Chapter 9
The street was so familiar, it should be like coming home, Syed thought. The unassuming building up on the left was a place where he had many hours in the last few years, kneeling alongside his father and Tam, praying for forgiveness, praying for a miracle, praying to be different. But all those prayers seemed to have gone unanswered. And instead of a place of refuge and comfort, the mosque in front of him seemed full of peril and threat.
Syed hesitated a hundred yards from the door to the men's section. It would be so easy to turn around and walk away. He shouldn't be doing this just to please Christian, he had to be doing it for himself. He'd insisted to Christian that he was a Muslim, that he could be both –gay and religious - and the Muslim bit of that had to mean more than just the way he'd been brought up. If I don't do it now, he thought, I'll have to do it one day. I can't just switch it off. Besides, he smiled briefly to himself, Christian will just nag me until I do this. Syed stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and headed for the curtained door.
The men were gathering for sunset prayers. A few familiar faces stared at Syed as he entered the prayer hall in his socks, his feet sinking into the rich depth of the carpet. Instinctively, he headed for his usual spot at the front of the hall. Syed knew that his departure from his parents' home, and his new living arrangements, would be known to all the men there. The most he could hope for would be tolerance alongside the disapproval.
The familiar sight of the back of his father's head brought him up short. He held back, looking for a spot at the side of the hall where he could pray unobtrusively and leave unnoticed. But it was too late, two of the men had nudged his father, pointing towards him. Syed watched his father hesitate, cast his eyes around the room, then rise to his feet and cross the floor in swift strides.
"Get out." Masood's voice was quiet and brimming with anger.
"Dad..."
"I said, get out."
Syed clenched his fists inside the pockets of his jeans. "I've come to pray. Not to fight."
"You don't belong here. Now leave."
"Anyone and everyone belongs here. We're all children of Allah. I only want to pray."
"You belong in the gutter with the animals. You and him... both of you."
A handful of men had gathered, standing behind Masood, watching carefully. The sight of Christian's face flashed in front of Syed's eyes. Was this really what the man he loved wanted for him?
"Dad, I'm sorry. I've tried so hard. You know I have. But it will never change the way I am. The way Allah made me."
Masood took a sharp intake of breath. "Such words are blasphemy, Syed. You are not worthy to be in a house of prayer."
"I..." Syed faltered, not knowing what to say.
"Leave this place. And leave my family alone. I don't want you anywhere near my children –Tamwar, or Kamil. Do you hear me? Don't speak to them, don't look at them, don't even think of them."
"Dad... please."
"Don't call me that. You're not my son. I disown you – three times over." Masood turned around and walked back to his place at the front of the hall. Syed watched his father's shoulders shaking, and realised that his own were shaking too. He turned around and left the mosque, without looking back.
Syed ignored the stone that went skimming over his head. His father's last taunts were searing through his head, leaving him unaware of what was going on around him. The first stone was followed by another, then one that struck him on his shoulder. He rubbed the spot where it had hit, vaguely conscious of more shouts behind him. And then he heard the word that made his father's words freeze, and fear creep in instead. "Oy, Paki!"
Syed kept walking. "Shit face! I'm talking to you. Stay where you are."
"Get lost!" Syed's pace quickened.
It was another voice, younger, shriller. "Where you going, Paki boy? Heading for the tube with your rucksack are you?"
Footsteps sped up behind him and hands reached out to grab him, spinning him round. There were three of them, not much more than kids, short cropped hair and spots. And big, steel capped boots.
"I'm not bothering you. Leave me alone." Syed's eyes scanned the street around him but there was no-one else there.
"What you gonna do? Blow up a tube train? We saw you in there, with all your Paki friends. Planning all your terrorist stuff. People like you need to be sent back to where you come from." The kid turned to his mates. "Lucky, we're here really. For the good of the general public, like."
"I'm as British as you are." Syed tried to turn away but the hands grabbed him, pushing him to the floor. The first kick landed dead on his spine, each wave of pain like a hammer smashing bone.
