Intervention

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Okay. I admit it.

Maybe I got a little carried away. Maybe I took it too far. Maybe, in my sleep-deprived and perplexed frame of mind, when all my hopes were being dashed, I had just been a little too hard… Too pushy… Too insistent.

But at the time, it didn’t feel like it was that bad. I just needed a break. To cool off.

When a woman is eating your brains, you can’t help but think: Like really, what is the big deal?

“Ziyaad.”

I could hear Farah calling for me, and I quickly straightened up on the patio couch, trying to appear normal. I rubbed my eyes. They were burning from lack of sleep.

I rubbed my head, just trying to get my thoughts together. The sleepless nights were really taking their toll. Memories of the past. Concerns about the future. I had been sitting in thoughtful isolation, and couldn’t help but shake the feeling of where I was going with my life… My marriage… My entire existence.

“Ziyaad!”‘she said again, and I could hear the irritation in her voice.

“Hmmmm,” I said, taking out my phone to view my Instagram feed, like for the tenth time that day. Maybe I really needed a job.

“Ziyaad, are you just going to sit here?” She asked, her hands on her hips, and a bitter look on her gorgeous face.

I grinned, winking at her as I showed her some papers I had lying around. With Waseem hectic, I had taken over some of the bookwork and I wanted to prove that I was doing something useful.

She didn’t seem impressed.

She rolled her excessively made-up eyes, leaning down to strap her the jelly sandal she had bought last week. I studied my wife, watching her closely.

Navy jeggings. Fitted lace top. The latest Ted Baker carrier bag. And of course, her all-new trademark ‘hijab’-style, with her neck stupidly exposed, styled so carefully.

I looked down at her exposed ankles, thinking if I was going mad or the whole world was just gone backwards. Nowadays I saw more Muslim girls with their ankles exposed, and less guys wearing their pants the right way.

“I need to buy some stuff,” she said, standing up again. “You coming?”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

Buy some stuff? If it was grocery stuff, I doubted we needed it, because no-one really ate at this house. It wasn’t like Farah even cooked. I wasn’t sure why she had a kitchen.

And if it was other stuff… Well, I knew that it was completely unnecessary. Farah just wasted money on stupid things for no reason. And maybe I was being mean, but her concept of a necessity was completely different to mine.

I didn’t say anything, just shrugged and reached for a cigarrette box that was lying on the outdoor table. I was hoping she’d go away when she saw it, but instead, she looked at me with a slight frown on her face.

“I can smell something weird,” she said, sniffing the air emphatically.

Uh-oh.

I moved my arm slightly to cover the burn on the new couch. If Farah had to see it, I knew I would probably get a tongue-lashing. Any mark or slight eyesore to her precious furniture usually got her in a rage. I swear if she was armed, I would have probably had to pay with my life.

“Zee, did you burn something?” She asked, frowning deeper. “What on earth is that smell?”

“Maybe the new ashtray you got,” I lied, shrugging at her. She had bought some new type of ashtray, and I just wanted to blame it on her.

I took out my Zippo lighter to ignite my cigarrette, clicked it open, but she still didn’t leave. She narrowed her eyes at me, not fully buying it. I could see her studying the rug. And then, after her scrutinising, just as she was turning to go, she spun around suddenly, her expression now a bit angry.

Crap. Now what?

“Oh,” she said indignantly, pursing her lips. “And thanks for telling me that Aasiya is back.”

I looked at her blankly, shrugging again. She fidgeted with the the top her scarf, waiting for my response, whilst looking at me expectantly.

Aasiya was back.

She was back, and I had actually missed the entire thing while I sat at the hospital vending machine, trying to get my packet of chips out. The girl in front of me had insisted that her change was stuck in the machine, so I had to end up sorting her stuff out too. Not to mention, the girl was definitely checking ne out.

I sighed, wondering why I craved that kind of attention. Missing the whole Aasiya drama served me right. All I knew was that Mo literally fell to his feet when he saw her, practically begging her to give him another chance. I wasn’t even sure how the whole thing ended off, but it was at least one positive thing that had found it’s way into our lives.

With my marriage feeling like it was on the rocks, I was at least glad that Mo seemed to be making progress with his. I just wasn’t sure if Aasiya would be that easily persuaded. Mo had said that she probably would make him work for it, and he’d do anything for her, but I wonder if he would feel the same when it actually came down to it. I also wondered if I would do the same if I were in his position.

I took a pull of my newly lit cigarrette, letting the effect calm me.

I was a dog. Of course I loved Farah. I mean, if I was being entirely superficial, there wasn’t much not to love, but I also knew that I would never love my wife the way she deserved to, and the guilt was killing me.

I just wasn’t sure how we had got to this point. When we couldn’t see eye-to-eye. When every conversation was like a battefield.

All I felt now, as she looked at me expectantly with her deep red lips pouted, was resentment. Resentment because of what she had made me feel for her. Resentment because of everything that had happened in the past. Resentment now, because there was no easy way out.

“I’m coming,” I said, getting up and stubbing my cigarette hastily.

I didn’t want her to go to a mall on her own looking like that.

But how did I tell my wife to cover up properly in a nice way?

I had tried doing it subtly on a few occassions… Well, I thought that I was pretty subtle. Maybe I was being too obvious and pushy by commenting on how awesome the traditional hijab looked, and how it made me feel like my wife was just a little safer from prying eyes… But now, it was like she had gone backwards. From determined hijabi, my wife was now just wearing it as a fashion item. I wasn’t sure exactly where she had lost the plot.

Farah turned from the mirror to briefly look at me.

“Great,” she said. “Because I wanted you to meet Rees and Jo.”

Rees and Jo?

I looked at her with a funny look on my face. She didn’t seem to notice that I was a little disturbed. She came a little closer instead, looking at me up and down like I was some sort of invalid.

“I hope you’re going to change.”

Change?

I looked down at my attire. I felt like telling her the same thing, as I looked back at her. I was wearing my cut denim three quarters and an older tucked-in kurtah over. There were one or two cigarrette burns on it but it was no big deal. My Reebok sandals were only a little outdated, but they were okay for the mall. I didn’t really care about people.

“I think I’m fine,” I said stubbornly, putting my iPhone into my pocket.

“Well,” she said carefully. “I think you should dress a little appropriately. Raeesa’s guy, Jo, is quite reputable in the Pretoria business world… Maybe you guys will hit it off.”

I squinted at her, now completely confused about where all this was going. From a simple trip to the mall, now she was talking about meeting a guy who I didn’t even understand how she knew. To top it all off, she was talking about him as if she knew them so well. It literally made me quite sick.

When did this all happen? Was I too indifferent to what my wife was up to? Did I not even bother to check where my wife had really been going to all this time?

When we had lost Hamza, it was the worst feeling of our lives, but at least it had brought us closer. The best part was that in bringing is closer, it was a means for Allah to become part of our lives.

Now that the pain was fading away, I could see the effect of it also fading. It was what I feared the most… But instead of progressing, we were now going backwards. Late afternoons out went to late nights. Phonecalls were always long and spent making more plans to go out. Friends were always popping over or interfering whenever we had some time alone. Instead of Farah coming to realise that we need to take another step in the right direction, her test had been a momentary one, and now she had just fallen back into her race for the world. Now she had just slumped back into the indulgent routine of our old life.

“Are you coming or what?” She said, tapping her foot impatiently at me.

I looked at frowned and looked at the time, now reconsidering. It was nearly Zohr, and I really wasn’t in the mood to fight. I also couldn’t let her go like this, without saying what I needed to.

