Ink Quanta

Islami is a Islamic Eastern Historic concept reflecting the pain and anger of a Muslim woman under the monstrous British Rule. Islami is a woman whose life was destroyed by the British empire during 1858. She decided to give everything and not to stop until she has achieved her purpose to kill every Britisher in rule and every one who supports them.
 
{Some Scenes Are Inspired By True Events Which Do Not Include Islami}

This is also to consider the history of Pakistan never considered.

Although the chapters above 20 are about the very cool character Professor Calculus and his Company Plus Secret Organization : Justice Pol :

The Rise Of Islami

The wooden house stood serene, surrounded by the lush greenery of the village. Islami approached it, her voice barely above a whisper as she murmured, "And boom, like this, another war will be waiting for us, boom! Boom! Bang..." Inside, the old man sat engrossed in his newspaper, while Jenny descended the stairs, her camera slung over her shoulder. 


"Stop it, Dad!" Jenny exclaimed, her laughter echoing through the hall. The old man looked up, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Told ya, not to leave your country, but no, I have this house here for two years now..." 


Jenny playfully rolled her eyes. "But you still prefer to live in America! I know..." She leaned in, snatching a bite of his sandwich. "Manners!" he chided, his eyes twinkling. 


"Oh, come on! You have a Muslim soldier at home. What's the point of differentiating cultures?" Jenny's gaze drifted toward the corridor, where Iqbal's room was located. 


The old man sighed. "There's no differentiation, but before you follow a culture, you should know everything about it. What about your story?" 


Jenny's eyes lit up. "Story? Dad, I'm 18 now, and a reporter. If I won't have one, I'll make one, okay?" Her father raised an eyebrow. "That's enough! If you want a story so bad and it should be from Pakistan, why not ask this man?" 


Jenny's gaze followed her father's nod toward the corridor. "What man? This soldier in the room who has already lost his mind?" she whispered, her voice laced with skepticism. 


The old man's expression turned serious. "Hey, hey, don't do that. He might listen. This isn't what I taught you, okay?" 


Just then, Iqbal emerged from the corridor, his uniform immaculate. "Asalam O Alaikum!" he greeted, his voice warm. 


"Wa Alaikum Asalam!" Jenny and her father replied in unison. 


Iqbal's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Please, call me Wing, kid," he said, helping himself to Biryani from the fridge. 


Jenny's eyes widened. "Ummm... Wing, when you were in that container 150 years from now in that secret laboratory... how was that experience for you?" 


Her father's face fell, and he hit his head in disappointment. Before Iqbal could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. "I'll get it," Iqbal said, standing up. 


As he opened the door, Islami stood before him, her face partially covered. "I need a place to stay... It feels like I've seen you somewhere," she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. 


Iqbal's expression softened. "It's a friend! Ummm... Islami, her name is Islami. Can we let her stay, please?" 


The old man's laughter echoed through the hall. "Yes, come on! There's plenty of space in this house!" 


Jenny's whisper was barely audible. "Dad..." 


Islami stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. "Sit down, young lady," the old man said, gesturing to the table. 


As Islami sat, the four chairs around the table were now occupied, each person bringing their own unique story to the table.


Islami Meets Iqbal Ahmed