When Real Roses Win

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


You know what it’s like when you’ve waited for something special that you’ve ordered to come in the post… and then, it actually comes…. a day early?!

That feeling…

“Oh my word, Khawlah, it’s snow!”

Yunus was screeching as I still lay in bed one morning, deliberating in my mind whether step out of my comfort zone or not.

Of course, despite the cold, immediately following his outburst, I jumped out of bed in haste, and speedily searched for the warmest items of clothing I could find in the messy pile on my chair. Yanking the curtains open, I peered outside to see if it really was as he said, and the sight that met me… well, it simply took my breath away.

That feeling of unexpected joy. Well, that was exactly it. An overwhelming excitement. I was ecstatic, as my eyes feasted on the splendor that looked, oh-so-inviting.

Who would have ever thought we could have such spectacular snow in the most southern tip of Africa?

I was a boisterous ten-year-old at the time, and I could barely believe that as we slept that winters night, the skies had opened up to a silent downpour. It was like blinding whiteness, that had descended so gracefully during the night, and the most amazing part was- we had no inkling whatsoever.

I breathed in as I stepped outside, the iciness catching slightly at my throat as I rubbed my gloves hands together in glee and followed my brothers into the open and deserted road. Of course, we were thrilled to have a ‘snow day’, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last in this cold. We didn’t exactly have the best snow gear.

I trudged along, trying to figure out where exactly it all stopped, and although it wasn’t the thickest layer of icy delight, the whiteness on that morning seemed… endless. It was simply beautiful… but, before I had actually witnessed this, I didn’t realize just how freezing snow really was.

I shuddered as I felt a thud at the back of my scarved neck, instantly moving myself  around as fast as I could, despite the hindering snow.

I scowled, dusting off the moisture that I could feel at my neck. I should have guessed the culprit.

Khalid stood a few meters away, chuckling in delight as he saw the expression of annoyance on my face. Of course he would find it funny.

”It’s only water,” he grinned, thrilled with the snow that had made its appearance after so many years. He was all geared up with a beanie, mittens and a heavy duty rain jacket. I hadn’t seen him since a few days, and secretly, I was happy to see that my friend was okay.

“Frozen water!” I retorted unhappily , blinking at him angrily. Khalid wasn’t fazed.

He was still chuckling away as a voice called my name from the near distance. It sounded like my father.

Khalid busied himself with gathering more snow, almost as if he had been doing that all along and I scowled again, turning on my heel and making my way up to the house before another snowball hit. He could tell I wasn’t happy with him. I would get him back later, when it wasn’t so cold.

“Hey, Khawlah,” he called out from behind, and it was kind of strange because when I looked at him, I could, for the first time ever, see Khalid’s expression change to something of regret. He actually looked… apologetic.

I shivered as I looked down at him from the slope I stood on, my expression immediately softening. Amidst the presence of the snowfield, Khalid’s lively eyes looked almost blue. His gaze shifted off of me as he simply unzipped half his jacket, stuffed his covered hands into his inner pocket and fumbled briefly before he finally pulled it out again to reveal… the most perfectly colored burgundy rose.

”It’s for you,” he said, thrusting it at me consciously, as I stared him down. I wanted to smile but I didn’t want to let him off the hook.

I couldn’t imagine how he had probably hunted in this blizzard to find such a perfect rose. Khalid knew my weakness, and had used it to his advantage.  In our eyes, of course, this beauty of a flower was extremely valuable. The perfect curve of the stem and the natural rose perfume that it emitted was extremely rare indeed. Of all the roses we had picked this winter, despite Aunty Radiyyah’s scolding, it was my favorite one yet.

He took a step forward, prompting me to take it. I shivered again as I stared at the ice that stuck to my furry boots.

“Can you see that, Khawlah..?” He said now, speaking softer, as he watched me, scrutinizing his rose. He pointed to its innermost part with one bare hand. “Papa says that everything that Allah created is with such perfection.. every unique finger  print… each petal on every flower … every flake of falling snow… every thing is so special. Khawlah, can you even imagine how much Allah can really do? ”

I met his icy gaze for a second, narrowing my eyes, just as the bellowing for me from the distance resounded again. I wasn’t prepared to let him off the hook just yet, so I grabbed the rose without another word, because honestly… I didn’t know what to say.

He was right of course. Khalid, courtesy of his father’s inspiration, always spoke about the most unseemly attributes that we forgot about our Creator. Imagine the anti-climax if our Glorious Lord had chosen to make every leaf the same, and every petal look alike..? Life would honestly have no flavor to it at all. Our entire universe would have been so… uniform… so boring. Out of the Almighty’s beautiful mercy… we have been give such variety in every aspect of our lives. In everything, every life, every beauty, there is a sign for us to believe…

“…(Such is) the artistry of Allah, Who disposes of all things in perfect order…” (al-Naml 27:88).

Like the most superb of artists, Allah has fashioned such perfection, and still yet some choose not to believe. Such an array fruit, flowers, foods, and so much more… the uniqueness of everything that we have so bountifully been given adds an entirely different appeal to life that we cannot encompass.

To have a friend who reminded me of this was invaluable, I knew. At times when Khalid spoke, I felt as if I knew nothing at all.

I muttered something about catching him later, making my way back to my brothers. Ahmed acknowledged me with a grunt as he saw the rose. That was the politeness of my elder brother.

“So, did Khalid propose to you again?”

Ugh. Ahmed never ceased to have a go at me. I could feel my cheeks flaming up, despite the severe cold. Ever since I had very openly declared Khalid’s childish proposal to my entire family a few years before, Ahmed never missed an opportunity to make my life miserable.

As I was getting older, of course, mentioning it was just… awkward. I was sure that Khalid had even forgot. And although I knew that Ahmed had always been teasing, somehow, as I finally we got back inside that day, and I carefully placed the rose in a small vase, there was a slightly irate look on his face as he briefly told me that I was getting too old to play with boys.

He was right, of course. It was just as well that I barely saw Khalid those days, so I ignored his comment even as he raised his eyebrows at me, with a look of disdain on his face.

And of course, now as I shivered on the step, and Ahmed’s gaze settled on me steadily again, I couldn’t help but recall those awkward moments that seemed to replaying right at that moment, once again. He wasn’t happy with me, and as his gaze settled on me, I got the feeling that he wanted to let me know it.

Ahmed was definitely not the easiest person to please or even appease, and as I shifted my gaze to Adam, I could tell that he was wary. My gosh, so was I. Why was Ahmed always so scary? 

Danyaal and Dayyaan were sent by their uncle to shower, and I felt even more awkward as the two of them looked at me in semi-silence. I felt like I needed to apologize for something, but the situation was not exactly forthcoming. I could already tell that my brother didn’t want us to talk alone, and he was making no secret of it.

“Just a few minutes?” Adam asked him, looking at me for approval.

I said nothing, looking at Ahmed for some sign of consent, despite the hammering in my chest. It was obvious that after Adam had spoke to my father and Ahmed, he now felt the need to take matters into his hands and sort this out. Well, sort me and my inconclusiveness out. Obviously, we needed to speak… but I just didn’t expect it to be this way. Every time anyone in my family had suggested him coming home, I had conveniently changed the topic. Now, of course, there was no way of avoiding it.

“We’ll be right here,” Adam said, gesturing to the lounge in the next room, and his statement comforted me as well.  Ahmed visibly relaxed, and despite my unseemly appearance, I followed behind Adam carefully, almost as if I was afraid of stepping on something. I knew that Adam had a right to be upset at me. I had left him hanging for so long.

Of course, my heart was beating madly in my chest as we entered the second lounge, and Adam gestured for me to take a seat.

I placed the towel down and gingerly sat at the edge of the suede one-seater, still unable to look at Adam in the eye. Even though I knew what this was going to entail… nothing really prepared you for the actual meeting when you would have to face it all on your own. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to last. When I was nervous weird things with my stomach were quite threatening to my general well- being. It was quite embarrassing. I tried to focus on the subtle decor in the room instead. Rubeena had good taste.

“I’m going to get straight to the point,” Adam said, and all I could think to myself was, thank goodness.

I was so worried. Super scared. Not to mention… afraid that he’d be angry at me for being so evasive about his almost confirmed proposal those few weeks ago…

Adam didn’t take a seat. I looked up at him with , but contrary to my expectation, Adam didn’t look angry.

For the first time ever, I noticed something unique about him. Of course, Nusaybah was right. He was very much worth ogling. Aesthetically, of course, he was barely lacking… but as he stood there, I realized that my own inclination wasn’t at all about the superficial aspects. There was just something about him that made people feel comfortable. He was easy… approachable… and something about him told me that there was a story behind his candidness that I didn’t know. A story that, in all its spectacle, I had no idea of as yet.

“I know everything’s been a mess, Khawlah,” he started. He said my name correctly, despite the fact that his accent wasn’t typical. I assumed that Danyaal had probably drilled it into him.

I nodded. That was an understatement.

“There’s so much that’s been going on…”

I held my breath. Now was the moment that he was going to  probably going to burst my bubble. He was probably trying to be tactful all this time.

And somehow, just when you tend to underestimate someone’s good nature, and significantly overlook the possibility of them just opening a door that you thought had been shut all along… they surprise you.

“Hey, don’t look so scared.”

He stopped pacing as he said that and looked straight at me, for the first time that day. I looked back at him too, surprised at his statement.