“Babe,” I started, trying to keep cool and calm, despite my annoyance. “Firstly, I think that your outfit is inappropriate. I also don’t think it’s okay to be meeting with couples… Especially ones that aren’t married.”

Farah stopped tapping her foot, her expression changing from indifferent to annoyed.

“Third point, boss,” I continued, not fazed by her looks. “Some of us have to read Salaah just now, so if you still want to shop, maybe we can leave after?”

Yikes.

Her eyes immediately narrowed, and I could literally see the fury in them, amongst other things.

I had just stepped on territory that she didn’t like. She immediately looked uncomfortable, and I wanted to actually ask her why.

Maybe I could have phrased it better, but why was it that mention of Deen made people weird? Why, when you bring religious duties into the picture, people start getting all defensive?

One thing about Farah, was that I knew exactly where to knock her down. And yes, I felt like horrible Zee once again, but did she think I was immune to all her negative comments?

Instead of a response, all I got was a a typical female huff, as she spun around and stalked away.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes again as I tried to keep them open.

I was tired. So tired.

I never really pushed her, but it hurt me to see my spouse treating her religious duties so lightly. I remember the Molvi once saying that when Salaah is no in place, then the heart becomes hard and soiled, due to the impurities of sins. And then, when it is in place, we immediately see the service it does to our mind and bodies.

Recite that which has been revealed to you of the Book, and establish the prayer, verily prayer keeps (one) away from indecency and evil, and certainly the remembrance of Allah is greater, and Allah knows what you do.” (Surah Ankabut: verse 45)

Salaah.

What we will be held accountable for first on Judgement day. The duty we owe to worship our Lord. And it’s not for anyone’s benefit but our own.

Just by offering our Salaat, Allah mentions that it becomes a barrier between us an immorality, and whenever I begin to take it lightly and miss a Salaah at the Mosque, I could immediately feel it’s effects.

I always regretted it, but I knew that I needed to make more effort. I knew that I needed to also work on getting us both back to being focussed, and on track once again.

I slumped back on the couch, not sure if I should go and find Farah or not. And because I really didn’t want to, because I knew it would entail a fight, I pulled another cigarrette from the box, and lit it up.

I really wanted to give it up, but in my state of mind, I knew that I would never survive without my hourly dose of nicotine. Maybe I just needed a change of lifestyle. Maybe I needed a little intevention. Maybe I just needed a chance to really find the gold.

“I’m leaving.”

I looked up to see Farah, her handbag attached to her arm, despite her slightly puffy eyes, looking even better than before.

I nodded, stubbing my half smoked cigarette once agian, not wanting to start an argument.

“I was actually thinking of leaving for good,” she said, as if an afterthought, cocking her head to one side.

I looked at her questioningly, sitting up and blinking my burning eyes to ensure that I was actually awake. Leaving for good?

“And then?” I couldn’t help but ask. Why would she be thinking of leaving? Was our marriage gone completely down the drain?

“Well,” she said vaguely. “Then I realised that this is my house.”

I shook my head, wondering why she was telling me all this. I never denied Farah anything that she wanted. My father had even offered us his Houghton apartment, but Farah wanted to be close to her parents. I was just going with the flow. Why throw it in my face?

“Anyway,” she said now, raising her eyebrows at me. “I’ll be back in two hours. I think you should pack up your stuff. I want you to leave.”

---

Please don’t forget our Super Sunnahs!

Beautiful Sunnah 

Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said:

“Nothing is worse than a person who fills his stomach. It should be enough for the son of Adam to have a few bites to satisfy his hunger. If he wishes more, it should be: One-third for his food, one-third for his liquids, and one-third for his breath.”

– Tirmidhi & Ibn Majah

We will be doing more eating and drinking Sunnahs Insha Allah.

#RevivetheSunnahofEating

#RevivetheSunnahofDrinking

#Revive theSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofSmiling

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofDu’aas

Tweet: @ajourneyjournal

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Pot of Gold

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Waseem: Against odds...

There are times in life, when you find yourself in situations that you don’t really want to be in. There are places you don’t want to be, and circumstances that are less than favourable.

There are moments when you just have to ride it out and hope the discomfort goes away on its own. There are no solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it all to subside.

And of course, most of the time, the pain can be managed. What makes it okay, is how you counteract it. How you rise above, and make the situation something better than it is. How you can actually turn the whole thing around to actually be to your benefit.

The truth was, although this had become my life for the past week; I hated hospitals.

I really did. It just brought out that whole dull and dreary mood, and made me feel like everything was just a little more hopeless than it really was.

The fluorescent lighting… The serious faces… The rushing around. It just wasn’t my thing.

And of course, though I had to be there, I tried to spend as little time as possible around the mainstream. So of course, anyone can imagine my annoyance when I had to rush back in, sooner than I had intended.

With Raees dropping a comment that annoyed the heck out of me, I was in  I wasn’t ever the type of guy to just ignore a stupid and potentially threatening comment, and just see what happened. I couldn’t just let it be.

Actually, to my surprise, I was raging inside. The fury was bubbling over like a boiling kettle, but I was trying to keep my composure as best I could because I knew that going even slightly off-focus and erupting at that moment would do no good.

“Hey!” I shouted, rushing behind him in a sort of frenzy. I felt just slightly out of synch with my usual self.

And of course, because I had shouted a little louder than I had wanted to, a few unwanted looks strayed my way as I briskly walked forward to where he was. He was walking fast, and I knew he was avoiding me after his little outburst.

Coward, I thought to myself, getting suddenly even more irritated by his behaviour.

Overcome with emotion for a few seconds, I spontaneously lunged forward as I finally approached him, grabbing him roughly by the back of his collar, realising almost immediately that it might have not been the best thing to do in the situation.

Crap.

From psycho chaser to violent assaulter… I wasn’t exactly creating a good impression for those around.

He jerked back as I yanked him, rubbing his neck emphatically for effect, and making the whole thing more dramatic than it really was. I immediately narrowed my eyes at him.

“What is your deal, bru?” I asked, lowering my voice, really confused about why he was being so hostile.

I mean, I was married to Zaynah. She was my wife. Why would I leave her now, when I knew she would need me the most?

Raees just smiled a weird smile, and shrugged.

“Don’t worry,” he said breezily, almost as if he was a different guy to the one I had spoken to a few minutes ago. “Just take it easy, bru.”

It was almost patronising, and shook my head at this spontaneous change. At first, I was confused, but as he put his hand out to tap me on the back, I realised exactly what this was. Raees was basically the King of Pretense.

I actually couldn’t believe it. What he was up to right now, was just a big facade. Looking up, I could clearly see that Saleem Khakha was just a few meters away, and I got the entire picture in just a glimpse. Any obscure behaviour from this dear nephew would put Raees in the ugly spotlight.

Now, instead, I was the one people were looking at weirdly.

What an idiot. My dislike for him immediately increased.

I wanted to make sure that he didn’t go anywhere near Zaynah, but I scowled and shook my head to myself, just wanting to get out of this craziness for a little while longer. I knew that I would have to watch out for this guy, but I didn’t know yet what his true potential was.

People were still watching me as I walked out, dipping my head even lower out of slight embarrassment. I had really caused it, and I glimpsed another face I knew now watching me closely as I tried to just slip out of there. Immense regret filled my heart.

I wanted to kick myself. My past. Every now and again, much to my displeasure, it resurfaced.

You see, if you had met me in the past, or even knew who I was, it would probably be a difficult thing to believe the change that I had actually been through. Before I had decided to change my life, all I was, was a party animal who craved attention. I would purposefully put myself in situations to get into the spotlight and be a main man. I would even go to extreme measures just to score with girls.

