Duniyata Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

“Hustle until you no longer need to introduce yourself. Push yourself, because no one else is going to do it for you.”

Those were his final words to the many wealthy investors with whom he had just concluded his last meeting, people who wanted to invest their shares in the new company he had only seven days left to launch. The words captured the attention of everyone present, and with them the meeting came to an end.

As he was saying goodbye to them, more than half of his attention was on his phone, which he had noticed glowing for some time. When the place had emptied, leaving only him and four of his guards, the same men who had accompanied him on this trip and who were standing at some distance from him, he calmly reached out and picked up the phone, letting out a warm breath from his mouth. In every movement, he felt joy at how the preparations for launching the company were progressing, with all the signs of brightness, promise, and success. He had never pinned his hopes on anything the way he had on this. He did not know why all his thoughts and attention kept returning to his desire to see this dream fulfilled. Since he arrived, he had not had even a complete two hours of rest, except late at night, after several more hours had passed and he forced himself to lie down. Every minute that passed had value to him. Besides, he had always been someone who respected time and gave it great importance.

The moment he saw only the name Farouq, he straightened up and said,

“Ya Salam.”

A faint smile wanted to appear on his face, that enchanted smile of his which one rarely had the fortune of seeing. There was a secret hidden in his smile that added even more dignity and charisma to him and brought out the natural handsomeness Allah had given him. He knew he was about to hear complaints from Farouq... because he had promised to call him and had lost count of how many times. In fact, he could not even remember the last time they had spoken on the phone.

“Don’t you have anything more important in your life than your business?”

That was the first thing Farouq said to him. He gave a hidden smile as he raised his long legs and rested them on the exquisitely beautiful table in front of him. There was such closeness and understanding between them that they could sense each other’s mood even without seeing each other’s faces. He knew he would hear even more than that from Farouq, because his voice was tight, as if signs of annoyance could even be seen on his face.

“If you take away you people, my family... then truly there is nothing more important in my entire life than it.”

“And where have you placed your marriage to that girl in all of this?”

Farouq asked him bluntly again, in a tone that clearly showed he wanted to press him hard.

“Marriage?... girl?” he repeated sincerely, seeking more clarity.

“Yes,” Farouq answered briefly, feeling inwardly that Jadda’s carelessness was becoming too much for him to bear if he were to tell him to forget about the marriage ahead of him.

“Mtswww... oh.”

Fuad said it with a slight smile appearing on his face again. Only then did his mind suddenly return to everything he had left behind in Nigeria. Almost the whole matter had been wiped from his mind, because what he had placed before himself had occupied all his thoughts.

“I’m sorry... you know how it is...”

“...the ways of a jinn’s husband... would make him do even worse than this. But alhamdulillah, this time we have overpowered her schemes, and by Allah, my brother will not die unmarried.”

A loud laugh escaped Fu’ad at how seriously Farouq was speaking, something he had not done in a long time. He could not understand why they were all so concerned about this marriage. He realized that all of them were happy about it. He read clearly that they all took him seriously, and that they truly meant everything, including Maamah, though there remained a huge question mark over her... because he knew that an eagle never flies for nothing.

“Check your email. I sent you a message. Check it urgently.”

“Alright,” he replied, and both of them ended the call.

He knew very well that he could forget if he did not check the message immediately, just as Farouq had requested. So without delay he opened his email. He did not go through the new messages he noticed there; instead, he went straight to Farouq’s message.

He looked through the pictures one after another, though he did not fully understand at first. They were photos of stylish, ready-made men’s clothes of exceptional beauty and class, produced by a famous ready-made fashion company. It was the kind of company whose clothes were worn only by very important people, the extremely wealthy and powerful.

To his eyes, the clothes were beautiful, but he did not know what he was supposed to do with them. So without taking his eyes off the pictures, he picked up his other phone and called Farouq.

“I’m coming.”

That was the first thing he heard Farouq say, as though he was speaking to others nearby.

“Have you seen it?”