I swallowed as he said that, because somehow, he had hit the nail on the head. I had been so scared… I had even been avoiding this… because I didn’t want to face what it would bring. The entire facade was such a step back for me, and such an attack at my own self-esteem. It made me question my values, my tolerance, and at times… even my self- worth.

Adam took a step closer as he watched me from afar, and I found myself watching him back as he walked up to me, bending his long legs as he took a seat opposite me.

His expression was serious and slightly disconcerting.

“Khawlah, I’ve had a messy past,” he said now, his voice a bit lower. “I’ve done so many things that I wish I could just… trash. Edit. Erase. But the worst part about my past is that its true, and it won’t go away. I’ve done bad things, and I can’t lie about it. I will never hide the truth from you… .”

I was, somewhat transfixed. Did I want to know? I needed to, but I knew Ahmed was listening to us, and I wasn’t sure if this was the right time. What about his parents? There was still much to be said, but Adam wasn’t done either…

“But today, Khawlah,” he continued, speaking even softer. “It’s not about me. My being here, is because I wanted you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I know you’ve been hurt and you’ve lost people who you love, and had to face a dark side of reality that probably broke you inside. I hate that…”

I was stunned to silence as I  stared at him in bewilderment. How did he know all of these things? 

“But Khawlah, you’re tough and I know that you don’t need saving. I also know I’m no match for you… but because of what I do and want to believe, I’m taking this chance.”

”Aadam,” I finally said, wanting to apologize and feeling terrible. He held his hand up, signaling for me to let him finish.

“The thing is, I live in a virtual world,” he said, his dark eyes boring into mine as he spoke. Like Danyaals, his lashes were so long  and I looked away, feeling so conscious of myself.

“Reality is sometimes far fetched. I spend most of my time living in a place where anything can be corrected with the tap of a few buttons. Comments can be deleted. Mistakes can be undone… things can be fixed. I want to fix everything… or at least try…”

I looked up at him, now hopeful. He sounded so promising.

“And I will. But the thing is Khawlah, although virtual reality is so amazing… What I’ve learnt here, is so… so real. And of course, the boys have this amazing knack of proving to me that the real world wonders still win, hands-down.”

I smiled, somewhat involuntarily. They were right, of course. With their insight, ability to perceive and their amazing device of no-filter, kids can often teach us a thing or two. When you look up from that world of delusion, the amazement that you can discover is simply mind-blowing.

I held my breath.

“Yeah, I could have done this any other way,” he murmured now, a little strangely, and I could tell it was just nerves. This was obviously not easy for him. “A virtual ring…. A personalized video… would have been so much simpler. But I’m so sure of this, that I needed it to be real. I’m taking this plunge because I know that it will change everything…”

He swallowed and looked up at me now, running his fingers through his beard roughly. His beard was now almost full and involuntarily, my mind relapsed to those months ago when I saw his first sign of change…

It was the first sign. The first hope for him… The first mistake I had made had, had turned out completely differently for him, and I had no idea.

I wanted to ask him what had happened. I wanted to ask him how it had all changed. Of course, there was so much I wanted to ask him about himself too.

”I hope this is real enough,” he said, looking up at me briefly.

He shifted as he moved up on the couch, a little closer, and of course I had to look again because almost like a magician, his hand suddenly manifested the deepest and most richly colored rose I had seen in months.

It was perfection. And my goodness, it was so real.

He placed it next to me with a tiny smile, and despite my heart already being a goner, he clasped  his hands together, bit his lip nervously, and spoke.

“Will you give this a chance?”

Dearest Readers,

Western ideology portray proposals where there’s no dating or prior exclusive meeting, as outdated and not feasible. I wanted to show the beauty in Deen, modesty, and that discussion to a certain extent is permitted. I’ve also personally heard of some boys who have brought a bunch of flowers or chocolates for a girl who they came to ‘see’, despite not meeting her before. I thought it was a really amazing gesture, because it shows his compassion and appreciation of her time, even if the proposal does not work out.

For those readers who may be having to go through the awkward proposals and checklists for marriage, I found a lovely article with some awesome points. 🌹


Nabi (SAW) told a companion who was due to marry, “Go and look at her, for that is more likely to increase love between you two” (Tirmidhi 1087).

With regard to the boy and girl chatting (and looking), we know that this is only allowed under circumstances where there is a Mahram present and the talk will probably decide the outcome of the proposal… and hopefully a quick Nikah. ❤️

May Allah save us from haraam and assist us in doing the right thing, always for His pleasure…

Aameen 🌹

Much Love,

A 🌸

The character of Nabi (SAW).

Nabi (SAW) was the most pleasant person. He would greet everyone with a smile and always spoke to people with gentleness. His companion said about Him:

“I have never seen a man who smiled as much as the Messenger of Allah.” (Tirmidhi)

This shows that the personality of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was pleasant and gentle.

Let’s revive this Sunnah InshaAllah, because it is through our Akhlaaq that people can see the light of Islam and beauty of Deen.

How easy to practise!






Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah


No Illusion

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


There’s a theory that goes to say, in another ten years, there’s nothing that technology won’t be able to do. Who knows, right?

Floating farms, autonomous cars and  ‘brain prints’ for passwords.

A few years ago, it all sounded so far fetched, yeah?

The future of technology is limitless as everything progresses at such an alarming rate, that the pressure to keep up is just… well… overpowering. So, without hesitation, we step up. We live to our fullest. We buy the best gadgets, live the best moments and share… well… always only the best of it all.

But the pressure can be taxing. The hype of technology is not all as dandy as it seems. The deception is so much so, that people would do anything, take any risk, just to make it to the top. They become hard. Ruthless. Being in the business of Information and Computer Science makes you see things in a different light… and the illusion of it all… is just so deceiving.

The need to find ways to make it easier for us to connect with one another, can result in us spending more time alone. The constant vying for a smarter phone, can actually make us less intellectual. This media that we call social, is actually anything but.

And then of course, there’s another theory that goes to say that there will be only a mere one percentile of entire mankind, that will believe that technology is not the answer to it all. They will still hold firm to the belief that there is a Higher Power, a Greater Good… a Controller of Entirety, that handles it all. When I heard that, it scared me. What were my chances of being within that one percent who doesn’t fall for the greatest illusion?

And just because this world of digits and techno-living was my means to making money, it didn’t mean I was an unconditional fan. Did you even know that Instagram was first created for food? I mean, if it had stayed that way, it would have probably been a great place to be on. Technology, used for the right things, is simply awesome. I loved what I did, no doubt. Even from before I studied Computer Engineering, I loved technology. It was my forte, and it was the one place where I could kick back and just do what I did best.

And of course, everyone has a plan for their life, and I was no different. I was, what I thought as, a ‘good guy’. A decent fellow. And I can tell you don’t believe me.

Okay, let me elaborate.

I mean, I wasn’t a saint, but I didn’t drink. I knew it was unethical. Irreligious. Narcotics were way too low to even attempt. I was always a straight student, with no hidden agenda. I mean, just to reinforce that, I was even Head Prefect. Shocked you, right?

Like every other guy of my ‘calibre’, I had the perfect plan. I had scored really high on my IEBs, was admitted to the institution of my choice, and of course, I had the girl of everyone’s dreams as my own.

Life was that good. I had a great future ahead. Or so I thought.

And then, of course, in my delusional world, something had to happen to rock the boat.

“I’m pregnant.”

I still remembered the shock that I had felt when I had heard the news, the week before the my final year was about to begin. It was like an arrow was shot into my chest, and I struggled not to physically stumble backward.

”What?” I said, swallowing hard as I tried to process what she was saying.

“You heard me, Adam.”

I did. I heard her.

But dammit, how I wished that I didn’t.

I bit my chapped lips as I looked at her and clicked my neck as the dull ache started again. All that staring at the computer wasn’t doing me much good. The work had become more intense and I had to put in more hours. I had noticed her retreating recently. I had noticed her put her guard up. I just didn’t notice the deepened lines of worry that were now etched on her face.

And then of course, I couldn’t help but think; How the hell did we take such a huge risk?

Like a defence, my IT brain took over almost instantly, and without even thinking, I said the most unthinkable thing.

“Can’t we just delete it?”

I know. I know. You probably want to twist my ear right now. Maybe even something worse. I mean, who says that?

Let me explain, okay?

Honestly, for a guy who worked with computers and gadgets almost 18 hours of the day, you could kind of understand why I couldn’t say anything besides something that was completely application related. Maybe, if you were being kind. To me, I was a programmer.  I created things, and I deleted them… it just seemed logical at the time… but of course… real life was a far cry from logic or anything technical, and she definitely didn’t let me forget it. I was probably just really tired.

Of course, I apologized afterwards. Profusely. It’s just that, when you say certain things, there’s little you can do to take it back, and even if you do, your words sometimes penetrate deeper than you think. I had promised her we’d get through it together. I had insisted we would get married. I had even told her that I’d put my studies on hold and get a job so that I could help her out, and just be there to support her. She even agreed.

And then, a week into the semester, just when I thought it was all going to be okay, it all spiralled out of control. It was in the middle of the night that she came to my study-flat near campus, literally broken inside.

“I…got… rid of it,” was all I managed to decipher in between her sobs.

At first I didn’t know what she was saying.  I didn’t understand. And then, of course, like a ton of bricks raining down on me, it hit me.