And then, of course, the girl of my dreams and wife had come into the picture, and I wanted to see the other side of life. I wanted more. I wanted to change my entire existence. So I tried to cut everything off, including the people I had met and been with in the past.

And now, being in a messed up frame of mind, and seeing this girl again, all I saw was my past. I saw what I hated, and what I had wanted to leave behind. What they remembered me to be.

And it hurt me when I thought about it, because I knew that at that moment, there really was no hope for me if I hadn’t been saved. At that time, there was probably no-one more sinful than what I was.

And as a sin should hurt a person, and not feel content when one thinks of it, thinking of my past was like a knife severing through my body, every time I would recall it. I wondered what Zaynah would say if she knew exactly how caught up I had been. How bitter my past really was.

I breathed out, my finally heart steadying because too much had happened in a matter of just a short time. I closed my eyes, trying to block it all out. I just wanted to forget.

Just for now. I didn’t want to even think.

I dug hastily in my pocket, just needing a distraction from everything that was going on. Right at the bottom, I could feel the slightly weighty object that I reached for, examining it for a few seconds before I started moving it beads.

It was like I could still picture Zaynah holding it in her slender hand, constantly absorbed, because it would kill her to waste time if she went anywhere without it.

Zaynah’s tasbeeh was like her handbag. She never left home without it.

And of course, I never did understand the value because I was ignorant. It fascinated me that she would sometimes take it out in the most unassuming places, and I couldn’t help but ask her why. I mean, it wasn’t that it annoyed me, but I couldn’t understand she just couldn’t chill out.

“Sweets, talk to me,” I would say to her, and she would smile and put it away for a few minutes, engaging me just so I could be content with her meagre conversation.

And then, of course, if would come out again, and I couldn’t help but reach for her hand to take it.

“No-one does this at a romantic restaurant on a night out,” I had once said crossly, frowning as I wound it around my own fingers. It was one of our few nights out, and I really just wanted her to give me her undivided attention.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” she said, genuinely apologising.

I was still sulky, wondering if she didn’t enjoy being with me. I didn’t realise that it was so much more than that.

Of course, I was so off-track. That had been my main problem. Deen and ‘life’, as I knew it, were completely separate entities for me. I didn’t merge the two until Zaynah showed me how. When you realised that Deen is part and parcel of your being, then everything is done with Allah in mind. When you learn to put Deen first, then Allah’s name becomes your every breath. Your heart becomes immersed in only Him. And that was how it was for her.

She had laughter in her eyes as she remembered my sulky face, later that night . I couldn’t help but grin at the memory too.

“I was just investing gold,” she said, grinning back at me.

I looked at her, a little confused. The gold? The gold.

I mean, I had already found the gold when I married her. I was endowed with love for her. And then, of course, as usual, she just had to say something to blow me away.

“Don’t you think,” she said, looking at me mysteriously. “That in a place where no-one is remembering our Lord, and if we are amongst the few who do…. Then don’t you that think our value immediately increases?”

I raised my eyebrows, just slightly overwhelmed by what she was saying. And then, of course, all I could think to myself was.

SubhaanAllah.

A Sahabi once said, “O Rasulullah (Sallallaho alaihe wasallam), I know that the commandments of Shariat are many, but of these tell me the one that I may practice assiduously throughout my life.” The Prophet (Sallallaho alaihe wasallam), replied, “Keep your tongue always moist (i.e. busy) with the ‘Dhikr’ of Allah.

Indeed, that was the gold. That was how you can turn any situation around.  I didn’t know where she even got such insight from, but my wife was really on an entirely different level to me. I had no idea how I had even landed her.

It was still beyond my comprehension. In such a short time, she had been so much to me… Given so much. My heart sank, remembering her current condition. What would I do without her?

“Why so glum, bru?”

The voice cut through my thoughts, halting them immediately.

I already knew who it was before I looked up.

Ziyaad had this annoying habit of asking stupid questions, when most of the time, he would already knew the answers to them.

I looked up not to see one, but two of my brothers watching me carefully. The one had a stupid grin on his face, and the other was looking at me slightly sympathetically.

Surprisingly, Zaheer was looking in a better frame of mind to Ziyaad. He was actually donning quite a beard for himself, and was behaving more like his old self than I had seen in ages. Ziyaad, on the other hand, even with his kurtah and now full beard, looked a bit of a wreck. There was just something about his blood-shot eyes and quirky grin that gave me an icky feeling.

“You need anything?” My newly named brother, Zaheer, asked awkwardly, stepping forward as Ziyaad stepped back and looked around.

Things between us weren’t the same, but I knew that he was trying to make it better. Besides mending his relationship with me, I could practically witness his life slowly changing.

Nowadays, I saw him at the Masjid for every Salaah, and even sitting behind if there was a talk or Majlis of any sort. He was even getting better than me in that regard, and I actually loved the change I saw in my older brother. It was quite something to see guidance find it’s way in, and I just hoped that it would last.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, giving him a slight nod, and looking away. It was still a bit awkward.

Ziyaad was usually the ice-breaker, but he had sauntered off, and I could see him approaching a vending machine nearby. I wasn’t sure if he really wanted something, or if the chic nearby had lured his Nafs there. With Ziyaad, you just never know.

I shook my head, noticing someone getting off a car at the front of the hospital entrance. The car looked slightly familiar, and I frowned slightly, trying to look into the driver’s seat to figure out it’s owner.

But before I could do any of that, as my eldest brother stood next to me, lo and behold, a woman clad in full Abaya stepped out. Now, I probably wouldn’t have noticed her if my brother wasn’t staring so hard. Only then, did I see the designer heels that she had clad, and her matching handbag. Obviously, I looked away almost immediately, wanting to kick Zaheer for looking so hard.

He was actually slowly moving forward as I tried to basically stare him into checking himself, and I could see this whole thing ending in disaster as he took another step forward, almost as if he was mesmerised. The woman, I could see from a glimpse, just stood awkwardly, well aware that my brother was completely fixated on her. It was just really uncomfortable, for those few moments.

I wanted to cover my eyes. I mean, couldn’t he just be a little less obvious?

It was honestly a ‘cant-watch’ moment as he took yet another step forward, and I was ready to literally yank him back before I heard him murmur something almost inaudible.

And then, of course, as he sped forward, before I could even tell him to just cool off and not make the situation more awkward, my brother had already reached her, and as I looked almost unbelievably, I realised exactly who it was.

There are times in life, when you find yourself in situations that you don’t really want to be in. There are places you don’t want to be, and circumstances that are less than favourable.

And then, of course… There are moments that you just wait for, hoping with every inch of your entire being that it will all just turn out okay. Moments that, sometimes, just make you want you drink them in, because they’re what we live for. After a long road of loss, gain, failure, success, and so many mistakes—There finally are moments that just capture you in a way that you wait for and inwardly crave… To create a new beginning, or to give us a new hope. To show us that maybe there really is that pot of gold, at the end of it all.

Right then, unbelievably, none other than my brother’s long estranged wife stood there, making her appearance in a way that he would probably never forget.

Well, it was a moment that kind of made our day.

Aasiya was back.

---

Please don’t forget our Super Sunnahs!

Beautiful Sunnah 

Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said:

“Nothing is worse than a person who fills his stomach. It should be enough for the son of Adam to have a few bites to satisfy his hunger. If he wishes more, it should be: One-third for his food, one-third for his liquids, and one-third for his breath.”

– Tirmidhi & Ibn Majah

We will be doing more eating and drinking Sunnahs Insha Allah.

