Call Me Ibrahim Chapter 7

## Story

Another seventeen years passed. Today marked another new year. Joshua turned fifty. He did not tell anyone that it was his birthday. He took comfort in the candles that lit up the town square.

Electricity now reached all corners inhabited by people. Yet, they vowed never to forget the darkness, the powerlessness, and the sense of loss they had all felt when they first arrived here. A custom of lighting candles in each square, village entrance, and home grew.

Every year, the people rediscovered many things: paper, books, schools, electricity, refrigeration, love, children, dreams, and hope. The candles' flames came to symbolize hope. The days were cold and dark, but the eyes of the people holding the candles were full of hope. What will they rediscover this year?

Ibrahim was uncomfortable with others investing their time and energy on him. He didn't deserve it, he thought. If you have that sort of time, then do something extra for society. Read an additional word out of that book. If that doesn't work for you, then copy down just one more word. These are the things he would say to the youth any time they offered to help him. The young people knew him to be a stubborn old man. Elijah was especially stubborn. Mister, you need to be more flexible. He watched a young politician giving an impassioned speech regarding his position from the opposite side of the table. He could see the deceased Elijah in the young man's face. The way he moved his mouth when he spoke, his choice of words, the examples he would use when making an explanation. Son, you learned so much from your father. Junior had inherited his father's passion and drive. He also possessed the ambition that his father had lacked. He wanted to mold Metro as he saw fit.

"Taking it step by step is the old way. It takes too long." The young man continued. "Don't you all want to see tall skyscrapers again with your own eyes? We need to build more factories. We have too many schools already. Do you even know what the illiteracy rate of the United States was at its peak? We're focusing too much on education. We need to cut down more trees. We can't think about the environment right now."

"Those are dangerous ideas. Those are the very ideas that provoked God's wrath," said the priest as he lay reclining in a chair. He was slowly dying. A tumor in his lung weakened his breathing and speech.

"There you go again, Father. Do you realize we have too many churches?" Elijah retorted.

"Don't try to flip this around on me, son. Just say you want Metro in your hands," said the priest.

He was still lucid despite now turning his dying gaze towards God.

"It's not that, exactly. I would need everyone's help to pull that off." He would neither confirm nor deny.

"Joshua, knock some sense into this boy." The priest pleaded.

"I am twenty-six years old. I am not a boy. You need to take a good look, Father." His pride hurt, Elijah's tone turned aggressive.

"Don't speak to the Father like that, Elijah. Your father would've ripped you a new one," said Herman. Elijah looked sullen, but stayed quiet.

The young politician dreaded Herman. He disliked her suspicious nature and the way she glared. She was forty now. The bright light of youth had long since faded, yet her figure remained the same and wrinkles had not yet formed around her eyes. Only her rage had grown. The warmth had left her eyes the moment she was rejected. All her love had turned into hatred. The deeper her unrequited love became, the larger her rage grew. She lived alone, as he lived alone. She coldly rejected many proposals. Don't you see? I live like this because of you, she seemed to be screaming with her entire being. She continued to help him, but not as wholly as before. She found her own path, just like Elijah had.

The island which they had built up together was on the brink of falling apart. All the problems they had hitherto hidden were now coming to surface. Elijah's ambitions, Herman's distrust, and the Priest's otherworldliness clashed and grew out of their discussions to become reality.

"What did you name yours, Father?" Herman asked to break the silence.

"Nineveh."

"There will be strong opposition to that, Father." Elijah snorted. He was right. While creating a spiritual city to embrace all religions was a noble idea, simply naming the city was proving to be a rocky proposition. The name was just too Christian.

"Wouldn't Babel be more fitting?" He finally spoke. Everyone was relieved. He had opposed the split to the very end. It was only during the last discussion that they realized he was backing down. Elijah was visibly excited. "It's a very good name, Joshua. God's city that existed before religion did. It's like everyone coming together to build a tower."

"Except that tower collapsed." Herman was especially sarcastic.

"Because everyone spoke a different language. My city will be different," said the priest. He was amused.

"What are you going to call your city?" Elijah turned his head toward Herman and asked.

"I'm…" she hesitated. He knew her reasons for hesitating.

Her city will be called Alexandria, the name she had selected for a daughter, had she had one.

## See Also

* Story (Complete version)
* Call Me Ibrahim

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