Deception

Bismihi Ta’ala

N.B. Drugs, vices, alcohol and everything else that goes along with it are great trials for the Ummah and we pray with sincerity that we are saved from it.  A bit of a twist from the usual posts but also an important part of the story. Humble Apologies in advance for any shortfalls.

Muslim (2597) narrated from Abu Hurayrah (may Allaah be pleased with him) that the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “It is not appropriate for a sincere believer to be given to cursing.” 

Hannah

Once damaged, always damaged, right?

Everyone allows themselves to be victims at some point of their lives. Sometimes it’s just easier that way.

The thing is, for me, most days were spent thinking why on earth the entire world was working against me. How was it fair that some people were dealt the best of deals, houses, bank accounts and still get the best husbands at the end of it all. How was it fair that I always got the raw end of the deal, when I worked so hard to get myself to the top.

I had learnt a long time ago than being nice never works. It may make people like you, but it doesn’t get you to the top. There’ll always be that one deterrent that stops you from getting there. To get what you any in life, you had to play hard. Ruthless. You had to fight the referees. Change the rules. Cheat a lot. Take a break and tend to your bleeding wounds… but keep playing. Play hard, play fast, play loose and rough. And at the end of the day, no matter what you do, you make sure you win. 

And sometimes, to get that, you have to pull out the victim card. Whether you’re a victim of assault. Of a degrading lifestyle. Of abuse. Of unfiltered addiction. I was a victim, and I wasn’t afraid to let everyone know it.

“You using again, aren’t you?”

I looked up and sniffed. Was it that obvious?

“Why don’t you do something with your life?” Shabeer asked angrily. “Get out of this damn flat and make something of yourself. Go back to school. Bloody hell, you have a child to support. You can’t just sit here and rot in cocaine.”

”Its your fault,” I said, hating him right then. It was.

He had left me to my own devices for almost three weeks. Ignored my calls. Let his wife degrade me however she wanted. It’s not like I could even get out there and work. Who would look after the baby?

“Bullshit,” he shot back. “Nothing is my fault. That’s not even my child. You always had a problem. Don’t blame your issues on me. Blame your addictions on your crazy mother.”

”Shut up!” I shouted, seeing red.  “My mother is the only one who truly cares. All men care about is what they can get out of you, and then they leave you in the dump to die and screw off.”

“Whatever,” he said nonchalantly. “Where’s my watch?”

He was ignoring me and looking through the shelf it was on… well… maybe three weeks ago. He was used to my rants by then. They just flew over his head.

“I don’t know,” I lied, switching the TV on, trying to divert my own mind.

“Don’t talk shit, Hannah,” he said, getting angry. “I left it here. This is still my apartment and I can kick you out any time I want. I need it.”

”For what?” I spat. “To buy your spoilt wife a new handbag?”

“Shut up!” He shouted, spinning around angrily. “Don’t talk about my wife. Give me the bloody watch!”

I blinked. Now it was don’t talk about his wife?

Just the other day she was a nag. His family was a burden. Nothing else mattered. As long as he gave me what I needed… and I did what he asked, it was everything I had dreamt about. A real husband. Money. Fancy cars. Credit cards. Everything that went with it.

A quick fix Nikah and now… I’d just been dropped like a bloody hot potato.

What a pig. He used me.

And despite being so pissed off with him, I supposed if the watch was here, I would have given it to him by now.

Only, it wasn’t. Rolex’s pick up a lot with the dealers.

Shabeer was still rummaging around in the drawers, looking for his stupid watch. I supposed I might have found it funny. Only, I knew how Shabeer got when he was angry.

“Do you want a line?” I asked him, hoping it would calm him down.

Maybe he’d relax and stick around for a while, instead of running of the the ridiculously annoying Rubeena. Maybe we’d have some fun. Well, it had worked before. When Shabeer was in the mood he was super easy-going. Not to mention, such a breeze to persuade.

“I’m not falling for your freakin’ games tonight,  Hannah,” he shot, glaring at me. “You stole my watch, didn’t you?”

I shrugged.

Who cares? It was just a watch. He had enough money, he could buy another one.

All I saw was Shabeer heading towards me. At first I thought that maybe he had come to his senses…. maybe he had realized what he had been missing… after spending that time with his annoying wife.

Before I could even think properly, all I felt was Shabeer grab me so hard by the neck that I could barely breathe. I felt dizzy as my head hit the corner of the wooden table. He came so close to my face, I could smell his cigarette breath right on me.

I wanted to swear him. I wanted to hurt him. But I could barely even talk.

“I let you get away with it when you were pregnant,” he snarled, looking at me with his bloodshot eyes. “So you either shut up or I’ll make you.”

I wished I could hit him. Thank goodness the baby started crying.

He let me go, swore me, and the grabbed his car keys as he made his way out.

I sat there after, helpless baby in my arms, in a kind of trance. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. What I was going to do. Some days I felt like just ignoring her. She was such a bawler. I couldn’t deal with the pressure of motherhood at such a young age.