#RevivetheSunnahofEating

#RevivetheSunnahofDrinking

#Revive theSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofSmiling

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofDu’aas

Tweet: @ajourneyjournal

 

In a Moment

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Waseem: Heart of hearts...

Life is full of moments.

Happy moments. Defining moments. Legendary moments. Unnerving moments.  Inspiring moments. Exciting moments.

And, of course, unforgettable ones.

Moments that, just for their presence, have changed our lives. Moments that we will probably remember, just because of that person who was there. Moments that we will never forget, because of what it brought with it.

And I’m sure that everyone has their own special moment. Like maybe that moment you are in that strange place, and through some awkward words, you land that friend for life, who is by your side through it all. Or the moment you hold your child that is so innocent and pure, that you feel you just want to live your own life all over again…. And then, of course, that moment when the whole world seems to stand still for a few minutes, and you realise that maybe… Just maybe… You’ve just fallen in love.

And of course, my wife never did know that moment that really defined it all for me. She never did know how I doted and waited on those three elusive words that seemed to never come out of her mouth. It was almost a month of being married, and there I was, wondering what I had been doing wrong all this time. I had basically surrendered my heart to her after a few days of Nikah, and I had no idea if I had earned that place in hers.

And then one day, almost out of the blue, as I sat next to her one weekday afternoon, she turned to me with her mouth half-full of Jelly Tots, and, in true Zaynah-style, simply said:

“You know that I do love you, right?”

And all I did was nod and smile, as I pecked her on her forehead, because I never did want her to know how desperate I was to hear it. Inside, of course, I was bubbling with euphoria, because my wildest desire had been fulfilled. The girl of my dreams, was actually in love with me. It felt like I was an adolescent idiot, all over again.

But despite that, it was the moment I gave my everything, and didn’t hold back. In retrospect, I realised that maybe I was giving away too much.

Of course, it was normal. Of course, I loved my wife. But I loved her with my entire being, and it was only when I felt her being snatched away from me, that I realised that maybe… Just maybe… I had given too much. Maybe I had loved too much. Too hard. Too deep.

Because in this world, the pious people say that you can hold many things in your heart. Many things may hold a special space in your inner being, but only one thing should hold that ultimate space. Only one thing can fill that empty space. Only one Love can fill your heart of hearts.

Only Allah can be held in that most intimate and unchanging spot. And I was going to find that out in one of the most difficult ways.

“How long will you’ll keep her on the ventilator?” I asked bluntly, finding the doctor after an hour of pacing the ward.

The doctor looked up uneasily.

“However long you’ll are prepared to,” he replied. “But if there’s no function in the brain, it might be best to cut it off.”

Cut it off? He made it sound like she was some kind of wire. Like my wife was just an object that was waiting to cease function.

“Can you even confirm that there’s no brain function?” I asked, getting slightly annoyed that I was getting no proper answers.

There were only assumptions. Assumptions that she would never come out of it. Assumptions that she was brain dead. Assumptions that I would actually never see my wife as I knew her, ever again.

In just a moment, everything had changed.

The doctor shook his head.

“We can’t confirm anything,” he said blandly. “We’ve had patients who’ve actually proved us wrong, and came around to live normal lives. There’s some things that even us doctors don’t know.”

He had hit it spot on.

Doctors. We rely on them, when in fact they are just the means. Of course, nothing was in his control. There was a Greater Power, above it all, that controlled every breath that every living creature could take. It was beyond our meagre comprehension.

We kept on questioning, when in actual fact, we would never truly understand until we have attained true Imaan.

I thought briefly about my parents who were in complete shock over the whole thing. I never expected Dad to take it so badly, but he seemed to be quite affected by the fact that Zaynah was just not around any more. My mother, on the other hand, kept on putting herself on guilt trips, thinking that she had been working Zaynah too hard, and expecting too much of my wife when she was staying there.

I silently agreed, but I knew Zaynah would have never complained, even if she felt that way. I just wished that my brothers had been a little more considerate all this while. I just wished we had taken more note of the signs she was obviously having. I just wished…

My thoughts halted, because I knew that wishing and hoping would get me nowhere right now.

I watched the doctor walk off, and sighed as I slumped on the plastic chair, rubbing my eyes from the tiredness. During the week I had thought about staying home for a few hours of sleep, but the thought that Zaynah would wake up in that time to find herself deserted, haunted me. What if I left and something happened? 

I shook my head, not even realising that my faith in Allah (SWT) was completely faltering.

Morning was approaching, once again, and it marked the seventh day since Zaynah had fell. Since it was a weekend, I knew that many of her family members from out of town would probably be coming through, and I was expecting a lot of scrutiny and questioning. They might even think that it was my fault, since a lot of them were sceptical of me in the first place. I just wished that she would wake up so she could make everything all right again.

One week.

It was one week of agony, and not having a clue about what was going on. Not knowing how much longer I would wait, and not knowing if it would ever end. I hated it, but I couldn’t help the situation. There was only one thing I could do, and I made a silent Du’aa in my heart just for her to be okay. To come around. To be Zaynah, once again.

I took a slow walk to the ICU ward, and the guards let me in with no questions. They knew who I was by now. I mean, I came in at least 20 times a day.

I made my way through to the room she was at, nodding at the nurse who was there, and taking a seat next to my wife.

Zaynah’s sister had come a few days ago to see her, and had placed a neat burkah around her head, in case she had any foreign people coming into the ward. She knew what Zaynah was like, and I was glad that she actually thought about doing that for her, since my wife had no idea of her circumstances.

She was so still. Limp. Immobile.

It literally broke my heart in pieces to see it.

As I watched her silently, I wondered if she was really brain-dead. It was just so unfathomable for me, as I watched her. How she looked right then, Zaynah looked like she had  just drifted off to sleep, although I knew that was far from true.

I reached up for her listless hand now, holding it gently in mine, just feeling the warmth exuding from it. I could almost still hear the soft murmurs of hers that was her habit before sleeping. I could literally imagine her mumbling something remotely funny about how grumpy I was today. I wondered, as a passing thought, of how long it would take before I completely forgot her voice. Before I forgot her smile. Before I forgot everything…

I smiled at the memories now, as they unfolded almost unwelcomingly in my mind. Memories of her laughing at me… Hugging me… Reaching for my hand… And all that time, my heart kept wishing with it’s every beat that I could just see something alive in her when I looked up.

Some sign to show that maybe she hadn’t completely left me. Some hope that maybe she would be okay.

And I suppose because wishing for the nearly unthinkable was so exhausting, without even realising it, sleep overcame me and I nodded off in the chair, still thinking about Zaynah and her consuming moments.

And then, as my eyes shot open in what felt like just a few minutes, I was sure that I was jolted awake by something more than just the deep voice that came from outside. I was almost positive that I had felt Zaynah’s hand move under mine, but I couldn’t be certain, because I wasn’t even fully alert.

I shook my head out of the slumber it was in, turning to see Zaynah’s uncle in the doorway. I quickly left Zaynah’s hand and got up, stretching my hand out to greet him for the second time this week. He reminded me so much of my father-in-law, and I couldn’t help but remember Zaynah’s father fondly as I looked at Saleem Khakha.

“You’re don’t go home, bha?” he asked, looking at me worriedly, after asking me about Zaynah’s progress.

I smiled, a bit touched by his concern. Maybe I was just looking like a wreck. I definitely felt like one. We walked out slowly after a few minutes, and I saw that he hadn’t come alone. His nephews had come with him, and one of them was Zaynah’s cousin Raees.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t dislike the guy. There was just something about him that made me edgy. He had this air of haughtiness, and it always seemed that the guy was looking down at me. And maybe I had my own insecurities, but from day one, something had told me to keep a distance.