He closed his eyes slightly, then opened them again.

“Yes, I have... but I don’t know what I am meant to do with them. Or have you started preparing to launch a garment company?”

A thick lump of irritation rose in Farouq’s throat. Seriously, this man had truly started forgetting that he was about to get married. He had handed over the entire matter to him without any concern, without even asking how things were going or what was happening.

“I swear to Allah, it’s only because you’re far away from me... Have you really forgotten the girl you are going to marry, the one whose bride price you already paid? In all likelihood, I hope you still have memory formation, right?”

This time too, the sound of Fu’ad’s laughter reached Farouq’s ears.

“Calm down, dude... is it really that serious?”

“It’s even more serious than that,” he replied, already losing patience with Fu’ad’s attitude.

“Okay, I’m sorry... but you know I have a lot of important things before me. And you are my representative everywhere. Whatever needs to be decided, decide it. I have handed you the knife and the meat.”

He said it calmly, because he did not want to provoke Farouq again, since he could see that he was doing his best in something which, in his own view, was not worth the importance they were giving it. The silence from Farouq and the way he exhaled deeply assured him that his anger had subsided. In any case, they never stayed angry with each other for long. Once Farouq poured out what was in his heart, that was all. Fu’ad himself was the sort who often overlooked things. You could wrong him for a long time, but his reserved nature would not allow him to show it, until he had finally had enough.

“Speak to them, Abdulghafar... for now they should reduce the strictness of their watch over the girl.”

“For what reason?” Fu’ad asked directly, adjusting himself properly in the soft chair he sat on.

“I think she should be given some space. Even though of course she must have security and guards, considering the security situation in the country, and by now she has become part of us. Anyone who will carry our name must be given protection.”

“Forget about it, Farouq... she’s gonna be able to do what you—”

Then he stopped mid-sentence with a light hiss. Deep down, not even once had he ever felt anything close to truly trusting or believing the girl. There were many things he suspected about her, and those suspicions had only increased from the moment she appeared before him in the place of Maamah’s choosing.

“Do you have concerns about her actions?” Farouq asked, trying to gather his attention.

“Just forget it... let’s leave that aside. Won’t you ask me about anything else, dude?” he said calmly, as if business gave him more peace than the subject of marriage.

“Anything else? About your business? Is that your only concern?”

“What else should concern me more than that?”

Farouq drew a deep breath. He was worried by how Fu’ad gave this whole matter no importance at all. He feared something might happen. The carelessness was too much. He even felt like hanging up, but he knew that would be the last thing to do if he did not want to upset Fu’ad, because Fu’ad hated having the phone hung up on him.

As Farouq went on explaining to him the successes and what still remained, it became even clearer that the business came before everything else for him. They spoke for almost an hour before ending the call.

As he was trying to minimize the email, his eyes fell on another newly arrived email address that contained three new messages. He almost ignored it and moved on, but then he did not. He opened it and started reading the messages.

MY WORLD

BOOK 2

JUDGMENT

PAGE 2

At first glance, you could tell he had given his full attention to what he was seeing on his phone. There were about three messages, all in different wording, but each trying to convey the same thing.

The first said:

“Mr Muhammad Jadda, you are hereby warned to stop all activities related to launching your company.”

Calmly, he lowered his eyes to the second email:

“Not heeding this warning may put your personal and professional assets at risk.”

He moved to the third message. It too was still a stern warning:

“Ignoring this warning may lead to financial losses and reputational damage.”

And beneath it was another line:

“Proceed with caution, as this may have unintended consequences.”

His heart tightened as he reread each message carefully. What kind of serious threat was this? From what quarter had it emerged? Who exactly was responsible for carrying it out?

He had long known, not just since yesterday or today, that his profession was one filled with rivalry, competition, and enemies both open and hidden. Allah had given him a position he had never imagined achieving at such a young age. There were many people who had been in the field far longer than he had, yet they still had not attained the fortune he had.

