We Three Kings

Late into Saturday morning, Yasmeen laid in her bed, listening to the sounds beyond her bedroom walls. Her mother and father talked in the kitchen before her father went to the carpet store for the rest of the day.
Bollywood music played on the television as Mohammad laid on the couch. In the kitchen, the igniter clicked as Mrs. Bajwa turned the knob on the stove. She retrieved a saucepan from the cupboard and placed it over the heat.
Yasmeen’s hand searched around under her bed until it landed on the leather cover of her journal. She pulled it out and unfastened the metal snap. She leaned her back against the headboard and rested the book on her lap.
As she wrote in her journal, Mrs. Bajwa cooked breakfast in the kitchen. She poured condensed milk into the saucepan and stirred it while it simmered. When it came to a boil, she added sugar and cardimom powder. In a separate pan, she fried a handful of raisins and almonds. The fruity raisin smell drifted through the air.
“Yasmeen?” a voice called softly through the door. It was her mother.
“Yes?”
“Can you round everybody up for breakfast?”
“What are we having?”
“Rice pudding and cinnamon toast.”
“Sounds delicious,” said Yasmeen. She tucked her journal back into place before changing into her day clothes. She picked out a pair of comfortable trousers and a blouse called a kameez. The tail of her kameez fell over hips. For Yasmeen, she found the kameez as comfortable as her pajamas.
Yasmeen walked throughout the house. Mohammad was still in the living room, watching television. His school books were spread across the living room floor as he worked on a report for class. Even on Saturday, Mohammad was diligent in his studies.
Meanwhile, Faisal sat on the front porch wrapping his hockey stick with stick tape. Yasmeen stood at the screen door, quietly observing her brother. The tape shuddered noisily as he peeled it from the roll. Faisal pressed each piece carefully into place.
“Faisal, it’s breakfast time,” she said.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” he said.
“Have you seen little Khan?”
“I think he’s in the bedroom,” he replied.
“I’ve already looked there,” she said.
Yasmeen searched each room again before returning to the kitchen.
“Has anyone seen Khan?” she asked.
“I think he’s behind the couch.”
Often, Khan crawled behind the couch and drew in his sketchbook. Yasmeen went to the living room and crouched down. Sure enough, there was Khan, stretched out behind the couch, playing with his crayons.
He had drawn a spiderweb of black lines and was filling them in with various bright colors.
“What are you drawing?” asked Yasmeen.
“I’m making a mosaic,” said Khan.
“Like the toomb?”
“Like I think the tomb must’ve looked when it was firt built.”
“I bet it will be very pretty,” said his sister.
“I hope so.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I guess so.”
“Breakfast’s ready. Mom made rice pudding and cinnamon toast. Let’s wash up so we can eat before we go to Faisal’s game.”
Khan put away his crayons and folded up his sketchbook. He followed Yasmeen to the wash basin and washed his hands before they joined everyone at the kitchen table
In a rush to get ready for the game, Faisal quickly finished his breakfast. He went to his bedroom and packed his gym bag with his hockey gear. The rest of the Bajwa children took their time with breakfast, eating multiple bowls of warm rice pudding and several pieces crunchy cinnamon toast.
“Come on, it’s time to go,” said Mrs. Bajwa.
“We still have time. The game doesn’t start until the afternoon,” said Mohammad.
“Your father needed to use the car today, so we have to take a bus. I also want to get there early so we can get a good seat,” said Mrs. Bajwa.
They caught the bus and rode to the field hockey stadium. The two older boys sat in one seat while Yasmeen sat with Khan, across the row. Although she preferred the window seat, she gave it to Khan. He laid his head on his arm and placed his arm out the window. He waved his arm in the wind, surfing the air current.
Yasmeen looked over his shoulder, watching as the bus past Badshahi Mosque and the Min-a-re Tower. Unlike Buddhu’s Tomb, the stonework of the Mosque gleamed in the sunlight. Four walls stretched nearly two-hundred meters on each side. A tower, called a minaret, guarded each corner. Three domes, like giant white teardrops, stood across the the southwestern wall.
Badshahi Mosque was built at the end of the Mughal Empire. At special times, famous religious leaders cited writings from the Muslim holy book, the Quran. At one time, the mosque was the largest of its kind, able to house 5,000 people at a time.
A crowd had already gathered inside the coliseum. Faisal walked to the locker room while the rest of the family went to the bleachers.
Yasmeen sat between her two brothers while they cheered for their brother Faisal. Everyone in the Bajwa family always supported each other. While the game played on, Yasmeen thought about the many ancient buildings throughout the city. Most of the tombs, mosques, and palaces had been around over four centuries.