I nodded at them, taking a seat on the plastic chair outside, while Saleem Khakha told me about some doctor he knows who had a patient who recovered from a same kind of condition that Zaynah was in. It gave me hope for a few minutes, and I hung onto that dream, wishing that everything could just be okay.

“While we are here, let us take over,” he urged, roughly squeezing my shoulder as if to edge me on. “Take it easy. You look like you need a rest.”

Raees looked at me expectantly from a distance, probably waiting for me to agree. I wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to go, but I knew that I needed to get a change of clothes and freshen up at least. Maybe I was looking bad. Maybe they thought I needed the break. Or maybe they thought that I needed a reason to run away.

I sighed inwardly, sitting down for a few minutes just so I could think straight.

Everything had been so crazy and unexpected the past couple of days, I wasn’t even sure what I was doing any more. Why werent there any obvious answers here? Why was everything so confusing? Why couldn’t there just be a clear-cut solution to this whole thing?

I craved ease and wished that the whole situation would just smooth itself over. I didn’t want to have to make a decision about my wife. I didn’t want it to even come to that. I didn’t want to even think about what everything could bring, but life’s obstacles were not always so easy to overcome.

“Don’t worry,” Saleem Khakha said, almost like he could read my mind. “We all have our tests.”

I looked at him, thinking for a minute if he even knew what he was saying.

And then I immediately regretted it. Astaghfirullah.

I couldn’t help but feel remorse, because the truth was that no-one knows the true reality of another person until they are walking in their shoes. He was right. We all have our tests. And I knew he had lost his son a while ago, so he knew what he was saying.

But at that weak moment when you are facing a hardship, you feel that there’s no-one in the world who can comprehend your suffering right then. You feel that talk is cheap, and people don’t really know what they are saying when they claim to understand what you are going through. You just want it all to go away and become something of the past. You want it to be easy, even though we know the road is meant to be bumpy. Even when we know that the most beloved of Allah were tested and went through the worst of trials, as Insaan, we want our Jannah to be paved without tests.

But of course, Allah Ta’ala reminds in Surah Nisaa. Verse 4:

“Paradise is not [obtained] by your wishful thinking…”

And yes, it is not obtained by us merely thinking and desiring. We feel that we are entitled to it, and deserve to be given that ultimate reward, when in actual fact, through our daily activities, we haven’t really earned it. And so, of course, Most Merciful Allah makes a plan for us. He helps us out. He places a test on our path, in order for us to earn that sought-after prize. He, (SWT), wants us to attain it, and assists us in doing so by making us exercise Taqwa, Imaan and Sabr, so that we can eventually become worthy of that Paradise that we are all striving for.

As narrated by Tirmidhi and Ibn Maajah :  Nabi (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) said: ‘The greater reward is with the greater trial or the greater the trial or difficulty of test or hardship is then the greater the reward. And when Allah loves a person He will test them. The people as long as they are in good health, good shape, good condition they are covered. You don’t know their true character because they are in good situation, they are in good circumstance. As long as they are in a good circumstances they are covered. But if a trial or difficulty or a hardship comes upon them, then you will see their reality. They will go to their reality. The Mu’min will run to his Imaan, the hypocrite will run to his hypocrisy.”

And I had to keep wondering where my heart was running to. Although I knew exactly what it was, I was so afraid of failing this test, that I had to keep checking myself so I could remind myself of my purpose.

Why am I here? What am I doing? Where  exactly was I going?

Indeed, all these situations that we find ourselves in are meant to serve as just that. A reminder and a reckoning with ourselves. An opportunity to re-focus and re-assign priorities. A reason and motivation to re-explore the purpose of our lives, and keep checking what it is that has caused us to go off-track.

I walked outside slowly, just wanting some air. At that moment, I actually wished that I was a smoker, because I just needed something to divert my thoughts. I leaned back on the cement wall, even leaving my phone aside to save myself from more pitiful messages. I just watched people walk in and out of the automatic doors, all on their own missions and tasks, and all with their own worries on their shoulders.

“You don’t have to worry.”

I looked up, seeing Raees standing a few feet from me, with a cigarette in his hand. I wasn’t sure how long he was even there.

I honestly felt like bumping one from him, but I knew that I wouldn’t even be able to enjoy it. I used to do it as a casual thing, but I never did enjoy smoking. Besides, Zaynah wouldn’t have approved.

I looked at Raees, still slightly sceptical of what seemed like a a few comforting words. Besides, his designer stubble was annoying me. I was trying not to judge the guy, but his whole presentation was just unnerving.

“Why?” I asked him bluntly, wondering if he knew more than I did. I mean, any person in my situation would be worried, right?

“I meant,” he said, taking a pull of his cigarette and looking at me. “You don’t have to stress about being here. We’re here now, so we’ll take over.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping this guy was just being considerate. I was about to talk, but he already had his whole speech planned out.

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice and taking a step toward me. “Zaynah needs her family around, and I think you should let us do what we need to. You’ll only know each other for a few months. We have a lifetime behind us.”

I looked at him blankly and shook my head, wondering what he was thinking. A few months or a few years wouldn’t make a difference to me. I felt like Zaynah was my other entirety.

We were bound by Nikah. How could this guy even think like that?

“You’re not getting it,” he said now, throwing his cigarette on the floor and squishing it with the tip of his Converse takkie. “Back off. Or else.”

And with that, in a moment, he turned around, and swiftly walked away.

---

Please don’t forget our Super Sunnahs!

Beautiful Sunnah 👐🏻 Wash both hands up to the wrist just before eating. 

Hadhrat Salmaan Farsi (Radhiallahu Anhu) narrates: “I read in the Taurah that the blessings of food lie in washing the hands after meals. I mentioned this to Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam). Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam) replied: “The blessings of food lies in washing the hands before eating and after eating.”

We will be doing more eating and drinking Sunnahs Insha Allah.

#RevivetheSunnahofEating

#RevivetheSunnahofDrinking

#Revive theSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofSmiling

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofDu’aas

Tweet: @ajourneyjournal

Finding Home

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Aasiya

“Okay, okay!” I shouted, giggling silently as I slumped to the ground. “You win!”

It felt good to laugh. To really laugh. Like, from the bottom of my tummy kind-of laugh.

I wasn’t sure when last I had so much of simple fun.

I held up my hands in front of my face, turning my head slightly and scrunching my one eye up so I could at least appear to be slightly fearful.

“I surrender!” I finally said, letting my hands fall to my side and faking defeat.

I was feeling just slightly drained, and with the scorching sun burning down, I was actually kind of worried about getting a bad tan. It was time to give this rough play a bit of a break. I just hoped I would be let off the hook easily.

Yusuf still held the rugby ball under his arm, looking like he was unsure of whether to believe me.

He cocked his head to one side, and then looked sideways at Ummi and his wife, as if to seek their counsel. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Should he let me surrender, or keep playing until he proved how good he was?

I shook my head to myself, trying to hide my grin. He was a typical male.

Why couldn’t men just back down when they needed to?

I knew this was pay-back for leaving all those years ago.

The first day I had arrived here, I still recall him asking me if I still watched sports on TV, as he gaped at me like a goldfish. He had to ask Ummi about fifty times if it was really me. It was like he couldn’t understand how everything had turned out this way, and I was actually still here.

Still alive. I felt terrible, because I knew that all those years ago, he had probably taken my leave the worst. He was too young to even understand.

