---
The stillness of dawn is pierced by the call to Fajr prayer.
"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar..."
The air fills with the fragrance of faith.
An elderly scholar, his white beard and turban giving his face a radiant glow, rises from his bed. Dressed in simple white clothes, he performs ablution. The cold water brightens his face even more. After offering prayer, he sits in a quiet corner of his modest home.
It's a small mud house with two rooms, a courtyard in the middle, and a peepal tree standing tall in it. Under the tree, earthen pots filled with grains are placed. The old man begins reciting the Holy Qur'an. His voice is so sweet, so peaceful, that it feels as though the whole village awakens to its rhythm.
When the first ray of sunlight touches the leaves of the tree, he is feeding his pigeons. Dozens of them flutter around him. Just then, a luxury car enters the village. A young man steps out, dressed in modern clothes, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He approaches the old man respectfully and greets him.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Baba Ji!"
The old man looks up from his recitation and smiles. "Wa Alaikum Assalam, my son."
The young man says softly, "Baba Ji, your voice… your tone… it stirs something deep inside the heart."
Baba Ji replies, "Where the heart stirs, my son, there love is born."
---
Scene Change:
A broken hut appears — holes in the roof, cracks on the walls.
An old man enters, leaning on a stick. "Rani! Rani, get up!" he shouts harshly.
Rani lies still. He shouts again, "Get up and go beg! How will the house run if you don't?"
From the corner, her mother groans weakly, "Khalid, don't send Rani today. She's been burning with fever all night."
Rani slowly sits up. "Abba, my body hurts all over… please, not today…"
Khalid angrily raises his stick. "If you don't earn, who will feed us?!"
Her mother pleads again, "Khalid! Please, she's just a child and she's sick."
He snaps bitterly, "And what will we eat? Pity doesn't fill stomachs!"
The stick lashes across Rani's back. She wipes her tears and walks toward the door.
"Abba… at least treat us like humans. We're humans too…"
And she leaves quietly.
---
In another corner of the same village, an old teacher sits under a tree, writing letters on a wooden tablet. Around him sit barefoot children — sons of laborers, orphans, beggars.
The teacher writes:
"A — Alif for Allah… Alif for Insaan (human)."
He says gently, "This letter Alif is what connects man to Allah. Alif means beginning — the start of life itself. From Alif comes man, from Alif comes Allah."
A child asks innocently, "Teacher, are Allah and humans the same?"
The teacher smiles, "No, my child. Allah is One — there is none like Him. Humans are full of flaws, but Allah is Merciful. In His sight, all humans are equal."
---
At the far end of the neighborhood, a transgender person walks out of a small alley — wearing a red long shirt and a green scarf, holding a chocolate in hand. Talking to himself, he says, "I wonder if Rani will come today… I don't know why she means so much to me…"
A flashback crosses his mind — that day when a few boys had mocked him.
"Dance for us, hijra!" they laughed.
Rani had appeared then, holding a stick, chasing them away.
"She's a human too! Aren't you ashamed?" Rani had shouted.
Since that day, Zulfi — that transgender person — had begun feeling something for Rani.
Now, lost in thought, he sees Rani walking toward him. Her hair disheveled, her face pale but beautiful. She says to a street vendor, "Please give me something to eat."
The vendor scolds her, "Get lost from here!"
Rani turns away silently. Zulfi steps forward, "Rani, wait…"
"What is it?" she asks irritably.
"I brought this for you — a chocolate."
"Why? Why should I take it?"
Zulfi says softly, "Because you were the only one who saw me as human."
Rani snaps, "I won't take anything bought with haram money! Dancing is a sin. You'll burn in hell!"
Zulfi's voice trembles, "And what about what you do? Is that halal?"
Rani's lips quiver, "It's my compulsion…"
"So is mine, Rani."
He tries to hold her hand. Rani screams, "Don't touch me, you unclean creature!" and pushes him away before leaving.
Zulfi stands frozen. Then he brushes off the dust and walks home — a tiny room he shares with three other transgenders.
Their leader says, "There's a wedding at Chaudhry's house. Get ready — we have to dance!"
Zulfi mutters, "I won't dance. Not anymore."
They laugh. The leader says, "If we don't dance, we'll die of hunger."
Zulfi says quietly, "Allah gave us hands — we'll work."
The leader sighs, "Think again, child. The world won't give us work or respect. When hunger strikes, you'll come running back."
Tears well in Zulfi's eyes. "If I come back, I won't deserve to be called human."
Finally, the leader says, "Fine. Come dance with us one last time. After that, do whatever your heart wants."
Zulfi silently nods.
---
At Chaudhry Sahib's mansion, there's a buzz of celebration.
His daughter, Yasmeen, is busy preparing for her wedding.
Her mother, Malika Begum, shows her some dresses.
"Look — these are for your sister. And these, the finest ones, are for you!"
Yasmeen frowns, "I don't like them."
Malika Begum sighs, "You never like anything."
Just then, Chaudhry Sahib enters. "What's the matter, my princess? What doesn't she like?"
"Her clothes, Abba," Yasmeen complains.
He smiles warmly, "If you don't like them, go buy your own tomorrow. Nothing in this world is more beautiful than what my daughter chooses."
A smile finally spreads on Yasmeen's face, and joy fills the entire house.
---
Meanwhile, in the city, a young man named Ahmer is painting on a canvas.
His friend walks in. "Going to the wedding?"
Ahmer nods, "Yes. Chaudhry Sahib's daughter is getting married. My father asked me to handle the arrangements."
"And your painting assignment?"
"I'll finish it later. My father's command comes first."
He sets the brush aside, leaving behind an unfinished painting —
A half-drawn face…
A face that will soon change his life forever.
---
To be continue...