The Little Things

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

Sometimes the smallest things take the most room in your heart. Sometimes you don’t see it coming.  You never know it from the start. It could be a little word. A small gesture. A lingering smile. We never know when our hearts are suddenly swayed and then like a gust of wind from the blue, things are just not the same anymore.

At the end of the day, the way we are brought up and what we are exposed to shapes us. It makes us who we are. The heart, by default is something that easily turns. In the blink of an eye, it’s entirety can be devoured. If we feed our heart with everything besides what our Lord requires of us, it’s only natural that our hearts will incline to that.

In that, if our hearts are corrupt; if our intentions are corrupt, such deceit will follow in our actions.. For how will a fruit tree bare fragrant and delicious fruit if it’s roots, underground, have decayed?

I paused for a second as I let the thought sink in, thinking to myself how genius it was, as I thrust the shovel into the sand, digging up the debris that were left behind, trying to clear a path for me to walk through to continue my task. The smell of wet earth was particularly comforting, as it became more apparent that the roots of the huge oak tree started her. It was home to many animals, including nocturnal ones.

The tendons were still very much alive. They still had infinite potential and as I continued to dig in, with each movement, something inside me was getting revived. 

”You know what they say in Egypt about friends,” my mothers voice called out from the patio.

I had heard it plenty of times before. My granny had often used the proverb when I was younger. I just wasn’t sure if Tariq was trying to get information from me or if he was really being serious. He was a good guy, but his mouth was a tad bit on the loose side.

Even if a friend is honey, don’t lick them all up.

Tariq’s words were still ringing in my mind even though he had left an hour ago. I tried to make light of them but unfortunately it wasn’t that easy, I couldn’t help but feel that he should have more decency than to talk like that.

I looked at my mother and shrugged, trying to play it down. It didn’t matter, did it?

”You should have spoken your mind,” she said, just before she turned to leave. How did she even know what was on my mind?

“And what good would that have done?” I rattled to her in Arabic. “Speaking good and overlooking faults always wins the battle. The one who gives up arguing even when he is right, well Ums… you know the Hadith…”

Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right; and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun; and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners.”

[Abu Dawud]

I smiled as I noticed my mother’s unchanged expression. She had her hands on her hips and an unimpressed look on her face.

”But this is not your life that it has to do with,” she said pointedly. “Some things are worth the argument. You should care more than that…”

”Don’t take it so seriously,” I said, walking up to her and planting a kiss on her soft cheek. As long as I’d remembered, Ummi’s cheeks were always somewhat like cotton wool. If she didn’t hate it so much I would have pinched them, but I knew that she would probably smack me.

“I see even after all these years you haven’t broken the habit of listening to my conversations?” I said with a grin.

She shrugged and gave me a wry smile. I had missed her smile. Her charcoal eyes. It had been so many years that I had forgotten the parts that had made home… well, home.

I grinned and shook my head to myself as I thought of her intuition. She always had this sixth sense about people who brought trouble, and Tariq was never in her good books. Though we knew each other for years, I think she was always wary of his charming smile and poetic phrases.

”If things were different you wouldn’t have been so unaffected,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice.

I didn’t say anything. Somehow, the light-heartednesse of the situation had been exhausted. Things between us had become serious as the atmosphere intensified.

Things weren’t different. That was the thing. It was what it was and it was no-one’s fault. What was meant to be had happened. If something is not on your Taqdeer there is nothing that can be done to change it. Destiny was such. Now that so much had happened since then.., and so many years had gone by… I had no intention whatsoever of going back down the road.

I breathed in deeply as I got back to my task again of rebuilding the treehouse, holding the spade with both hands, heaving before I went in for another dig. This time there was a “thwack” as it hit a solid piece of something, and I pulled back, trying to figure out why there was such a shallow point right there. Possibly something I had buried as a young kid? A piece of rock from the old store room maybe? Much had changed since I got back, and the yard was one of them.

My mother had gone back inside but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Of course, when Tariq has mentioned a ‘rich widow’, I didn’t think about who it could be. Yes, I had laughed it off… not knowing who he meant. When two and two was put together, I had to admit that the prospect made me feel uneasy. His brother wanting to propose to someone because she had money to rescue his business was definitely not an admirable thing to do.

Now that I knew who the someone was, it made me feel even more unnerved. I had no idea that her husband had passed away, until a few days back. All I knew from the talk was that whoever had to propose now would have some really big shoes to fill.

I hoisted myself up onto the first branch of the tree, steadying my body as I reached the level of the would-have-been playhouse that my father had started when I left home. Who he was building it for, I had no idea. You could barely notice it, but as I had strutted around aimlessly the past week, still trying to figure out what was next from her, I knew that a revamp would be just the thing to keep me occupied. Papa had suggested teaching at the Uloom to keep me busy, but my thoughts weren’t that focused as yet. Catching up with all the things I had missed about home seemed more appealing for now. I just needed some time to adjust…

And of course, now that the memories had been revived, I couldn’t help but feel like the silly guy that I was back then. How life had caught me unaware… though it sometimes made me laugh at myself back then… it also filled me with regret.

I was so childish. Ignorant. Unaware of reality. I still remembered the conversation I had had back then with my mother, thinking I had had it all figured out. Falling into the wrong crowd, leaving madrassa… taking life like it was one big joke and then suddenly wanting to marry the girl who I had promised I would when I was ten years old just because seemed like she could fix it all… well, that was where I had stood back then. I mean, who even knew what they wanted at ten?

And yes, even though it was laughable now, and made me chuckle aloud… what haunted me was that I had blamed my mother for a long while afterward. Stupidly.

I had blamed her because I didn’t have the foresight in me to understand about Taqdeer.

I didn’t get that it wasn’t meant to be.

“I knew that you would come back, you know that?”

It was the day I had arrived, and I couldn’t yet bear to look at Ummi, whose eyes were brimming with fresh tears again as she took in my presence. Her face was drawn from the years she had aged and the lump in my throat seemed to intensify as I saw her pain. How could I hurt her like that? How could I have left without making it all okay?

”It would have been sooner if I could…” I said, running my hand through my now full beard yet still feeling like the coward kid I had been back then. “Ums… I’m sorry for that last time… I couldn’t…”

She shook her head vehemently as she held my head in her hands, kissing my forehead and then turning away so I couldn’t see the tears flowing.

It wasn’t rocket science. I knew she was crying. I knew my mother too well by now. To have had a son like me who had at one stage turned away from everything she had tried so hard to inculcate in him was much for her to bear. She had never disclosed the truth to anyone, even when I went away… but I knew now why she sent me. Being away from them made me reflect. Realize. Made me regret.

”It’s not fair!” I had shouted at her. “You’d do anything for everyone else but for your own son! Its because it’s Khawlah, right? Looks like you’re more worried about her than me! It’s not like I want to mess around! I want to marry her!”

I was angry. Clouded by my thoughts. Controlled by emotion. Looking back I could not believe that I had raised my voice to my mother.

”Khalid, you needed to grow up first,” she said wisely, trying to make me see reason. “You can’t be getting married now. I won’t allow it. You think she will accept?! She’s not a stupid girl. You need to finish your Aalim course. Learn some responsibility. She hasn’t had an easy life. She’s lost her mother. She still has two years of school. Study something or be someone who she can rely on. If she is meant for you after it all… she will still be here… Tawakkal Allah...”

I had scowled and pushed her away as she tried to come towards me. I couldn’t believe that I had become so angry. Looking back, I couldn’t believe I had broken my mother.

My parents had given me so much. Everything a kid needed. They had put everything on hold to bring me the best of Deen. I had learnt so much from her, yet I still had it in me to break her with my rebelliousness. Of course it was not an easy thing. How much of grief and pain I had given my mother in that time, I could not even fathom…

How would I even begin to make up for it? How could I even prove to her how much I regretted all the pain I put her through...

But a mother. I didn’t understand then but I knew now. A mother is someone who knows your heart, even when you don’t even know it yourself. There’s a reason Jannah is under her feet. If it was her palms, she would have handed it over- undeserving. Within the ground, it bears her entirety. If you wish to achieve it, then only do you learn what it is to carry her weight….

”Don’t sweat the small stuff, handsome,” she had said mischievously with that twinkle in her teary eye, as I clung onto her at the door. “It’s all small stuff.”

Small stuff. I had laughed as she said it, but it all boiled down to one thing.

Taqdeer. It was what it was. I didn’t understand it then. It took me years. Years of battling with my Nafs, my heart and my overpowering inclinations. Being in Egypt had put a lot into perspective for me. It changed my views, my company and the way I saw life. Instead of the irresponsible guy I was back home, I  had morphed into a civilized and commendable character that everyone looked up to.

And then, of course, there was the accident. If you could even call it that. An incident that claimed the lives of two of my cousins. An incident that made me realise that a friend of ours who seemed to be on our side… really wasn’t. It had taken another year of battling to find base afterwards. I couldn’t go back to Egypt because of the politics that had heightened after the Arab Spring. I would have been in deep trouble. I couldn’t go back home because the guy who had set us up was waiting there to see if I would still be alive. It was time for me to take care of myself… time for me to be on the run…

And it was a tough journey. To see the other side of life. When I saw the guys advancing towards us as we set off past the border, gasoline in their hands… I already knew that we were in trouble. And yes. It was the most terrifying feeling. As the flames overcame us, somehow, I had managed to escape the brunt of it.

When I woke up, I was already taken captive… not yet knowing what crime I had committed, but knowing that I was set up. It was surreal. Facing death and living to tell the tale. Getting arrested for no reason that seemed to make sense. Being beaten in the depths of the night for crimes I didn’t commit. All we were doing was taking food and necessities over to a camp where it was scarce. We didn’t know that they would consider us as competition. That the people who intercepted us weren’t happy about it and made it political. Six months later, I had eventually found my way out, but in foreign territory. I couldn’t go back, I had to keep escaping until I found refuge in a Mosque near the Indian border.

And of course, as Taqdeer would have it… I completed my Aalim course there. I then went on to perfect my recitation in Quran, making sure to steer clear of Egypt in the process. Both territories were dangerous for me. Somehow, through trying to do what was right, I had become a violator. Jordan seemed like an amazing place to be, and that was precisely where I had ended up a few months before clashing into Yunus.

What a journey. My mind could not even wrap itself around the gratitude that I felt right then. The magnitude of what had happened. I never thought I’d get back home. I never thought I’d ever see my mother again, but Yunus came along and changed it. Allah had sent him to be a means of relief, and I could not even express how grateful I was to him. He was an amazing guy. Always had been and still was. I closed my eyes as I thought of everything I had made Duaa for, not even realizing that everything I wished for back then was now directly at my disposal.

Sometimes in our pursuit for different things, we forget the things that Allah has given us without asking. Sometimes we get so fixated on the things that we don’t get, that we forget about the little things that we never have to ever ask for.
Yes, at one stage I had wanted wealth and love and status so badly. At once stage I had been lured off track, taken in by a crowd who seemed like they were cool and focused, only to find out they were the exact opposite. It was short-lived but I wasn’t immune to it’s effects.

