Tambarin Shahara Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Birth of a Ruthless City
 
In the northern part of the Republic of Africa lay a city notorious for its ruthless men—beings who knew neither faith nor mercy. Their only creed was wealth, violence, dark politics, and black-market dealings. This underworld, the Mafia, had roots that stretched deep into governments across nations, wielding weapons, mercenaries, and bombers to maintain their dominance.
 
Membership was eternal. Once sworn in, no one could leave. Betrayal meant death, not only for the member but also for their family. For them, human life was meaningless compared to secrecy and power.
 
Many Muslims and Christians alike had perished at the hands of this syndicate. Anyone who dared to break away exposed their secrets, and that alone was a death sentence.
 
 
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Imran’s Betrayal
 
Dasuka Town, 1989.
Inside his home, Imran, once a loyal member, was ambushed. Armed men dressed in black stormed his mansion, led by Paul, a trusted comrade turned executioner.
 
“Imran, betrayal? After everything, you turn your back?” Paul taunted with a smile.
 
Imran, overwhelmed with regret, knelt and pleaded:
“I have chosen a life my faith demands. I’m tired of blood on my hands. Leave me and my son. I want no riches, no power.”
 
Paul laughed coldly. “Ajwaad is your weakness. What if we kill him?”
 
Imran clutched Paul’s feet, tears streaming. “Kill me instead! Let him live. At least he’ll pray for me after I’m gone.”
 
But mercy was alien to Paul. He ordered the house burned and everyone inside killed. Employees were slaughtered, the mansion set ablaze. Imran’s body was left to ash, but his son Ajwaad was spared—for reasons only Paul knew.
 
The inferno consumed Imran’s legacy, leaving Ajwaad an orphan destined for chains he never chose.
 
 
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Ajwaad: The Reluctant Heir
 
Ajwaad, at seventeen, was a striking boy in Crown Academy, a school for children of the mafia elite. Tall, slim, with piercing blue eyes, he carried charisma and arrogance that made him a legend among peers. Girls fought over him, boys feared him, yet he despised the Mafia’s grip on his life.
 
Unlike his peers who flaunted wealth and power, Ajwaad longed for freedom. He dreamed of escaping Mafia City after graduation to live a normal life, away from blood and deceit.
 
But fate had other plans.
 
The night Imran’s body was discovered, Ajwaad was fetched from school and taken to the ruins of his home. When he saw the ring on his father’s burnt hand, he collapsed, crying out, “Appa!”
 
The Mafia declared silence—Imran’s death must never be revealed outside. That night, Ajwaad unknowingly inherited the crown of shadows.
 
 
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The King Against His Will
 
Ten days later, Mafia elders came to him. They bowed and chanted:
“Long live King Ajwaad Imran Nasara!”
 
They kissed his hand, declaring him the rightful successor. Ajwaad’s eyes reddened with suppressed tears.
“I don’t want your crown. Let me study. That’s all I ask.”
 
But refusal was impossible. As Paul coldly said, “Power is in your blood. Even if you resist, the throne follows you.”
 
From that day, Ajwaad was escorted everywhere, guarded as a living symbol of power. At school, classmates hailed him King Ajwaad. He felt suffocated, craving privacy, often locking himself in his room to cry silently.
 
“Why me?” he whispered to himself. “Why must I bear what crushed my father?”
 
 
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Life in Chains
 
Despite luxury, Ajwaad lived in misery. Every desire was supplied—food, cars, wealth, even cigars worth fortunes—but none filled his emptiness. Loneliness pushed him into smoking secretly, seeking company in clouds of smoke.
 
Two months after Imran’s death, exams approached. Though offered special treatment, Ajwaad insisted on sitting for them, determined to pursue medicine. His dream was to heal, not destroy.
 
At Swan Town, his seaside mansion sparkled with wealth, but he remained haunted. Surrounded by guards, yet utterly alone, he wrestled with the curse of being born into shadows.
 
Defiance Against the Syndicate
 
The Mafia Council soon pressured him into business. But Ajwaad resisted: he wanted medicine, not trade. This angered some elders, who feared losing control of him.
 
“Is this boy to command us?” one barked.
 
Yet Paul defended him fiercely. “Ajwaad will not be touched. Like his father, he belongs to destiny. Let him study what he wants. He is Tambarin Shahara—the emblem of our power.”
 
Reluctantly, they yielded. Ajwaad was sent abroad with two companions, Abraham and Jabir, to study at Harvard.
 
The Struggle Abroad
 
At Harvard, Ajwaad buried himself in books, refusing to live off Mafia funds. He worked quietly, building his own life while still haunted by the Mafia’s demands. Messages arrived often, ordering his signature on deals he barely understood.
 
By twenty-five, Ajwaad had grown into a man of striking beauty—Algerian mother’s grace, African father’s strength. Neither black nor white, his unique look drew crowds of admirers. Women battled for his attention, but his heart was cold, scarred by loss.
 
Yet his defiance grew. Unlike his father, Ajwaad would not kneel. His dream of medicine lived on, a rebellion against the destiny forced upon him.
 
Conclusion: The Curse of Tambarin Shahara
 
Ajwaad’s life was a paradox—heir to an empire of blood, yet yearning to save lives. His name, Ajwaad Imran Nasara, carried the weight of shadows, the legacy of Tambarin Shahara.
 
Though crowned a king, he remained a prisoner. Every luxury only deepened his emptiness. Every cheer of “Long live King!” was a chain tightening around his soul.
 
The Mafia had taken his father, his childhood, his freedom. But his spirit whispered of another destiny—a destiny where healing triumphed over destruction, and where perhaps, one day, Ajwaad could finally escape the City of Shadows.