My little brother ran his hand through his full beard now, a visible frown still etched on his face. I supposed I still expected him to be that tween I had left behind. Not a fully grown man who now looked almost exactly like Umar.

“Leave her alone,” Laila said to him, also smiling, and I could tell she was feeling sorry for me. Not like I needed sympathy, but I hung my bottom lip out more, just for extra effect.

Yusuf smiled at his wife innocently and slowly lowered the ball to the ground as he looked up, a slight smirk on his face.
I never thought I’d see the day when Yusuf towered above me in victory, but it was a sore reality right now. I wished I didn’t have to let him have the upper hand, but I honestly forgot how rough brothers could be when they got down to playing outdoor games.

“Aasiya Foy, don’t give up.”

I looked down to see Sa’ad standing next to me with a huge helmet on his head.

“I’ll help you to beat him,” he continued, looking like he meant business. “Papa taught me all the tricks.”

I smiled at my nephew, touched by his concern. He looked exactly like my brothers, but there was a softness about him that I knew came from his mother. I would never admit it aloud, but he was definitely my favorite little person.

“Don’t worry, baby,” I said lovingly to him, taking a seat on the soft grass beneath me. “I think Uncle Yusuf knows that he would have lost anyway.”

Sa’ad smiled and nodded, and I watched him skip off as I grasped a few green weaves of grass next to me. Around me was just greenery, and the natural beauty at home was honestly so breath-taking that I couldn’t understand how I could have ever loved the concrete jungle I lived in for so many years. Just being able to witness nature around me gave me a renewed sense of ease, and made me remember the One who created it. Being here was an Ibaadat on it’s own.

SubhaanAllah. It was like my outlook on life had completely changed, after just a few weeks.

I hung my head back, just soaking up the sunshine for a few minutes as I got lost in my own world of baseless thoughts.

“You’re not coming inside?”

I looked up, putting my hand out to shield my eyes from the sunlight.

Yusuf was always that considerate type who worried about everyone else. And, I suppose he just wanted to make sure I was okay.

“Not now,” I said, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine coming from above. It was so uplifting.

Summer was finally making it’s presence felt, and I kind of loved it. Besides, it was good for my usually unpredictable mood. Being home was good for a few reasons, but being around happy married couples was a bit tiring with my crumbling marriage that I was trying so hard to forget.

“Molvi just came,” he said, taking a seat next to me and also picking at some weeds. “I think he wants to speak to you.”

My heart thudded a little faster as I processed his words, knowing exactly what Umar wanted to tell me. He had just returned from a trip to Pretoria, and I knew he had probably met Muhammed there. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear about it yet.

“Is everything okay?”

I could hear the concern in Yusuf’s voice, and I knew that he was just worried. I just didn’t really have the energy to make anyone feel better about my situation when I was still so caught up with my own concerns.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

How did I explain to him what my life was like? Their lifestyles were so isolated and unassuming… I doubted that they could ever comprehend where I had come from…. What I lived like.

I felt bad for not telling them exactly what was going on. I had made them assume it was only my fertility issue that caused a rift in my marriage, and they had been really easy about it. Laila had even suggested that I see her sister-in-law, who was a doctor who specialised in fertility, but I obviously didn’t want to do that. Who even knew what was in store for Muhammed and I? I had to just see where the road took me.

The thing was, out of everything I had learnt while I was here, the one thing that really got me was that no-one in this house ever complained or moped around. There was no discontentment or visible hopelessness here, but it wasn’t because everything was always perfect. It wasn’t because everything just ran smoothly on it’s own.

It was solely based on the Taqwa that they had, and the understanding that complaining to ‘people’ would do no good. When anything became an obstacle, they knew that Allah was the only one that they should ever complain to. And that was exactly what I had hoped to attain when I got here. When I chose to flee, I didn’t just want an escape.  I didn’t hope to just find a refuge. I hoped to find shade in the mercy of Allah and find a Home that I would never leave.

And the thing was, it happens to everyone when we are going through problems. We think that we are the only people who have ever faced calamity. We think that we are the only people to deal with adversity, and no other person has. We think have been burdened in the most vicious way, but as I grew here,  just the environment made me think in a completely different way.

After a few weeks of Ummi Jaan nagging me to attend the weekly Taaleem, when I finally did, I was actually glad. Amongst many other pearls, the Appa had mentioned the Hadith about the most noble of Sahabah (RA), Hadhrat Abu Bakr (RA). It was a story that was something of a reality check that I well needed.

When we are so caught up in our troubles, we forget that, when the Sahabah (Radiallahu Anhuma) were brought to test, the way that they dealt with it was what truly defined them. And so, it was in one of the occasions when Abu Bakr (RA) had given up his possessions for Islam, when a most awesome thing happened. At this particular time, he was going through a time of extreme poverty due to it, where he hadn’t even a proper cloth to wear to cover himself.

His garnent was basic and somewhat unpresentable. It was on this occassion that Allah Ta’ala had sent Jibraeel (AS) down to Nabi (SAW), who was in the company of his friend. He had a message to covey to Hadhrat Abu Bakr (RA).

And the message was such: Jibraeel (AS) simply wanted to know from Abu Bakr(RA), despite all this and every difficulty he was facing, if Abu Bakr (RA) was pleased with his Lord.

And what he said was most unimaginable.

“Tell him his Lord is pleased with him, if he is pleased with his Lord.”

Of course, hearing this, for anyone, is such an honour. But for the most senior Sahabi, Abu Bakr (RA), hearing the good news from the lips of the beloved Nabi (SAW), he was ecstatic. He got up, thanked Allah, said:

“Indeed I am pleased with my Lord!”

In this joy, he whirled around three times.

But the most amazing part here wasn’t that. What was the most spectacular was that when he had appeared, Jibraeel (AS) had actually descended in the very same unseemly outfit that Abu Bakr (RA) was wearing.

When the Prophet (SAW) said to Jibraeel that he had never seen such strange clothes, Jibraeel (AS) gave him the reason for adorning them.

That day, not only him, but every angel in the heavens was dressed in the same ragged clothing as Hadhrat Abu Bakr (RA), to honour him, who was the loyal, generous and faithful companion of Nabi (SAW).

SubhaanAllah. It was actually quite extraordinary, and when I heard that, I was blown away. Just. Imagine.

Allah Ta’ala honoured them in such a way, that they were even able to see it here, in this Duniyaa, that they completely bartered. And of course, if our faith is true, then why should Allah not honour us too? When we struggle for Allah’s pleasure, and try to reach Him, even when we know that we never can, why shouldn’t he give us the highest stages of bliss? Just for continuing to be steadfast and never relenting, we don’t realise that this alone can be our ticket to Jannah.

I had never seen it that way before this, and I knew that I needed to shed a whole new light on my delusional world.

I wanted to just soak it all in, and enter a different dimension, but you can never run away completely.

Something has to bring you back to reality, once again, something at the back of my conscience was telling me that it was nearly time to go back to my life. To face the past, and see what the future held.

That time was just way closer to the present than I had thought.

“Aasiya.”

The voice came from behind me, almost as a reminder, and I knew that it was Umar.

I turned my face back slightly, waiting for him to come closer.

Yusuf politely got up, knowing that we probably needed to speak privately. Of course, I was dying to know what had happened in Pretoria. I still kind of hated my husband, but if Umar had taught him his lesson, I knew I might feel a little better.

“How was Pretoria?” I asked after greeting, eager to hear the news about Muhammed and hoping he was suffering without me.

“You mean Muhammed?” he said, with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I sorted him out.”

I smirked, glad to hear it.

“But,” he continued, still standing. “I don’t think that should be the most of your concerns.”