Papa had a knack of bringing me back on track with his words, but sometimes even the small pains we cause our parents can have repercussions. Through a little disobedience, we cause more damage. Being faced with difficulty sometimes helps us to channel our thoughts in the right direction. It helps us find our base. Eventually it brings us back home. 

And now that I was home and it was all over, never again will I take for granted the soothing smile of my mother… the warm handshake of my father. The acceptance of people back home. A roof over my head. The gifts that I was blessed with every day. Family. Friends who loved me. The fact that I had a home to go to, breaths that I didn’t have to ask for. A conversation with a stranger who knows where I come from. A smile from the tea-shop guy who remembered me as a little kid. I’ll never look at home in the same way again.

”Exchoose me!”

At first I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. I paused as I stopped the hammering, peeping through the tiny gaps below me as I saw little curls that flew all over her face. It was a laughable sight as I watched, and of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I was gone crazy and had been transported back in time to a place where the world was new and the skies were still clear blue. I was almost lost in translation as I tried to make sense of it… holding my weight with the strongest branch of the tree and then making my way down as she went on for herself.

”Who are you and what are you doing here?” She asked clearly as I made myself more visible. For a girl of that age, her speech was remarkable.

And I couldn’t believe she was asking me that. I mean, I was almost certain that I should have been the one to ask what she was doing here. At my house. In my yard. She was hilarious.

I chuckled as my feet touched the ground, put my hands on my hips to mimic her and took a long look at the face that belonged to the strangely familiar bossy voice. All I knew was that though her hair was distinctly familiar, her little face was the cutest little picture that I’d never seen before. And as I heard the voices coming from the back alley, calling her name in frantic worry, I supposed there was not much else I could do to keep myself concealed from what was obviously awaiting…

There is an end to every storm. Once all the trees have been uprooted. Once the houses have been ripped apart. Eventually the storm will pass. The wind will hush. The clouds will lift.

Way before we knew about this, it all comes back to one thing.  It doesn’t matter how far you’ve gone. It doesn’t matter what you’ve been through. And I’m not sure at exactly which point Taqdeer had changed for me. I don’t know which hour or day or time of the week, there is no measure when it comes to the mercies of Allah that can rain on you through patience and perseverance. Too many of us are trapped in that cycle of chasing, that we forget to live, feel and experience the beauty that we created. There is no way to understand the weight of what we bear, until one day we realize that right now, where we are, is where we were praying to be all along…

And through it all, if theres one thing I learnt, it’s this:

After hardship always comes ease.

It’s those little words and reminders that we sometimes forget. The little reminders that help us to be more like the people we want to be, were called to be… and hopefully always stay that way… for better or for worse.

But mostly for the better…

---

Dearest Readers,

I did plan to pen a little more of the story but as time would have it, I kind of had to make the most of whatever I had planned and condense the lessons that I had in mind for the preparation of Ramadhaan. Whilst we embark on the journey of this amazing month in the most surreal of times, let us not forget the little things that we take for granted. The time with family. The smiles of our kids. Just playing with them and enjoying their little laughter.

We will probably have a lot more time on our hands for the first few days. With no iftar parties of excessive gathering, let’s use the opportunity to get closer to Allah and seek His mercy. Let us lose ourselves in the wealth of Allah’s refuge. May we become so close to Him… so pious … that after Ramadhaan our hearts are completely changed.

May Allah alleviate the burdens of the entire Ummah and Mankind, and grant every person relief from the troubles and ailments that are engulfing us. I will reply to all comments soon and yes, InshaAllah, a few posts to be expected to conclude the story thereafter. 

Lastly, don’t forget to make Du’aa. Lots of duaa. May Allah accept!

Much Love,

A xx

A new Sunnah. Consideration for beggars and Needy.

Especially in these surreal times, we sometimes forget that there are many out there who are in compromising situations and genuinely need assistance.

It is narrated that Sayyiduna Husain bin Ali  used to express joy upon the arrival of a beggar. He would say: “The beggar is transporting our goods to the Hereafter.”

SubhaanAllah. The Sunnah of giving was one that was second nature to Nabi (SAW).

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

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Life as we Knew it

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

Nothing happens without purpose. No move. No change. No transformation. The thing is, every setback is a sign for us.  A change in the path is a sign for us. A death is a sign for us. Broken hearts, too, are a sign. Even love. Everything in life has a deep purpose that brings us back to the reality that we are often forgetting.

”Mummy, what you doin’?”

Khadijah’s speech was discerningly clear as she plopped herself on my Musalla. Her little locks were loose and vibrant as she cocked her head to one side and watched me with interest. I hastily wiped my tears away and removed her shoes, pulling her to me as her tiny fingers played with my wrist watch. They were long and slim, just like her fathers.

Oh, my heart.

She was such a paramount part of me that I couldn’t even comprehend the feelings I felt at times. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that I was a mother. I couldn’t believe that I had somehow become ‘Mummy’ to this young little lady who was such a soothing to my soul.

”Why you crying?” She asked, scrunching up her little face angrily. She wasn’t used to being ignored and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. From my family to Aadam’s… Khadijah has always been the center of attention. I just hoped that I wasn’t nurturing a spoilt brat…

”I’m making Du’aa,” I said quietly, kissing the top of her peach-scented hair. “I’m asking Allah for what I need.”

”Did you ask him for my Abba?” She asked bossily, still frowning. “Is he still there by Allah?”

Fresh tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to answer her. I was behaving like a lunatic… crying for every little thing. It had to stop.

”I think your Abba is very happy by Allah,” I sniffed noisily, feeling particularly emotional that day. Today I missed Aadam. Today I missed him a lot. I cleared my throat and trying to formulate my next sentence. “But Allah said that we can keep asking him for whatever we need. To keep your Abba happy and to give him the best home… and keep on asking and asking…”

I wished that I could teach her all the lessons that I had learnt as a young girl. The things that Mama used to tell me too. I wish that she understood it all right now as I remembered it but I knew it would take a little time before she could truly comprehend. I wanted to tell her about Du’aa. About how Allah listens. That sometimes it’s just the comfort of turning to Him that brings solace. That there is an incredible peace in submission. That’s it’s possible that sometimes when we don’t get an immediately answer, it’s never that Allah doesn’t answer us. It’s just that sometimes we need to alter our method of asking Him.

”But why you asking, mummy?” She said, her little voice sounding more curious than before. “Allah knows.”

I blinked at her, wondering if this toddler of mine really knew what she was saying.

Yes, it was true. Allah knew. Even when we don’t have the time to ask for every detail of what we need… but if we are engaged in Dhikr or Tilaawat… Allah makes it such that our innermost desires are answered anyway. Allah knows. Sometimes we don’t have to ask. But sometimes the comfort is in the very knowledge of just raising our hands to Allah…

This living and breathing piece of my heart was growing so fast. I held her to my chest for as long as she’d let me, just before she got up again and scampered off, glancing out the window momentarily as I watched the boys playing downstairs, taking in the familiar terrain that I had enjoyed as a kid. The huge oak tree still towered in its glory. The same birds still teetered above. The dusty banks where we would write on still lay bare. My heart soared at the prospect of years ahead of them, knowing that these boys too would enjoy the same kind of youth as we did and would grow up in the home that we had known and loved.

It was a month ago that Ahmed had agreed to buy our old house from Abbba, and it had been a week since him and Rubeena moved in. The boys had begged me to come and stay for a while while their mother settled in, and I knew that Rubeena could do with the help too. For Ahmed, it had taken him a while to get on his feet to start afresh, but what was more amazing for me was seeing my sister-in-law’s ease and acceptance with him. It was something that I never imagined I’d see in Rubeena. I had been watching her as she worked, seeing her in the same kitchen Mama would be in… and watching her as she would go about her day-to-day chores… just as Mama would. It brought tears to my eyes at times, yet was something that warmed my heart. It was a big step for Rubeena. It also took a lot of courage for her to agree to selling her house that she had always known and doing what Ahmed thought was best for them, because she had always been so fixated on the fancy life she had always lived.

Of course now, as I saw her, I know that Mama would have loved Rubeena. I just had a feeling that the two of them would have got along. I hoped that the Ahmed and Rubeena would have their own little bundle of joy too… but when ever I suggested that they needed a daughter, all Rubeena did was laugh. She and my brother seemed to have acquired an ease that I couldn’t have ever imagined.

As for me, in semi- defeated warrior style, since Nusaybah’s news of the imminent Nikah, I had slipped into a place where I found myself doubting my own decisions. Did I do the right thing? Was I maybe a bit too hasty in thinking life would be the same forever? Maybe Siraj’s proposal wasn’t the worst thing in the world… Maybe Abba was right and I needed to move on… To tell the truth, being the terrible friend I was, I was dreading her Nikah day, because I knew I would have to say goodbye to my best friend. Because I knew that our world as we knew it would be changed.

I sat there for a few minutes longer, begging Allah to alter my heart… to strengthen my resolve… and to make me into the kind of friend that she deserved. She had done so much for me. The least I could do was wish her the best.

“Khawlah.”

It was Ahmed’s voice from down the passage. I looked up as he came into the room I was in, holding a small paper bag in his hand.

I looked up at him questioningly. He had matured so much. He had made an amazing father to the boys and I wasn’t just saying that because he was my brother. Those boys were unimaginably close to my heart and I would have taken on anyone who didn’t give them what they deserved. Of course, over the few years Ahmed had been faced with many challenges along the way- a bit too many for a guy nearing his mid twenties- as well as Shabeer wanting to take custody of his kids after realizing that Ahmed was a better father than him… but Ahmed had fought him in a custody battle that eventually sentenced him to a rehabilitation center for a few months. Though I was glad that the boys were still with their mother and Ahmed, I couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness about their situation. Shabeer was still their father after all. I prayed that he would get his act together and make some real effort as they grew.

For now though, despite Dayyaan’s initial resistance and missing their uncle unmentionably, with the stability that Rubeena and Ahmed provided them… I was quite certain that they were growing into the most amazing young men. I still loved them to bits.

”Rubeena found something the other day,” Ahmed said, looking at me a bit strangely. “I think it’s from when we were staying here…”

He said no more as he narrowed his hazel eyes slightly, looking at the package briefly before coming forward and handing it over to me. I adjusted my burka and eyed the package out, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar.

And of course, as I stuffed my hand in to pull out the contents, I could already feel my hopes soar. The book was as it was when I had first laid eyes on it and I felt my heart rate accelerate as I caught sight of its simplistic cover with the solid bold writing.

Khawlah Bint Al Azwar

An Extraordinary Heroine

Gosh. I couldn’t even remember how many years if had been. I looked up at my brother, feeling a little dazed by this coincidence. I couldn’t even fathom how the book had lasted so long.

And like a reminder of what I needed at this moment in time, it felt like it was just waiting for me to find it again after all these years, bringing to life for me the courageous aspirations of the stories of the woman who I had drawn so much of strength from as a young girl. It was a time when I had learnt patience. When I would aspire for their endurance. It was their courage that kept my mind focused on the true purpose of this world.

My thoughts wondered as I found myself pondering about that girl back then. Wondering when she had lost her spirit. Where all her gallantry had gone to. Where that drive had been displaced. Where the will to keep fighting had been sucked out… Had it all been exhausted through the pains of life, it was it maybe just waiting for an opportunity to surface once again…?

