Season of Crimson Blossoms

He also knocked on her brother’s door and walked out into the predawn light to the mosque from which Manshawi’s emotive recitation of Sura An Nisa from the Glorious Qur’an reached her.

Kareema and Abida – born of the same father to different mothers – carried on like twins, dressing in matching outfits of different colours, Kareema persistently in the darker shades. They conducted themselves with the air of evolving women who knew, with a certainty bordering on arrogance, that they were beautiful.

Baleri leaned forward, astonished by Reza’s audacity. ‘You want to spend the night in the cell? I will shoot you now and nothing will happen.’ But the impotence of his own words rang louder than his voice.