I looked up at him, seeing the frown on his face. He looked like he was worried, and I couldn’t help but immediately be alert. Something wasn’t right.

“What do you mean?” I asked, getting up to face him, and trying to read his evasive expression.

“Waseem’s wife,” he said.

“Zaynah?” I asked, remembering my sister-in-law fondly.

I had always admired Zaynah, and especially envied her simplicity now that I saw the value of it. Previously, I had looked down on her, but now I knew that I was so wrong. So misguided in my high-life that I was obsessed with.

He nodded.

“She’s in hospital,” he continued. “She had a fall.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue. A few broken bones perhaps? Poor Zaynah. I should call her again.

“It’s not good, Aasiya,” he said, sounding slightly unsure of how to say what he needed to.

He paused, and I looked at him expectantly. Surely she must be okay?

“She’s quite bad,” he continued, not meeting me eye. “Doctors say coma. Some say no brain function. They think it is a clot in her brain. Maybe a few. Allahu A’lam.”

I looked at him, my eyes widening in shock.

What?!

I was completely speechless. How? When?

But I had just spoken to her!

“Your in-laws are in a quite a state. Muhammed was the one to actually tell me…. After I… Uhm…”

He trailed off, probably not wanting to tell me exactly what happened when he confronted him. Umar had a knack of getting a bit carried away when he was angry.

Muhammed. Well, of course, trust him to pull out the sympathy card just when he had to face the music.

I knew I was being selfish, but I was annoyed that he couldn’t tell me. I had switched off my number for a few days after his persistent calling, but he could have found some other way to contact me. It made me angry, even though this wasn’t the time to worry about petty things like that.

“Aasiya,” Umar said, roughly rubbing his temples.

I looked up at him, still unable to say much.

“I hate to be the one to say this… But I think it’s time for you go back.”

---

Please don’t forget our Super Sunnahs!

Beautiful Sunnah 👐🏻 Wash both hands up to the wrist before eating.

Hadhrat Salmaan Farsi (Radhiallahu Anhu) narrates: “I read in the Taurah that the blessings of food lie in washing the hands after meals. I mentioned this to Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam). Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam) replied: “The blessings of food lies in washing the hands before eating and after eating.”

We will be doing more eating and drinking Sunnahs Insha Allah.

#RevivetheSunnahofEating

#RevivetheSunnahofDrinking

#Revive theSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofSmiling

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofDu’aas

Tweet: @ajourneyjournal

Eliminating Love

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

People are complicated. I knew that.

But to put it scientifically, the human being is an extremely complex creature, and many a time, our erratic behaviour is quite disconcerting. We have this innate desire to have everything and make the most of the moment, even though in actual reality, we don’t own even that moment we think we are living to the fullest.

We often crave excitement, although we know that it’s bad news. We rely on people, even though we are well aware that they will probably let us down.

But the thing that evades us most, is what inspires us to chase. To crave. To desire.
Why do we run after other people? Why do we run after money? Why do we run after status, or power?

I wasn’t sure what made people tick, but the thing is, we all want love and respect, and we think that these materialistic things are the only things that can get us that.

Love. The best thing that can happen to you, when circumstances are right, or the worst curse that you could have ever imagined, when you are caught in a rut.

I took a deep pull of my pipe, trying to just figure it all out. What if we had to just remove that entire concept? Eliminate it. I mean, who even knows if it really exists? The oneness of two souls. Your soul mate, your other half. The fairy tale… Or where the story ends. The finding, joining, the wedding. The oneness of two souls. Being ‘complete’.

Why do we even do that to ourselves?

“You just sit around here?” My eldest brother asked, frowning deeply as he sat opposite me on the balcony chair. “And smoke pipe?”

He was so cynical.

Yeah. That was what love did to you. It made you even hate just innocent fun.

I took another pull of my new contraption. I had given up on the E-Cig. It was like an anti climax on the vaping scene. I had no time for living healthy. This was the real thing.

“Duh not,” I said, taking another pull and looking at Mo seriously.  “Sometimes I smoke cigars.”

“Just kidding, bru,” I grinned, noting his annoyed  glance. “I eat too. And go to work usually at Dad’s place. You know he can’t do much these days.”

I was trying to put on the whole responsible and organised persona but I wasn’t sure if Mo was buying it. He knew Waseem was sorting out most of Dad’s stuff. Dad was actually trying to retire. It was amazing what a change he was undergoing, and I almost didn’t believe it.

Besides, Muhammed knew me too well to believe I could commit myself to anything that required actual work.

“I’m not as lazy as you think, boss,” I said to him, pretending to be offended. “Marriage has been good for me.”

Well, certain parts of it. I didn’t want to dwell to deep. There were other parts that still haunted me every night. Parts that I wished I could forget but knew I never would.

“And your vrou?” He asked, still frowning. His permanent frown was starting to get to me.

Yoh, this was getting tiring to deal with. The guy needed to lighten up. It was like every time I saw the guy he was in a moody mix of some sort. I really wanted to just smack him out of it.

“She’s around,” I said vaguely. “Sometimes. Now she’s out.”

I didn’t want to mention that she left in a huff because I didn’t want to come with her to see her parents.

Women.

Ey, I mean, c’mon. We go there for a meal at least twice a week. That was more than enough in-law time. Besides, I didn’t feel like sitting around and making business talk with her father and brother. They were different to me, and she just didn’t get that.

“You’ll do your own stuff?” Mo asked, and I shrugged.

I could see him shaking his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Don’t do that to you’ll,” he said, now looking seriously at me. “Don’t live separate lives.”

“We don’t,” I said, immediately getting defensive, even though I was a bit unsure of my stance. “We’re just a modern day couple. Life happens. We both have different aspirations. It’s normal.”

“No,” Mo said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s where you wrong. I thought it was normal too… Until I got caught up.”

I didn’t meet his eye.

I knew how it was. He was right. I knew how a simple man gets carried away when chics are around.  That’s why I sat at home nowadays, and cooled off. A lot had changed me, and a lot had happened to make me change.  I just needed to work more on Farah and mending our actual marriage. We got along fine, but it wasn’t good enough. I mean, I was no saint. My eyes wandered to the moist inappropriate places at times, but I knew I had a problem.

Bad company was the worst, and when you go to places where there is mixing and heedlessness, you are sure to be poisoned by what is there. When a man wasn’t getting his ‘physical service’ at home, it definitely meant that he was going to look elsewhere.

I wondered if this was what it was going to take for Mo to eventually do something to get his life on track.

“Thanks for speaking to me,” Mo said now,the frown from his face slightly fading. “Sometimes I need to feel like there’s hope for me. Waseem acts like I have some kind of contagious disease, and some of those heavy people at the Mosque give me dirty looks.”

I shrugged, and took another pull, just because I had nothing to say. The guy had messed up. Big time.

I too, couldn’t believe that my ordinary brother actually risked his marriage like that. I just didn’t expect it from him. To tell the truth, I was pretty disappointed with him. I had avoided him at the beginning, but I didn’t want to push him away completely.

“Zee, this thing is no fun,” he continued morbidly. “I wish I could turn back the clock and just erase the whole thing. I don’t want to even be anywhere any more. I just…”

He trailed off, shaking his head again. I got that feeling of wanting to be nowhere. I knew it was a level of maturity, but I had a feeling that Mo was becoming despondent.

“I just want her back,” he said suddenly, sounding even more miserable.

I looked at him sympathetically.

If only. If only we could turn back that clock. If only we could relive that moment of betrayal, where we not only sabotaged our relationship with people, but with our Creator as well. I wonder if he got that most important part.