The pregnancy. The baby. My baby.

She got rid of it.

Yeah, I was messed up for a good few weeks after that.

I blamed myself. She had her excuses, of course. She couldn’t see it through. She couldn’t put her whole life on hold for a baby. After her BSc, she was accepted for medicine the following year and she would never be able to pause her dreams just to look after a kid. Her parents too, were devout Christians, so to add insult to injury, she feebly broke it to me that they would never accept a Muslim son-in-law.

So, what she was actually saying was … if we had any future… she wanted me to convert.

And yeah, to put it lightly, that’s when I caught the biggest wake up call of my life. It was like slamming into the Great Wall of Reality Checks.

I had, in fact, trodden to such a place, that in the eyes of others, I was even worthy of changing my religion. That’s when I knew that I was a goner. I was such a goner that my girlfriend had no faith in me to even consider keeping my child, because she had no inclination to even be a Muslim. And of course, how could it be her fault?

I had not even once showed her the essence of faith. Not once, did I portray to her even an inkling of the beauty of my religion. I had done nothing.. except just push her further away.

And of course, from then on, things took a turn for the worse, and it had to end. We could have gotten married. My parents would have accepted it. After all, I was brought up in a liberal family. But the fact that the baby was now… well… ‘gone’, well, that brought on another dimension completely. I felt hurt. Betrayed. And more importantly, everything had changed.

There was no way we could be together after that. I couldn’t even look at her without thinking of the baby… fetus… whatever it was. And of course, she felt the same way about us too. I told no-one the truth. It was just before the end of the semester that we mutually agreed to call it quits and parted ways. She was off to medical school and I was intent on pushing myself because I had a huge graduate program that I had been chasing for months. Besides that, I had started working on something else too.

After everything, even with being so busy, I knew that something in my life had to change. I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know where to start. I wanted to improve my relationship with my Creator too. Somewhere within me, after everything that had gone down, I felt lost. Empty. So, so empty.

Ever heard the term ‘moderate muslim’? It’s generally what the west uses to describe Muslims who don’t really practice Islam. The easy ones. The ones who they don’t feel ‘uncomfortable’ around. I mean, even I had felt uncomfortable around the hijaabi ladies and bearded Muslim men before I saw it’s beauty. I’m ashamed to say it but that’s how far I was. In short, I had no religion in my life. I didn’t even know the significance. I barely went to a mosque, and I seldom even did the basics.

My sister often called me to help with the kids, and I obliged because I felt sorry for her. Her husband was a nincompoop who no-one spoke well about, and my nephews were my delightful refuge. Being with them made me feel whole again. For that time, I forgot the emptiness that had gnawed at me since that fateful day when I had the biggest reality check I could ever encompass. Being with them healed me a little more, and even though they often drove me crazy, I didn’t know that being with them would give me the best thing I could ever imagine.

That’s where I saw Khawlah.

And if there was a girl I could ever say I knew before I even noticed, it was her. Dammit, all the boys would ever talk about was her. I mean, I remembered the first meeting when I had vaguely met her and her friend. It was short and not so sweet. I wasn’t in the best state of mind because things with the ex had just ended, and I was still trying to get back to normality… but I didn’t forget. I mean, as my new friend Ziyaad had often put it, how could you forget the day you finally found the ‘gold’?

And of course, that’s when I realized that I had got it wrong all along. How off-track I had been. Without even knowing it, I wanted that. I wanted what they had described. Before my sister had even found it, I knew that her boys had already got the gold. The thing with kids was, that they were real. Pure. So unimaginably flawless in their honesty. And when Danyaal had confessed in very certain terms that he actually loved her, I kind of felt my own heart skip a beat. It was just like… YOH.

The chatter… the ambition… their stories… would just soothe me. Pure goodness… Such sterling character. Those rowdy kids who I couldn’t handle for more than ten minutes at a time, had actually acquired such superb manners, in just a few weeks. Their fervour… their thirst… the amazing zeal for knowledge that they had developed… Man… it gave me a brain check.

I didn’t realize that my eyes had been shut all along. I didn’t realise just how blind I had been… how my parents had done me such a disservice by prioritising everything but my religion. They had taught me discipline. They had given me the best education. They had even made sure I was brought up in the ‘right way’. But without the guiding light of the way of my Prophet (SAW), I now realised that I was lost. I had no direction whatsoever. I had no ambition to even change, until I saw just how beautiful it could be… until I saw what she had brought.

Of course, in this truth… there was no Illusion.

And of course, as life would have it, I met an awesome Molvi. That itself is another story, but after asking him what he thought, I approached Ahmed about the… unapproachable.

And jasses… how I wished there was an application that I could create to read people’s minds. I’m sure it would be on the top ten apps, of all time, for all time.

The thing about the human mind, is that our Creator has designed it such a unique way, that no machine can even come close. No illusion could enable its invetion. The channels, avenues and process of thought that are part and parcel of every day life…. one cannot even imagine the power of our Lord. No technology could even come close. No lie could ever portray it.

But of course, like technology, it can be used in different ways too. Some people have the gift of the gab. I, for one, did not, but I somehow made my way. Ahmed, on the other hand, barely spoke. Except to joke about my ‘upper-class school accent’, Ahmed barely smiled. He was that solid. Scary solid.

“Can we talk alone?”

On the up side, I could tell that he probably liked me. I supposed that I had a habit of making people laugh, and that always stood as my strength.  He did, possibly, accept my inclination to his sister, in a most subtle way. He might have even encouraged it.

But I knew he didn’t know everything about me, and as I stood there with the most honourable intentions, hoping that maybe I could talk my way through this, and of course, make everything okay… I knew that I was taking the hugest risk….


Note to my dear readers:

 A bit of a twist, I know! Anyhow…

Just a thought as I was writing this, and a reminder to us all. Sometimes as we get caught up in this Duniyaa, we forget about the most important things. We take Deen for granted, especially where Deen is easy.  We forget just how important it is to uphold our values, and we get carried away. We forget, in our indifference, how blessed we are that we have  so much in this country, and sometimes, we forget that we are even Muslim. People in our very own country are losing their Imaan. Allah save us. 

Please, my dear sisters in Islam. I plead with you. We need to end the chase for online fame, Duniyaa, Social Media celebs and the rest… Don’t let it come to a point where Allah becomes so unhappy with us, that He takes away our freedom, our ability to cover ourselves or spread His Deen. Tears fill my eyes as I write this because I’ve heard of so many places where this has happened, sometimes because of ingratitude, or sometimes just a blatant disregard for Allah’s laws. We are also guilty of this attitude in South Africa. May Allah save us and help us to be the best examples.. especially for our kids. 

Please, please make me maaf if I have offended anyone. I’m so sorry for this small Bayaan. This has been on my mind, and the truth is that we are complacent. We are so lax when our Ulema try and guide us even in the small things and what is even more scary is we call them haters and think they wish bad for us..

I am most in need of the advices. Always need Duaas. Always look forward to the rambles of the readers.

 Much, much Love, 

A  🌸

The character of Nabi (SAW).

Nabi (SAW) was the most pleasant person. He would greet everyone with a smile and always spoke to people with gentleness. His companion said about Him:

“I have never seen a man who smiled as much as the Messenger of Allah.” (Tirmidhi)

This shows that the personality of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was pleasant and gentle.

Let’s revive this Sunnah InshaAllah, because it is through our Akhlaaq that people can see the light of Islam and beauty of Deen.

How easy to practise!






Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah



Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


Like the transcending drops of rain that fall so freely from the sky, there will be  people whom Allah’s mercy will literally rain on, in the Hereafter. The way it was described when I had first heard it had made my heart leap with joy. There was so much of ambition in it’s meaning…. such unapologetic splendor in its promise.

And those two qualities are that which have no argument. Besides the first type, who are those who keep fast for the pleasure of Allah, are those who have beautiful patience amidst the trials that befall them. They will, undoubtedly, be of the intensely favored.

And of course, right now, I could imagine exactly why.

Patience is hard. It’s really hard. And then there’s Sabr-e-Jameel. Beautiful patience, like beautiful Yusuf (AS) and his father, is on another level completely. Sometimes you feel like you can no longer withstand it, and all patience has seized, as if you’ve broken, and that’s it. And then Allah suddenly grants you strength to endure whatever comes your way.

Because then comes faith. Faith is a funny thing. Life isn’t always fair. Terrible things happen…. People get raw deals. Justice is sometimes a far-fetched notion. Tawakkul is like a superpower; once you completely rely upon Allah to bring you through anything, to help you, to make you a way out, to heal you – you feel the end to the drought, the calm in the storm, the sweetness in your tears. The simple fact is this; Allah does not burden a soul more than it can bear.

Allah does not burden a soul more than it can bear.”

My mind processed the words again that Aunty Radiyyah had said with such conviction, after a telling me the story of how slander can be lifted, and justice had prevailed,  that I could not help but believe her. Of course it was true. Of course Allah knew my limits.

I knew Aunty Radiyyah would be the one to lift my spirits again. So splendidly she had worded the story of the slander of Aisha RA, and at the end I couldn’t help but weep in utter despair, just as the beloved wife of my Nabi (SAW) had done when she had found out, as if her heart was literally breaking. But now… now it had been a week since I left Aunty Radiyyah’s home that day with hope in my heart and the knowledge of truth that Allah can alleviate every sorrow in the depths of a soul.