I clutched the book to my chest, my heart lifting as I thought of how it had inspired the lost and broken girl that had lived within me at some point.  I read some parts immediately, some aloud to my daughter over the next few day’s and some over the quiet periods when she would nap. I was lost in its magic, once again, as I read and reread the stories that had inspired and brought me through the darkest days of my life. All over again, I gained strength and fervor and willed myself to live up to the amazing women that featured in the stories.

And as the week sped by and I found comfort in the stories that brought back so many memories and emotions, the end of that week also brought my another surprise to my brother’s new home for a visit. Seeing each other had been a constant part of our days and since I barely spoken to her since her proposal week, we had a lot to catch up on.

The buzzing of the doorbell on Friday afternoon brought her armed suspiciously with a jumbo-sized chocolate cake topped with gallons of her delicious Bar One sauce over. I could already tell that my friend had spent half the day in the kitchen making comfort food. The only worry was that I wasn’t sure why…

”How did you know how to get here?” I asked her, thrilled at her presence yet not sure how she found the house.

”Yunus,” she said. “Shame, I think I woke him up. I just had to see you. He gave me the address in his sleep.”

I had nearly forgotten that my brother was back. I had spoken to him briefly on the phone earlier in the week, but knowing he would probably be jet-lagged, I had said I’d speak to him properly when I was back home. I was itching to know about his trip.

”Is that a celebration cake?!” I asked her, teasing her purposely as she barged into the house with a no-nonsense frown on her face.

”No,” she said bluntly, not offfering any more information as she dumped the dome on the table, plopped into the chair, cut herself a slice and then gobbled it up in about 7 seconds flat. She promptly cut another slice and started the process of devouring again. And again. And again. Six whole times.

It was painful to watch. What was going to be more painful was her complaining about her weight when she was done. Nusaybah was usually something of a health freak when it suited her.

”Okay, Nus, what’s going on?” I said, widening my eyes as I watched her.

Like really? Did she just come here so she could have company whilst she OD’d on her main anti-depressant?! It was crazy.

”It’s not going to work,” she said bluntly, crossing  her arms over her chest grumpily as she collapsed on the couch next to the kitchen.

”What?” I said, not getting her. She grabbed a bag of chips from the tray and stalked outside to where the boys and Khadijah were playing, popping it open as she sat there, and staring ahead of her in some kind of daze.

“The Australian,” she muttered with a distasteful look on her face. “We spoke yesterday. He’s too… unemotional.”

I wanted to laugh.

Unemotional?! What did she expect him to do?

”You know me, Khawlah,” she said with a huff, still chewing noisily. “I’m a crazy woman. If I don’t have a macho guy to hold me down I’ll snap out of control. I can’t be marrying a guy who beats around the bush and lets me do as I please. I’m not all refined and pious like someone we know. I’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at my friend.

“I’m not sure who you’re talking about,” I said.

Pious? Psssshhtt.

”Topic’s closed,” she said, stuffing her hand into the chips packet again and getting up. “I’m done talking.”

So she’s just going to bury her sorrows in food? Great.

“Why can’t I just find my own Mr Perfect?” She said softly, glancing over at me at she stashed the chips away.

I looked at her, expecting my heart to feel the usual stab that it did when she mentioned him, but today… well, today the pain wasn’t as severe. Today it was more of a pulling at my heartstrings. A dull ache, but also a warmth that engulfed me, making me appreciate with so much of me that I had the experience to love and be loved in that beautiful way.

”Maybe life is not about finding Mr Perfect,” I said simply, thinking about the last few days. “Maybe we just need to find the One who helps us to find our own version of perfection…”

Her eyes lit up as she looked at me, suddenly spurred on by my words.

”Thats just it,” she said suddenly, her voice suddenly all psyched up. “You’re spot on! I’m sick of looking for someone to save me. To help me follow my dreams. To be who I want to be. You and I both, Khawlah… we can’t be sitting here like this indefinitely…”

I glimpsed the fire in my friends eyes,  and like that first time I ever saw her, her glowing face was joyful, but behind that, a certain rigidity made her catch my attention in a completely different light. I could already tell that she was on to something and she wasn’t going to back down. It reminded me of the strength she had displayed throughout our friendship. Her words. Her encouragement. Her constant battle in keeping me afloat was something I still had no idea how to pay back,

“You know why I’m not worried, Khawlah?” She said suddenly, her eyes still shining. “There just one reason.”

I looked at her questioningly.

“Rabbi Inni Limaa Anzalta Ilayya min Khairin Faqeer,” she said simply.

I was familiar with the Du’aa of course. It was the Du’aa of Musaa (AS). His pleading to Allah when he was at his very lowest… and then Allah granted him so much that he was relieved of every hardship that he had experienced. Through that Du’aa… he had been granted a home, provisions, a family, a wife…

Oh my Lord.. I am in desperate need of whatever goodness you bestow on me…

Just the words of that Du’aa was enough to make me reflect. To elevate my hopes. To build my sincerity.

“This is Allah’s wisdom,” she said pensively as we walked the garden path, me fully aware of the natural surroundings that were my refuge right now. “It’s Allah’s plan and it’s also a sign of His goodness. It’s Khair. You just reminded me… and suddenly… I got an epiphany.”

“Khawlah, I’m tired of sitting and waiting for my Mr Perfect,” she said with a hint of annoyed independence. “It’s not what we’re meant to do. And I’m tired of watching your life on pause since Aadam left. I can’t bear to see you all fixated on your past. And yes, I know it was wonderful and Aadam was the perfect love of your life but you’ve been living in this bubble for too long and it’s time to break those barriers you’ve so carefully built..”

I breathed in as she said it, not sure how to respond. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to start living again. Really living. Going places. Having clean fun. Taking walks to the park. Appreciating the beautiful sunsets that Aadam had shown me, once again. Riding horses like we used to do when I was married. Teaching my daughter how to savour the greatness of Allah that Aadam had been just as obsessed with. Taking in the moments that made every day.

Maybe we needed to allow ourselves to let go too. Maybe I just needed to stop living in the hope that somehow Aadam might come back and revive all the dead parts of me and teach me how to live again…. so I could learn to do it myself…

The truth was that Aadam was gone. He wasn’t ever coming back. He was gone. The question to me though was I going to continue living in that shadow… of distant memories and hopes that I  might eventually become that kind of girl that I once was… or was I truly going to change my situation and be that l fierce and nature loving girl that Aadam loved… determined to make the most of everything that I had…

Being out in the garden right then was exactly what I needed. Reconnecting with my passions. Nusaybah and I had many things in commmon, but our love for nature always topped the list. It was a lovely day and there was plenty to sit back and soak in. Our garden hadn’t been as vast as Aunty Radiyyah’s but it had a fair share of space. The boys and I had been working on giving it a facelift this week and I dare say we did a  wonderful job. I had taken some shoots of the flowers Aadam had planted at the apartment rooftop and used them here.

There were also a variety of seeds that he had bought way back when he was working on making the place look amazing , and watching the little sprouts peep out from the sand made me feel like I was a new mother all over again. Somehow, I had found a strange sense of comfort in old hobbies over the past week…

”Maybe you’re right,” I started. I looked around me as I said the words, trying to spot Khadijah as she had just been following us a minute ago. I looked behind me at the boys, wondering if she had gone back to them, but when I asked them all I saw was a blank look on their faces.

”But she was with you,” Danyaal said obviously.

Dayyaan’s eyes looked worried as he looked at me.

”She asked me for water,” he said carefully as he swallowed. “I told her it’s by the store room…”

I widened my eyes at him, knowing that Khadijah was fiercely independent. The shed was out of sight and I immediately felt my heart hammering away as he said it. I just hoped she didn’t get her hands on anything dangerous.

”I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” Dayyaan stuttered, seeing my expression as I hurried toward the back of the yard.

I shook my head at him, not really focusing on what he was saying as I hurriedly scanned the store room. Of course I didn’t blame him. Khadijah had her mind of her own, but she was nowhere in sight.

I glanced behind at the little patch of sand that was wedged between the wall and the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. All kinds of crazy thoughts were going through my mind. Had she been kidnapped? Lured? Wondered off as I had been so focused on my own conversation?

”Khawlah, I think you should see this…”

I turned to where Nusaybah was standing and immediately felt my heart rate accelerate as I followed her gaze. She was already heading out to the opened gate, and as I stared at the latch, I could not even fathom how my little daughter had managed to get it open by herself. It had been ages since anyone had used the back gate, and due to pur negligence, no-one had even checked on it since we were here.

I sprinted out, just as I had those many times as little girl… but this time it was different. This time there was a serious and life-threatening task at hand. This time, unlike any time before, I prayed silently in my heart, asking Allah to keep my daughter safe. This time, with my heart in my throat, I was filled with fear over what would be the outcome…

What I didn’t know was that through this little escapade, despite the trepidation that had gripped my beating heart, life as we knew it would be significantly altered…

---

A little bit of a longer post! Shukran for ALL the comments… really gets the inspiration going… will reply ASAP

Much Love

A xx

A new Sunnah. Consideration for beggars and Needy.

Especially in these surreal times, we sometimes forget that there are many out there who are in compromising situations and genuinely need assistance.

It is narrated that Sayyiduna Husain bin Ali  used to express joy upon the arrival of a beggar. He would say: “The beggar is transporting our goods to the Hereafter.”

SubhaanAllah. The Sunnah of giving was one that was second nature to Nabi (SAW).

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

A Game Changer

Bismihi Ta’ala

Yunus

In case you didn’t figure it out yet, I’m Yunus. The quiet one. The protected one. I suppose you could call me the silent bystander. The voice that often doesn’t get heard.

Okay, now you’re feeling sorry for me. And I’m just kidding. Really, I am. Please don’t.

I am the way I am. An ordinary guy with ordinary thoughts and ordinary dreams, and its not like it ever bothered me. Living in the shadows of my siblings suited me well for the most of my life. They had set the bar high. There was much to aspire towards, and me being… well… me… wasn’t exactly outstanding… until someone had come along to convince me that maybe I’d be the one change that they needed all along.

Only, I didn’t believe that it was true. I never thought that I could be the one who could ever change the course of my own life, never mind anyone else’s.

But anyway, let’s not make this about me. Let me get back to the story.

Of course, I had managed to get by with my sisters watching out for me and my unemotional brother letting me know, in his own way, that no matter what… he was always the there for me. And he was. That was always enough.

That was why as I looked back at the journey that had begun right then, you can understand that where I was at that point was kind of a big deal. Stepping off a plane, collecting my luggage, going through passport control… all alone… it was quite an achievement. It was something that my older brother had done with his eyes literally closed, probably hundreds of times, but being the protected one of the family also came with its own set of rules. This was the first time that I had been anywhere without a single member of my family and it felt eerily strange.

”Passport, sir.”

I fumbled in my pocket as I took out my documents, a little overwhelmed by the realization that I was in a foreign country, on foreign territory… all by my foreign self.

”Fine, you go,” he said hastily, shoving the passport back in my hands while I struggled to get my stuff together as fast as possible. I didn’t want to keep the people behind me waiting.

