothing compared to what Muhammad had in mind.

Eventually, it would either be him or Muhammad that'll get torn down. The likeliness would be Muhammad, if only he'd agree to go down alone.

"It still is Muh. It still is. . . ." His phone ringing put an end to their pause. He gave a glance to his lock screen.

Jamila.

A pretty picture of her popped up.

"Won't you pick it? We have all day and night. I'm crashing at yours tonight." Muh suggested.

Jalal for a moment, felt in debt to Muh because he was in a pit of wretchedness. His own mother couldn't even look at him without the judgement of disappointment and disgust.

He was only a man and he needed faith to be put in him.

"You know, it was Jamila I saw on that night. It was so true Muh. . . . .No, it felt so true Muh. I couldn't grasp my mind and Wallahi, I feel so black-hearted for everything. If I could go back, I'd listen to you."