Every day it got better. Every day held a new hope. Life would continue and things would get back to normal. Eventually…. I knew the truth with somehow prevail. The patience that it took while waiting… well, that was what tore me apart.

It was on a fairly warm day later that following week, that I knelt down on my knees, as my bare hand dug deep into the dewey earth, and tossed my last batch of seeds listlessly into the hole Danyaal had ever-so-carefully dug. The time had come to visit my favorites. No sooner had we covered it, did a single drop of moisture plop on my covered head, almost as if it was waiting for us to finish, and of course, just in time. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was real.

I reached out in hesitation as my hand felt the onset of the scattering of moisture, and the presence of the long awaited rain that we hadn’t felt for over two months. It made my heart soar. Being in the inner most part of Southern Africa often brought harsh winters, but the worst parts were the dryness that simply inundated us for weeks on end. The welcome drizzle was most gratifying, and I breathed it in with an ardent longing.

It reminded me of the mercy of Allah that those of Sabr are so solemnly promised. Waiting… yearning… accepting… and hoping for that release from whatever it is that is hurting or causing discomfort… it was a reward insurmountable.

I soaked it in, lifting my dress slightly and inhaling the fresh scent of almost-spring rains, reveling in its glory for a few seconds before the downpour would inevitably commence.

It was sheer bliss.


It was Dayyaan’s voice that rang out from the other side of the garden, and Danyaal smiled and looked at me as he heard it.

“I think he must have felt the rain,” I smiled with my arm stretched out, amused as Dayyaan trudged up to us in a huff, with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Its only water,” I said, trying to conceal my amusement.

“Yes, but now my gloves are getting all wet!”

Dayyaan had been gifted a full-on gardening set for Eid, and from what I had heard, it was the best thing his mother had ever got him.

“Did you finish your seeds?” Danyaal asked him, packing away his own tools.

“Luckily I did,” Dayyaan said, pulling off his gear and hastily retreating to the shed so he could put his kit away. He was mumbling to himself about the silly rain spoiling our gardening day, and it made me want to giggle.

By nature, Dayyaan was quite a character. Where Danyaal spoke softly and always thought carefully, Dayyaan was always delightfully vocal and sometimes had random outbursts. Despite their characters, Danyaals gentle features and light hair looked almost gold in the outside light, whilst Dayyaan’s sharp nose and jet black hair was a direct contrast. The two boys were world’s apart, and sometimes as I watched them together, I sometimes found it hard to believe that they were actually brothers.

Dayyaan stomped to the back patio without another word, and Danyaal shook his head in amusement. I didn’t blame his disappointment. After the long wait, and endless patience before I could get my thoughts together, I had finally decided it was time to see my favorite little people. His mother had said he had been looking forward to me coming all week, because I had the patience to work in the garden.

After all, that was what gardening was about, right? Patience, forbearance… and of course, the endurance to finally make it there to see the beauty of Mother Nature in all it’s best forms. This was my little haven.

Let’s run in the rain!”

I blinked, wondering if I was hearing right. Danyaal looked at me through his slightly misted glasses, and I smiled back at him, reminiscing over childhood days spent doing just that.

It sounded oh-so-familiar.

Nostalgia overcame me momentarily. I couldn’t help but think of Khalid, now remembering how he finally followed in my footsteps after my taunting on that pouring day, as we tried to get home, screaming and shouting in utter exhilaration as he sunk up the glory of running in the rain too. He had finally felt  just how much of fun it was too.

Tears filled my eyes, but I barely paid heed to them as the rain cleansed them almost immediately, and I made our way through the downpour that was very much already here.

I nodded at Danyaal as we moved along, almost challenging him in jest, to follow my jumping and childlike-splashing as I made my way back to the back entrance of the house. I felt like I was ten again. I giggled, as a soft booming rumbled through the sky, and the peltering drops drenched into my cotton scarf and flimsy shoes. I couldn’t help berating myself for not wearing my gardening boots.

To me, running in the rain, was not just about getting wet. It symbolised freedom. It was about going against the rules. It was about pushing the limits. It was that all-encompassing feeling of utter liberation, that poured onto you as the pelting drops of moisture would too.

And yes, we got soaked. I laughed and laughed, as I ran, of course, remembering  how I had laughed in glee at Khalid and Yunus as they ran after me with such apologetic ambition, almost as if they were afraid that the rain would hurt them.

I blinked as I reached out, knowing that the amusement was about to end.

The love. The laughter. The fun.

I grabbed his hand now, careful that none of us would slip as we climbed up the slippery steps. We both panted and giggled as we climbed up, taking one step at a time, now shivering with the cold as we adjusted to the sudden darkness before us.

I blinked again as I turned to him, processing Danyaal and his lazy smile. He was so open. Adventurous. Always up for a challenge….

Yes. Danyaal was just my kind of person. He wasn’t Khalid, no, with his dazzling smiles. He wasn’t Khalid, with his steely eyes. Not Khalid, with something quirky always at the tip of his tongue. Khalid always would be a beautiful memory, but those memories were just… well… they were just memories.

Now, I embraced the present. Now, was different. Now, was real life. It was a new time… a new adventure… a fresh start. But right now, what was more important was that we needed to get to get ourselves some fresh towels.

I sighed as we turned to the door, not anticipating what was ahead of us as we walked. Two figures that I barely noticed were sitting there, a look of amusement on their faces, as we approached the door.

At first sight, I didn’t comprehend. I didn’t even think. And then of course, as Danyaal spoke, my heart almost shot out of my mouth, because the realization was so unexpected.

“Uncle Aadam!” He exclaimed, in obvious exhilaration, partly due to his recent adventure, and obviously due to his Uncle’s presence. My breath quickened and I swallowed the saliva that had now gathered in my mouth.

Gosh. How did this guy have such amazing timing? He always seemed to catch me in the most unseemly situations at the most inappropriate times. I was utterly flustered as he sat there and eyed us both.

“Assalamualaikum,” he said, not exactly looking at me, but acknowledging my presence in a most subtle way.

“I see you’ll have been having some fun.”

I mumbled a reply as I  looked from Danyaal to his uncle, half shivering due to the cold, and half shivering because… well, because I really did not expect… this.

And of course… the event brought on a meaning that I didn’t want to acknowledge right there and then because not only  was it just him, but the other person who sat next to him, with his eyebrows raised and a look of disdain at my appearance on his stony face, was none other than my very own brother. Time kind of stood still, for those few moments. 

I sucked in my breath as Ahmed tossed me a towel, shaking his head at me as I tried to dry myself.  My hijab was soaked, my face was uncomposed and I doubted that I even looked human.

I honestly wanted the earth to swallow me up right there and then, and hopefully regurgitate me as the after-version of Cinderella following the wave of the fairy’s wand.

I was that desperate.

“Can we talk?”

To add insult to injury, of course, in real life, the fairy-tale stuff doesn’t ever happen.

There are no melodious proposals and no-one looks like royalty. Well, at least I didn’t. As I finally looked up, despite my embarrassment, I noticed that Adam did look pretty normal and his gaze was now fixed on me as he waited for me to give him an answer. I was honestly kind of stuck. I know I had been dragging this thing on, but I didn’t possibly think he could have had worse timing.

I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to ask them if they were both crazy. But nothing was escaping my mouth as I silently willed myself just to not make a huge fool of myself.

And then of course, it hit me. Some people are just suckers for a good love story. A magical ending. A happily ever after. Hopeless romantics, some would say.  Moved by the very movement of hearts, and swayed by the very swaying of souls, that surrender to each other.

Something felt different in the air that day. Magical, almost. After all, didn’t the scarce rain finally make its appearance after so many months? Despite everything that had come to cause such chaos… despite the hurt… despite the utter betrayal… despite everything. It obviously didn’t mean that anything was beyond repair. As Allah promises, there is always a way out.

And no, it wasn’t always going to be mystical rainbows and sheer exhilaration. People hurt. People lie. People sin. There weren’t always blue birds singing or fairy godmothers waving magical wants. There was seldom an event for morphing pumpkin carriages or glass slippers.

But what I did know was this; despite the drought, a little rain had managed to find its way through. The obstacles along the way… they were all the stride of the journey that we called life. The parched soil was now quenched. Like love at long last, it’s match was now met. Flowers sung in glee. Leaves danced in the soaring winding. Hopes flew high as they fueled on promising delight.

The dead was now… well, almost brought back to life. The rain had brought so much more than just a sweltering storm. It had brought hope. It had brought opportunity. Most importantly, it had brought an end to the drought… it had brought chance… it had brought change.

And just as I nodded in agreement, I finally raised my gaze to look at what I knew my future to hold. A great plan was in place, but I had no idea of it as yet. A plan to clear the air, to end the storm, and to finally see a sliver of sunlight in the stormy sky.

All that patience that had take its toll, and finally, just as the rain poured down in all its splendor, there was now an open promise for a better tomorrow. Some things were just worth waiting for. At the end of the day, after beautiful patience there will await beautiful things…

“I know you don’t know much about me,” he said, catching me completely off-guard. “You probably think that I barely know you too.  But Khawlah, I do. I know more than you know. Everything that’s here… That I’ve seen here… is you. And the truth about you, I know. That’s exactly how I know…”

Once in a blue moon, people do surprise you. Once in a while, the beauty of Deen can have astounding effects. And once upon a time, well…

Maybe you can have your very own little fairy tale.