Following the signs to the exit was easy because I understood the language. After two years of Aalim course, my Arabic was more or less conversational. Amidst the calls of Ahlan wa Sahlan from several enthusiastic drivers scouting customers,  I found myself in a taxi with a local and friendly middle-aged man , admiring the sweeps of desert and iconic landmarks, drifting off just as we arrived at the hotel I was staying at for the night. I was looking forward to touring and learning and really making the most of this trip that I had no idea yet would be one of the most memorable of my life.

Ammaan was an amazing city. Of course, the fact that it was so rich in Islamic history was one of the main drawcards for me. Many people don’t know that Jordan was the first place out of Saudi Arabia where Islam had spread. Furthermore, it was on its east side where the famous Battle Of Mut’ah had taken place.

As I found myself gazing at the barren lands that we passed on the daily trips, it was as if I could almost see the Sahaba at the time plunging forward into the battle field, preparing themsleves for what would be their last battle, as the Prophet (SAW) had prophecised.

The most significant and the fierce battle during the lifetime of the messenger of Allah [SAW] was to be a preliminary and a prelude to the great conquests of the land. I never tired of it’s story. It’s passion. It’s splendor. Their faith. No matter how many times I read or heard it in class, it still boggles my mind.

And according to the prophecy Nabi (SAW) had conveyed, it was Zaid Bin Haarithah (RA), the closest to the my Beloved Messengers (SAW) heart, who assumed leadership at first. He fight tenaciously and in matchless spirit of bravery until he fell, fatally stabbed. And then, as predicted, Jafar bin Abu Talib (RA) was then the one who took the banner and did a miraculous job of fending off the enemy with great valor. In the thick of the battle, he dismounted, hamstrung his horse and resumed fighting until his right hand was cut off. He seized the banner with his left hand until this too was gone.

He then clasped the banner with both arms until a Byzantine soldier struck and cut him into two parts. It is reported that was called “the flying Jaffar” or “Jaffar with two wings” because Allah has awarded him two wings to fly wherever he desired there in the eternal garden. Al-bukhari reported fifty stabs in his body, none of them in the back…

SubhaanAllah.

And as mentioned beforehand, Abdullah bin Rawaha (RA) then finally proceeded to hold up the banner and fight bravely on his horseback while reciting enthusiastic verses as motivation for his wavering soul, until he too was martyred.

There upon a man took the banner and called upon the Muslims to choose a leader. The Muslims looked to the place where a future lieutenant and leader of the army was fending off the enemy, and the honour was unanimously granted to Khalid bin al-Waleed, an outstanding strategist and a skilled brave fighter. It was reported by that he used nine swords that broke while he was relentlessly and courageously fighting the enemies of Islam. He, however, realizing the grave situation the Muslims were in, began to follow a different course of encounter, revealing the ferocious strategy-maker that Khalid (RA) was rightly called…

Khalid Bin Waleed (RA). A legend of sorts that fought to such heights that Harith bin Shamir and his allied Roman army lost its courage. They thought that the Muslims had received fresh reinforcements. They began to recede when the darkness of night started to prevail. Khalid bin Waleed (RA) also left for Madinah along with the remaining army. It was greatly through his exemplary valour and military expertise that Khalid bin Waleed RA safely delivered one thousand soldiers out of danger and reached Madinah. For this reason, the Prophet (SAW) honoured him by the title of “Saif-Ullah” (the sword of Allah).

And of course, being there in a place which served as a constant reminder of the victorious past… one that was so rich in history… only made me want to learn and see more.

The days were full and uplifting. My own Ustaadh at the Uloom had directed me to someone who I could engage with… whether it was something educational or something important just about life to learn, I was open to it. Quran was an every day routine and Hadith classes were ongoing at his Madrassa. Because I wasn’t a regular student, he took special care in taking me to sites that were of interest. What I found myself most taken aback by was seeing and meeting refugees who were displaced. The Syrian crisis became a reality. Gaza was no longer just a place I heard of in the news. Being there opened my eyes. Alerted my brain. It made me realize why Ahmed always pushed me to travel, because your entire perspective of the world can change when you see what really happens out there…

”Next time you bring your wife,” Ustaadh Dawud, who was a friend of an Aalim at Madrassa, said as we jumped back into the taxi. “The ladies are always thrilled to see other ladies. They love to meet new people. Talk. Give them stories of their lives… especially the older ones.”

”I’m not married,” I said, feeling a little shy about the prospect. Marriage was a far-fetched notion.

”No problem,” he said easily in his Arab accent. “Maybe your sister? If she comes she can help hand over our monthly package. The ladies are strong. Very strong. Many have no support. You ask them where’s their husband… they say simply… Shaheed, Alhumdulillah. You ask them about their sons. They say same. So easily. Alhumdulillah is their second nature. I ask Allah every day to give me that type of Imaan. It’s… I don’t know what you will say in English…  SubhaanAllah…”

I swallowed and looked at him, already feeling choked up. That was on another level completely. Like strength and Yaqeen and immense Tawakkul all combined…

“Insha Allah,” I said vaguely, knowing that Khawlah would probably love to come here.

Thinking about my sister again in this context… knowing she lost her husband too… caused me halt in my tracks and think of my brother-in-law after many months, in this strange place. It had been a while but his memory was that poignant. I had never admitted it, but had missed him unmentionably for the first few months. With time of course, the pain had seemed to fade, but I couldn’t forget the great service he had done for me when he had been alive. Just the fact that he took time to know me and be more than a brother-in-law was something that made a dent.

“So do you know what you’re doing after school?” He had asked one night as he peeped into my room, peering over my school books.

Khawlah was always an early sleeper, and Aadam never went home straight away. That was just Aadam. Never in a hurry. Whether he was chatting to Dada, Abba, or tapping on my room door… Aadam was someone who just made time for people, no matter how busy he was.

The thing was, I was hesitating to tell him. My dreams were nothing amazing. That much I had convinced myself of.

But when I eventually told him that I wanted to be an Aalim… well, he had basically taken the ordinary and made it something completely extraordinary.

”That’s amazing,” he said, looking truly awestruck. I narrowed my eyes at him disbelievingly.

Was it?

Most people didn’t think so.

”I know what you’re thinking,” he said to me.

I looked at him cynically, putting away my school books as he made himself comfortable on my bed. Of course, when I had first met my brother-in-law, his upper-class accent and lazy attitude was strange. I had never met anyone like him till then. As I got used used to him, those had grown to be one of his mos likable traits.

”You see me as this computer geek with all these monuments to my name,” he continued, shrugging indifferently. “Thinking I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But before you get the wrong idea about me, let me just tell you that I’m a pretty regular guy. I’m not saying that because I want you to tell me that I’m not. And yes, maybe I have a few meager titles to my name, but in no way does that make me a game-changer, yeah? I am nothing great…. I can promise you.”

I was still cynical when I looked at him. But he was. He was a famous computer guy who had articles written about his work and so many things going for him. He had potential. He was lucky. He was one of the popular people. I wasn’t.

“But when I look at you, Yunus,” he said, halting my train of thought. “You are different. Extraordinary. Not many people know what they want out of life, and have such noble ambitions. I know game-changers…. and believe me when I say that you, Yunus, are going to be a game-changer… you are. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re going to pursue the Aalim course and you’re going to be an awesome Molvi whose going to teach Deen and inspire people and change so much more than you think. That much, I’m absolutely certain of.”

I blinked as he said it, surprised that he had so much of faith in my ability. Surprised that his words had already affected my heart. Surprised that there were people like him who cared enough to even make this meagre thought of mine into something that I could truly believe in and aspire towards. I suppose some people were just meant to cross your path and serve the purpose of giving you the kind of unprecedented inspiration that you could stash away for an entire lifetime.

And though I didn’t believe it at first, I could quite safely say that his words that night and constant encouragement throughout was such that kept pushing me to pursue my dreams of being an Aalim, despite feeling that I would never be able to accomplish it…

And sometimes we underestimate the little words that people say, but this was something small and sincere that had really changed the course of my life.

“We’ll stop at a Masjid on the way,” Ustaadh Dawud said, bringing my mind back to the present. “Else we will miss Maghrib Salaah. There is beautiful recitation here.”

I nodded and looked out the window, glad that the drive to the wasn’t too long. I gazed up at the astounding architecture as we pulled up, thinking how much of beauty that the Masaajid exuded here… it seemed like each was more beautiful and intricately decorated than the last. Though the weather was a little chilly, the warmth  hospitality that the people displayed always amazed me.

The Adhaan (call to prayer) had just concluded
as I settled into a space of my own, taking the time to enjoy the feeling here… I couldn’t help but also feel a little overwhelmed….

”Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…”

The Iqamah had commenced and I could see people scrambling to the front and gesturing to each other to fill in gaps that were left in between. As Ustaadh Dawood went to the front, I found myself wedged between a bulky man with a beard and a young guy who looked like he was a university student.

I closed my eyes as the Imaam started to recite, and though I didn’t expect it, like a sacred kind of feel that happened in the Masaajid of the Haramain… I instantly found myself lost in his recitation. Every letter and word was pronounced with unhindered purpose, and as the voice peaked and dropped at just the right inflections, I was lost in its beauty. The recitation was really unlike anyone I’ve heard before. Completely unique. Perfectly composed. It was a time when I silently willed for the Imaam to recite a few more verses. To continue for a little longer.

And because my Ustaadh had explained to me about how Qiraat recitation worked and how difficult it was to become a Qari, it made me admire these types of recitations all the more. I could see that everyone around me was appreciating the strong tone that flowed out of the speakers surrounding us, together with the beautiful flow of its natural disposition that made it something really something special. If reading like this didn’t move hearts then I’m not sure what could…

And as we ended the Salaah and I read my Sunnah, I cast my gaze thereafter to front where Ustaadh Dawud was, as a small  crowd was now making its way out, leaving enough open space for me to get a clear view of the now empty Mimbar. Something within me told me that I had to catch a glimpse of the face that belonged to the recitation. There was some kind of invisible yearning that was drawing me to meet this person whose recitation I’m sure had already affected so many hearts.

I cleared my throat as I approached the front, staying close to Ustaadh as I tried to take in my surroundings. The inside of the masjid was spacious and spectacular. I felt my heart sink as I realized the Imaam must have left or gone somewhere else. Maybe one day when I’d come back, I’d meet him.

While Ustaadh spoke to someone in fluent Arabic, I caught tit-bits of what he was talking about as they chatted, taking some inanimate snaps of its inside to pass my own time. I could hear him telling them about me visiting from South Africa and snippets about the refugees we had seen earlier. My heart was still affected by the reality of what I’d seen. It was a real eye-opener. We hear about people who are suffering and have lost everything they have and are still content, but when we see it, it was completely different story.

”Yusuf,” Ustaadh said, calling me to him. I had given up on telling him that my name was Yunus and not Yusuf, so I smiled instead and nodded. It didn’t really matter anyway.

“What city it is you’re from? Shaikh Khalid is asking.”

I answered briefly and then glanced at the guy he was talking to. The Imaam. Shaikh Khalid?

“It’s just Khalid, Ustaadh,” he replied in English. The accent was painfully familiar. “Good to meet you, Yusuf.”

