AFTER DARK

Chapter 13

Oblivious to where I was headed, that too with a man I barely knew, I was surprisingly quite alright. There were no pangs of fear or worry, rather small tremulous waves of excitement.

As I got into Rehan's car, I could sense a familiar smell -- I knew what it was; I couldn't have been wrong. There it was again ... the weird smell ... that pungent smell of ashes ... cigarettes ... scars.. only this time there was no smoke no lit cigarette, just ashes in the ash tray, with nothing but a faint smell.

It hit me then that Rehan was like Danial. So I unconsciously rubbed the scars on my right hand. I noticed Rehan's gaze on me. He was looking at my scars. Probably he didn't understand what was going on.

With every intake of breath, I closed my nostrils, so as to not breathe the smell of old cigarette ash. Since I was in his car, I couldn't even dare to question his reasons for smoking. I could've asked him to stop the car and let me out, but somewhere deep down, I wanted to face my fears and get over them. Somehow, I chose to believe there was a reason (greater than my understanding) that this man had come into my life, and I wasn't willing to let go so easily.

To silence the thoughts of fear was a bit hard at first, but oddly enough, everytime I looked into his eyes I felt a sense of peace: a sense of belonging.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" He asked, turning on the sound system of his car.
"No preference ... you can play whatever you like."
"I listen to just about everything -- well, I don't like rock n that dark metal stuff ... but other than that ... I listen to music of all countries ... all the contemporaries and the classics too."
"Sounds like you're really into music," I said, pursing my lips.
"Music is like water for our souls," he said, adjusting the volume of the song playing in the background. "Without music, our souls are dry as a desert land. There's no passion, no longing in life."
"I haven't listened to music in a while..." I said, feeling the dryness in my words.
"Why -- because the mullah says its haram?" He asked, with a hint of sarcasm.
"No, it just ... doesn't appeal to me anymore."
"Aa' I see -- well, there's a song for every mood, and that's the beauty of music."

He turned the steering, driving us up onto the long empty road.

"The musician strums the chords of the instrument and plays a wistful melody, and though the strings of the instrument are played ... it is really the human heart that vibrates ... for in the heart of every believer flames the longing of love and Union for Allah. You see, music is simply the song of the soul. The soul speaks what it feels, that's all."

With a contemplative side-long gaze, I looked at him and wondered who this man really was -- more than a stranger, sometimes he felt like an alien to me. An alien who spoke a different language from the rest of the civilization.

Once the songs were played in the background, he began to grow quieter and quieter. I too, didn't feel the need to speak anymore.

With a relaxed mind, I rested back on the seat and looked out the window for the rest of the ride.

The place Rehan took me to was a scenic setting, somewhere in the rocky mountains of Al-Ain.

When we arrived at the place, I felt a heightened sense of relaxation. Set in the bosom of the rocky mountains were small streams of water, with lush green grass on either side of it.

Taking in the wonderful view, I stood there stunned, marvelling over the beauty of the place.