Dearest readers,

So… looks like we’ve reached the end of the blog.

Okay, I’m kidding. A little more excitement to come as all is revealed and the next part the journey begins. Love to hear the rambles of the readers who have been a bit quiet recently. Keep me posted ☘️

Much Love,

A 🌸

Just a note about our Sunnah reminder this week:

The character of Nabi (SAW).

Nabi (SAW) was the most pleasant person. He would greet everyone with a smile and always spoke to people with gentleness. His companion said about Him:

“I have never seen a man who smiled as much as the Messenger of Allah.” (Tirmidhi)

This shows that the personality of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was pleasant and gentle.

Let’s revive this Sunnah InshaAllah, because it is through our Akhlaaq that people can see the light of Islam and beauty of Deen.

How easy to practise!






Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah



Pants on Fire

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


“So how did it go?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments while I momentarily stopped what I was doing, leaving the jug with the cupcake mixture aside, while I took a moment to contemplate.

I was trying to do more for my kids. Trying to be a more available… a more ‘involved’ mum. The rainbow cupcakes I had promised Dayyaan could wait a few minutes more, though. I had to phrase my answer carefully.

“Well,” I started, glancing at my brother as he tried to read me, like he always did. Adam was an excellent judge of character, but I wasn’t giving anything away in my expression.

“I think it went okay,” I said, a little hesitantly.

Adam raised his eyebrows at me.

“Really?!” He said, sounding like he didn’t believe me. “So she just smiled and forgave them without reservation, yeah?”

Gosh. He was so cynical.

I pursed my lips, and picked up the bowl of batter, avoiding eye contact. It was time for a diversion.

I could hear Adam approaching me slowly but I continued with what I was doing as he sidled up to me, and suddenly wound up in such close proximity to my face, that I wanted to swat him away.

Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

He chanted it directly in my ear, stepping back now and shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

I jumped back when he made his accusation and blinked in annoyance. I wasn’t sure how he knew it, but Adam was the one person who knew exactly when I was saying something that wasn’t exactly true. My little brother always had a way to make me reflect over my words… I was quite peeved that he picked it up so fast though.

“So, did she take it as well as I did?”

I scowled.

Adam was smirking but there was noting funny about what he was saying. He was broken when he had found out… and even more upset when he realized what a huge scandal it turned out to be.

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him.

“Shut up,” I said to him impulsively, the irritation getting the better of me.

It just so happened that it was at that very moment that the kitchen door swung open and Danyaal waltzed in… of course an expression of shock on his face. He was obviously unhappy about something he had heard.

And of course, there was no way he would let it go.

“Mum!” He said in shock. “Did you just say ‘shut up’ to Uncle Aadam?!”

I looked at my son apologetically. He had started to call Adam, ‘Aadam’ from a few weeks ago. He had this perception that we were saying his uncles name wrong and I hated to admit it, but my seven-year-old son was right.

He stared at me accusingly now, almost like I had betrayed him. I didn’t like them to use language that was less than polite. I mentally kicked myself as I realized what a fine example I was setting. I often heard that kids don’t learn from what you tell them… they learn from what you do.

“I’m sorry,” I said impulsively, looking at my son guiltily.

Danyaal gave a sheepish grin, nodded as a sign of acceptance and then turned to Adam.

“Uncle Aadam, will you help me with my madrassa work please?”

Adam nodded and smiled. I wasn’t annoyed that he didn’t ask me. Danyaal valued Adam’s input because he knew what he was teaching them… and he did it so well.

When it came to schoolwork, I was always on top of things, but when it came to Sabaq… Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I was even saying the words properly, because I had been so lax with regard to my Islamic knowledge.

I knew I needed to work on it, but I had so many things going on. I felt my spirits lift as Adam told Danyaal that he’d see him in five minutes, and he scurried off to get his Madrassa bag.

I watched my son in awe. He was so sincere… so genuine in his efforts. He portrayed such passion and devotion, I knew, that was so hard to see in a little child. It wasn’t just his age. I knew that he was special. Different. Khawlah had told me this on different occasions, but the question that hung in the air was what brought me to tears almost every night.

What had I ever done to deserve this?! Such a star of a child? A lover of the Quran? For a kid of his age… with Television so easily accessible, and everything of the best at his disposal, even I could not fathom how he had turned out to be so committed… such a fanatic of Deen… so in love with every piece of Islamic history that he had read about.

What had inspired this, of course I knew…. but what I didn’t often want to think of, was that it definitely had nothing to do with me. It was just that I had, by some miracle, made one right move by bringing someone into their lives who would impact such a change.

The fact that I was still struggling so much wasn’t important, right? I mean, wasn’t it true that Musa (AS) was brought up in the home of the most abhorred tyrant? What defined him was that within it was his own mother, who was a woman who received Wahy from Allah, and who had  maintained contact with him, so he could grow into a Nabi and Rasūl of Allah. And of course who could forget the Queen of that palace, who through him acquired such unshakable faith in the face of her enraged husband, which was so recognized in her pursuit of truth, that she will be regarded as the best of the women of the world, till the end of time.

It was like my eyes had been opened after an eternal darkness. It was as if a clear vision was now brought right in front of my eyes. Seeing things differently now…. How lucky I was that my Creator was actually giving me a chance to try again….? How lucky I was that I had kids who were so focused and willing to learn..?

What did I even do to deserve so many favors..? Despite the trials that brought me closer to Him, and despite those things that I didn’t understand back then… how was I even entitled to such perfect ease…?

Lost. I had been so lost.

I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes before Adam noticed my emotion. I didn’t have to worry though..  Adam was caught up in his own thoughts, staring into space, in a world that I honestly wished I could get a glimpse into. There was just something intriguing about the way he was so pensively leaning on the kitchen counter right then, with his chin cupped in his hand and a thoughtful frown on his forehead.

I clicked my fingers in front of his face now, curious to know what was on his mind.

”I’m was just wondering,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing as he snapped out of it and spoke a little hesitantly.

“Did you talk to mum?”

My mother? I went blank for a moment.

“About um…”

I was still oblivious.

“About Khawlah,” he almost mumbled, clearing his throat.

I couldn’t help but notice how  he was so awkward when he said her name. It was so sweet, right? Like he was even modest about how he mentioned her.

But wait. What was he asking me again?

I mentally kicked myself. Again.


I swallowed as my brother looked at me, running his hands through his ash brown  hair and shifting uncomfortably.

This was awwwkwarrd.  

“Um,” I started, feeling like a crappy sister.

With my own drama that seemed to be unfolding endlessly for the past two months, I had completely forgotten that Adam had asked me to do.  I knew that there was great wisdom in consulting with learned people too. The following week was a meeting with a Scholar that Adam knew, who would advise me about divorce or what to do about my failing marriage, but the thought of speaking to a pious stranger about it was stressing me out.

Speaking to our parents too, had completely slipped my mind. More specifically, our mother. Everyone knew that a man could be easily persuaded by his wife, but mum was a force to be reckoned with. If I could just get her to be accepting about what Adam wanted, and his plans for making Nikah, I knew that my father would change his mind in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, she had not heard about the outrageous scandal. Yet. And if she did, I knew she would not hesitate to let me know about the less than worthy girl who I had introduced into her precious sons life.

“I spoke to her,” I said carefully, trying to save myself but not wanting to lie. “And she was a little better than before. Like, she was more… open.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked away, avoiding eye contact with my brother. I felt like how I had felt a few moments ago. Like a traitor. I couldn’t lie. I didn’t want to.

Yeah?! Really?”

Adam was looking at me with a hint of something unrecognizable in his eye. I knew I was going to hear more than I bargained for.

“So is that why she forced me to accompany her to her friend’s little ‘coffee date’ last week, so I could meet her incredible daughter?”

Busted. I was only trying to protect him, right?

Ah, fish. Ugh.

Adam’s expression was definitely not a pleasant one. Of course it wouldn’t be if my mother was still trying to set him up with random girls who he didn’t have any interest in.

This time he stood where he was and crossed his hands over his chest in a huff.

“Rubes, I just have one thing to say to you,” he said in a monotone. I braced myself for it.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

I wanted to giggle because instead of this super-intelligent nearly twenty-one-year old, he was behaving like a sulky four-year-old. Adam was clearly not happy with me, and honestly, I did feel bad about it… but really, he was making it so hard to maintain a straight face. I stifled my laughter as Dayyaan ran in, looking for his brother, and then looking from Adam to me as he noticed me finally give away to the giggling.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I finally said, looking Adam in the eye. His expression was stony and I tried to put on a straight face as I spoke. “I promise I’m going to speak to her. Can we just get Khawlah in a better place first? Like, let’s just wait for this whole thing to die down… so it’s not such a huge scandal doing it’s rounds. I’m just giving it some time….”

Adams face softened. Danyaal would be waiting for him, and I knew that he had to get going too, but I needed to clear the air first. I just hoped he had it in him to forgive me…

“Rubes,” Adam said suddenly, and I couldn’t help but notice that look in his eyes. That mastermind web developer look that he often got, when I forgot that my brother was such an genius of a business man and not just my little brother. This time, I could tell he was onto something big.

He was pacing the floor now, ignoring Danyaals erratic shouts for him from his room and Dayyaan literally running round in circles around the kitchen table. Zia had somehow found his way to us and had joined in the fun too.