And of course, as I met his gaze, and he met mine back, it wasn’t the only thing that was painful. My mind just kind of froze as he held out his both his hands, in the style I was accustomed to back home, to greet me back. I felt like I was floating somewhere beyond the current realm as my mind processed exactly what was happening and all the possibilities that this could bring.

The words froze on my tongue as I tried to make sense of it, knowing that there was an enthralling story behind this meeting and how he had come to be here. Knowing that there was a reason that I, of all people, was brought here at this time and place. Knowing that if I played this right, though it may be something that would require intense strategy, this might be a complete game-changer…

---

Dearest Readers

Shukran to all for the comments and the much appreciated guidance that a confused soul like me needs. You, the readers, have no idea what it means to me. Insha Allah I will go as far as I can by next week Thursday to give the readers some closure (just so that our brains can focus on Ramadhaan) and afterwards, well.. Insha Allah… try and give something of an epilogue. 

Much Love,

A xx

A new Sunnah. Consideration for beggars and Needy.

Especially in these surreal times, we sometimes forget that there are many out there who are in compromising situations and genuinely need assistance.

It is narrated that Sayyiduna Husain bin Ali  used to express joy upon the arrival of a beggar. He would say: “The beggar is transporting our goods to the Hereafter.”

SubhaanAllah. The Sunnah of giving was one that was second nature to Nabi (SAW).

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Just a Thought… not a post…

Dearest readers, 

Assalamualaikum/ (Peace be with you…)

Since I don’t post in Ramadhaan… this is just something that crossed my mind and being a confused soul and never knowing what to do, so I’d like to ask the readers…

I know most people (like me) are probably going crazy with juggling school work and house work and preparation for Ramadhaan as well… so I just thought instead of me rushing to finish this story now (perhaps inadequately), I can pen my last few posts to be  published after Ramadhaan..

On the other hand I’m also anxious to reveal the end ❤️

Any thoughts? Or we could just conclude briefly .. with perhaps one or two epilogues posts after Ramadhaan  … InshaAllah

Looking forward to getting some direction and hearing from the readers.

Shukran for reading and all the much appreciated comments and likes 💕

Much love, 

A xx

Another Goodbye

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

My sister was looking at me skeptically as she folded her arms over her chest.

”You said no?” She asked with raised eyebrows. “Why?”

I shrugged again. It wasn’t the first suggestion of a proposal but it was the first of note.  Besides, the whole thing had been done without my in-laws knowledge. Somehow, it just didn’t feel right.

”A few reasons,” I said vaguely. “There were rumors of him getting a divorce for completely unrelated reasons but I don’t want to be the reason that it happens either. I think he needs to sort out his domestic business before he thinks of another marriage…”

Zuleikha’s eyes lit up as realization dawned.

”Don’t tell me we’re talking about the doctor?” She said, looking a bit gobsmacked.

I gave an obviously cynical smile.

”Goodness, Khawlah,” she breathed. “He loves Khadijah. Like, on another level. Plus, despite the fact that he’s in his 30’s, he looks almost exactly like Aadam. In theory, it’s absolutely perfect. Everyone will think she’s his daughter…”

She was right. Any stranger could see the resemblance. And of course, it was no secret that whenever my daughter would be at Aadam’s parents, Siraj would inevitably pop in for hours on end. Somehow, even with his busy schedule, he made so much of time for her, even if it was several times a week. He spoilt her with gifts, sweets and even the most expensive of toys. He was really like a good guy… and he loved my daughter… but whether I would be able to be who he expected of me… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if I was ready to be married to someone just so to fulfill one role. I knew that he probably desired to have kids of his own and I had a good idea that his reason for  proposal centered around that sole factor.

I mean, why else would he suggest this when it could cause so much of drama?

”The topic is closed,” I said simply. “I politely said that he can see Khadijah whenever he liked, but Nikah won’t be a good idea. Ahmed said he seemed to take it surprisingly well…”

I held fast to the notion that he wasn’t for me, and I knew that I had made the right decision. The thing was, as the three year mark of Aadam’s death came, I couldn’t help but feel the pressure from those around me.

And then there were times when I sometimes couldn’t believe what had happened. Moments when I would still wake up in the middle of the night, dripping with sweat because the dreams of him would seem so real. Of course, my heart was still endowed with love for him. As time passes, the memories of a loved one become even fonder. You forget the little things that once annoyed you or the arguments you had. All I remembered was how beautiful those last few weeks were… when I thought that I had no idea of how soon he was going to leave…

And the painful truth was, I think I knew. I knew deep in my heart that he had prayed that final Salaah… as he made his Salaam… and then glanced  up at me… something in his eyes told me that he knew that his final hours had come. The signs were evident. His escorts were already there… and it was as if Aadam could see exactly what awaited him after…

It was surreal, and as he drifted off and his tongue moved silently with viable force, the sound of the Kalimah being read seemed to intensify and I couldn’t help but let out a heightened whimper of palpable grief as he bade farewell to this world..

So young. So unexpected.

And then… he was gone.

Aadam was gone.

Aadam was gone.

Aadam was gone.

I felt my own world caving in from all sides… as if in slow motion…. And I could see myself once again… 

The girl who stood and watched him as he looked back at her running out of the rain, the moment bared his soul and asked if she would marry him …

That girl who threw her head back and laughed as she watched him galloping away on horseback, wondering if he was crazy if he expected her to do the same.

The girl who had watched him scream out to the gorges that he loved her, just before the fall that had changed everything…

I could see myself again, grinning at the contentment apparent on his face when he had been relayed the news that he was going to be a father…

His one dimpled smile. His crooked eyebrow. His quirky comments. Everything I loved about him and that made me feel so much more alive was now gone forever…

Tears streamed down my face as the reality of it hit me. And though I knew this was a test and a part of life, I was still struggling to understand why.

His leaving was a blast that sunk my soul to the murkiest of lows. The scent of calico and camphor lingered in the air, as I gazed at the white sheets. The muffled tears that were heard amidst the beating of my grieving heart, were a constant reminder of the loss. The random whispers piercing the shocked silence were like a puncture to my soul. It was almost like a dream that I willed myself to wake up from, yet blatantly refused…

And then was the moment when he was lifted, as. a sudden feeling of  overwhelming disbelief overcame me as my brothers and his cousins lifted him, wanting to bolt after them and pull him back to shake him awake, begging him not to leave.

Dont leave me, Aadam, my heart silently cried. Please don’t leave…

I remembered my fathers face, as he watched me, with tears running down his face. Like that moment he watched us when Mama had passed away, except that this time, it seemed that much more raw. Unfiltered. Real. I always thought that  Mama’s death would be the worst that could ever happen to my family…

At that point I couldn’t understand it, but when I thought about it, I realized exactly how Abba felt.  To see your child go through that kind of pain, knowing that you could do nothing to ease it… well, it was a million times worse than going through it yourself.

Rubeena was inconsolable for days after. We could barely talk without her tearing up. I had forgotten about the baby for a few days, as I sunk into grief. Aunty Radiyyah had come along… making this more stark than anything before. She was lost for words. As she sat there, her grey eyes filling with tears. I couldn’t quite believe that my husband had an effect on so many people in his short life.

It was a whirlwind that had changed our lives, but not only for now. His effect was one that lasted way after. I could almost hear him consoling me. Telling me that it was all going to be okay. Telling me that no, he wasn’t scared. Why would he be scared? It was on, over the horizon of this temporary abode, where things were so much better. Exclusive. Enteral. Why should I be scared for him? The houses were more elite. The nourishment was in another dimension. The entire life thy he had lived would be a testimony to what awaited…

Surely his passing had been blessed. Surely Allah had provided him with the best of signs for us to seek consolment from. Surely he wanted to hurry to his final destination…

I will love you. In every moment, in every time. In any moment, in any place. I will still love you. Till Jannah and beyond. And even if I don’t wake up tomorrow, Khawlah… I love you so much. 

It was the words that had stuck with me through those years. When I felt the first movement of a little life within me. When his voice would sometimes talk to me between my dreams. When I held our beautiful daughter in my arms for the first time…

Like a jolt out of the blue… a sudden awakening from the slumber that I had thought I was in, Khadijah’s existence was a reality that brought my entire home alive. 

And as she grew and blossomed into this beautiful child that captured our hearts, there was so much that I could be grateful for. I busied myself with her and motherhood, teaching her the gems of Deen and doing the best I could to make her into a child that would be Sadaqah Jaariya for her beloved father. After all that time of giving her everything…

Somehow, as the three year mark hit, after so long, I found myself sinking to a new low. The initial strength that everyone had admired about me was wavering, and the memories of Aadam would sometimes get me down. It hadn’t been easy but I had exuded a confidence  that no-one had expected. Now that Khadijah was growing up and demanding a little less attention… I found myself finding more time… reliving the past in a way that broke my spirit.

It was at that point when Abba had decided that it was time for me to move on. He felt that I was holding back. That I had put a huge full stop at the point in my life, when I refused to look forward. Abba was worried that  I had sunk into a pit that no-one would be able to pull me out of, and being a father, he did what he thought would be the right thing for me.

He tried to find me a suitor.

And I loved my Abba for that. I loved that he wanted me to be happy again, but my heart was no longer as pliable as it had been when Aadam had first found his way in. I was harder now. More rigid. Difficult to please. Being with Aadam, though it was one of the most amazing eras of my life, also put him on a pedestal. To me, no-one else would ever be able to match up.

”Can we just forget it?” I eventually I said to Abba, as I declined the fifth option he had put forward to me that month. “Is it that much of a problem having me here? If it is I can always move into the flat. It’s lying empty anyway.”

”Khawlah,” Abba said softly, shaking his head. “You know it’s not that. We love having you and Khadijah here. It’s just that now Yunus is gone, you’re stuck with two old people here and I can see that you’re not the same as you used to be…”

Yunus had commenced with an Aalim course since school had finished. Now that Ramadhaan was nearing and he was off for a month, he had decided to go to the Middle East to improve his Arabic for a few weeks. I was so proud of my little brother. He had followed his dreams. From being the quiet youngest brother who seemed so lost, I could see now that he was going to be the anchor that held us all down…

”I’ll never be the same, Abba,” I said quietly. “Life’s taken a lot out of me. It’s been a tough ride. But Alhumdulillah…”

Abba looked at me and swallowed. His strong features were still the same but the creases at the corners of his eyes and the slightly more distinct lines of his frown gave his real age away. His olive skin didn’t look as vibrant as it used to and his smile wasn’t as striking, but Abba was still Abba. The man who had, in my books, fallen from grace at some stage but had now, over these few years, worked his way up to the pedestal again.

I ventured to my room again, knowing that Abba meant no harm but feeling a little down nonetheless. At times it happened. Sometimes I missed Aadam more than other days. Khadijah being around sometimes made it harder. She was so much like her father that I sometimes could not even bare it. While at times it gave me pleasure to see her make people laugh and bring so much of joy to others, it also pained my heart ever so slightly as I thought of how Aadam would have chuckled at her silly banter and unpredictable comments.

”Where is that gorgeous daughter of yours?” Nusaybah asked later that day as she pushed open my door and collapsed on my bed, propping herself up on one hand and eyeing me out. “I’m missing her sparkle. You’re like a stunned chicken compared to her. Boorringgggg….”

