East of Hounslow. Khurrum Rahman

with calculated eyes. ‘Brother Shariff. You have your way and I have mine. There is one jungle and one lion‚’ Khan continued. Left Twin narrowed his eyes in confusion as to where Khan was going with this off-script jungle/lion metaphor. ‘And when the lion is cornered he attacks with everything he has. That’s what we are. Lions!’

      ‘We are not animals‚ Khan. We are—’

      ‘Enough‚’ Khan shouted‚ loud enough for everyone’s Wudu to be broken. ‘This meeting is over‚’ he declared. As he looked around the room‚ his eyes stopped briefly on me before flitting away. ‘If you want to go against me then go home and put on your lipstick and bangles. Whoever is with me‚ meet me outside.’ He inhaled through his nose‚ nostrils flared and then with a puff of his chest Khan declared‚ ‘Tonight… we are soldiers.’

      Unlike the last time when he’d referred to us as soldiers‚ and the room went fucking mental‚ this time‚ not a murmur. I could see the look on his face‚ he wore a crazy expression. Nothing good had ever come out of that expression.

      Khan tried again. This time thumping his chest with his fist. ‘Soldiers of Islam…’ Again‚ nothing. No reaction‚ or at least not the one he was hoping for. ‘Soldiers of Allah!’ Man‚ he was getting desperate. I noticed Parvez‚ battling with himself‚ squirming in his chair. Parvez had always hero-worshipped Khan ever since I could remember‚ and now I could see his eyes siding with Khan. He started to rise from his chair; I grabbed his elbow and tried to force him back down.

      ‘Parvez. Don’t be a sap. Sit down‚’ I pleaded. But he wrenched his arm away from my grip and stood up. He looked adoringly towards Khan and thumped his puny chest.

      ‘Brother Khan‚’ he said‚ his little voice carried comfortably across the room. ‘I am a soldier of Allah.’

      ‘Good man‚’ Khan said. ‘What’s your name‚ Brother?’

      Ouch. I could see a glimpse of hurt in Parvez’s eyes. Last year when Khan had been in trouble with the police for scratching cars with private number plates and needed an alibi or something‚ I don’t know the whole story‚ but Parvez sorted him right out. So for Khan not to remember his name must have really‚ really upset him… But he didn’t let it show.

      ‘Parvez‚’ said Parvez.

      Khan nodded‚ some distinct acknowledgement‚ but not much.

      ‘Parvez‚ and anybody else who wants to join me. I’ll be outside.’ And with that and a scowl‚ Khan stomped out of Ali’s Diner.

6

      Let me tell you something about Muslims. And I’m talking about the majority here. Despite the contrary belief‚ we are a patient‚ tolerant and sincere bunch. We integrate with those around us. Really‚ we don’t care if you’re black‚ white‚ Jew‚ Christian‚ straight‚ gay‚ or a pre-op drag queen; we will sit with you and break bread with you. On Christmas Day we’ll eat a halal chicken with all the trimmings whilst watching the Queen’s Speech‚ and we’ll overdose on chocolate eggs at Easter. Some places in England don’t fully celebrate St George’s Day because it may offend Muslims. That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. You don’t see us backing away when it comes to celebrating Eid‚ or the Hindus secretly cowering away in the corner when it’s Diwali. No‚ we give it full throttle and we go at it with gusto. The trouble is‚ it’s always the minority opinion that makes the waves. That’s what is printed and spewed out on the news with bells and whistles added for effect‚ with talking heads‚ fucking so called experts‚ adding to the propaganda. It’s sensationally sensationalised sensationalism.

      Truly‚ most of us‚ we don’t care. Celebrate away. Fly that flag.

      That is exactly what happened at Ali’s diner. Yes‚ we were angry. But actually going out there and carrying out the revenge‚ the act‚ it’s not going to happen‚ not by the majority anyway. But there are always one or two or three‚ and it’s these idiots that will make the news‚ fuel the gossip and form public opinion‚ putting us back to square one where we have to keep explaining ourselves – we’re not all like that‚ it’s the fucking minority!

      It’s by this token‚ you shouldn’t be surprised to hear‚ that Khan and Parvez were standing outside Ali’s Diner‚ in the biting cold‚ planning and plotting revenge. The rest of them stayed in the warmth and listened as Shariff collectively and peacefully tried to find a way to put a foot forward. I had other things on my mind. I had to get back to my car and make sure all the money I’d collected was collated in rubber bands just as Silas liked. I thought maybe I would take a walk after‚ as the fried chicken was sitting heavy on my heart. I just didn’t want to be sitting in Ali’s anymore. I walked out and Khan and Parvez turned expectantly. I greeted them with raised eyebrows.

      ‘Anybody else coming?’ Parvez asked.

      ‘No‚ man. They’re all inside. Shariff is holding court‚ ain’t no one coming‚’ I said. ‘Where are The Twins?’

      ‘Gone. Early start tomorrow‚’ Khan said. ‘They both have job interviews in the morning.’

      ‘Oh. Right. So that’s that then‚’ I said‚ with an air of what I hoped was finality. Parvez looked hopefully at Khan and I could just picture the chimps in Khan’s head trying to come to a decision.

      ‘No‚’ Khan said. ‘That’s not that. Fuck The Twins and fuck the weak-ass Pakis in there. We don’t need them. It’s just us… The three of us.’

      Khan and Parvez bumped fists.

      ‘Hang on a minute! No fucking way‚ man. You both do whatever the hell you want. Don’t get me involved.’

      Khan zipped up his nineties leather jacket with a disappointed shake of his head. I watched it slide over his growing belly.

      ‘Come on‚ Brother‚’ Parvez said to me. ‘We can’t let this go unpunished. We’re relying on you.’ He had this determined look in his eyes‚ a look that was new to me. It didn’t suit him. I was concerned that Khan was going to get him beaten up‚ or worse. ‘They disrespected the Masjid‚ Jay. We can’t let them get away with that. Right‚ Khan?’

      ‘Leave it out‚ Parvez. He ain’t coming‚’ Khan said. ‘Bunch of pussy holes‚ that’s what your generation is.’

      ‘Parvez‚ a word‚ please‚’ I requested.

      ‘Anything you want to say‚ Brother‚ you can say—’

      ‘Fuck’s sake‚ Parvez. Come here for a minute.’

      Parvez looked to Khan for instruction and Khan‚ after giving me an arrogant smile‚ nodded acquiescently. I moved a few steps away and waited under a dimly lit lamp post. Parvez followed suit and stood in front of me. No‚ stood is wrong. He was excitedly‚ or nervously – probably the former – hopping around from one foot to the other. He either wanted to go toilet or he was just hyped up‚ probably the latter.

      ‘Parvez. Are you sure about this? This is not you‚ man.’

      ‘No‚ this is me‚ Jay‚ and this is you. This is all of us. I am sick and tired of being targeted. Personally and as a religion. Allah knows I try to be patient‚ bite my tongue and curb my anger. But with Khan behind me‚ I know we can hit them. Hard. Send a message‚ yes?’

      Parvez the Preacher. Parvez the Pacifist. Now Parvez the Psycho. Drunk on a few meaningless words from a meaningless thug who he fucking idolised. I wanted to grab him by his Primark shirt lapels and shake the dumb out of him but I knew that would not make a touch of difference.

      ‘You’re sure about this?’ I asked

      He stopped hopping for a moment and looked me right in the eyes. ‘I’m