“It’s not about people, Mo,” I said, feeling like I was endowed with age-old wisdom, all of a sudden. “It’s about what you are doing to make up for it. You don’t look for that hope in people. You keep on trying and you keep on begging. You keep on trying to make it right only for the sake of the One who never desserts you. You just never lose hope in your Lord.”

It was the only thing that had kept me going, and I knew that Mo needed to know it.

Of course people would hate what he did. People like me were rotten, so I had bounced back quite quickly compared to others.

But people of real calibre took it as a real offence, and made sure he knew it. People who took Allah as their own, took it even worse, just because of how badly he had messed up with His Creator. People of piety knew how serious the whole thing was.

Such people are truly racing towards good deeds, and to know the difference, you really had to understand what Imaan entailed.

A person asked Allah’s Rasul (SAW): What is faith? He (SAW) said: When a good deed becomes a source of pleasure for you and an evil deed becomes a source of disgust for you, then you are a believer.

He again said to Nabi (SAW): What is a sin? Whereupon He (SAW) said: When something pricks your conscience, give it up. (Ahmad)

The thing was, when you possessed real Imaan, anything that went against the law of Allah Ta’ala was completely ejected. There was zero tolerance when it came to breaking the laws of Allah.

It wasn’t a major thing, but when you somehow realise this, and try and get your life back on track, the opportunities are limitless. The impossible becomes possible and what you thought could never be, is just a stone’s throw away.

So instead of sitting and dwelling over the wrong, there was only one way to move forward, and get on with life. And as the Adhaan for Asr sounded, I put off the pipe and grabbed my keys, gesturing to my brother.

I could see him hesitant, but I knew if he cut himself off from the One who created him, he would never heal completely. He could never get what he truly wanted, or redeem himself in anyone’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” I said, not waiting for an answer. Sometimes I had to take the lead, when my older brother was acting like a child. He followed almost robotically, and I felt myself getting a little hopeful for him.

Baby steps, I said to myself. One at a time.

I headed to the older local mosque, just because I hadn’t seen Waseem the whole week, and I was kind of missing my brother. I knew he would be there.

We read the prayer in congregation, and since I thought I had missed Waseem before, I hurried to the back before he could leave. Before long the Mosque was virtually emptying out, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

I looked at Mo, a tiny bit confused, because I knew Waseem usually would never miss a Salaah at the local Mosque.

I had an idea that he might be out of town, but I didn’t think that it was like him to make a spontaneous trip, and he had said that he would see me at Asr time.

Well, I didn’t dwell on it too deep, until I got into the car and took out my phone. Maybe I should just kill the pride and ask him what the deal was. He said he would see me, and he had just gone AWOL. I was definitely wondering what was up.

And of course, as drama would have it, his phone went to voice mail three times before it finally rang. I was starting to think that someone had kidnapped my brother, when an extremely panicked and strange voice finally answered.

“Who’s this?” I said, not really caring if I was being rude.

“It’s Riyaadh,” the voice said, and I immediately remembered Waseem’s brother-in-law. What was that guy doing with his phone?

“Waseem is busy here at the hospital,” he said vaguely.

Hospital? What the…? 

“Which hospital?!” I snapped, immediately on high alert and already panicking.

Was it my parents? My father? But why would Waseem’s brother-in-law be there, in that case? Why didn’t he just call me?

I immediately swung the steering wheel, heading in the right direction, ignoring Mo’s penetrating gaze as he ask me various annoying questions.

“Bru. If I knew, I would say,” I snapped, finally pulling up at the street where the hospital was.

Like really, did he think that I just liked to keep him in suspense? It was killing me too.

I parked in the closest available parking, and raced in, with Mo right behind me. I didn’t even pause to look at any chics going past, because my mind was only on one thing.

Obviously, since I had initially thought that Waseem was probably the one who was checked in, it was the biggest relief to see him taking a seat on a bench, immediately lifting his hands to his head as he rested his head in them. His frame was looking unusually defeated, and I could practically see that something major was on his mind.

It looked as though the entire universe was on his slightly slumped shoulders, and he had the world’s troubles on his head.

Relief flooded through me, glad that it wasn’t my brother who was the patient. The catastrophic part was that I knew that it probably could only do with one other person.

Love. The thought came back to me, like it hadn’t left.

And now, I realised, that it wasn’t only about the happy ending. It’s not only about your soul mate or your other half. Not only the fairy tale… Or where the story ends, and everything that was once broken is fixed.

The thing is, that’s not where the story ends. That’s where it begins. That’s where everything begins, and your path to Jannah starts. It’s the building of a life, the building of your character, the building of patience, commitment, and sacrifice. It was what I saw here. It was what I had always imagined when I looked at them.

I knew that they were different. Waseem and his wife were like the only hope I had for this messed up family, and I couldn’t stand the thought of that ever being sabotaged. I didn’t want to kill it.

I almost held my breath as we went up to him, watching Mo slowly approach him, waiting for some kind of response.  Waseem looked up at him, hesitant at first, and then glanced at me. He didn’t say a word. It was like he was shocked into silence, for some reason.

“What’s happening?” I blurted out. I couldn’t stand not knowing. This whole thing was just so sudden and unexpected. And I hated to be in suspense.

“Zaynah,” was all he said.

I wasn’t sure if he thought we had some kind of Kashf  or what, but he didn’t continue until Mo asked him again. I was already feeling like my own world was crumbling, because I could see that this was probably a disaster of major sorts. I felt like the mirage I had been living was broken in the most vicious way.

“Is she okay?” Mo couldn’t help but ask.

Waseem looked up finally, shaking his head, and then looking down. My heart was already plummeting to somewhere beneath my feet.

“I don’t know,” he almost whispered, and I immediately held my breath. Maybe there was hope. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it will all be okay.

He breathed in, and then exhaled, looking a bit more composed.

“She had a fall,” he said, sounding like he couldn’t believe it himself. “And now…”

He paused, and I really could not take the suspense any longer. The broken pieces were just not fitting together.

“Now what?” I pressed sharply, stepping forward almost threateningly.

He looked up at me, and shook his head.

“Now…” he said softly, as I strained my ears to hear his next words.

I almost wish I heard wrong.

“Now… She’s brain dead.”

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Maaf for delay in posting. Exam time, but I will try and post more often after two weeks, InshaAllah. 

Please don’t forget our Super Sunnahs!

Beautiful Sunnah 👐🏻 Wash both hands up to the wrist before eating.

Hadhrat Salmaan Farsi (Radhiallahu Anhu) narrates: “I read in the Taurah that the blessings of food lie in washing the hands after meals. I mentioned this to Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam). Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam) replied: “The blessings of food lies in washing the hands before eating and after eating.” 

Hadhrat Abdullah ibn Abbaas (Radhiallahu Anhu) reports that Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam) said: “Washing the hands before and after meals repels poverty, and it is from the sunnah of all the Ambiyaa. A pious man narrated that he once had a debt of three hundred Rupees, and due to straitened circumstances, he could not imagine how he could ever be relieved of this burden. Sitting one day in the discourse of an Aalim, he heard him say that whoever washes his hands before and after eating, in view of it being a sunnah of Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam), will Insha Allah be relieved of his debts in a short span of time. The pious man adopted the above procedure, and through the grace of Allah Ta’ala, he was absolved of all his debts in a few days time.  (The Sublime Conduct of Nabi (Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam) vol.1)

We will be doing more eating and drinking Sunnahs Insha Allah.

#RevivetheSunnahofEating

#RevivetheSunnahofDrinking

#Revive theSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofSmiling

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofDu’aas

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