My worry was that the immigrants who are Jamila’s clients would form a catalogue of anguished suffering, typical of the cases treated by the UK Home Office with such heartless indifference. But it’s Jamila’s own story, dominated by her father - both proud of her professional achievement and interfering in the law firm - which gives perspective to the individuals in her professional care. Khan’s real passion for their rights shines brightly.
She hadn't liked what he had seen then- seen through an outsider's gaze. The office was small and untidy. Every empty space had something crammed into it: containers of archived files, copier paper, used printer cartridges. The waiting area was permanently blockaded, with clients dribbling out the front door or over towards the toilet. Sadia found it stifling. But, begrudgingly, she came to acknowledge that there was also something beautiful in that dirty waiting room, where the dustbin overflowed. It was the chorus of hopeful voices chattering excitedly in different languages. Screams of delight came from Mrs Shah's office from clients who'd succeeded. When her devotees had failed, she promised to keep fighting. It was a temple. A Sunday school. A community centre. Akbar's reverence of his boss had been a mystery, but with time she understood: the work had a spiritual dimension. If Mustafa was a visionary, then Mrs Shah was too.