”She’s gone to Aunty Radiyyah for the afternoon,” I said, not paying attention to her insinuation that I’d lost my own sparkle. “She’s missing Yunus too much.”

”Those two get along really well, don’t they?” She said quietly. “Can we gatecrash?”

“I’m not really in the mood,” I said in a monotone. “I just feel like relaxing today.”

Aunty Radiyyah was so good with her. She would teach her such wonderful things. She always came back knowing some new Hadith or Surah or Du’aa… it made me a little sad that Aunty Radiyyah  would never have a grandchild of her own to teach all these wonderful things to.

”When are you ever in the mood for anything?” mumbled Nusaybah after a few seconds, almost to herself.

I swallowed as she said it, biting back emotion at her comment. I knew she wasn’t being mean on purpose but sometimes her big mouth was a little too vocal for my liking. I rolled my eyes and turned away. She didn’t know what it was like. She had never been married. She had never lost a husband.

I knew I was being ugly, but my thoughts were that as far as I could see, she had had it pretty easy so far.

”I’m sorry,” she said softly as I silently sorted out some of Khadijah’s toys that stayed in the room. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.”

I turned and met her eye. I felt like sometimes I just needed to cry and let it all out. But the overwhelming need to be strong and fore bearing  almost always pushed through.

“On the up side,” she said, as she gave me a sultry grin. “Maybe I can make you smile. I have some good news…”

I smiled already, forgiving her instantly. When Nusaybah smiled there was no way I could stay angry with her. It was just that sincere.

”Tell me,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “Is it about the application?”

”Gosh no,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My father said they only time I’d be able to go to a university is if I find a husband to agree to it…”

Nusaybah had passed her matric exams exceptionally well. It had always been her dream to do medicine, but her father was completely against her going to campus. She was currently studying a bachelor of science through correspondence, still waiting to take up the opportunity of ever she got her lucky break.

”Well, I hope he comes along before you get too old!” I joked with her.

”That’s the thing,” Nusaybah said, her voice suddenly turning serious as she met my gaze. She bit her lip slightly nervously. “Remember the guy that I wrote off two weeks ago?”

”The Australian?” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.  Nusaybah had a few proposals coming her way, but no one had really caught her eye before the “Australian”. He was bulky and bearded and just her type. I had giggled when she described him to me in great detail. When he didn’t phone to propose she was a little miffed, but she got over it within a day or two. Only now… it looked like the topic wasn’t completely closed…

”Did he call?” I asked, my eyes wide and not quite knowing how to react.

She nodded surreptitiously.

And she did so, my heart kind of sunk to my toes as I felt like the worst friend in the world. Of course I was happy for her, but this was something I wasn’t expecting to happen so soon. I didn’t expect things to change so fast. After everything, there had been a few constants in my life that I expected to remain this way. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her yet. I didn’t want to let her go to some stranger who lived way under, not knowing when I would see her beautiful face once again…

I bit back my tears as she smiled, swallowing as I processed the pure joy in her glistening eyes. Frankly, I wasn’t yet ready for another goodbye…

”I think he’s the one Khawlah,” she said softly. “I’m going to say yes…”

---

Shukran for all the comments,❤️  I will reply ASAP.

Much Love

A xx

A Sunnah Drink Called Nabeez

• Soak dates for a night in a packed container. If not the dates, then you can simply soak Golden Raisins instead of Dates too.
• Remove the seeds from Dates or Raisins, and grind it with water. You can add honey, but it’s totally optional
• You can also drink without grinding the dates and can eat dates separately.
• DO NOT MIX RAISINS AND DATES WHILE MAKING NABEEZ.
• It is an ideal drink for Ramadan, especially in Suhoor. It helps people keep their energy during a day-long fast.

How easy to practise!

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

A forgotten Sunnah. Eaten fallen particles… Sometimes we forget the Barakah that can be in even a grain of food. To eat what has fallen on the cloth or even the floor… SubhaanAllah.

Anas ibn Maalik narrated that when the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) ate, he would lick his three fingers. Anas said: “And he said, ‘If any one of you drops a piece of food, let him remove any dirt from it and eat it, and not leave it for the Shaytaan.’ And he commanded us to clean the plate, and said, ‘For you do not know where in your food the blessing is.’” (Narrated by Muslim, 2034). 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

A New Life

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zuleikha

Ajeeb. It was a word that my friend Zaynah often used to describe the apparent nature of this world. It’s heartfelt joys. It’s treacherous heartbreaks. How it sometimes left me smiling from ear to ear, or tearing from its vicious inconsistencies… It still brought one word to mind.

Uniquely beautiful. Beautifully strange. Strangely unique. Ajeeb. Truly, there was nothing that happened in this life that we could really explain. And though we are aware of exactly how the nature of this world is, we still remain in a state of strange uncertainty. The thing is, we know that this Duniyaa is meant to end.  We know with absolute certainty that we will have go. Eventually, we will all have to leave this path that we are treading and go back to our Lord. We can’t be scared of the inevitable. What we do need to fear, is how we will leave. Our aim, as we are now, is to live in the full knowledge that the crux of this world is not to attain the best of it, but to equip us with what we will need for the Aakhirah.

And like death and it’s reality can bring lessons that we need to so desperately learn… the gift of a new life too can bring a it’s own understanding too. People will live, and then die… and with every new chapter, a new little life will find his or her way into this world to aspire through the same journey that we all are meant to make. To live. To die. To know that their every breath and living and dying is only for One Allah. That was the way it worked.. that was the way we came to know and have always known… the cycle of life from way before we were born to well after we all die…

The soft sound of Adhaan awakened my senses as my mind adjusted to the reality. This birth was something quite surreal. It was like some kind of dream. An untainted reality that had caught me completely unaware, as I had witnessed my sister transition into the mature and amazing young woman and mother that she now was, I simply could not believe how she had grown.

There were so many things that I had learnt from her. So much of goodness that came from what she was going through. And of course it was no easy task, but for a believer, nothing is a calamity. Every situation is one where you can reap goodness from. Every calamity becomes a means of drawing close to your Lord.

Coming from the life that I had been living, to see her go through almost seven months of seclusion  was amazing. One could say even, isolation. Her serenity and comfort made me feel like I had been missing something hugely crucial all along my life. My life had been so full. Full to its capacity. Filled with menial tasks of shopping and functions and worldly whims and desires… I came to see a painful truth in its pointlessness.

For Khawlah, having the strength that she had to endure her tests so patiently really put so much in perspective for me. The thing is, it was a great test… but people like me saw it as a punishment. If I had been in her position, I knew that my weak faith would only let me respond to it like it was some kind of terrible fate. Instead, my sister had looked at it differently. Instead, she had chosen it to be her means  of finding contentment in the decree of Allah. It was her way of calming herself, gaining the strength she needed and focusing on the real goals and objectives that we as Mu’mineen should always have in mind. It was beautiful to witness but as she evolved, I couldn’t help but be completely in awe of the type of person that this had made her. It made me want to aim for so much more than I had ever dreamt of for myself. 

I sucked in my breath as Yunus’s voice heighten once again as he continued with the call to prayer in my nieces little ears, and my heart lifted as the testimony of faith was repeated in the ears of my new niece. It was such a spectacular sound. Just it’s tone and inflections were so uplifting and amazing that I couldn’t help but shudder with the realization of its truth as it was called out…

Ash-Hadu Allah Illaha Illalah…

Ash-Hadu Anna Muhammadur Rasulullah…

His deep voice almost echoed from the next door room. It brought back memories of my own birth, which was worlds apart from my sisters. She was, Alhumdulillah, blessed with such ease that I could barely comprehend it. Her labor was short, uncomplicated and almost painless. As I watched her sleep now, after the strength she had so courageously showed throughout, I could not believe that she had gone through this with so much of unwavering faith.

I placed next to Khawlah’s bed her energy drink that she had become accustomed to having during her pregnancy. Nabeez. A drink of dates that were left to soak until the water became sweet. Khawlah had requested this as her labor commenced and I could see such wisdom in the Sunnah as her energy levels depleted, the nutrients had nourished her throughout this time when she needed it most. It was truly incredible.

I silently kissed my beautiful sisters forehead as I pushed back a few stray locks under her burqa. I left her niqab next to her for when she awoke, knowing that she would be looking for it when she came to. It was a step that she had decided to take, and being out of her Iddat now already made her so much more aware of herself. I couldn’t help but think how proud of her I was as I turned to leave, glancing at my sister-in-law’s anxious face as I stepped out with a smile. As she hugged me, I instantly remembered the beautiful baby that had just arrived to add so much of colour to our world. It was a gift that Allah was blessing us with and I could barely believe that it was here…

“How is she?” Rubeena asked worriedly.

”She’s absolutely perfect.” I said softly, assuring her that everything was okay. I had promised that I would be out as soon as I could. Besides, Khawlah  was asleep and the baby would be taken to be bathed. Yunus had accompanied the new addition that had plenty of caregivers available. Besides the fact that there were so many volunteers available, including Aunty Radiyyah and Nusaybah, I could see that we would have a problem tearing him away. He was absolutely smitten.

Rubeena’s eyes were filling with tears and I could hardly blame her. Of course, she would be thinking of Aadam now. There was not a single one of us who weren’t, but no-one said it aloud. It was a silent murmur  that existed within our aching hearts. How grateful we were that Allah had brought a person like him into our lives to show us so much about character. Beautiful character. It truly brought about the realization that nothing else in this world matters. If you are loved by Allah then every path will be paved for you with ease…

”What does she look like?” Ruby asked, as she blew her nose. I could see Ahmed watching us from where he stood. He was looking a little disoriented. Like me, he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Some things, even after a months, still feel surreal..

I looked at my sister in law, trying to focus on her question. There were so many emotions going through me at that time. I knew that I had to tell her though. If I didn’t say it, someone else most definitely would. It was undeniable.

”Well, right now,” I said quietly, a lump forming in my throat. “She looks just like her father.”

I breathed out as a fresh wave of tears seem to surface, and I couldn’t help but smile at my emotional sister-in-law. She could not have been more different from Ahmed, yet the two of them complimented each other perfectly.

She nodded and went off to chat with her mother who was anxiously waiting to catch a first glimpse of the baby. Eventually, she was wheeled our to the nursery and as they caught sight of her, I could tell that the emotion at that point was a little overwhelming.

They were full of praises of course. Oohs and aahs… amidst expressions of absolute wonder and awe. A girl, after all those boys… a light amidst all this darkness that seemed to overcome them… Allah had surely fulfilled his promise by giving so much more than we had expected.

She was named Khadijah. It was a name that Rubeena and Ahmed had chosen, but Khawlah knew well that Aadam had always loved. Apparently he had mentioned once to the boys that his daughter would have the name of his favorite Sahabi, and so my niece had was graciously named after one of the four women of world.

And of course, she was the light of our lives. The beacon of hope that would bring us so much of joy. Abba was ecstatic. Dada lived for the every tiny momentary event in her little life. He was so thrilled with the new addition to the family.