In the time of Mughal emperors, the city of Lahore was a grand place. The empire had grown to its largest, covering what is now Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan.
The center of all cultural activity, Lahore’s palaces glimmered with beauty. Chief among the Mughal emperors were Akbar, his son Jahangir and Jahangir’s son, Shah Jahan. Like his father and grandfather before him, Shah Jahan established a cultural mecca.
Shah Jahan built great palaces, like the Taj Mahal in Agra, India, which he built as a monument to his lovely queen, Mumtaz. He also built the Red Fort in Delhi, as well as the Wazir Khan Mosque, the Lahore Fort, and the Jahangir Mausoleum for his father. Although his father, Jahangir, also loved the arts, Shah Jahan fully established the arts, even as a painter and poet himself.
Jahangir, on the other hand, was better known as a diplomatic leader. Although his name, Jahangir, meant “Seizer of the world”, Jahangir was known for his love of the arts and the development of beautiful places, like Shalimar Gardens. His wife, Nur Jahan, was called the “Light of the World”, for her love of the arts.
At this time, the empire was its most stable and productive. Jahangir established a chain of justice, where even the common man could hold court with the one and only king.
On the other hand, Shah Jahan’s grandfather, Akbar the Great, was a noble warlord. His court included the “Navartnas” (the nine gems), a group of men who led his Mughal armies. Under Akbar, the empire became its greatest in size. The fierce warrior-king Akbar was only stopped by natural boundaries. In the southwest, Akbar’s warriors found the Indian Ocean. To the north, it was the mountains of Kashmir and to the south, not even the Narmada River in India could stop their progress.
Yasmeen thought about how different each of the three kings had been. Then, she thought about her brothers, Mohammad, Faisul, and Khan. Each Bagwa boy had an independent spirit, although they shared the same father.
Unlike the thoughtful Mohammad and the sentimental Khan, Faisal was like Akbar the Great, a great competitor and a warrior on the hockey field.
The team from Islamabad scored first and led 1-0. Faisal and his teammates had several chances, but failed to score a goal during the first half. It wasn’t until late into the game, when one of Islamabad’s defenders tripped a striker, that Lahore had a real chance to tie the game. The umpire awarded a penalty stroke.
By far, Faisal Bajwa was not the biggest or fastest of the players on Lahore’s field hockey team. What he lacked in size, he made up for in sheer determination. At home, he spent most of his time out behind the house, practicing his shots and passes.
Each day after school, he fetched the laundry basket from the basement along with a piece of wire. He tied the laundry basket to the clothesline and set a half-dozen plastic hockey balls on the sidewalk behind the house. He practiced shots, flicking the balls up and into the basket. The basket clunked as the balls hit the bottom.
Because of his accuracy, Faisal took most long corners and penalty strokes. Just as Faisal got ready for the flick, one of his teammates whispered in his ear. Faisal nodded, then placed the ball on the mark.
The goalkeeper waited at in the crease and the umpire raised his hand. After the whistle, Faisal took one quick stroke at the ball. It flew upward and snapped against the goal post at the upper right hand corner of the net. Faisal score the tying goal!
The Bajwas jumped and cheered. Khan shoued his older brother’s name, “Go Faisal!”
Late in the game, Mr. Bajwa arrived at the game, just in time to see one of Faisal’s teammates score the winning goal. The Bajwas jumped and cheered again. At the end of the game, it was Lahore 2, Islamabad 1.
Faisal joined his family outside the coliseum after the game. Khan held Faisal’s hockey stick as the rest of the family congratulated the goal scorer. Meanwhile, Khan pretended to play field hockey in the gravel beside the family.
“I heard you scored a goal,” said Mr. Bajwa.
“It was no big deal, just a P.S.”
“A goal from a penalty stroke is just as good as any other,” said his father, “If the coach didn’t have faith in you, he wouldn’t let you take the P.S.”
“We were talking about going out for dinner. Can you go with us?” asked Mrs. Bajwa.
“The coach wanted us to meet up at Bundukhan,” replied Faisal.
“We can all go there, too. Is anyone else interested in kebabs?”
All the children raised their hands and so did Mr. Bajwa.
“Kebabs it is,” said Mrs. Bajwa.They loaded into the car and Mr. Bajwa drove down Grand Trunk road until they reached Bundukhan Kebab House. Many of Faisal’s teammaters were already there. Mr. Bajwa handed some ruppes to Faisal and sent him on his way. The rest of the Bajwa family sat together, ready for a fire-grilled feast.