My mother would come and help me, but she also had her own life. Her own ambitions. People she had to meet. Men she was plotting, odd jobs she was doing. My father would send money sometimes. I wasn’t even sure if I was fit to raise a child. I wasn’t even sure if I could be a mother.

Days passed. Weeks too. I was caught in my own world of delirium. I couldn’t think properly unless I had a fix. If I didn’t have drugs, I’d raid the medicine cupboard.

Shabeer had left me alone sometimes for days on end. He said I needed to sort out my shit. Sometimes he would pop by and I’d beg him for some cash for the baby’s milk. He always had enough. Of course, that too got used up on more coke. A distant family relative of my father eventually came to take the baby. I had told my mother to get someone to take care of her. I remembered the lady from when I was little. She never had her own kids, and as I let my baby girl go, I was strangely relieved. I felt free. Liberated. Able… and then, I couldn’t help but feel the immense guilt.

I drowned it with more drink and drugs. My mother didn’t come much to check on me any more. She did try to warn me. She told me that drugs had messed up her life, but now she had found a new prospect. Some rich old man who she was looking after… probably wanting to cash in at the end.

And then, the message from Rubeena came.

”Assalaam, Hannah. How are you?”

“Ws,” I replied vaguely. I was switching TV channels while tapping on my phone , trying to find something to watch. What did this woman want from me? 

The mundane soapies didn’t even sway me at all. Why did it feel like my life had no purpose?

”I’ve spoken to Shabeer. I’m sorry that everything didn’t work out the way you planned. Maybe you expected your marriage to be something different. By now, I’m sure you’ve seen through him and know exactly what he’s all about. He has many weaknesses. Don’t let the money fool you. Remember, I’ve had four kids with him. I’ve been with him for eleven years. I know him inside out. I’ve been through some really tough times. The thing is, I stuck around because I loved him. I still do. But I also know that you deserve better. I also know that you deserve another chance in life. You are still young. You’re a clever girl, Hannah. You don’t need to deal with this abuse.”

Abuse?

The witch. She was trying to throw me off because she wanted him to herself. All he did was ruffle my feathers a few times because I spoke to him badly. He didn’t like it when I spoke back. He was a man. All men get those macho vibes from time to time. They wanted to be treated like royalty and she felt threatened by that. He wasn’t the problem. She was.

I tossed my phone aside, not wanting to read any more. I was starting to feel edgy again. I didn’t think that I had a problem.

I never did. Shabeer knew that. All I knew was that we had fun together and that’s what made me better than her. He had told me that.

Later on that evening, after popping a few of the painkillers Shabeer had left next to his bedside, I picked up my phone again.

“Hannah, I’ve found Allah. I’ve started praying. Living. Loving. Appreciating everything I have for what it is. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. I’m not unhappy anymore. I don’t look back anymore. I look forward to an amazing future with Allah in my life. I’ve found a fulfilling part of me that’s been missing all along. Caught up in Shabeers problems and my marriage, I never could see what I was missing. All I knew was the emptiness I was feeling… always looking around to fill that gap up with some impermissible thing… more Haram… That’s all I thrived on. I want you to know that now it’s different…”

Emptiness? I couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she said it.

It was the first time she had ever reached out to me. I was also completely sure that there was something she was gaining from it. As I read it, I just couldn’t help but hate her more. Now she thought she was better than me? 

I shook my head, seeing the bigger plan here. All this business about finding Allah… what was she on? She was so spoilt and lazy. Self-centered too. All this crap she was feeding me was just a ploy to get me out of her hair, and I knew it.

When I met Rubeena for the first time, I was in awe of her amazing life. She had everything. She had a lovely house, gorgeous kids, a handsome and rich husband. Honestly, this was the life I had dreamt of living since I was a little girl.

The night Shabeer showed interest in me was like my most amazing dream coming true. Pretending I was Khawlah had brought me to an entirely different level for him. He doted on me endlessly… it was like I was his every dream and desire… well… until he found out the truth.

And like the worst kind of punch in my stomach, everything about him changed when he knew who I really was. It was too late for him to turn back then. He was already too deep in. I had to tell him that I was pregnant with his child, so he knew that there was no getting away. And of course I knew it wasn’t right, but that was the way of the world. To get things done, there was no other way but to cheat your way through.

And okay, maybe life with Shabeer wasn’t as amazing as I had thought. For men, as long as you give them what they need physically, half your battle is won. The other half was trying to win his kindness, which was a difficult task to achieve. The more I tried, the more he praised that witch. He was always comparing me to her. Always saying how much she changed her life now, and for some annoying reason, he was in awe of her stupid spectacle.

And of course, there was no-one else that I could blame but that goody-two shoes who made my blood boil.

And course, this was all Khawlah’s fault. Khawlah, who everyone thought was so amazing. Khawlah, who had somehow become the wife of Rubeena’s famous brother. Khawlah who had risen to and even higher pedestal now that everything in her life was so damn perfect …

I wished I could really just get rid of her, once and for all. In my mind, I had concocted multiple plans to do so. I could sabotage her marriage. I could even convince her to move out of this town, if I scared her enough. If it wasn’t for her, I know that things would have been different. She had taken everything that was supposed to be mine. She was living the perfect life. She was living my life.