He adjusted himself again in his seat and blew air from his mouth. He knew he could investigate the real address, but he also knew it would be difficult to reach anything concrete even if he tried. Besides, this was not the first time he had received such messages, and in the end he usually discovered where they came from. Nothing had ever shaken him or unsettled him because of them. Yet somehow this particular message stayed lodged in his heart. He did not know... perhaps because it had come at the very moment he was on the verge of carrying out something he had long set his heart upon.

As firm as his outward appearance stood, so too did his heart stand firm. Nothing frightened him, startled him, or made him retreat from what he had already faced and resolved to carry out. So this message too he placed among the rest of the meaningless messages, which to him were nothing but empty threats.

“Hasbiyallahu wa ni‘imal wakeel, hasbiyallahu la ilaha illa Huwa, ‘alayhi tawakkaltu wa Huwa Rabbul-‘Arshil-‘Azeem,” he recited quietly, and immediately he felt his heart regain peace and calm.

He gathered everything together and checked the time. He could feel the tiredness in his body. He needed proper rest before tomorrow, so that he could leave this country within five days, but he understood that it would probably be difficult for him to get that chance.

As he and his guards walked toward the place where his two cars were parked, his phone rang. Tiredly, he slipped his hand into his side pocket and pulled it out. All his guards stepped back two paces, which was now their habit, because they never remained close whenever he answered a call unless he specifically asked them to.

He stared at the name on the screen for a long time, while his heart filled with unease and tangled thoughts about what his ears were about to hear from her mouth. He kept counting the rings of the phone, which sounded to him like the beating of his own breath. If ever his story were written in a book of wonders, he imagined he would be among the foremost people whose story would amaze many. A mother’s call is one of the calls that fills every child with pride. A mother’s call is something every child hopes to see every day. A mother’s call is one that can turn a child’s sadness into joy. But not for them... not their mother... not their kind of call, which contained nothing but suspicion and the exhausting search for whether it brought good or evil.

He sat halfway inside the car, with his feet still outside, trying to gather the calm he always lost whenever her call came, before finally answering.

The fact that he had picked up made her also gather herself properly. She raised her hand to Hajja Furaira, who had been listing the plans of the things they intended to carry out on a wide sheet of white paper.

The room fell silent. There was no sound of any movement, something that would make someone far away like Fu’ad think she was alone in the room.

“Good evening,” he said in that deep voice of his, full of dignity and commanding presence.

“Good evening... I hope you are well?” she asked him, and it was the oldest kindness he had not heard from her mouth in a long time. Though his heart could not quite believe she had truly called him for that, he swallowed the thought. Somehow, he still felt pleased by the question, even if it had been asked with an ulterior motive.

“Alhamdulillah... may Allah make it so for you too.”

She smiled slightly, her heart imagining herself drawing closer to him.

“We are perfectly fine, just busy making preparations in earnest.”

At first, he did not fully understand what preparations she meant until she continued explaining.

“I called to tell you that... I need some money to complete all the remaining arrangements, both on your side and on the side of your bride herself. Because you know wedding preparations are no small matter. Especially for me, who is marrying off my first son. And the girl herself, her family, and everyone connected to her should know for certain that she is truly going to marry the owner of the diamond company. I don’t want anything about this affair to look small. The whole world should know that my son is having a grand wedding.”

Almost every time she spoke, her words became like a lesson to him. He had long known that Maamah was a woman who loved status and displaying power. He used to think it was only an old trait in her, but by now he had come to believe that only death would succeed in separating her from that habit.

“What is needed?” he asked directly, because he too had his own plans. By now he saw everything as if it were all laid out in the palm of his hand, and what remained, he knew, was little and not difficult to accomplish.

“I want money to be sent to me... and also to your bride... something like a million—”

“Speak to Saddiq. I will tell him to give you whatever amount you need.”

He cut off the rest of her explanation and the amount she wanted to mention, though he already knew he had long surpassed such sums in wealth. Yet the money was being demanded in a place where such an amount was not even necessary.

