Amir had never embraced the future carved out for him. Successor to his father's business empire, envied and worshipped by those beneath him. A pathway desired by most young men living in the rich suburbs of Riyadh. For Amir, the son of Yusuf Razari, one of the wealthiest tycoons in Saudi Arabia, the expectations of the patriarchal elite suffocated him, smothering his ambitions and everything he wanted to create for himself. 'Power and wealth is everything, Amir. You are nothing without it' were his father's famous words. Repetitively told to him in a militant attempt to accept his words, as if the world would collapse if he did otherwise. Yet he rebelled. Pushed away the ruthless, corporate world in favour of the one thing that dominated his every thought.
Music was Amir's blissful escape. It was on the hot summer nights where life came to a slow pause that he truly felt at ease. Notebooks filled with songs and lyrical ramblings were scattered around his room, urging to be breathed into life by the melodies Amir had created in his head. His dreamlike state. His one ambition was to move to California, America, and make his creations a reality. It was what he lived for.
This detachment from the norm isolated him from his peers, many of whom shared the same aspirations as his father, but he was spurred on by his mother, Malika, who shared Amir's creative streak and encouraged his musical ventures. Before marriage she was a painter, and hoped of one day seeing her works in famous exhibits and galleries across the world. Yet oppression was a dream killer, and all Malika was left to cling onto was the hope of her son achieving what was beyond their wildest imaginations.
“You are going, habibi. If you want to succeed in this business you need to know how to secure these deals.”
The three of them sat around the large dinner table, Yusuf announcing his upcoming business trip to Dhahran, and that Amir would be joining him to sit in on some planned negotiations.
“I'm not. I already told you, I don't want to do it. I'm not interested in running your business.” Amir answered in frustration, his mother immediately giving him a look that begged him not to start an argument with his father. Yusuf's fuse was short and he wouldn't take kindly to Amir's protest. To him, it was the very height of disrespect. Yusuf wiped his mouth with an embroidered white cloth and threw it down on his plate in annoyance.
“You should be grateful, Amir. Look at everything I'm giving you! Don't throw it back in my face.” There was a coldness in his eyes that shot right through his son.
“I didn't ask for you to give me anything! Have you actually ever thought about what I want? Or have you been too obsessed with money and your business to even care?”
Angered by the spite in his son's voice, Yusuf grabbed the neck of Amir's shirt tightly and pulled it closer to him, a clear display of the aggressive nature Amir knew all too well. Malika pleaded with the two of them to stop yet this eruption of brewing resentment from Amir and frustration from Yusuf could not be contained.
“You are my son. You live under my roof, and I won't be disrespected in my own home.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The next thing Amir knew was the blood running from his nose and his mother's upsetting cries. Yusuf had stormed out the house, leaving his trail of destruction behind.
That night, Amir threw the few possessions he cared about into a bag and quietly snuck down to the front door. He weighed up the options of staying with friends. Wherever he went, he just needed to get away from his father and the chokehold he had on him.
Just as he slowly turned the key in the door he felt a hand touch his shoulder, taking him by surprise.
“Amir…”
He quickly turned around to find his mother standing in front of him, clutching a brown packet. Tears brimming in her dark eyes.
“I'm sorry, Mama-”
Amir was immediately cut off as Malika pressed the packet into his hands. Looking curiously inside, he was overwhelmed by the stacks of cash that stared up at him. Precisely twenty thousand US dollars.
“Go and make music, Amir. Do what I never could.” She told him softly, cupping his face.
“What? Mama, no. I can't accept this.”
“Go, Amir. I want you to be happy. As much as it breaks my heart to see you and your baba argue, I know this is what you want. You need to live your life.”
“I love you.” Amir eventually told her, a lump in his throat and tears welling up in his eyes. He was overcome with emotion and surprise at the gift his mother had bestowed upon him. Freedom. A chance at the life he so desperately wanted.
“Go now. I love you too.”
With pursuing music the only thing he had in his sights, Amir left behind his childhood home, Riyadh and life as he knew if and never looked back. Making it was his only choice.