And maybe I would have let her be, but on the day that Shabeer gave me the  divorce was the day that I lost it. Rubeena had suffered a miscarriage.

Served her right, I thought to myself. I had it out with Shabeer after I heard she was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. Why would he even want to still be with that spoilt brat? The biggest problem was that now he was going on some kind of crazy mission to ‘serve’ his wife and family. A little too late if you asked me, but all he said was that he’d been thinking and this thing we had was fun but not practical.

Fun but not practical?

I wanted to gorge out his eyes. He had said it so casually. Made it like I was just kind of call girl. Just someone who was there for his convenience. I was never going to stand for that.

Of course, I had put up a big performance, saying I’d call the dealers and put his name in their bad books. I told him I never wanted to see him again, thinking he’d reconsider. I even tried to convince him to stay. I needed him. I needed his money, and everything that he had given me. I promised I’d have my revenge.

He seemed set on leaving, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was giving me two months to find a place to stay, but I didn’t think that was gracious at all. He was just trying to get rid of me with the least problems. My mother was right. Men were all scum.

And I could always find someone else to scrounge off but I didn’t want to get out there again. After the sordid debacle with Khawlah, my entire reputation was spoilt. Her stupid big mouth of a friend had threatened to tell my friends about me swapping exam papers. I couldn’t risk that. It would have turned the biggest trouble-makers in school against me, and no matter what, I wasn’t ready to take that on.

I sat and thought for a long time. I tried to stay sober because I didn’t have much money to do otherwise. When I felt like I needed something, I’d start to self-harm. Somehow, it would ease the pain.

Then of course, I was tired. I was broke, too. The mind games were making me sick. I felt helpless. I needed a way out. A way that was going to cost me nothing but gain me some money.

And then of course, I had an idea. I was tired of moping around. I needed to get serious. I was tired of men. I didn’t want love. Not any more. I was tired of chasing that game that I kept losing.

I tried to think of my strengths… The things that had kept me going. And yes, at first the plans sounded crazy. Really unthinkable. But the more I thought about it, the less psychotic they sounded.

I’d always be good at pretending. Acting. Portraying someone who I wasn’t. I mean, that was how I had bagged Shabeer. It was the only way I got anything in this world. It was the only way I could make something of myself.

After a good few days of planning my vengeance, I knew now was the right time. It was the perfect plan that would get everyone exactly where I needed them to be.

I threw on a purple maxi dress that my mother had used at some point in her life and found a matching scarf somewhere in my cupboard. I dressed perfectly and made my face up expertly, knowing that I looked the best that I had looked in months. I looked like a sophisticated young hijaabi. Almost like Khawlah.

Using the Uber app on my phone, the silver corolla was waiting outside precisely twenty five minutes before the time of Danyaals school dismissal.

I was good with details. I remembered things well. On the few occasions that Rubeena couldn’t make it to fetch him, I had recalled Shabeer’s rants about having to do rounds. He was always annoyed about having to fetch the kids. I even remembered exactly where Danyaal’s school was.

I walked into the office with my head high, fifteen minutes before dismissal. Smiling at the secretary, I asked if I could take my nephew, Danyaal, a bit earlier- if they didn’t mind. His mother was unavailable to make it and I had another kid to fetch from the other primary school a few roads away.

“Which grade is he in, my dear?” The white lady behind the desk asked. I kept my face pleasant. “And what did you say your name is? I just have to check on the list if you have authority to fetch him.”

“Sure,” I said confidently, grabbing a sweet that was in the bowl at the front and smiling appreciatively. “He’s in grade 2B. The name is Khawlah. K-H-A-W-L-A-H.”

What a fancy school. It reminded me of the one my mother had put me in when she had first married Uncle Nazir.

Money was king. It got you places. It spoke to the big guys.

”Ah, yes,” the woman said, smiling and peering at the computer. “Your name’s here. I’ll send a message for him to come right down. You can take a seat or wait outside. He’ll be right there.”

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Just some reflection and a challenge: a general pattern we see around us is that many people are unhappy with their lives because they keep comparing themselves to others. Someone had suggested a gratitude journal… so we can reflect over the bounties we’ve been given. I think that’s an amazing idea. To look at others who are less fortunate also puts everything in so much of perspective …

May Allah grant us contentment, 

Much Love, 

A 🌸

Sunnah reminder: Speaking Kindly: Abu Hurayrah(RA) relates that Nabi (SAW) may , said: “Whoever believes in God and the Last Day should speak a good word or remain silent.  And whoever believes in God and the Last Day should show hospitality to his neighbor.  And whoever believes in God and the Last Day should show hospitality to his guest.”

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• Abuse
• Appreciation
• Broke
• Damaged
• Deception
• Dovorce
• Drug Abuse
• Drugs
• Faith
• Gratitude
• Islam
• Love
• Marriage
• Money
• Truth
• Victim
• Wealth