And yes, though it was so amazing to have her, it wasn’t always easy. Every day held a different challenge for Khawlah but she persevered with the help of those around her, and in true warrior-mode, pushed through the first few months of motherhood as a capable young woman who resembled someone who everyone admired. She was fortunate that little Khadoo… as we had come to calm her, was the sweetest little baby. Unlike Muhammed, she had no colic and very few growing pains. She was, in fact, like a little angel that Allah had sent to add so much of Barakah to our lives.

As the first few months of her existence came to pass,  little whimpers that we had become accustomed to soon turned into joyful gurgles, and  we constantly found ourselves delighting in every new development and every little milestone. She was incredibly beautiful, and even though I may have been biased because she was my niece, no-one could deny that she was most like her father, even in character. She never felt his absence because she had become everyone’s baby and was truly was loved by all. Content and smiling, calm and always a pleasure to have around… little Khadijah would often spend days with her grandparents or cousins with no fuss. Once she was weaned, she would easily spend nights with Aadam’s parents, who were absolutely thrilled to have a little granddaughter after the boys. She was a coolness to their eyes and they delighted in having her around.

As for me, I couldn’t have been more obsessed with my new niece. As for my son… I wasn’t sure what it was about her but everytime we came to Abba’s place, all I knew was that my now five-year-old relentlessly doted on her.

”Did you notice that her eyes are changing?” I asked my sister as I watched my niece play with Muhammed. To top it all, it was the cutest thing that even as a meager two-year-old, she was a real madam. Even though she was a whole three years younger, Muhammed would often get bossed around by the dominating streak that she had obviously inherited from my sister.

Khawlah nodded and smiled.

“She’s got your eyes now,” she said, looking at my nieces hazel eyes. “But other than that she’s exactly like Aadam…”

”You forgot that she’s got your crazy curls,” I grinned as watched the two of them play with the Mega Blocks that were spilled on the floor. My son was busy passing her all the ‘girl-coloured’ blocks while he would keep the blues on another section of the bedroom rug. There were playing some kind of colour- based building game they had invented by themselves. Kids were so cute together at times.

I watched my niece as we spoke about her. Khadijah’s features were delicate and beautiful. As she grew, she was also changing in small ways. Her little personality was something that would make me giggle at times. Like Khawlah, once she made her mind up about something, she was pretty much convinced. What was more amusing was how she would bring the house down at times, especially when it came to brushing her hair, and I could tell that we were doomed to the same hair disaster fate as we had with Khawlah.

”My son is obsessed with her,” I smilef as I watched Muhammed give in to her request of passing all the blue blocks over, despite him being left with nothing at all. “There’s nothing that he wouldn’t do for her. Jameel says we rather put on a proposal from now…”

Khawlah laughed as she mixed a bowl of rice for the two of them, making sure it wasn’t too hot before she recited a Bismillah and started feeding them. Both cousins gobbled up the food. Somehow Muhammed seemed to be more obliging with his aunty than with me. Perhaps it was Khawlah’s no-nonsense approach that caught him unawares, but there was no doubt that my son was more obedient with other people around.

”Talking about proposals…” she said quietly as she fed another handful to the jumping Khadijah. She was literally all over the place as she her curls bounced around and dived in for intermittent bites of food. Her cuteness was almost intoxicating. It made me broody for a little girl… but then again, I knew very well that there were never any guarantees…

“Yup,” I said, looking at my sister and wondering what she was saying about proposals. Her expression had turned serious. Of course Jameel was only joking. Though these two small ones made me constantly giggle, I wasn’t sure if we could really base their marital future on it…

”There have been some developments,” she said vaguely, her face looking a little flushed as she spoke. I narrowed my eyes as I turned my full attention to her, realizing that she wasn’t talking about the kids anymore. She was actually looking shy. Like, nervously bashful… almost as if she had some great revelation…

”You mean..?” I started stupidly, a little confused at first. “With you?”

Khawlah swallowed nervously as she fed the last bite to Muhammed, who was now singing some Nasheed that his father liked to play. Khadijah joined in as she caught on to the tune, in her own jumbled up language. It was so cute that I had to restrain myself from biting her cheeks. I grabbed her and squeezed her tightly, despite her grumpy protests, as I forced myself to focus on Khawlah.

”Khawlah, tell me,” I urged, looking at her cynically and putting my niece down again. “Does someone want to come for proposal? Do you know him?”

She nodded as she looked back at me, and a streak of fear shot through her eyes. Of course. She was scared. I could tell that she was afraid of opening herself up again. Was it too soon? 

I could tell that she felt guilty for even thinking about it. I could tell that to open her heart again was an extremely far-off notion to my sister. It seemed like ages ago since I remembered my sister so vibrant and content… the way that she had been when Aadam was alive.

“No-one can know,” she said softly. “It was a suggestion that Ahmed had put forward to me but Zulz.. Like… I’m not sure what the intention is… or if this whole things is more about Khadijah because of his circumstances…”

I looked at her worriedly, wondering who it could be that would have that intention in mind. My mind was abuzz with possibilities of people who would want a kid more than a wife. As lovely as my sister was, it wasn’t easy for a man to wholeheartedly accept a child from someone else. It looked like Khawlah was looking for excuses to refuse. If had been more than two years since Aadam had passed away. I knew it took time but for what it was worth, I knew that she needed to be told that it was okay to move on… that it was okay to make a new life…

”You know that you’re allowed to think about it?” I said, knowing my sister too well by now. I had sincerely wished that she would one day take this path. I just didn’t know that she had already shelved the idea when this match could be the exact one that she needed. “Who is he?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said quietly, avoiding eye contact and focusing on Khadijah as she tied her unruly curls back. She finally met my gaze with a nonchalant shrug.

“I already said no.”

---

Dear Readers,

As Ramadhaan approaches, my thoughts are to conclude this blog within the next two- three weeks. Instead of longer posts I might be posting a few shorter ones to finish off before the final week of Shabaan.
InshaAllah

Please make maaf for any shortcomings. Do remember me in your Duaas. Always in need of them.

Shukran for all the comments,❤️  I will reply ASAP.

Much Love

A xx

A Sunnah Drink Called Nabeez

• Soak dates for a night in a packed container. If not the dates, then you can simply soak Golden Raisins instead of Dates too.
• Remove the seeds from Dates or Raisins, and grind it with water. You can add honey, but it’s totally optional
• You can also drink without grinding the dates and can eat dates separately.
• DO NOT MIX RAISINS AND DATES WHILE MAKING NABEEZ.
• It is an ideal drink for Ramadan, especially in Suhoor. It helps people keep their energy during a day-long fast.

How easy to practise!

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

A forgotten Sunnah. Eaten fallen particles… Sometimes we forget the Barakah that can be in even a grain of food. To eat what has fallen on the cloth or even the floor… SubhaanAllah.

Anas ibn Maalik narrated that when the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) ate, he would lick his three fingers. Anas said: “And he said, ‘If any one of you drops a piece of food, let him remove any dirt from it and eat it, and not leave it for the Shaytaan.’ And he commanded us to clean the plate, and said, ‘For you do not know where in your food the blessing is.’” (Narrated by Muslim, 2034). 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

A Shining Hope

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

In real life, you can’t skip chapters. That’s not how life works. You have to read every line. Meet every character.  Yes, there are times when you wish things could turn out differently. There are times when you wouldn’t want the pages to end. But that’s what stories are about. Sometimes you just have to keep going… even when you seem to lose hope.

And sometimes, we have to go back to the beginning to understand. We just have to take a step back. Slow down. Alter our journey. Realize what’s important. There is a comfort in the familiar, but new things can be as good as before. Part of life is embracing its lessons and  learning to adapt. To change. To believe that there’s a greater reason, a Higher Power and believe that there will be a better time coming..

And often, I tried to look back and remember. In those days of confusion and grief, I would often think of Mama. Of Khalid. Of Foi Nani. Of the beginning. When feelings were raw. When I had found the warrior within. Like the women in the  stories of the Sahaba I’d read, who would go out in the path of war, but carry the strength of 100 men.

They were warriors. They were fearless.

And like them, I drew my strength from those around me. Chest puffed out, head held high… I found solace. Everything finally came to together, even after I thought it had fallen apart.

When they slept, He was awake. When they broke, He carried you. When no one else was there, He was. He remained. He always remains. Remember that always, Khawlah. Remember that. Remember Who you owe everything to. 

It was like my lullaby. Soothing me and comforting me. Bringing me back to the time when I had felt like I would never feel okay again… but I was. I turned to Him, when I was sinking to my lowest. When everyone else left, Allah was always there.

I knew that Allah always hears the Duaa of His slave. My job was to just trust His timing.

And that was what it was about. Time. Timing. The passage of time that we all went through… and would eventually pay off.

”My word,” Nusaybah breathed, as she looked at me with widened eyes. “It’s grown…”

”Really?” I asked, hiding my smile. Of course it would grow. It just took time. “How much? Half a centimeter?”

”Actually nearly three-quarter!” She retorted crossly. “It’s quite a jump. I think this baby may be sucking every living nutrient out of you…”

I giggled, and Nusaybah looked at me with interest.

”Someone’s very perky today…”

I shrugged, lightly touching my tummy as I tried to feel the alleged bump.

“Spill it,” Nusaybah said, her dark eyes dancing as she watched me, hands on her hips. “What did Mr Perfect have to say that we have such a huge smile on my best friends face?”

I smiled again. There were two main reasons for my ease.  The fact that the nausea had subsided was also one of the best things that had happened to me. It had floored me. There were days when I felt like I was going to collapse. The only thing I could do was sleep and dwell in misery.

And then of course, amidst the grief, there was the news that Aadam didn’t actually do the chemo. Yes, I was a little angry at him and it had shocked me at first, but from what he had told Uncle Siraj, I now understood why. I understood that he had made a choice. That there was a time when he thought that he was selfish. When he put himself before everything and everyone else. When he put his life and his career and everything worldly before the idea of a baby. This time… he wanted to do it differently. This time he wanted to be selfless. He had risked everything… including a shot at recovery…. so that he could have a chance at making up for what he had lost. And though it broke my heart that he would never meet his child, it was clear that just the knowledge of what was coming gave him great comfort. Just that news had been enough for him.

And of course, Allah knew best, but with the relief that there was no real risk of foreign chemical bodies damaging the fetus, and now that my constant nausea seemed to have settled… I was thrilled that finally, I could just dwell in the knowledge of this miracle that was growing inside of me.

”Oh the usual…” I said nonchalantly, wanting to keep my secret of Aadam’s quirky correspondence a little longer.

Every letter had a beauty. Every letter was unique. How Aadam had thought of precisely what to say and when was beyond me….

Nusaybah was starting to pout, as I refused to give her the gory details. She was relentless in her approach.

Of course I was being a dampener to her spirits. This was her daily routine. Barge in. Be inquisitive. And then check (literally, with a measuring tape) on how much the baby bump had grown. She was going to be a real hands-on baby-sitter and second-mother to the baby. I could already tell.

“Pleeeeaaase,” she whined, her bottom lip sticking out purposely as she blinked at me.

I held the letter in my hands firmly. Watching her frowning face gave me a sense of satisfaction. I held the letter to my heart as I recalled his playful banter. The advice. The little hope that always came along with the read. It was the part of real-life Aadam that I missed the most.

This is me.

