Mr. Kemal Questions God Asnia Asim (bio) Keywords poetry, Asnia Asim, aging, God, Allah, marriage Maybe it was a reaction to old age; it could be thathe resented retired life. But the ex-neurologist,amateur collector of oriental coins, had recently taken to scolding his poor wife for all that prayingunder her breath, Mashallah-this and Inshallah-that.Last week, even as she tripped over the bathroom mat and almost broke her hip, he heard herthanking Allah for steadying her faltering step.Enough was enough. “So what’s the point of this God?” he flat out asked her one day.“There is a thing called the Big Bang, you know.”She sipped her tea in awe. “And by the way, there are no djinns in the attic.” His smile grew bitter.“And lightning won’t strike if I touch the Quranwith my unwashed hands. Look—” he picked up the book, his wife about to cry. But his gentle heartinterfered; he set down the holy text and stormed outof the house. It was not a complete surprise; Mrs. Kemal knew her man. He blasphemedmore arduously during the Monsoon, when his jointsflamed up in pain. The world brought itself to him in numbers. He adored patterns. The books in his studywere immaculately lined, and he took tea at exactly six amand eight pm. Neighbors had informed her about Friday, [End Page 13] when the good doctor had challenged the mosque clericto prove piety in the Prophet’s bedding a dozen women.But unlike her relatives, Mrs. Kemal was not disheartened. She was one of those who know they know moreby knowing less. When she touched a plant or lookeddeeply at a shawl it quickened with feeling— even the blank television, a phone blinking for chargecould move her to tears. The world was a sacred objectthat required no doing on her part, no proving. When she touched her head to the prayer mat, she foundin her imperfection a wholeness—. Unlike Mr. Kemal,she wasn’t afraid of paradoxes; they helped her sense the wound beneath her husband’s discontent. So, at nightwhen he finally took off his glasses, carefully arranged themon top of his book, when long umbelling snores wove out of his breath, she recited verses of protection and gentlyblew them on his bare head. From the opened windowshe stared at the sky and wondered about the Big Bang. Clouds came so near, lightning bent, dominion of heatat its end: jasmine, red mangoes, smells of the bazaar—the whole city flooding in to greet Mr. and Mrs. Kemal. [End Page 14] Asnia Asim asnia asim’s debut chapbook Quarantine with Rilke (Finishing Line Press) was listed by Ms. Magazine as “one of the most exciting and necessary collections published late last year and forthcoming in 2022.” Her poems have received multiple nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her latest work can be found in Apogee Journal, Michigan Quarterly Review, CALYX, Typehouse, and Cream City Review, among others. She is the recipient of the University of Chicago’s Humanities Fellowship and Brandeis University’s Allan Slifka Award. Copyright © 2023 The Massachusetts Review, Inc
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Oct 18, 2024
Ashley M Appleby 
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