"Get away you filthy being", Asma scorned the poor boy as he begged her for a penny. She jumped into her car and asked her driver,Siraj, to drive her back home . On the way the car hit a pothole and Asma let out a curse at Siraj. He was now used to her unruly behaviour. Asma on reaching her home went straight to her father and hugged him, as was her routine. Her father was a humble man, Imam of a local mosque and his large possessions had not had the slightest impact on him. His family led a simple life and made the ends meet from his meagre income which he got being an Imam. All of this continued until the death of his brother, one of the most accomplished businessmen in the city. His brother had only one son - Zayn- who had settled in America and never once returned, not even at his father's funeral. Having no other close relative, all his property thus went to his brother, the Imam. Asma was always too attracted to the glitters around her. Her father always counselled her on the temporariness of life, but all in vain. A sense of superiority had taken over her. She was in her room when she heard her doorbell and after sometimes the voice of a man, almost shouting it seemed. She ran downstairs to see a young man, suit cladded, discussing something with her father in a loud voice. She tried interrupting but her father hushed her and sent her back. She eagerly waited to know what had happened. After around 3 hours, her father called her, hesitant, he told her to pack her stuff because they had to leave the mansion immediately. Zayn had returned and threatened to take serious actions if they didn't clear the place by that day. Asma was too baffled to get a word out of her mouth. They opened the rusted lock and entered into a dusty house - or better yet - a chamber. It was their old home. Throwing her belongings in a corner, she fell into prostration, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her forehead was all in dust, the very dust where from came the blessed Adam.