She smiled, feeling a kind of pleasure flow through her heart. Even now she was gaining more confidence in the success that seemed to be following her, and she was beginning to savor the satisfaction a mother feels when she tests the extent of the power she holds over her children, and they keep pursuing her wishes without hesitation.

“May Allah bless you,” she said with a smile.

The words echoed in his ears, making him feel as though they had not even come from Maamah’s mouth. If he said he could not remember the last time she had said such a thing to him, he would not be lying.

Slowly, he felt as though his heart was crumbling. If only she had said it because he truly deserved it, and because it was fitting to say it about him—not because of the world or what was in it, not because of selfish desire or satisfying some personal need.

Still smiling more broadly by the day, she placed the phone on the table before her. It was a luxurious table that came as part of the furniture set adorning her new house, the one she had moved into before everyone else. It was a house in which she hoped to hold a magnificent wedding, one that would elevate her name and status in the eyes of her friends and the whole world.

“Every move he makes reminds me of Saddiq Hamza Kibiya,” she said, looking into Hajja’s eyes. Deep inside, she felt a fire burning and longed for the day when she would use her sharp knife to cut off this relationship that felt to her like a dark connection.

“What is the hurry, Mariya? What are you rushing for? How many days are even left?”

Hajja encouraged her, full of greed and curiosity to hear what had transpired between her and Fu’ad.

Maamah nodded, trying to recover the brightness she had earlier.

“He did not even wait to hear how much I needed. He simply told me to speak to Saddiq, that he too would talk to him so I should collect what I needed. You see, I will collect from two shares then—mine and that girl’s. I will just give her a little something from hers, then remove what I want from it. I will also set some aside for the herbalist, because I noticed that the extra money I added to what he originally asked for has made him increase the seriousness of this work... Hajja,” she finished, calling her name with a tone full of exhaustion and longing.

“I want him to do a kind of work for me unlike anything he has ever done since he began this trade. I want him to do a kind of work such that not only Fu’ad, but even a bird in Fu’ad’s house will become obedient to me. I want him to do a work that will make Sabreena become like a slave in my hands. I don’t know why that girl intimidates me. I don’t know why I feel something strange whenever she looks at me. I want all those feelings erased from my eyes.”

Hajja gave a smile loaded with hidden meanings and secret intentions, as though saying my ambitions are even greater than yours. Then she crossed her legs and said,

“All that is small work for him. And if it stops even at that, you will still have enough to tell people of how powerful his work is. Only wealthy women can deal with him—women of status and the mothers of important people like you. Because from the offering price of his work alone, you will know he is not an ordinary herbalist. So write it down and keep it—every one of those wishes of yours is as good as fulfilled. But I did not hear my share in this budget of yours.”

Maamah shook her head with a smile of satisfaction. Deep down, she marveled at Hajja’s intense love of money, even though she herself lived in great comfort. Yet even with all the wealth of Hajja’s children combined, it would not amount to one-third of what Fu’ad alone possessed. But even so, Hajja did not look down on money, no matter how little it was. (May Allah protect us from hearts consumed by love of worldly things.)

“Don’t worry at all, Hajja. You have three million in it—before anything else. And that is just the beginning. A little later, you yourself will be giving out that amount as charity.”

“Indeed, truly, Mariya,” Hajja said directly, looking into Maamah’s eyes with a confidence that made Maamah focus all her attention on her. That made Hajja soften the sharpness of her tone while still showing all the confidence on her face.

“Your son is my son, Mariya. I know I have no deceit in me. You will never be ungrateful to me,” she added, adorning her words even further.

“In sha Allah,” Maamah replied, nodding, the smile still on her face. Then she picked up her phone and said,

“Let me call Musaddiq to go and find that boy, because hot iron must be struck while it is still hot. Tomorrow I want us to leave early and go arrange all the work and the remaining details. This wedding is truly drawing near—only six days remain. I want her to know every rule, condition, and requirement before she is granted the right to carry the ropes of my son’s marriage upon her.”

Hajja only followed her with a look without saying anyth