And sometimes I feel like a ghost when you look at me, because when you look at me, you see me. It’s like you know that I’m not really as strong as I appear. It’s like you see more than the pain I’m trying to hide. You see me… and I’m scared that it’s going to kill your spirit. It’s going to make you lose hope. That’s why I had to pen this when I saw it… because I knew that you would understand if I told you that I read the most amazing thing yesterday. 

“Go and ask Musa (AS) about the nature of Allah Ta’ala’s gifts. He went to fetch fire and he was granted ‘Nubuwwat’ from Allah Aza Wajal.”

Beautiful, isn’t it? I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes you don’t know how much Allah has in store for you until you see it. I know that I learnt about Allah’s gifts, when you least expect it. I didn’t expect to find you, but I did… and not only did I find a beautiful wife and partner, but I found so much more. I want you to see that too. I wanted you to realize it, because I know you too well, sweets. I know that you’ll use me as an excuse. I know that you think I’m the best and such a catch and all the rest…

Okay, I’m kidding. I can just imagine you rolling your eyes, gorgeous.

On a serious note though, you’re probably wondering why I did this. Why I wrote all these letters. Why I wanted to remind you of me. Why I didn’t just let you be. The truth is, I really want you to you to move on… but at the same time, as crazy as it sounds… I wanted to give you something you could remember me by. Something that you’d look back on and say, “that’s the guy. That’s the insane guy that I was once crazily in love with.”

I hope you do.

That was the guy. I could almost see him grinning at me. Almost hear his voice in the back of my mind, reminding me of all the little things about him that I would often forget…. almost as if he had never left.

”Everyone is worried about you,” Nusaybah said softly as she caught my eye.

”Who’s everybody?” I asked, raising my eyebrows

I looked at my friend as she shrugged.

”School people,” she mused. “Friends. Family. Your mother-in-law.”

I smiled. We had reached a place that I thought was impossible for us. It seemed so far-fetched just a few months ago, but after Aadam’s sickness, we had somehow reached a height where we were both at peace with each other and everything that had happened. It was so unconventional and unexpected, but really, all I could think to myself was that my husband had some really strong Duaas.

I flipped over the letter and read the back on the envelope. He always left a little message on the outer part, and it always made my heart contract.

I love you, Khawlah. Its been amazing.

“I loved a guy with my heart and soul,” I said softly, as Nusaybah leaned in to see. “Do you think I’ll be okay?”

Sometimes my heart ached so deeply that I wondered if it will ever heal.

”Of course you will,” she said confidently. “But you have to give it a chance.”

I nodded silently.

There were so many things that had happened during the past few months. From the overwhelming grief to the excitement of the pregnancy, from the release of matric results (which shocked us all, in a good way) to the finalizing of Aadam’s estate… my mind was completely bogged with emotion.

I still missed him. Severely. Every day. Every moment. It just didn’t hurt as much as it used to. The aching within my gut seemed have shifted to less palpable parts… within my heart but less piercing. There were still moments when you feel it will never get there but with time… there is hope.

And amidst the hope, there were a fair share of surprise along the way. Meeting with the lawyer a few weeks ago was a dreaded, yet crucial part of the process. Sorting out Aadam’s estate was something that I was completely averse to doing, yet knew needed to be done.

Ahmed had sat with me while we contemplated how to go about it. What it really entailed. How to go about it correctly.

”Basically,” the lawyer had said, looking at me as I shifted in the seat. I hated the formality. I hated that this was about money and assets and  investments because all I wanted was my husband and I knew none of this could ever compare…

The lawyer cleared his throat and looked at me and Ahmed while I waited. I wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant. Was it bad news? What could be worse than my husband dying? If he had left nothing, then so be it. Bank accounts and off-shore investments… it meant nothing to me at all. I just wanted this thing to be over with so we could cross that bridge and I could get back to hibernating in my room.

Finally, he took of his glasses and put it on the table.What we didn’t know was that Aadam had left no stone unturned during his last few months. He had shocked us all to the core..

“Is there something wrong?” I finally asked, just a teeny bit annoyed. The man wasn’t getting to the point.

He shook his head and looked up from the paperwork.

”I just wanted to say that your husband was a very… unique person,” he said, and I could hear the unexpected emotion in his voice. It was unlike a lawyer to be so… involved. He was an older lawyer, but I could see why Aadam liked him. He had a sensitive approach. “Of all the clients I met… well, he was different. Selfless. So admirable. What’s more was that this didn’t matter for him. He was worried but he did this purely out of duty. You’ll probably be relieved to know that Adam’s estate is one of the largest I’ve ever worked with. It took time to do it the correct and Islamic way but he was insistent that I get it right before the end of the year. He’s funded madrassas. He’s put money towards building various Masaajid. On top of it all, he’s left a number of properties solely on your name. He’s got ongoing contracts for work he did in the past… that will still be paid off for years to come, because they are still using his resources. His feeding schemes and projects are ongoing. He’s got funds set up for the people he used to support, and he’s organized the ones that he wants you to handle. There’s much much more… but just to sum it up for you guys, basically, even if you do nothing else for the rest of your life, you will be completely comfortable.”

I looked at the lawyer and blinked. I felt like I was numb.

People he used to support? Funds? Projects? What was this guy even talking about?

”What about his parents?” I asked, when I had finally coming to my senses. He had spoken about me, but I was getting worried. I didn’t care about all that stuff. “His sister… nephews?”

”Everyone is accounted for,” he said assuredly. “Your husband was meticulous.”

I shook my head and looked at the papers that he had handed over to Ahmed and I. My brother looked just as unnerved as I was. The numbers were blasphemous. The rewards were extraordinary.

On the authority of Abu Hurairah (ra) that the Messenger of Allah (saw) said, ‘When a person dies, his deeds come to an end except for three: Sadaqah Jariyah (a continuous charity), or knowledge from which benefit is gained, or a righteous child who prays for him’. (Muslim)

This was obviously a shock to Ahmed too. I mean, I knew that Aadam had scored some huge contracts and was extremely successful… I just didn’t know that it was on this level.

And I didn’t think it was possible, but in the few weeks after Aadam had passed away, I think I learnt the most about him than I had known during our entire marriage. I didn’t know about all the people he was secretly providing shelter for. Paying their rent. Sending the groceries. Providing medication. I had no idea about a fund he had set up, that solely provided for meals for poor kids. I didn’t know that every day, he would call three sick ladies to arrange their care for the day, and make sure they had everything they needed. I didn’t know all these secrets that revealed themselves after he passed on…

I wanted to be like Aadam… to take his place… but all that was left were the beautiful memories that he had left behind.

Yes. Many people may come and go but they live on in the heart. You remember them for their love. Their ambitions. Their unfailing inspiration. You hang onto their words, even if they may be long gone, because sometimes that’s the only way to draw strength. It was during those times when I realized that I could. When I withstood more. When I truly realized just how strong I really was.
And as happens with time, the days and months somehow came to pass. We prayed. We hoped. We healed.

I coped. With the long Iddat ahead, I had to. I’d venture into the garden at times, finding solace in the depth of the earth, letting my fingers sink in and feel the opportunity that awaited once again. I had forgotten how gardening had soothed me. How nature had aroused that yearning for a new beginning once again. I had forgotten the comfort of it’s aromas, and everlasting potential. Amidst it all, Aunty Radiyyah would arrive with her constant flow of gifts and energy. Rubeena constantly popped in to visit. The boys would come too, adjusting slowly but in their own way, and we all found solace in comforting dreams and the small signs that Allah soothed us with, as the days went by.

The wounds were still there, but with times passing, and the constant toil and effort of every day, the pain had come to fade. As my tummy grew and the baby became a reality for us all, there were times when I felt so content, that I couldn’t even understand its source. It was something I never imagined. It was like Allah had just placed and amazing assurance within me. Precisely how He places a binding love for a spouse in the heart… or an unbreakable attachment of a mother to her baby from even before birth… so too, He places Sabr Allah in hearts of those who need it most.

It was in those days after I’d moved back home for the long duration of my pregnancy, that I’d found about the late night conversations Aadam would sometimes have with Dada, after I’d go up to bed. It was when I realized how deeply Abba felt this test. How Jameel had truly admired my husband. It was when I saw the truth of how my husband had crept into everyone’s, even Yunus’s, hearts.

Dada had took Aadam’s passing hard. I didn’t expect it. Abba was one stage below. He never said it, but I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me. I could see the hurt… just like I had seen it when Mama had passed. He had never been one to divulge his feelings or emotion. Abba had always been the silent bystander, hurting quietly while the rest of us would tear with grief.

And then of course, there was Yunus. He took it the hardest. It was like the wind was completely knocked out of him. Yunus was at a complete loss….

The sickness. The fatigue. The weakness that Aadam had experienced before he actually passed away… it was all too close for him. He had seen the most of Mama’s sickness, yet he had never spoke. about it before. Yunus retreated further more into his own world, even though the rest of us tried with all our strength to pull him out.

It was during that period that I formed an unbreakable bond with my little brother. Perhaps it had something to do with the little human that was now living inside of me, that would become the apple of his eye… but what I didn’t know at the time was that it was an arrival that would bring Yunus back to his former self.

As mid- year approached, and I found my pregnancy becoming a little more trying than the early days, it was no wonder that when I awoke one night with a dull but persistent ache in my lower abdomen, I immediately went to Yunus’s room first, waking him up with a bit of a shock, but a feeling of ominous excitement that was brewing within.

Yunus looked at me with confusion, and as I briefly explained to him that I would need to go to a hospital shortly, I could see his eyes shining with ambition.

And that was what defined a true warrior. It was the difference between winging it and being someone who truly thrives. There comes a point when it all becomes too much. When we get too tired to fight anymore. So we give up.

But that’s when the real work begins.

We keep pushing. We try a new approach. We have to explore every avenue. Even within the darkness, there is always still a chance of light.

Sometimes it may take a real warrior, but it’s only the strongest soldiers who still hold onto the hope that maybe… just maybe … even in a blinding darkness, there was a still a shining hope.

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Dearest Readers,

A bit of a soothing post… Alhumdulillah..  just to remember there’s always light amidst the darkness… 

Just a reminder, especially in these times of craziness and uncertainty to make abundant istighfaar and try and bring more Sunnah into our lives. Let’s keep the miswaak available for frequent use, InshaAllah. Let’s also try and fast – Nabi (SAW) used to keep plenty of fasts in the month of Shabaan. Allah give us the tawfeeq.

Hold fast to our Sunnah, istighfaar and lots of Durood, especially on this day of Jumuah ahead…

Let’s do so with the intention that Allah alleviates all the trials of the Ummah. Aameen 

Much Love, 

A xx

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

A forgotten Sunnah. Eaten fallen particles… Sometimes we forget the Barakah that can be in even a grain of food. To eat what has fallen on the cloth or even the floor… SubhaanAllah.

Anas ibn Maalik narrated that when the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) ate, he would lick his three fingers. Anas said: “And he said, ‘If any one of you drops a piece of food, let him remove any dirt from it and eat it, and not leave it for the Shaytaan.’ And he commanded us to clean the plate, and said, ‘For you do not know where in your food the blessing is.’” (Narrated by Muslim, 2034). 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas