Cat Fight

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

My heart was racing with trepidation as I climbed expertly onto the rooftop tiles, trying to steady myself as I walked over the bumpy parts of the roof of our almost-half-a-century-old house.

I grabbed the ledge as I tried to slide down the flatter part of the kitchen roof, hoping that no-one would hear the trudging from above. It was just about a meter distance to the wendy house roof from there, and then I was free. I then I would be out.

I had done it before. It wasn’t rocket science.

It might have been impulsive but there was not an ounce  of regret within me.

In my mind, although I knew that others may not approve, I truly believed that I deserved it.

This was my freedom. This was my release. This was my reward for being so good. 

I touched down and ran as fast as I could to the gate, Yunus quick in pursuit. I had to do what I needed to do. Abba would understand.

He half skipped with elation, obviously ecstatic that I was out too. The fun times would be back. But first, we needed to do some serious investigation.

I hounded Yunus about what happened all the way to the purple house.

It was so quick and Khalid didn’t listen, he said. All I knew was that we needed to get Khalid out.

My heart yearned to see my friend again, after the extended break, and as I passed the purple house I noticed the rickety gate half open, almost waiting for someone to enter again. But was I going to take a chance?

I paused on the opposite of the road, looking from Yunus to the gate, thinking about my next move very carefully.

I pushed the rickety gate open a little more with the tip of my finger, lifting my leg up to go in, and then pulling it back again.

Should I go through? Should I not?

I placed my shaky foot down, unable to control the slight trembling I felt. I was scared. Very scared.

“Khalid!” I shouted now, even my voice not steady.

“Khaaawlid!”

That was Yunus from outside the gate, trying his own luck. Maybe it would help. I paused for a few seconds on the cobble stoned path that led to the house, looking at it taunting me.

Dont do it, something told me. Don’t go in.

I shook my head.

But it was Khalid, I thought to myself. He Is the only friend I had.

I took another step onto the broken path, trying to pluck up the courage to take another. It was a fierce battle within my inner being, but I finally made my way to the step of the battered house, now able to see the finer details of the forlorn house. It was even more delapidated than it appeared from far. It had several broken frames and a blanket of grey dust that had settled on all the window sills.

It was just just two steps and I could reach the door. Just two.

Two more, I prompted myself as I slowly climbed up, not anticipating the sudden cries of the hadidahs above me that made me jump. I shuddered with the shock.

And as if that was not enough, just as I got the courage to lift my leg up once again, my heart jumped to my mouth as a clammy hand grabbed mine, causing me to yelp with terror.

”Aaaaaah!” I screamed, clearly terrified by the sudden intrusion. I was ready to get out of there, but I couldn’t free myself ftom the grasp.

I turned my face instantly because not only was I taken by complete surprise by this unanticipated turn of events, but I was about to fall in a really bad way if I didn’t balance myself to keep steady. The person was dragging me away from the steps, back in the direction of the road, and I almost resisted until I realised.

It was only when I heard the voice did everything click into place. Floods of relief filled my chest as my mind immediately eased.

“Don’t go in, Khawlah,” Khalid said, his tone serious and his grip firm. We finally reached the road side again, and I spun around and shook my arm out of his grasp.

I looked at him squarely as I stood on tip toes, half shaking and half furious, frisky, because of his silly tactics, and secondly, his spontaneous intrusion.

Boy, was I glad it was only him. I’ve never been so glad to see my friend in my entire childhood.

I clenched my fists as I stared him down, ready to give him an enormous telling-off, just because of him taking the hugest risk in childhood history by daring to take on the purple house. Only the flicker of terror in his eyes stopped me as I watched him, and it slowly subsided whilst Yunus and I tried to figure out our next move.

Khalid was brave. Like a warrior even at that age. But my mind was racing.

The purple house. It was still a mystery. A mystery that wouldn’t be solved for a long time.

What had happened all this while? Why was Khalid looking like he had been through war and back?

”Let’s just go,” he said, shaking his head and walking towards his house.

Yunus followed after a few seconds, and as he turned back and noticed me still idle, he called out.

“Come Khawla, I have something to show you.”

That was all it took for me to give up my overbearing and motherly-type of interrogative tactic. I slumped my shoulders, digested my childish pride, and followed Yusuf and Khalid to his house.

We walked a little faster than usual, and as we reached, I had already forgotten about the little escapade. Little minds forgot little things in little time.

He entered his house with a big salaam, a huge voice and a certain bounce in his step. I remembered Khalid always telling me about this big salaam to make whenever we enter the house. He said that it chased the Shayateen away. I didn’t stop to think that maybe the salaam he made this time was bigger because of his encounter with the purple house.

Whatever it was, he was almost back to normal and Yunus and I were ready for a new adventure.

What Khalid had to show me sounded so much more interesting, and somehow, it was easy to divert the mind of an eight year old. Khalid’s house was always filled with new and interesting things.

My mind immediately eased as I stepped in, and somehow, as we entered, I could literally feel the radiance within. It was like there was a certain light that existed ther, in this simple home… one that had been absent from our own home for so long.

I embraced it with a fervor that had been suppressed within me, living every bit of vibrance that this was bringing. It was wholesome. Fresh. So real and organic.

“Wa- alaikumus salaam. Yunus and Khawlah!”

The familiar voice boomed from the other end of the passage as we entered it, and I smiled as soon as I heard her.

Khalids mother was the most beautiful soul I had contact with since my mother had died. I loved her to bits. Besides that, I couldn’t help but give them all a cheek-splitting smile when she said my name.

“My darling, how are you?!” She cooed as she came closer, embracing me in the most cushioned hugs.

She was an easy-going, round and dynamic woman with Egyption culture, an Arab accent and South African charm. I simply loved her combination.

“Beautiful Khawlah,” she boomed in her melodious voice, as she released me and looked carefully at me, trying to see beyond the refined, almost robotic expression I usually wore.

Her expression softened as she looked at me, a little more carefully.

”Are you okay, darling?” She asked, now looking slightly perplexed.

I nodded, maybe a little bit too eagerly, not wanting to give away too much of my private life and feelings.

I had become used to the feelings of inadequacy that had brewed. I just didn’t know that they showed so much.

“Come, Khawlah!” Khalid urged, obviously not in the mood for his mothers interference. He was on a roll. She ignored him and continued.

“Whatever you need, just remember that we are here,” she finally said. “Now did Khalid show you what we got for you’ll?”

“That’s what I wanted to do all this time while you’ll were making yap and yap,” scowled Khalid, clearly not impressed.

His mother wasn’t impressed either and she gave him a stern look. He shook his head and stalked off.

He was showing off, she said, winking at me in a playful way, just to show she wasn’t really angry.

Khalid’s mother smiled, nudging me in his direction to see what he was talking about. I actually couldn’t wait to see what this big surprise was.

I entered the room, almost expecting some kind of explosion as I entered. It was strangely anti-climatic, but I paused as I entered, thinking that maybe I had missed something.

I hadn’t been to Khalid’s house that many times but I more or less knew what had been in this room. My eyes settled in a small box in the corner of the room, and I knew almost immediately that this was it.

I sucked in my breath as I saw Yunus leaning over it. Khalid grinned at me from where he stood now, just behind the box, gesturing for me to come closer. He scrunched his nose and grinned in the famous way he always does when he is excited about something, and I immediately knew that this was something big for him.

I inched my way closer, almost hesitantly, until I saw within the box three little fluffy balls. I was a bit baffled at first, but as Khalid bent over to pick them up, my heart burst with excitement.

Oh my goodness!

Kittens! Khalid had bought kittens!

“One is yours,” he said simply, holding the little ball of fur carefully and turning it so I could see it’s face. The eyes of the grey kitten matched my friends almost exactly, and in my childhood humor, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“It looks just like you!” I squealed in excitement, and Khalid and Yunus both grinned back.

”Khawlah, we already decided that you can have that one,” Yunus said, in his soft voice. “We both think it’s the best of the lot.”

It clearly was. It’s fur was fluffier that the other two, and the little stripes it wore on its back were more pronounced than the other two. The ginger kittens were pretty, but this charcoal grey one was my favourite. I just wanted to cuddle it and hold it tight. It was so cute. So so cute.

I slowly took it from Khalid, ‍cradling it the way you would a baby, never wanting to let it go. It purred softly.

”It’s purring,” I smiled with delight, clearly understanding this sign as a good one. This kitten was meant for me. It was mine. I was thrilled.

I hugged the creature to my chest, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside, just like the kitten.

“You can take two of you like,” Khalid said to us kindly, looking just as excited as we were.

We played with the kittens for a little more, and the afternoon passed by faster than I wanted. Before we knew it, it was time to go back home. Abba had made it a rule that we bath and change before he gets home. Aunty Agnus would be waiting for us.

I got up slowly as Aunty Radiyyah called us from the door. It was time for Khalid to get ready for the evening too. Yunus and I both looked at each other with a knowing glance, both of us not wanting to go back home. We were beginning to depise the environment that waited for us. The fact that we would take the kitten back home with us made it a tiny bit better.

I trudged our the door with Yunus in pursuit, holding the basket that Khalid’s Mummy had given us for the kitten with both hands. We walked briskly, glancing at the purple house as we passed once again, and realising that I had forgotten all about Khalid and his attempted bravery.

He had seemed to recover fast enough from whatever he was running away from, but he said nothing more about it. It made me all the more curious but there wasn’t nothing I could do now.

I would nag him about it tomorrow, I thought to myself, not realizing that I would only find the truth out years later, when the antics of our childhood and the purple house would be buried by the realities of the brutal world we would encounter as we grew up.

I swung the back door open, basket I hand and Yunus in pursuit. We were careful not to make a big noise, and with the excitement of the afternoon, my childish mind had forgotten about the crime I had committed earlier on by escaping from my room. In my mind, it wasn’t a huge problem since a week was almost over. One day wouldn’t make a big difference, right?

I placed the basket down in the passage, and lifted the kitten out of the basket so I could show my other siblings our new addition. Aunty Radiyyah had said that I needed to ask Abba if it was okay, but I knew that he wouldn’t mind. Abba loved animals. I put my hands inside the basket and felt the soft fur against my skin. whilst Yunus set up the two feeding bowls that Khalid had given us in the kitchen.

I shouted for Zuleikha and Ahmed, thrilled about our new gift. I could hear someone coming down the stairs, and I looked up with a huge grin, only to be met with not only an unimpressed expression but also with the face of my nemesis who had returned from her little vacation.

Now, as a little girl, I never knew much about holding grudges and giving lots of attitude, although the process had sped up slightly over the next few years. For that moment, since I was in such a good mood, and genuinely elated, I was prepared to let bygones be bygones and move on. I grinned at Hannah in excitement, watching her watch me with a curious look on her face.

“See!” I said, holding up the little kitten, so she could have a look. “My friend Khalid gave her to me.”

It took a few seconds for her mind to process what I was holding, and she immediately let out a yelp and jumped back with a hand to her mouth.

“Euwww,” she said, scrunching her face up like I had shown her something disgusting. “Boys are so weird. Why would he give you a cat?”

What was up with this girl? Was she from another planet?!

I shook my head, stuck out my tongue and rolled my eyes at her. She pouted, and then narrowed her eyes. I knew she was about to do something spontaneous, and maybe even vindictive, but I wasn’t really sure what. I should have been on guard.

”Mu-um!” She shouted, so loudly she almost pierced my eardrums. Her squeaky voice sounded a bit like a mauling cat.

“Look who is back! And just come and look what she’s brought.”

 

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The Purple House

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

Human beings are slaves to different things. Some are enslaved to money. Some have enslaved our hearts to other people. We love them as we should only love our Creator. Some of us are enslaved to status or to our careers. Some of us are just slaves to our desires. We just do what we feel, with no regard for consequence. With no regard for any sort of penalty, or reprimand.

At times, a sometimes putrid thought may exist in our mind, that we don’t act on, but still lurks within. It exists somewhere within the mind, and we keep warding it off in an effort for it to just completely disappear.  But Shaytaan is brilliant in his  deception. He will see the opportunity to blow it up. Shaytaan uses his tactics to make it appear so alluring. And then, you give in. You give up. You just snap.

And although my behavior was atrocious, I didn’t care.

At that very moment, I didn’t care. I just needed to free myself. My inner being. My soul, from the burden I had been carrying. My heart was in my throat too as I lunged, knowing very well what this may bring and very well how serious this can be.

But I didn’t care.

By now, the stubborn and callous nature I had developed had become very much an unchangable part of me. It was hard for a leopard like me to change its spots. And a leopard was the right word for me at that moment, as I knocked Hannah over with a swift force, wanting to inflict as much harm as I possibly could, with the least effort.

“Khawlah!”

The voice was loud and the tone was abrupt. I halted in mid attack as my mind adjusted to the reality again, realizing that this was never going to end well for me anyway. I might as well do what I intended to.

“Khawlah!” another voice screeched. “Stop!”

My teeth sunk into the pinkish flesh of Hannah’s upper arm, and a piercing scream escaped from her mouth as I unclenched my jaw, knowing that she would only feel the full effect in a few seconds.

Served her right, the little crybaby, I thought to myself as she started to bawl like a baby.

I could feel the burning scrapes of her finger nails that had dug into my neck and I knew that a clump of my hair had probably been pulled out. I wasn’t unscathed. But I didn’t care.

I allowed the firm hands that hoisted me up from behind me to pull me away, knowing that it wasn’t the end. Knowing that this would be the unfinished business that I would somehow find a reason to finish.

“Take her to her room,” I heard Aunty Nas tell Aunty Agnus as she bent over Hannah, examining the marks on her darling daughter.

“And leave her there,” she completed abruptly, glancing backward at me with disdain.

“Why Khawlah?” Aunty Agnus was saying in her half English, as she took me up to my room. “Why you must hurt the girl? She not trouble you. Leave her alone.”

I stared ahead blankly as we entered the room.

I had to see Khalid. He would be coming home anytime now.

I couldn’t go now, though. I knew Aunty Nas would be looking for me. I would be in deep trouble if I disappeared after the whole escapade. For the first time, I regretted being so impulsive.

Zuleikha stood next to us both silently, not saying a word. I had no idea what she was thinking or why she said nothing. The silence was deafening.

“What?” I said to her angrily when Aunty Agnus left. “Why are you not talking?”

She looked at me and shook her head, biting her lip and breathing in slowly, unsure of how to say what she wanted to.

“I know this is hard, Khawlah,” she started, and I could see her thinking hard about her next words. “But this is our life now and this is how our home has become. You just can’t behave like that all the time. You will make it hard for us all.”

My eyes flashed angrily at her now, annoyed that she was making this about her. It was true, but how dare she make this about them?

That horrible girl started with me. She took my stuff. She stole my things.

“Did you even see her stupid doll house?” I screamed, appalled at Zuleikha’s callousness. I lowered my voice.

“That’s our furniture,” I said icily. “Mama gave us. And she stole it.”

I could tell that Zuleikha knew about the furniture way before I did from her indifferent attitude. It made me even more annoyed. So she knew and she didn’t even care? She just let this irritating girl get away with whatever she wanted? I really hated her now.

I turned my head away from Zuleikha, appalled at her attitude. She didn’t care. She probably liked Hannah. Maybe because she was more girly than me. Maybe she preferred her to me because she wasn’t all rough and rude like I was.

I sat at the edge of my bed with my arms crossed, ignoring her for the rest of the afternoon. Aunty Nas came to check on me, but I knew it was only to check if I hadn’t disappeared.

If it wasn’t for the fear of disappointing my father again, I would have gone against the rules. I wouldn’t have listened. I would have gone to see Khalid.

But for a child, security was gold. The only adult who truly loved me depended on me to just be good. And I had let him down.

The punishmnet was long and hard. I remembered those me feelings of remorse when I saw the look of utter defeat in Abbas eyes that night. It was like he was trying so hard to prove everyone wrong, and now, he had failed. Failed to prove himself. Failed to be the best father. And failed his own expectations in the process.

“But I don’t understand why she would do that,” Abba was saying, while I pretended to be asleep that night. “She’s not usually so…. wild…”

”Well, the evidence is there, Nazeer!” Aunty Nas said, raising her voice. “She literally threw herself on top of Hannah and bit her like an animal. Hannah is traumatized. I don’t know if she will ever forget this. I’m sending her away for a while. You need to decide what to do with your daughter. ”

Abba said nothing for a while as he stood there at the door and watched me. He came a little closer to the bed and I could feel his warm hand on my back, before he quickly withdrew it and headed out again.

”Khawlah will be punished,” Abba finally said, sighing as he closed the room door. “She’ll be grounded. She must stay in her room except for meals and…”

That was the last part I heard. Their voices faded as the walked down the passage, and my own trembling heart seemed to soothe itself as I heard them going into the main room.

The week went by slowly and painfully. A week of grounding was horrible. I had never been grounded before. The worst part was not being able to see my friend. I missed him terribly.

I paced the house aimlessly, looking for things to do. Aunty Nas would see me and turn her face away, but I didn’t care about her. Abba would look at me pitifully when he would come home. As for Hannah, she went to her father for a few days. My heart soared when I heard the good news, knowing that at least one good thing had come out of my behavior. I wasn’t proud of it but I was definitely glad that she was gone.

And then of course there were moments when I felt like the loneliest little girl in the world. It would eat me up from within as the emotions of inadequacy would brew, bruising my inner soul. My heart would feel like an empty vessel and just existing would make me feel lost. I couldn’t explain it at that time, but whenever those feelings would engulf me, and the darkness would take over, I would simply get into bed, cover myself, and remember Mama telling me my favourite story.

Her whimsical voice. Her soft skin. Her perfumey scent.

And then of course, I would remember what Khalid had told me when Mama had died. He was feeling so sorry for me that day. He was trying everything to get me to join in the fun he was having but nothing worked. Finally, he came and sat next to me, with a knowing look on his face. His steely eyes were serious.

“Whenever you feel sad, Khawlah, remember this one thing,”

I nodded, eager to hear the remedy.

“Promise me Khawlah,” he said, looking so serious. “Promise me you will.”

I nodded, desperate to know now. It sounded like the best-kept secret.

”Just picture it,” he said simply. “Jannah. Where there’s no saying no. Where we can play forever… and we never have to grow old. Where the yummiest things will be our food. Where we can pick whatever flowers we want, Khawlah, and Ummi won’t scold. And where your Mama is, Khawlah. Think of Jannah, Khawlah. Think of Jannah and you can never be sad.”

And so, I thought. Those moments when I just wanted to escape reality and be somewhere else became a refuge for me as I picture my Jannah. I would drift away into the sweetest dreams, sometimes even wishing I would never awake.

As for Yunus, I could tell that he missed me a lot. He would go and play but would always return quickly, already bored with himself because he never knew how to make up his own games. He relied on me to entertain him, and it had always been that way. I was actually glad that he needed me. It made me feel a little better, and became my comfort in the darkest of times.

It was particular day in the middle of the week that I noticed he was gone for an extended amount of time. Worry consumed me as I thought of all sorts of things happening to my baby brother. I kept on going to the windows to check on him but Yunus was nowhere in sight.

I lay in my bed and escaped momentarily to my dream land, hoping when I would wake up he would be back. I opened my eyes after few seconds, feeling like someone was watching me. Was Hannah back and I didn’t even know?

I shot up, feeling the familiar raging within me. It subsided almost immediately as I saw Yunus sitting on the opposite bed, watching me carefully.

“Where were you?!” I hissed, giving him the stormiest look an eight-year-old elder sister could manage. How dare he leave me here alone for so long?

He shifted nervously on the bed, and I could just tell that he was itching to say something important.

”Khawlah, you have to come!” He blurted out, and immediately widened his eyes as he said it.

“Why?” I scowled, not impressed.

“It’s that house,” he said, immediately looking worried. “The purple one.”

I sucked in my breath, and widened my own eyes as he spoke, explaining to me the long events of the day. I didn’t realize he was gone for so long until he recounted the entire story.

The purple house. It was the house that lay almost exactly in the middle of our house and Khalid’s, and it wore tiny broken shutters and a dilapidated door. It’s walls were peeling and discolored, and it’s pickety fence was futile and rotting. I had once dared Khalid to go in but he quickly diverted the topic, knowing that he would never attempt it. I didn’t want to either. I wasn’t scared of much but this house was definitely worthy of being my weakness.

We would cross the road whenever we would pass it. I saw others do it too.

It was ‘The haunted house’.

Now, at our tender age, we didn’t know much about parallel universes or what existed beyond our knowledge, but Khalid had made it a favourite pastime of his to tgell us scary stories that he had heard from his friends or cousins. We knew about Jinn and that they could be bad. We also knew about Shaytaan.

But beyond the shallow understanding of an eight-year-old, we could never comprehend.

We just knew that something weird was happening there. We never knew what it could be.

“Khawlah, are you listening?” Yunus half shouted, breaking into my thoughts.

I nodded eagerly, waiting for more. This was an emergency. From what I understood, it had to do with that house, and I had to get there. This was a call for the brave. For the too tough for their own good. It was a calling that I needed to get out of this house with the best excuse ever. No-one can dispute the importance of this.

This was the most thrilling, yet terrifying news for an eight-year-old in captivity.

“We have to go look for him!” He exclaimed, worry filling his eyes. “He went inside to fetch his cricket ball… and he never came out!”

A Broken Girl

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

Our eyes locked for a mere milli second, but little else was to be done. We already knew. We knew that it would be futile to initiate a friendship, because just from this small exchange, we both knew that this would never work. We were too different.

I already knew that they were moving in. Abba had said so. Moving into our home to start something new. But the irony here was that it was already doomed. I wasn’t willing to give anyone a chance.

I stifled a yawn, trying hard not to give the girl too much of attention. Ahmed and Yunus were looking at her inquisitively, and Zuleikha had a slightly surprised look on her face as the intruder spoke again.

“This is my daughter, Hannah ,” she said, smiling at us as she nudged Hannah forward, obviously eager for her to sociauilize. To ‘make friends’.

Such was life. Often, we found ourselves in situations that we didn’t like and were forced to make the most out of. Situations where we just had to do what was expected. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be friends.

I turned my face away rudely, pouting slightly, not worried about any formalities. These were not my guests. I didn’t ask them to come stay.

It was just my luck that Abba walked in at that exact moment. Khawlah was the bad girl today. First with Foi Nani, and now with Abba. Today really wasn’t a great day for me, but I felt little remorse.

“Khawlah!” Abba boomed, and I already knew that I would be punished for my behavior. It had been years since I heard Abba shouting, and I already hated these intruders because it was their fault.

All their fault, I thought to myself bitterly.

I scrunched up my nose and looked back at my father courageously, unaffected by his reprimand. I wasn’t scared of much. Fearless, and annoyingly unfazed. That was me, and I knew it too.

He gestured to me to leave the room, and for once, I couldn’t be happier to be away from them.

“I don’t care,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as backward as I could, not caring about the consequences.

Why would I care? All this was too much. Too sudden. Maybe too soon?

I trudged noisily up the stairs, glimpsing the carved mini wooden furniture that was displayed there, remembering my mother’s hands showing their intricacies to me when she first bought them for Zuleikha and I. I remembered her after a long time that day. I least expected the tears filling my eyes, and I ran as fast as I could to my room, diving into the bed that I had slept in since I was four.

I buried my face in the feather pillow that hadn’t been puffed up in two years. I remembered the last time I had done it, before Mama passed away. Now it lay there, like a defeated victim who had definitely seen better days. Very much like my somewhat battered heart.

My old pink and grey duvet throw was looking morbid and crumpled, and I blinked back the next wave of tears that were on the verge of surfacing, refusing to give in to them.

Mama always said I was tough. Too tough for my own. Maybe she was right.

I lay still and sucked it all up, knowing that tears didn’t get anyone anywhere. I had to be strong. Big girls didn’t cry, and nothing was final here. This lady and her daughter may have entered our life and home, but it wasn’t the end of the world, right? Nothing was final.

I would go through the motions and hope for the best.

I didn’t say a word to Zuleikha as she entered the room we shared later that evening, although I was dying to know what was going on. I kept my head buried in my pillow, and finally fell asleep, not even seeing Yunus come in or Foi Nani peep in to check on me before she left.

I wanted to run away. The days were a blur, and I didn’t quite remember how anything really became the norm, but Aunty Nas, as we would call her was now part of our household. Abba and her were married, and although it was a huge adjustment for us, we would have to get used to this. He didn’t even ask us.

I was beginning to hate my own home, because it didn’t feel like mine anymore. Encounters were brief and strained. Suppers were quick and silent. No- one talked. No-one laughed. And no, no-one gave it much thought either.

Life had become like that, and as always, I would find my refuge in the garden down the road, escaping through the back door calmly whenever the suffocating environment at home would get too much for me.

Zuleikha was busy with school. She wanted to do well. Her and Aunty Nas would have small exchanges, but she never said anything. At the end of the day she would just sigh and tell me that soon Abba might get tired of the fights too.

Ahmed was entering his teen years, and would retreat into his room more often than come out to play. He was boring.

As for Hannah, she was different. She seemed to give me more attention than she let on, as I would catch her stealing glances at me while we sat to eat, or as we would sometimes go to madrassa together. Maybe she wanted to be friends. She was in a different school to mine, and I couldn’t have been happier about that. Her hours were longer, because she always did extra curricular activities that I’m sure her mother insisted on. Whatever it was, it made life more barable and it meant that there wasn’t much opportunity to get in each other’s way. But of course, it was only a matter of time.

Winter’s icy and short days crept by that year, and summer holidays were nearly here again. I was half looking forward to them, and half dreading them. I knew that I would be having lots of extra time on my hands, but the worst part was that Khalid’s family was going away to visit his mother’s family in the middle-east. His mothers parents had come from Egyption borders years ago, and she hadn’t been back since then. It was really an exciting trip for him since he would be flying after a really long time, but I had to think of myself too. It would mean that he would be gone for more than a week, and I would die of boredom.

With Khalid away, It had been a long week of frustration and avoided encounters. Aunty Nas preferred us to sit in our rooms, or be outside. We weren’t allowed to play in any of the other rooms, because she said she needed some peace and had lots of work to do. Yunus and I would sometimes peep into the TV room and watch whatever Hannah was watching, but Zuleikha scolded us because Mama had never allowed TV.

”We are Muslims,” she explained when I told her that everyone had a TV. “We don’t do what everyone else does. We do what is best for us. When you are bigger you will understand.”

Wrong is wrong is everyone is doing it. Right is right even if no-one is doing it.

I was a whole two years older and I still didn’t understand what the big deal was.

It was a new addition since the newcomers. One addition that I actually didn’t really have a problem with. Everything on TV looked so lively, exciting and fun. Little did I know that the liveliness was fake and excitement was short-loved. When I would hear Hannah talking to her mother like she would speak to her friends, I didn’t realise that it was the effect of the junk she would watch. I just thought it was cool.

I sighed emphatically over the coloring book I was forced to use, drowning out Zuleikha’s voice as she reprimanded me about the Shaitaan box for the fourth time that day. I really didn’t care.

I was just really glad when the next day came, because I knew that Khalid was coming home. Yunus was equally ecstatic and we dressed speedily, getting ready to wait for Khalid to make his appearance for the first time after a week.

I put on my cleanest jeans that I made sure Aunty Agnus has washed. I took out my glitter tackies with the straps, and pulled on my newest t-shirt. I wasn’t dressing up for Khalid, no. This was an event I had to look my best. It was a special day.

I was all ready to leave as I stood at the back door, waiting for Yunus to put on his shoes, when Hannah waltzed in and opened the fridge door. I narrowed my eyes, thinking it so unfair that she could just take whatever she wanted at her leisure, when we had strict instructions that we weren’t allowed to.

Foi Nani would bring us yoghurts and apples when she came, but often they never reached us because of the stupid rules. The familiar monster started rising up within me, and I swallowed, trying to control the anger and brimming feelings of inadequacy.

That was so unfair, I thought to myself as she grabbed a naartjie and slammed the fridge door.

It made me feel for one too. Those naartjies were our naartjies anyway. I knew Abba had bought it for us on the weekend.

“Give that to me,” I snapped, instantly grabbing the naartjie from her hand and putting it behind my back.

She looked startled but didn’t say anything. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at me.

“I will tell,” she said threateningly.

I didn’t care. I lifted my chin stubbornly and held my ground.

“Awh Khawlah,” Yunus said as he realised what was happening. “Just give it to her. Abba will give us later.”

I shook my head stubbornly, ignoring him.

Hannah looked from me to Yunus, wondering what to do next. I sensed her uncertainty, at the same time, not letting down my own guard.

“Come, Yunus,” I said, turning around and heading out the door. “Khalid will be here any minute.”

I wasn’t sure what time he was coming. I just wanted to seem like I was going somewhere important.

“Where are you’ll going?” Hannah’s voice queried inquisitively.

“None of your business,” I snapped at her, not wanting to entertain her nosy questions. Yunus followed me without a word. He was scared of what I may do if he didn’t.

“Who is this Khalid?” She enquired, to no-one in particular.

I turned around and put my hands on my hips in a no-nonsense way, emphatically correcting her.

“Khaw-lid,” I said, as if I was speaking to a small child, saying his name the way his mother did, with the most pungent Arab accent I could manage.

She rolled her eyes at me and shrugged, turning to open the fridge door once again to grab something else. I spotted an apple in her hand, and I was about to let her get away with it, when she suddenly turned back, looked me in the eye, put it to her mouth and took a huge crunching bite.

“Whatever,” she muttered to us, spinning around again and heading to the direction of the spare room that had become her new room by default.

I was outraged.

Oh no she didn’t, I thought to myself in disbelief. This girl knew just how to press my buttons.

Besides that, no-one invades my house, digs in my Mama’s fridge, takes my apples and then ’whatevers’ me and gets away with it.

Oh no, they don’t.

Without a warning, I raced after her on a whim, and although she had a good head start, she was quick to realise I was onto her.  Her little legs moved like a force had engulfed them, and sped to her destination, shrieking her had off in the process.

Now the spare room had always been the fanciest room in the house, and since Aunty Nas had moved in, we never went in there. It was the first time I had been there since then and I was startled by the changes that had happened, starting with the flowery-printed curtains to the huge dollhouse that was in the center of the room.

I altered my pace as I entered, and although raging, I blinked as my eyes settled on the new additions in the room, a bit annoyed that our spare room had become a girly-girl’s element.

I stared next at the unusually big dollhouse that Hannah was trying to hide behind with a terrified look on her face, my own eyes finally settling on something that was familiar to me.

I looked once. I looked again. No. It couldn’t be.

Was it really there? In her dollhouse? How in the world….?

No way.

The fury that had been buried momentarily, resurfaced, and I could literally feel it bubbling within me. I so wished that I was seeing wrong, but the evidence was right in front of me.

The tiny furniture from upstairs that Mama had bought for me all those years ago had somehow found its way into this wretched girl’s room, and I could not have been more infuriated. My eyes flashed with anger as I saw her glancing at me and recognize the craziness that I could no longer contain.

I shrieked, and then she shrieked. It was like a shrieking match that no-one in the house could ignore. We both knew that there was no going back from here. No point of return.

The footsteps from behind us didn’t stop me. From this point onwards, as I lunged forward at her with all my might, I knew there was no use stopping myself. The damage was already done.

We were already a broken family. And the only way to put this right was to break this little girl.

 

This Little Girl

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

I watched the new visitor carefully that night, noticing weird glances between her and my father, and already catching on to what was happening here. Abba was smiling a bit too much… a bit too happy, since Mama had died.

It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be smiling like that at this lady. I felt betrayed. Mama wouldn’t have liked all this.

“So are you in school, Khawlah?”

Attention turned to me as the newcomer asked me a question, and I merely nodded and went back to eating. I didn’t want to talk to the intruder.

After a long time, today we sat at the table and ate, whereas usually, our meals would be on the floor. It was something Mama made us do from the time Yunus was old enough not to collapse the entire layout, and we had kept to it since then. For the new visitors sake, Aunty Agnus lay the table today and Foi Nani had prepared a little extra than she usually would.

I had understood that Abba payed Foi Nani for the meals she brought for us every day, because I often would see Abba giving her envelopes every few weeks. Of course, now that we had a new adult in the house, I had assumed that Foi Nani and her food would stop coming.

She was Mama’s Aunty , and the only grandmother we ever knew. Mama’s own parents had passed away when she was very young, in a car accident, and Foi Nani had done a great job of looking after her. She had only one child herself who had now gone overseas to stay, so she was more or less alone. I supposed we were like the only family she had around.

“Khawlah,” Foi Nani’s voice said, in that warning tone that I knew very well.

It was okay though. Aunty Nasreen had moved on to Zuleikha now and I really wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“I want to be a teacher,” Zuleikha was saying, trying hard to be as polite as she could  to the possible intruder. I didn’t know why she was being nice.

She shouldn’t be making the lady feel welcome. I knew what was happening here. I’ve heard of these things before, when the Abbas find another mother. We were fine as we were. We didn’t need anyone else here.

”We’ve been exploring other careers at school too,” Zuleikha continued, whilst the intruder nodded. “But I feel teaching is so rewarding. Mama always said that.”

The intruder nodded carefully now, quickly and conveniently changing the topic and moving her gaze to my elder brother. It was like a series of unending questions here. I didn’t like this at all.

”And Ahmed, what grade are you in?” She asked sweetly.

“Grade four,” He said bluntly, continuing to eat.

She looked at Yunus now, trying to suss out my nearly seven-year-old brother. He was the sweetest of us all, and somehow, I felt entirely possessive over him, and completely responsible for him. At that moment, he was concentrating intensely on tearing up pieces of Roti and dipping them into the lamb curry. It was his favourite food.

”What do you like to play, Yunus?” She asked now, and I wondered how she knew all our names already. He looked up, slightly surprised.

“I play with Khawlah,” he said obviously, but not in a rude way. “She makes up different games every day. It’s fun.”

I shrugged nonchalantly whilst she looked at me again, feeling proud that my brother had complimented me. After all, it was my responsibility to take care of him. Mama had told me so.

“We play outside a lot,” I piped up, taking the opportunity to redeem myself for Foi Nani.

I didn’t care about the new lady. Foi Nani just mustn’t get cross with me, else would hear about it later. And boy, I really didn’t want that.

“My friend Khalid and I play together almost every day,” I continued. I pointed out the window. “He stays down the road in that house. He said he’s going to marry me when we are old enough.”

I didn’t notice the glances I got from Zuleikha as the adults tried to stifle their laughter. I didn’t see what was so funny. It was true.

It was just about a few months ago when Khalid and I were playing a game with stones, trying to hit a target, whilst we sat at the highest point on the jungle gym. He looked at me and asked me what I thought about married people.

I looked back at him with a frown, wondering why he would ask that. Marriage. I didn’t know much about it. I suppose it seemed okay.

“I think I’ll marry you,” he said afterward, all matter-of-fact. “If you don’t mind.”

”Okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say. It wasn’t awkward. I was too young to feel anything serious. It was a bit like a hurdle I wanted to overcome and get out of the way.

We sat there nonchalantly and looked down as Yunus played on the slide below us, swinging our legs over the edge of the jungle gym and enjoying the summer breeze giving us some relief from the scorching day.

”I’m not cooking though,” I said boldly,  knowing that wives usually took over that responsibility.

Maybe Foi Nani could cook for us and bring. I hated being in the kitchen. The outdoors was my element, and I preferred a mud kitchen any day. It’s just that we couldn’t exactly eat mud.

“I just want a huge treehouse and a big garden.”

It was always a dream to have a tree house. To keep it short, a treehouse was my dream house. Khalid didn’t have many demands to fulfill. He nodded eagerly, probably thinking he was lucky to get such a low maintenance wife.

“A garden, yes!” he announced, overflowing with excitement . “With lots of trees. And we’ll plant so many things! I’m going to plant every type of flower I can find. The coolest colors ever, Khawlah. You’ll see!”

He sounded ecstatic. He loved gardening, and that was one of the reasons we would get along so well, and just spend hours outside.

The amazing feel of fresh soil as we would dig into it, and the earthy scent that lingered and I so loved… gardening was one of my favourite hobbies. When I would see those first few sprouts peep out of the ground and admire its progress every day… that feeling of accomplishment for me, was unmatched. It was something like having my own little babies at that age… something I could nurture, take in and enjoy.

I never thought at that time how amazing the creation of my world and everything within it was. I never did have the knowledge of reviling in the beauty and splendor of what our Lord had so mercifully blessed us with. And that, of course, was where Khalid came in.

“Its so easy,” he said wisely. “Papa says: ‘if you make shukar to Allah, you are the King.’ Just say SubhaanAllah. And the world is at your feet.”

Khalid squinted into the sunlight as he thought about it and hummed to himself.

I nodded and he nodded too. He knew what I was getting at though.

What was the point of having fancy furniture and all those type of unnecessary things when you couldn’t even jump on them? A house was meant for living. For taking in. Enjoyment too, of course. Just not for display.

Abba cleared his throat now to break the somewhat humorous silence, and we all watched him as he spoke.

“I’m so glad that you’ll are all getting along,” he said, a little forcefully.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, forgetting that I was supposed to act a little more rigid. I had let my guard down a bit and I wasn’t happy about it.

We all looked at him expectantly. He didn’t say anything more but got up hastily and the intruder followed. My heart was beating a little faster because I knew that something strange was going on here. There was a big suitcase in the passage and the visitor didn’t look like she was going anywhere.

I could hear muffled voices, and finally Abba emerged with a feigned smiled on his face, measuring the risk of catching even one of us in a slightly off mood because he definitely wouldn’t want the repurcussions of that.

“Children,” he said, sitting down next to us, and I could tell he was trying to be extra confident. “You know I love you all. I want to give you’ll the best. Since your mother died it’s been very hard. I loved her and always will remember her. Aunty Nasreen will be here from now on to help us too from today. She will make things easier for me and -“

He stopped in mid sentence as the doorbell rang, and I blinked a few times wondering if I was hearing (and thinking) right. Was he saying this lady wasn’t going away? 

I couldn’t even think anymore because someone else’s voice down the passage caught my attention, and I couldn’t help but strain my neck to try and see the owner of it. A knock on the door was the diversion I needed to be finally freed from the curiosity that had gripped me like a plague. It felt like that, because not only was I curious, for some reason, terror gripped me too as I anticipated the worst.

The little girl stood in front of her mother, the intruder, and I just knew that she was not as she seemed. Sweet-cheeked and doe-eyed, she wasn’t a thing like me. Her stick straight hair was an abrupt contrast to my unruly locks, and her tiny nose was a little too dainty compared to my sharp features. But her mediocre height was spot on with mine, and although spotless in comparison to mine, her long fingers matched mine to the tee.

Little did I know that this little girl would turn out to be my sworn adversary.

A Whole New Chapter

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah: My story. Well, where it all started. 

In life, we often experience things, and yet never see the connections between them.

Yes, loss is hard. It’s heartbreaking. An obstacle can shatter our hopes. A difficulty breaks our spirits. But these experiences have many reasons…. and lots of wisdom in them.

They humble us. They shake us up. Sometimes, they even rock our world.

But, most of all, they remind us of how small we are, and how Great our Lord is. How little control we truly have. And in that way, they awaken us from the slumber of our deceptions, our heedlessness, our wandering, and bring us back to the path. Often, they strip away the veil of comfort from our eyes, and remind us of what we are. Where we should be going. Where we are all going to be headed.

As it lingered, the scent of camphor and calico was the unavoidable reminder, as I was gestured by Foi Nani to see Mama for the last time. I breathed her in as I watched her, nearly at her face now, taking in the fine lines and smooth contours of her cheekbones.

The face of my mother was pale yet calming. Soothing. Pleasing, as she slept for what would now be eternity. I understood that I would never see her again, or hear her laughter fill the house. I understood that this was forever, and I could no longer just be a regular kid. I would be the girl without a mother, Our lives would change completely with mama gone.

I spun around fast and walked out, somewhat emotionless throughout the whole experience.

Where was Abba? I hadn’t see him from the morning.

“She looks just like her mummy,” I heard someone say, as I walked through the crowded passage.

Stares and glances of pity didn’t faze me in the least. That was the advantage of being six and already seen so much in life. Too much.  The smaller things didn’t matter to you.

Yunus stuck to me, gripping the back of my dress relentlessly as I weaved  in and out of the people who were present.

“Call Zuleikha,” I heard a familiar voice say.

I looked up to see if I could spot my eldest sister anywhere, eager for some comfort. Zuleikha was fourteen when Mama has passed away, but in retrospect, she always seemed so much older. She donned the face of the bravest teenager and she held her emotions in expertly as she was called to see mama too, for the final farewell. The emotions were raw that day, but for some reason, my heart remained unaffected and my tears were kept within.

”Khawlah, are you okay? What do you need?”

I was forced to stop as a gentle hand gripped my shoulder, and I looked up to see familiar eyes.

I knew those eyes so well. I just couldn’t place the face.

Those eyes. Steely grey. Almost like a cat.

They were the same as my friend Khalid. This had to be his mother.

“Do you need anything? Did you’ll eat?”

Only a mother would worry about food.

I shook my head. My tummy rumbled. No-one had time to think of food since the morning. I had sneaked in the kitchen and grabbed a pack of Marie biscuits for Yunus and I, but that was ages ago.

“Here,” she said, making us sit in the farthest corner of the dining room and giving us a packet of chips she had in her bag. I wondered if mothers were just a little crazy like that. They came prepared for impromptu meals in the middle of the oddest of places. Mama was the same. I supposed with four children she had to keep some stock on hand. We were always munching on something or the other.

I remembered sitting there, feeling so much more relieved than I had the whole morning. Maybe life wouldn’t be so bad after all, with Mama gone. At least someone was looking out for us.

The funeral days passed by in a blur, with people in and out of the house, coming and going as they pleased. Abba would come see us from time to time, giving us a small pat on the head, or an assuring nod, but he too looked so lost. Like his life was on pause. Like from here on… he wasn’t sure what to do. Where to go.

And then, of course, when the house started feeling empty again, and life started going back to normal, I had to start school again. Grade 1 was that same year and Abba persuaded me that it would be fun. That I’d have fun and I’d have a nice teacher. And although I didn’t exactly enjoy it, having my friend Khalid with me in the same school was the highlight. He lived down the road from us and since we saw each other everyday, it became the highlight of the days, as I got through my former years of school.

Zuleikha helped me with my homework, and Ahmed walked me to school. Dada was still around, and although we missed the presence of Mama, life went on. The pain eased. The wounds healed. Things got a little better.

We were in this motion that seemed to never end, until one day after school, in my third grade, Dada called us all to his room. He was in a fragile state at the time, and though he had always been old, after mama had passed on, he seemed to suddenly age even more. Aunty Agnus used to help him to the toilet, because he had started finding even the mundane things difficult.

“Your Abba will come home just now,” he said in his strained voice. He cleared his throat as we looked at him expectantly.

It was nothing strange. Abba came home every day.

“He has a visitor with him,” he said slowly. “You’ll need to promise me to be very good. This visitor is very special.”

I narrowed my eyes at Dada, feeling a little uneasy. If the visitor was so special, why haven’t we met this person before? Why suddenly all of this mystery? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be all nice and welcoming.

Zuleikha nodded dutifully, gesturing to Ahmed, Yunus and I to come out of the room again.

“Go and bath,” she said forcefully, looking at Ahmed and I. We were playing on our bikes so I imagined that we didn’t look our best.

She just didn’t have to be so uptight about it, I thought to my eight-year-old self, not really caring much about this visitor.

I had a quick shower and speedily put on my stained tights and a baggy shirt, in an attempt to look half decent. Zuleikha eyed me out as I exited the room, obviously not approving. I stuck out my chin and held my head high. There was no time to go back and redress anyway.

Zuleikha and her standards would have to take a hike.

The turning of the door handle caught us unawares as we all raced down the staircase, feeling uneasy about this new visitor. There was silence from our side, as we halted at the  door, waiting for the big reveal.

Who was this person?

We all had the same thoughts on our mind, as Abba’s wavering smile met us, almost as if uncertain about his next move. We looked at him and he looked back at us, greeting us affectionately and then finally stepping aside to let in the newcomer. We all looked up as we saw her, a youngish lady in an abaya, trying hard to keep the smile planted on her face, despite our hesitancy to welcome her in.

After all, as she gazed at us with a certain expectation, we looked back at her with a certain knowledge that she would probably be the catalyst in our world.

We knew that this wasn’t just a visitor. This was someone who would stay. Someone who we may not let in, but would stay, nonetheless. The test that we may fail, and the wave that may break us.

With her calm youthfulness, and her piercing gaze, we knew that this would be the explosion that could shake our solid foundation… but nonetheless, the beginning of a whole new chapter that the four young, yet resilient minds would always remember.

————————————————————

Note: Dear readers,

JazakAllah Khair for the comments and warm welcomes. Much appreciated 💐

I’m aiming for something new, InshaAllah… maybe the old characters may pop up somewhere though, we never know.

Enjoy, and make dua for sincerity of this author. May it be beneficial. InshaAllah.

Sincerely,

Amatullah 🌸

 

 

A Change of Chance

Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem

Khawlah: When the sun was at its brightest

I giggled in unison with Ahmed, my elder brother, running down the darkened passage as we tried to hide from Foi Nani. Glittering gleams of light streamed through the study window blinds as we entered it, shedding strips of sunlight onto the oak sideboard that filled up the small room. We grinned at each other in childhood ecstasy as Ahmed peeped out, before hearing little footsteps coming towards us.

“They’re here, Foi Nani,” our baby brother screamed excitedly, as if he was the one we were playing hide and seek with.  I rolled my eyes at Ahmed, and he shook his head at me with a knowing glance. Yunus always spoilt the fun.

“Let’s act like we are invisible,” I said to Ahmed, grinning again and squinting my eyes in the famous way I always did when I wanted to appear a little dorky. I cocked my head from side to side, letting my childish locks sway, finding the whole game even more amusing as we tried to hide behind the curtains and completely ‘disappear’. I supposed it was my way of escaping reality, even though I didn’t know it at that time. All I knew was that I was having fun. Lots of it.

I knew the reality too.

Mama was sick. But that didn’t mean that we couldn’t have fun. We were just trying to make the most of the situation. We were only kids.

When Mama was well, Abba would take us to the most extraordinary places when we were on holiday. Now that Mama was always in bed,  life had taken a turn towards monotony. Day in and day out, the routine was the same for a while.

She was sick for a long time before she eventually gave up. It wasn’t that she was fighting to stay alive for the world. At that tender age, I understood that she was worried about us. I knew what she wanted from us… and as I grew up, I understood what she feared.

Abba was different. Don’t get me wrong. He loved Mama in a way that no-one could comprehend. But he was born into a background of confusion, disunity and even abuse.

Dadi was a revert, and he always said that she was awesome. It was just that Dada and Dadi had to work hard in the shop and would sometimes leave him at the family house to be taken care of. From what I understood at that time, the family people weren’t the nicest of people, and they didn’t like him much. I couldn’t understand why, because to me, my Abba was the best. Well, at that point- he was better than a super hero to me.

“Not everyone in life has it easy like you’ll,” he always said. “Some people work. Some people work really hard, and sometimes they still don’t come out.”

Obviously we didn’t know what he was going on about. For us, the sun was at its brightest. Dada would just look from his space at the end at the table, and nod his head. Yes, even if Mama wasn’t going to fully recover, it didn’t mean that everything would just diminish, right?

Wel, that’s the thing with this world. What a facade. It even fools us into thinking that we will always be the way we are… always stay the way that we were. They had it tough, but that was over now, right?

Yes, we had been duped. Abba worked hard to get to where he was. We weren’t living in a mansion with multiple servants or anything, but we lived a comfortable life. Really comfortable. Some would say even spoilt.

And then of course, it happened. Our worst fears, and the doom that was pending.  Mama died. One day we woke up and Mama and Abba weren’t there. No one had to explain to us because we already knew.

The day of Mama’s funeral was the day that a lot of things came into perspective for me. People were rushing around in a sort of frenzy, doing all sorts of things at the same time. Yunus and I just sat in a corner of the room, not really knowing what else to do. I wished I could go sit in my room and play with my new doll house, but Foi Nani had said that we must read.

I was only 6. What did I know?

I didn’t even know what to read. Since mama couldn’t do madrassa with us for a few months, I had even forgotten what I could say. How I could pray.  I moved the beads on the tasbeeh I held in my hands saying ‘Allah’, because that’s all I remembered.

Allah. Allah. Wasn’t He always there? Allah. 

The body was brought in as we sat, all clad in white.

Mama. That was our mama.

I shivered as the cold winter air creeped through the open door,  making me feel as if I was more alone than ever. Even though I was surrounded by people, my heart held an emptiness that only my siblings could comprehend.

Death was hard. Brutal.  Painful and imposing. It didn’t wait until your children were old enough. It didn’t wait till you  had prepared for it. It was sudden and savage, and it ripped people apart. It tore up homes and it bruised our inner-most souls. It hurt. Yes, it hurt so much. So so much.

We looked at each other, all four of us, but none of us smiled.

Today, there would be no smiles. Not from us. No running in the passage. No playing hide and seek. No laughter or giggles.

For once, the silence in our house was a sweet one to our ears.

We didn’t want to hear joyful outbursts. We couldn’t even manage any sad smiles. Today everything was different.

Our entire world was in limbo.

Everything had changed.

 

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Dearest readers

I know I have been off the radar for ages, and this post is a bit sad. But it’s only the beginning and I’m hoping to add some really beneficial lessons. 🌷InshaAllah. Instead of a always having romance, and making that a central theme, I thought it would be good to add some other genres in to our Muslim blogs.

May it be beneficial.

Sincerely,

Amatullah  🌸