Tricky Teen Girl: A Whisper of Peace [Ramadan Story]

Surah Rehman

The only technology Jasir has access to is the desktop computer. The monitor is positioned to that everyone can see what's going on. He's very touchy about us peering pointedly at his online stuff, but he lets Mama take a look at his main pages. Jasir is a Facebook newbie. I know, there are eight-year-olds on Facebook, but the legal age to sign up for Facebook is thirteen, and Papa stuck to that rule until the very second Jasir officially hit his teenage years. There was some disagreement whether we should wait until midnight or until the actual time of his birth, but at Jasir's pleading, Baba set up an account for him using the family email address. Yes, we have a joint family email address for family members to contact us. It's real use is by Jasir to sign up for different Internet games, and now, to sign in to Facebook. He takes great pride in the fact that he has his very own personal Facebook password. What he doesn't know is that Leena has cracked it already. (Gamer passwords are predictable.) I suspect that she checks his Facebook inbox sometimes, but whatever she does, Jasir either doesn't know or doesn't react to it.
I shake my head at Jasir, who raises his eyebrows at me. Slowly, he unplugs the headphones from the desktop. The sound of Quranic recitation fills the room. My eyes widen. It's absolutely enthralling.
I flap my hands at Jasir to make him pause the audio. To my surprise, he waits until there is a slight pause in the recitation that signals the end of an ayah. Then he pauses the playback.
Bubbles of questions pop and froth in my mind. How come, when I am hooked on Islamic poetry, my little brother is listening to the Quran? Wasn't he into rap music or something?
"What...?" A question forms in my mouth, but Jasir dismisses it before it exits my lips.
"Papa set down a no-music Quran-only rule for me this Ramadan. I'm not really used to listening to Quran...I don't understand what is being said, but then Papa sent me this Soundcloud link to this awesome recitation of a Surah. It's the only one I listen to. The rest of the time I listen to podcasts instead." He winks at me.
"What kind of podcasts?" I demand to know.
"Don't be Mama. One mother is enough for me," Jasir replies.
"How can you listen to a podcast without an iPod?" I am confused.
Jasir chuckles. "My poor technology-challenged sister." He returns to clicking around on the desktop monitor.
"Who are you calling technology-challenged?" I take a few steps towards him, deliberately stepping into his no-fly zone. The Jasir No-Fly Zone is the area around him in which nobody can go while he's using the desktop, except Mama, and that too only for an official checkup. Predictably, this infuriates him.
"Inaya!" His breaking teenage voice fills the room.
"Inaya Api," comes Mama's voice automatically from the master bedroom.
"I'm not going to call her 'sister' when she violates me!"
I laugh. "When did you learn such big words?"
Jasir stands up, pushing the computer chair back. The mouse slips off the computer table and hangs pitifully by its cord. He hasn't even opened his mouth properly to insult me when Mama appears. She has a wires-being-pulled sensor that draws her in from all corners of the house towards the offending person.
"Janaya! Yasir!"
"Jasir", "Inaya", both of us correct her by mentioning our proper names simultaneously.
"Pick up that mouse now!"
Jasir sticks out his chin. "I won't."
Mama pushes past him, picks up the mouse, places it on the mousepad, and pushes the power button on the CPU. Jasir's shriek bounces off the walls.
"I didn't save my game!" The suffering in his voice runs deep.
"You should have thought of that before you thought of disobeying me," Mama said. "Now go to your room!"
Unlike Leena and I, who have portable gadgets to use when banished to our rooms, Jasir is actually deprived when he is grounded.
"Noooooooooo," he wails. "I am not going!"
Mama grabs him by the shoulders and starts steering him towards his room. "You are going and you are going now!"
Jasir falls limp and allows himself to be taken to his room, grumbling.
I try to shake the incident from my thoughts, and go to check the mail. No Ramadan Journal. Gosh, why is it taking so long?
"Mama!" I call out. It's probably not the ideal time to ask her about it, but I'm desperate.
"Come over here," she calls back from her room.
I hasten towards the master bedroom. Mama is sitting at the edge of the bed in the pose in which she usually supplicates. I know she has been praying for Jasir's good behavior and for his guidance. Probably Leena's and mine, too.
"Mama, I can't find my Ramadan Journal in the mail."
"What can I do about it? I don't get to see your email, do I?" Mama looks up at me.
"Mama, not my email. Snail mail."
"What mail?"
"Regular mail. Post. You know, bills and stuff."
"You ordered a real book? I thought it was one of those ebooks you're always buying and that you had already read it through and ordered part two."
I tap my forehead. "Yes, it's a 'real' one, like last year's."
Mama sits up straight. "Why don't you use last year's then?"
"Oh, no. I want this year's too."
"Collector's items," Mama says almost under her breath but loud enough for me to hear.
"They're not collector's items!" I turn halfway towards the door. "I'll check my email, though. Thanks for the idea." I skip my way down the hall towards my room.
Sure enough, there is an email from the vendor in my inbox. I click to open it.
***
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