Tsintar Aya Complete Hausa Novel

*TSINTAR AYA*

*BILLY GALADANCHI*

I do not know whether even at this moment the pen I have lifted will find its balance in the middle of my heart as I write my old novels and those that are about to begin now. One thing I know for sure is that this style is different; it is a style that has a long journey, and it is a style I have never brought to you before. I am not planning to sell it to you, and neither will I sell it; this book is a gift, without a doubt. What I want to say directly here is that there are words that carry heavy meanings within them, especially around our children. It is a style that will be useful for everyone to see, but I beg the children to set aside that usefulness until the time when reading the book will benefit them.

There is no indecency in it, but as I said, there are words and things that are heavy to carry. I have no way of concealing words that carry weight behind them, except that, God willing, I will revise the words appropriately so as to hide pure indecency.

I do not know whether you will be happy with that, but the release of each page will come after I have set down the one before it by two days. I hope that will keep happiness alive in your hearts, my beloveds.

As for my own opinion, strictly married women only.

A reward to you, my friend Ayusher muh’d. May Allah’s goodness reach you wherever you are. May Allah take care of you, preserve your offspring, and bless them beyond your ability. Love for the sake of Allah.

*PAGE ONE*

No matter how many people were behind him trying to overtake him from in front and behind, it was to no avail, because of the speed Hamood was moving at. His speed was such that he felt as though he would rise into the sky. From time to time he would cast a glance at the watch on his wrist while quickening his steps into a small jog. A walk that would not take more than three minutes suddenly changed from a jog into a run, at the same time he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. His followers also began running, like some crazed people, and so they returned into the palace, where everyone was just looking at them with heads lowered, because they knew Hamood’s nature: right now he would say that if you looked at him, you were a hypocrite. Hastily they entered the palace, and there he found all the palace elders and the high-ranking officials in the palace, such as the vizier, the war commander, the secretary, and others. They all stood in rows on either side, leaving a space in the middle where, from a distance, you could see His Highness seated on an exalted royal throne crafted from pure golden water, with the inscription Daulatul Dinar written across it.

Without wasting any time, he moved closer to His Highness, at the same time bowing as a sign of greeting, but his mouth did not move, nor did there seem to be any sign that it would move. His Highness stared at him for a while, and some healthy ten minutes passed, yet Hamood still did not greet his father. His Highness cleared his throat, used to Hamood’s behavior, and after a few seconds had passed he said:

"Hamood, what is your reason for bringing girls into the palace? Do you know that this is a great offense that this kingdom cannot forgive you for? If you are outside the kingdom, do as you wish; your Creator is watching you. But here, we will not tolerate it. Therefore, from today I must never again hear anything like this in this palace."

The place fell silent all of a sudden. Between minutes and seconds, nearly thirty minutes passed, but he did not move, he did not lift his head, and he would not move, even though, true or not, he would never be able to deny it. It was because the silence had gone on too long that His Highness said to him:

"You are dismissed."

He did not wait for anything; quickly he stood up, lowered his head again as a sign of respect, then turned swiftly as he had come, intending to leave. Near the galadima he stopped, and they looked at each other. At once the galadima turned away, while he himself looked him over completely before hurrying on.

By this time he was running, but both his eyes were closed, while his followers trailed after him in agitation. He was timing himself well, so just as he reached where he wanted to stop, he stopped and took in short, rapid breaths. He looked at the eldest among his followers, then raised his hand and signaled for a pen and paper. At once, all their bodies went cold, because they knew they had provoked him today. Quickly he wrote:

"Next week"

and handed it to the man. The man, trembling, cast a backward glance at the paper, took it, and said while bowing:

"They have been waiting for you for a very long time, my lord, please look into their excuse."

He closed his eyes, then opened them and fixed the man with a stare before signaling again for the pen and paper. Quickly, he handed him a medium-sized jotter...

"My head is hurting. Do whatever is appropriate for them and give me a written report. Don’t forget, I am watching everything."

"Thank you for this kindness, my lord, I will send ur doc right away."

He gave him a side smile, then stepped backward at speed before turning and sprinting off, as though he were the one being chased in a race.

He opened the door to his own part with his own hands and went inside. He stopped and stared intently at the workers cleaning the floor; all of them bowed down and greeted him, even though they were sure he would never return their greeting. He closed his eyes as the standing AC in the parlour sent a cool, fragrant breeze over him, then put both hands into his pockets and went upstairs without saying anything to them to mind themselves. Two girls who were trying to tidy up the room had no idea of his arrival at all; this made the younger one among them point at a picture and say to Amina:

"Look carefully and see, Amina, he is talking, there is nothing..."