Adam was completely oblivious. He was definitely onto something really big.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before!” He said, completely bewildered by whatever his train of thought was. He was pulling at his beard methodically before he finally stopped in his tracks and looked at me.

“I’m going to clear her name,” he said, with a faint smile on his face.

“But how?”

Indeed, how could he possibly clear a rumour of such ferocity? 

Oh, the lies. I sincerely hoped that someone’s pants were going to catch on fire.

“I have to go,” he said sharply as Danyaal screeched again. “But we’ll talk after. Your son is losing his cool.”

I was about to follow him but the sound of the front door opening caught my attention, and my heart involuntarily thudded in my chest.

After the burglary incident, I was still a little ruffled up, and I had made extra sure to keep everything locked. My heart was almost in my throat as I rounded the corner and saw a figure in the entrance hall, closing the door behind him.

Relief flooded through me as I exhaled, wondering if I was seeing right. Shabeer.

And then, of course, I just got furious.

“Hey babe,” he said as he saw me, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood there in expectation. “I missed you.”

After 10 days of no show, he waltzes in, almost as if I owed him something.  I wanted to twist his reddened ears.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

I wanted to shout it out, as he came toward me, leaning forward for some kind of welcome home. I made a resolution right there and then to never say anything untrue, even if it was to protect someone I loved.

I took a step back, giving him the most thunderous glare that I could manage.

The audacity.

“Please Ruby,” He said, with a look of sudden desperation now on his face.

I didn’t budge. I just wasn’t prepared for what he would say next.

“Please… I want to come home.”



P.S. Wonder if Ruby should let him come back…?   

Revive a Sunnah 

Revive the Sunnah of Not Over-eating 

Miqdam bin Madikarib said: “I heard the Messenger of Allah ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) say:

‘A human being fills no worse vessel than his stomach. It is sufficient for a human being to eat a few mouthfuls to keep his spine straight. But if he must (fill it), then one-third of food, one third for drink and one third for air.’” [Ibn Majah]

It is an underestimated fact that food has a dramatic effect on your body’s and brain’s performance.

This Hadith clearly highlights that overeating is a reprehensible quality we should avoid.

How easy to practise!




Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah



Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


When life hands you lemons, sometimes you just have to accept them graciously and make the best out of them.

And yes, I’ve had my fair share of lemons. Lemons of every sort too. Bitter ones, pungent ones and some of them just downright sour. But what I didn’t realize was that these lemons of life would come to teach a lesson about life itself. To be surrounded with people who made the best out of the lemons that life had so graciously given them, was a hands-down winner. It was through them that I came to realize that even within the darkest of clouds, there is still a silver lining.

Across the conquering of territory that would soon come under Muslim rule,  the battles edged on. Battling on horseback with an array of sound weapons and sharpened spears, was a woman who fought like the bravest of men. Fierce, courageous, and unbelievably determined.

Alongside the ranks of Khalid bin Waleed RA, the esteemed Sahabah, who could dispute her status?

Though she did not see the beloved Prophet SAW, a woman of such stature and skill… such modesty and  affluence…. many dare not oppose her. Her presence in the battle field was invited, and her skills to the opponent were always a force to be reckoned with.

And so, to put it lightly… the capture of Khawlah Bint Al Azwar was a moment in history that was quite unexpected.

It was during the heat of the Battle of Ajnadayn that her yielding weapon broke with the force of what must have been some serious onslaught. The legs of her horse were cut beneath her and she was left defenseless as she came tumbling to the ground.

And there it is, my friends. Once in a while, it just so happens that the Almighty shows us the truth for what it is.

The reality is, no human is invincible. Even the greatest of warriors are sometimes put into the deep end. Even the most elevated ranks can sometimes be put to test. It is but the way of the world. It was the route that the Almighty chose to show His power… to show who’s in charge, and to get us to open that door once again that leads to us asking and appealing from only Him. He was, after all, the only One who could give victory.

Even the best of warriors would be nothing without Him. And of course, it’s only their unshakable faith that sees them through. And it’s only what they made out of their unfavorable conditions that determined the strength of what they would be known for.

“You’re a warrior Khawlah,” Nusaybah whispered to me as she squeezed my shoulder. “You’re going to be okay.”

I knew what she was getting at. I also knew that she wanted me to be strong. But did it mean that warriors never felt the pain even when they were pierced by the brutality of the enemies sword?

Tears rolled down my face as I gazed out of the window, the view ahead of me now blurry and inconsistent.

Nusaybah handed me a tissue as Rubeena picked up speed as she got onto the highway, her own sobs now subsiding as she .

I knew exactly how she felt. Our emotions were almost in tune ags we cried almost in unison, for the a loss that we both understood on our own terms.

Leaving the apartment building where Hannah stayed, we were all shocked to silence at the audacity that she showed despite us trying to appeal to her. The painful truth was, it was very evident that Hannah had no compassion to offer us because at that moment in time, her heart was completely bereft of any compassion.

“Please Hannah,” Rubeena had literally begged her. How she could still look at this girl in the eye was beyond me. Rubeena may had been many things but the quality of forgiveness she possessed was completely beyond me. After hearing what I did, I was reeling with anger.

Hannah thought that despite what she did, now that she had bagged a rich man by getting pregnant with his child, her life would be that much easier now. How wrong she was.

“I know Shabeer, and he’s not going to change,” Rubeena pleaded. “You can still make this right. You can still tell him the truth. You can go back to school… educate yourself… make something of your life…”

Rubeena had admitted not so proudly that she previously had it out with Hannah when she had first found out about what was going on. But since Ramadhaan, something in her had altered. She no longer wanted to hurt Hannah. She no longer wanted her husband back. Now she just wanted to see some justice.

”You’re just jealous!” Hannah spat before she could even finish, her eyes flashing angrily. I honestly wanted to shake some sense into her. “He chose me and now you are jealous! And I’m not making anything right! I did nothing wrong.”

She looked at me now and I narrowed my eyes at her.

What an audacity. Seeing her again now in this frame of mind reminded me of those dark days when coming home was the most detested thing to me. Arrogance was second nature for her. Remorse was completely foreign.

The resentment was a new feeling for me. Never before did I have such an aversion to anyone before this. It was like it had engulfed every vessel of mine…

And then of course, was the anger. Bitterness. Uncontrollable hurt.

How dare she? How dare she use my name and blemish me? How dare she portray me as someone so low?

I was trembling as I watched her, and her sheer callousness made my heart bleed as I realized that we were getting nowhere.

And then of course, as we turned away to go back, the truth of it all hit me like I could not believe.

The lies. The brutality. The betrayal.

How could they not even tell me?

All this time… and so much that they had hid. I couldn’t even look at my friend in the eye. I could not even meet Rubeena’s gaze.

Imagine what she must have been thinking of me all this time… the tarnishing of my dignity was as bad as it could get. The stigma attached to a rumor that can spiral out of control could break so much more than just a spirit…

I honestly felt as though my heart was breaking into a million pieces. The atrocity of the news that was revealed to me hit me like a ton of bricks. I could barely breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Khawlah,” Nusaybah whispered as she pulled me to her and embraced me fiercely. “So, so sorry.”

And of course, when a scandal lets loose there’s little you can do to reverse its effects. I let myself have a good cry as I thought of all the consequences that this had brought… and what it still might bring. I cried for myself, because I didn’t know what else to do. I cried because it had gone so far. I cried because I had no idea at all what the people who I considered most important had thought of me. I had no idea what they still thought that they knew…

I sucked in my breath and breathed out, all flustered because I couldn’t take the anxiety that this was bringing on.

Rubeena was losing her husband. I was losing my honour. And if I let things unfold the way they were going… Nusaybah was going to lose the one person she had set her sights on since over two years ago.

Oh. My. Goodness.


Thinking about him now brought a completely foreign notion to my mind. Seemingly stripped of my dignity now, I couldn’t help but mentally shrink away in utter embarrassment.

My heart plummeted to my toes.

I had completely forgot about him. That must have meant that he knew about it too, right? Right..?

I could barely breathe. No wonder he had been basically non-existent over the past few weeks. All this time I was busy thinking that he was giving me time to think when it was the complete opposite… with the revelation, it was probably him that needed the time to think.

But wait. I should have been relieved. I should have  been comforted to a certain extent because at least it meant that I wouldn’t have to reveal anything to Nusaybah that would break her.

But why was it that it was me who was feeling broken inside?

This was such a huge mess and I really had no idea how to get out of it. Resentment filled my chest as I processed that these rumours were probably making their way around for a while… but what scared me most was the hostility that I was feeling towards my friend. Never once did she reveal to me the truth. Not once did she even try to tell me what was going on.

”How could you not tell me?” I said now, getting straight to the point and addressing Nusayabah as she turned to look at me.

She looked at me with a mixture of guilt and fear in her eyes.

And that’s when I realized that I needed to leave. I didn’t want to be there right then. There was no way I could be around them, see the kids, act normal  and continue with this today.

Tomorrow, I would be better. Tomorrow, I would feel normal again. Despite my yearning, my heart was bleeding in a way that nothing could immediately repair. I had to find a way to move past this, and I could think of just the person I needed to see.

Rubeena was talking about Shabeer. She was going to talk to him, she insisted. She would make him see sense. After all, Hannah’s lie was to him. Couldn’t he at least see past the big facade that she was so good at putting on?

I couldn’t answer. After all, he had thought it was me. He had thought that she was me. He had thought that she was the Khawlah that the kids always talked about. He had thought that Hannah was everything that she wasn’t. Guilt overcame me as I realized that I may actually be partly responsible for everything that had gone wrong. I felt disgusted.

“Ruby,” I asked softly, knowing what I needed to do. “Can you do me a favor?”

She immediately went silent, as she waited for me to continue. I needed to escape. I needed to be shown some sense.

I gave her the address and she nodded. I closed my eyes as we continued to drive, not wanting to meet Nusaybah’s eye and barely even realizing that we’d reached our destination until we finally stopped.

I hastily climbed out the car, feeling able to breathe again.

Stepping out into the open air made my heart beat at a more normal rate. Amidst the pain and the turbulence within, there was a certain peace that came as I stepped off with the promise that I’d see the kids later that week.

I didn’t promise the same to Nusaybah, although I could see her expectant look. I was upset. Angry. Lost in my own thoughts, I needed a chance to think it through.

I walked up the familiar staircase and onto the front porch that I remembered so well. It was almost exactly as I pictured it to be in my mind all those hundreds of times… and the familiar smell of the jasmine that crept up the post filled my lungs as I breathed in and then out again, wondering if I should ring the bell or just turn and go back home.

But something had drawn me here. Something was beckoning for me to find comfort in everything this amazing place had to offer.

The reminders of better days spent in the heat of the blazing sun surrounded me. The memories of running through the pouring rain filled my mind once again. The one winter, when we had for the first and last time ever, got a very light fall of snow, was almost fresh in my mind as I recollected those days of sheer oblivion and bliss.

Childhood was sweet. So pure. I wished that it never had to end. At that moment, I didn’t want to think beyond that hope, love and innocence, because it was that which made me realize that beyond the storm there may still be a rainbow.

And of course, there was no better place than where I was to remind me. I remembered Khalids words clearly as I stepped into Aunty Radiyyah’s front step, deliberating on whether to ring the bell immediately or settle my thoughts first.

I gazed at the wooden door with its tarnished handles. The copper on it was not exactly what you would call fashionable or ‘in’, but I knew that Khalid’s Papa had worked hard and his family had lived a comfortable life, and of course, being Khalid, he never let it be known that there was anything lacking, even if there was.

“You know what Papa told me the other day, Khawlah?” Khalid’s childish voice still resounded so clearly in my mind, like it was just the other day.

I looked at him in amusement as he smiled his Khalid smile, and then ran off to collect more of the rose petals that had fallen to the ground, so we could make our own version of potpourri. Of course, we were forbidden from touching the flowers that were still growing so we literally stood there and willed them to wilt so we could continue with our tedious tasks that had seemed oh-so-important at the time.

I widened my eyebrows at him, copying his excited expression.


“Papa  says that we can also send presents for Allah!” He said incredulously, with a look of sheer amazement on his face.

I scoffed. That was ridiculous. Allah didn’t need our presents!

Khalid rolled his eyes as he saw my expression.

“Not as in real presents, silly!” He said, slapping his palm to his forehead and shaking his head at me like I was a child. “Being grateful to Allah is one of the things he loves the most. Not having a lot of ‘things’ is not a punishment. When Allah gets angry, then the worst thing that can happen is Him taking away our peace and happiness.”

I looked at him pensively.

How true that was! Taking away our car, money or house wouldn’t ruin us… but if Allah had to really punish us…

I shuddered as I thought about it. Khalid was way too wise for his age. Somehow, I always felt indebted to him for everything that he told me.

And right now, I would pay anything for that peace and contentment that I had. Right now… I wondered what I had done wrong to deserve this. Was this a punishment?

Childhood was innocent. Sweet. Free from any blemish, yet so real. I wished that it never had to end, but of course… the reality of this Duniyaa is that nothing is meant to ever last.

 For now, all I knew was that being here made me feel safe. It made me feel free. It made me feel like that innocent girl once again, instead of the jolted young women that had just been enlightened about the ruthlessness of the real world.

And of course, when Aunty Radiyyah appeared at the door with her beaming smile and open arms, there was little I could do to stop myself from running into them. I said nothing and she didn’t ask. We embraced in momentary silence as I sniffled away, trying to control the torrent of emotions that surged within.

“I knew you would come,” she said softly as she sat me down on the back porch, the afternoon sun warming up the crisp winter air.

The view from her back porch was still spectacular and I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic again as I looked out.

“Eventually,” she said, but now with a sad smile.

I looked at her now for the first time properly, and to my surprise, I could see the sadness in her eyes that I had never noticed throughout my previous visits. I blinked as I apologized for my absence all those months. Everything had gotten a bit too consuming, with school, the kids and the drama that was unfolding too.

But Aunty Radiyyah, being who she was, didn’t take it to heart. But then of course, how could she when she had an inkling of what had been going on too. All this time I had thought that everything was so confined.. so controlled… but as I studied her expression, I realized that my fears were confirmed.

And oh, the stinging in my chest was almost unbearable. The treachery. The blatant hurt that a simple rumor can cause.

As we met each other’s gaze, I already knew. I knew that she knew, and she was fully aware of it too. Her expression was calm. Composed. Her stance was extremely unruffled.

And all I could think of was the betrayal that I felt now, multiplied about a million times more than ever before. More than Rubeena’s. More than even Nusaybah’s.

She too, had let it go without even asking. My very own Aunty Radiyyah had played the most unexpected role in what I saw as my downfall too.

What I didn’t anticipate was what she would tell me next…

And that, would change everything.

Revive the Sunnah of Not Over-eating 

Miqdam bin Madikarib said: “I heard the Messenger of Allah ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) say:

‘A human being fills no worse vessel than his stomach. It is sufficient for a human being to eat a few mouthfuls to keep his spine straight. But if he must (fill it), then one-third of food, one third for drink and one third for air.’” [Ibn Majah]

It is an underestimated fact that food has a dramatic effect on your body’s and brain’s performance.

This Hadith clearly highlights that overeating is a reprehensible quality we should avoid.

How easy to practise!




Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah


Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


Ever heard the saying, news spreads like wild fire?

I honestly think that the saying should have been amended. News, by default, is anything that is considered to be fresh and exciting. To the common human being though, news is anything that is considered juicy, accusing or even just plain down… gossip.

Because there is a certain nature of people in this world that take the crown when it comes to being haters. They wish you harm. They question your achievements. They await your downfall. They silently resent your happiness.

No matter how you may try in your pursuit of reaching your Lord, it’s these little tests that come to maintain your sincerity. It’s these trials that play a role in the utmost test of true integrity.

And as Ramadhaan had come to pass that year, amidst the sullen atmosphere that had taken over the household, there was a little light that was finding its way through. That little light had been put on pause as I had asked my family to quit with the pressure and just let me be, while I tried to heal my heart and soul.

Dada’s voice echoed through the house now as we got ready for school after our very short Eid break. It was strange how things worked out. We missed Foi Nani a lot. It was like a hole that we needed to fill, but we knew we would never be able to. My uncle and cousins had left quickly for home,  and the house was soon empty again.

Contrary to our expectation and much to our delight, Mamajee had promised to be back later in the year, and thinking about my cousins coming back made me so excited. During that short time, we had formed an indescribable bond. But despite the palpable feeling of loss, there was another amazing plan in store for us that we didn’t anticipate. It happened so suddenly, that there was no time to even think about it’s execution… until it all just materialized.

After Foi Nani’s passing, Abba felt an immense longing to bring Dada back home. The presence of an elder person in the home was really amazing, and of course, how could we object? Dada, surprisingly, was still as fit as he had been ten years ago when he was staying with us. At the time when Aunty Nas had finally left, Abba had finally come to his senses and pleaded with Dada to come back. He had refused. I didn’t blame him.

He was hurt about the treatment he had gotten from Aunty Nas but he was also happy that he had found so many new friends at the home. It just so happened that one of his good friends had recently passed on, and Dada had now realized that he had enough of living with older people and needed a change. He was in his mid seventies but he didn’t look a day older than sixty.

“You can’t get married,” Dada said to me suddenly one day as we sat and ate Weet Bix together. “You’re still my little girl.”

I smiled. Dada still thought I was ten.

“Dada, I’ll still be here,” I said to him assuringly, knowing that even if I had to get married, or make Nikah, I wouldn’t leave home until after I finished school. There were still so many decisions to make.

Dada’s expression suddenly changed. His brow furrowed and his frown deepened.

“Dada, what’s wrong?” I asked him, touched by his attachment to me, even after all these years.

Him and Abba looked very much alike, but Dada’s eyes were much darker. Abba, Ahmed and Zuleikha had inherited my late Dadi’s amber eyes, but of course, Dada’s infectious smile.

The only problem was that now, I could see no trace of that amazing smile and it pained my heart.

“It’s just unfair,” Dada said somberly. “I just came back and now you want to leave. First your mother… and now you. You know I still think of my daughter every day. Allah just doesn’t want me to be happy.”

Dada!” I scolded and I sucked in my breath. I shook my head at him to reprimand him. How can he say that? How can he?

“Allah always wants the best for us, Dada,” I explained calmly, hoping for him to see sense. “He gives us tests so we can find Him and get closer to Him. If we always have the best of everything and everyone around us, how will we ever seek His comfort?”

Dada looked at me with a new-found admiration, almost as if he was suddenly seeing me in a new light. His smile returned, and this time there were no reservations behind it.

“When did you get so clever?” He said, with a smirk. “Just like your mother. Beautiful like her too. I know it definitely couldn’t be your father. It must have been that boy… that fellow you used to play with outside. What was his name again?”

I ignored the ‘go’ at my father. I knew Abba often tried, but Dada and him didn’t always hit it off. He always said my mother was his daughter. He never referred to my father as his son.

I swallowed as he waited for my answer. He was talking about Khalid and remembering my childhood friend brought the most nostalgic memories to surface…

”His name was Khalid, Dada,” I said softly, not elaborating.

“Oh yes!” Dada boomed. “Khalid the brave… what a boy, Khawlah. He was so young and he spoke like a grown up. Fought like one too. Whatever happened to him? Now him, Khawlah…Him… I really liked!”

I smiled sadly. If only he knew. If only he saw Khalid now. I kept silent because I didn’t want to kill his idealistic perceptions.

“You’ll like Aadam too,” I said, in a non-committed way. I said Adam’s name in the traditional way, even though no-one else did. I didn’t want to give myself away but I also wanted Dada to warm up to the idea if I had to make a decision.

Dada didn’t comment but he seemed appeased with my words and went to rise his mouth after eating, like he always did. Dada was different to Abba in many ways, but he had an amazing habit of observing many of the Sunnah that I admired and sometimes even forgot about. He then went off for his morning nap, leaving me alone with my own thoughts.

The truth was, after everything that had happened, I still felt a restlessness within me that was throwing me off-track. It clouded my judgement and made me question my decisions. With that in mind… and amidst the pending proposal that I knew was on its way, but I couldn’t yet accept, Ramadhaan had been a good excuse to put on halt.

And man. It was only when I got stuck into my own course of reformation did I really get the purpose of the beautiful month. As each day passed, it was as if I could feel my heart being cleansed and ridden of the rust that it had accumulated over the entire year. I felt clean. Purer. I felt almost as if I was brand new, polished and perfected; like a new born finding its way into this warped world, as Ramadhaan came to an end … I wanted to cling to it’s tail-end and never let it go.

But of course, just as you feel you want to get stuck into that cocoon and never come out, something happens to ruffle it all up again. Going back to school after Eid made me realize that it only took a moment for Shaytaan to start up again.

“Have you heard?” I heard them whisper as I walked passed two of the senior girls in the hallway. I could feel their eyes on me as they watched me, and I shrugged off the feeling, lifting my head a bit higher and trying to be strong. Where was Nusaybah when I needed her?

Another girl I had vaguely known from the Laboratory looked at me a bit strangely as I walked by, and I could see a flicker of interest in her eye as she watched me. All this unwanted attention after the short break I had taken after Eid was throwing me off track.

I put my head down as I continued to walk, my heart thudding in my chest. What was going on?

Caught up in my own space for those few weeks got me abhorring the reality of the shallow world we truly live in. People who usually spoke to me were acting strange. Girls were whispering behind my back, and the worst part was that Nusaybah couldn’t be spotted anywhere.

All I could do to stop myself from crumbling under the cynical gazes was to think of the end of the day when I would see my favorite boys again after nearly a month. It had taken me that long to make a commitment with Rubeena, because with school, assessments and everything in between, I didn’t want to let distractions throw me off focus.

But today… Today… was the day.

I smiled to myself as I thought of them, already anticipating the change I knew I would see in them after these weeks. They definitely would be gone bigger. Little Zia and Zaydaan would probably have some additions their vocabulary as well.

I had spoken to Rubeena on the phone a few times, but we had always kept it really short. She had explained to me that Quran was taking up a lot of time, and I felt so inspired by her determination. She admitted that her tajweed wasn’t awesome, but she showed such amazing commitment that I told her that when I got a chance I would definitely try and help her out. The kids missed me, she said, and of course, my heart was aching to see them too. I couldn’t wait to hear about the adventures… about school and their outings… and of course…

My thoughts halted as Nusaybah came up to me, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt as she fiercely embraced me with all her might.

Nusaybah. Amidst the guilt was an immense relief, because I was so glad that at least my friend wasn’t acting strangely towards me too. The stares had begun about two weeks ago, and I had just assumed that the news of my grandmother passing was still finding its way around, and in my innocence, I didn’t realize the severity of the situation.

Nusaybah smiled her usual smile. She was so sincerely open. Warm and full of compassion. She smiled at me as I swallowed, because as the days went by, it seemed like I didn’t know what to say to her. We would still talk passionately about our lives, loves and fears, but the one thing that was causing an obstacle in my conversations, I knew Nusaybah had no idea of.

“So today’s the day right?” She said, smiling again.

My heart thudded as she said it, wondering if she had finally figured it out. Did I mention I was going to Rubeena? Maybe someone had said something. Maybe she knew more than she was letting on all this time.

I nodded silently, feeling uneasy.

“You really need to find out about what’s going on with that girl,” she said, her tone changing and her face turning serious. “I’ve been hearing things that you would probably die if you had to know. She is causing more problems that I thought. I have to speak to her.”

I visibly exhaled as it hit me, relieved. Although I should have at the time, I didn’t ask her what she had heard. What I didn’t know was that in order to protect me, my friend too was hiding what she knew. She had revealed a very little of the antics that had gone down in a very diplomatic way, but it still disturbed me even after all this while.


She was talking about Hannah.

I smiled and shook my head, although I knew that it would be a long shot. I had forgotten. We had discussed that after Eid we were going to see Hannah, and find out what was going on with her. Found out what she had said about me, too, because there was definitely something she had forgotten to mention that day when she had come to see me.

I had found out from Nusaybah that Hannah was now involved with Rubeena’s husband, and I could not even stomach it. How someone could break up a home and a marriage like that was beyond me… and after hearing about it, I had solemnly asked Nusaybah to never tell me anything else about her again. I didn’t want to harbor more ill feelings. I didn’t want to dirty my heart with the ideas of her warped character.

Ramadan is not here to change our schedules, it is here to change our hearts.”

That was precisely what I was trying to embrace as I digested the facts. I wanted my heart to remain free of everything that tarnished it in the past.

We hadn’t seen Aunty Nas since before before Foi Nani’s funeral and Hannah hadn’t been to school either. I could only assume that she had left for good, and it was now a new stage of her life that I was sure she would find quite challenging. I still made Du’aa for her, and hoped for her forgiveness and ease, despite everything that had happened.

I sighed as Nusaybah and I walked out of school that day, as she assured me not to worry about the whispers that were coming my way. It seemed that everyone knew about Hannah. People knew that Aunty Nas was married to my father at one stage, and they used any reason to involve you in a scandal.

The problem was, the extent of this scandal was still foreign to me until I walked out of school that day. Sometimes it just took a while for the real damage to be done. Sometimes it takes a while to know the truth of what people were really made of.

I didn’t want to face Hannah, but Nusaybah was insistent that we get to the bottom of this story that was doing its rounds not only at school. She didn’t tell me why, but as we walked along the neighbourhood with purpose, I could feel an uneasiness between us that wasn’t there before. It was stifling and it was so strange, that I knew I couldn’t overlook it. Just as I was about to ask her, a smart car pulled up next to us, and without missing a beat, Nusaybah gestured for me to get in, and slid in behind me too.

I didn’t even recognize her, but as my eyes adjusted to the light, I immediately recognized Rubeena in the drivers seat, with a serious expression on her face. She smiled at me as I caught her gaze, but her and Nusaybah remained mostly silent as we drove on, in the opposite direction to where we had been headed all along.

“Where are the kids?” I said, breaking the silence and feeling their absence. I also wanted to know what was going on.

“With my mum,” Rubeena said. “We’ll fetch them later… after we do what we need to do.”

I frowned slightly and I could feel Nusaybah shift in her seat.

“Please can we tell her?”

I swallowed nervously as I realized that Nusaybah wasn’t talking to me.

She was talking about me.

Rubeena nodded and I looked at them both questionably, shocked that in my naivety, this had gone so far.

Yes, I had suspected that something was amiss. I had an inkling, but I didn’t know for sure. That was the precise moment when I knew for sure that something was majorly wrong.

I couldn’t believe that I didn’t realize it before, but this was something that I didn’t anticipate.

The scandal wasn’t about Hannah.

It was about me.

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Dearest readers,

A reminder about the evils of gossip and how a small thing can be blown so much out of proportion. As Ramadaans effects leave, May we hang onto the good habits we’ve always wanted to acquire. Let’s try to avoid gossip of any form, and that includes even listening to it. Although it may be hard at times, the easiest thing to do will be to change the topic or to simply walk away. 

May Allah make us of those believers who earn Paradise and its beautiful pleasures. May He make us of the steadfast, and assist us in attaining the most out of this blessed month has passed.



Todays Sunnah as mentioned in the post. Rinsing the mouth after eating.

It is mustahabb to rinse the mouth after eating, because Basheer ibn Yassaar narrated that Suwayd ibn al-Nu’maan told him that they were with the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) in al-Sahba’ – which is some distance from Khaybar – and the time for prayer came. He called for food, but he did not find anything but some saweeq (barley mush). So he ate some and we all ate with him. Then he called for water and rinsed out his mouth, and then he prayed, and we prayed, and he did not do wudoo’.

(Narrated by al-Bukhaari, 5390).

How easy to practise!




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