A Little bit of Crazy

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

I once heard someone say: “Don’t cross oceans for people who won’t cross puddles for you.”

I thought it was good advice. I mean, it made sense at the time. But then… I thought about it for a while… chatted with my go-to guy about the then current predicaments in my life and as always, he got me wondering:

”But why not?”

“Do it,” he said, with that crooked eyebrow of his slightly furrowed. “Cross oceans for people. Give them what you can. Be good to them. Love them with all your heart, not wondering about whether they are worthy or not. Cross oceans. Climb mountains. Do what you can while you still can. Because one day you might find that you’re in a place where you don’t have the chance to anymore…”

And it was so true. Painfully so. That was Adam. Aadam. Crazy guy. Best brother. Computer Geek. Technology Whizz. Firm Believer. Generous soul. Amazing human.

Whatever anyone called him, no-one could mistake the kind of person he was. And though at that time he wasnt even remotely religious, it was unbelievable that his thoughts were somewhat already in tune to the Sunnah. To be forgiving. Accepting. Maintain good relations. Be Kind. Such amazing qualities that we took for granted…

The Prophet ﷺ inspired us with this practice when he said to his followers: “Allah Ta’ala had ordered me to maintain ties with those who sever ties with me, and to give to those who deprive me, and to forgive those who oppress me.”

It wasn’t always easy. Following my brothers advice. In his footsteps. Being an amazing human. He was one in a million, but it didn’t meant that his inspiration didn’t have to die. The only problem was that with my family, it was hard not to go completely crazy…

And some people may wonder how people become crazy. I wonder how they don’t. The truth is, most people have a little bit of crazy in their families. I mean, everyone has that nutty relative who they know has always been mad. And the truth is that if you spend enough time with those crazy people, they really can make you crazy. Really crazy. Like literally, over your head, off your rockers kind of crazy. And I’m not just saying that to justify my behavior. I’m saying that because I truly see that it can happen.

I mean; for one, look at my father. He’s always been a pretty easy-going, laidback, cool and content kind of man. I mean, that’s what I remembered him as most of my life. But let me tell you one thing… as I got older I noticed that when my mother started bugging his brains, it just takes a few minutes before he gets that look in his eyes… and I can literally see him tipping over the edge. It’s the effect of being around someone who’s a little on the kuku side that you never fully recover from.

And okay, maybe it’s kind of genetic and I can’t exactly blame Shabeer completely, but one thing I do know is that my ex-husband was one of the main triggers when it came to my instability. The problem is that the craziness didn’t really stop with the marriage. It kind of overflowed, and so… unfortunately my current poor husband, who was accustomed all his life to the rigid, warrior type of girl, was kind of thrown in the deep end when it came to handling me.

And at that moment, as I cried my eyes out in hysteria, I could see that this time, the cycle was about to continue like it had been initiated. Like my mother had done to my father and Shabeer had done to me… well, quite possibly, I might have been driving Ahmed insane.

”It’s not faaaairrr!” I was almost bawling, throwing my hands up in the air like a hysterical woman. “It’s like my brother just died and he wants to just… c- come in and… t- take over! How could he? How c-could heeee?!!”

Ahmeds eyebrows were raised and his eyes were slightly widened. He obviously had no idea how to deal with this over-emotional crazy side of me, and I didn’t blame him. It was somewhat intolerable.

”Rubeena,” he said firmly, and I immediately started bawling all the more.

I know. I was being psycho but I couldn’t help it. All I could think of is was that Adam was the only person who called me Rubeena when he was telling me something serious. When I was like this… crazy… everything made me weepy.

”Don’t call me thaaatttt!” I blabbered, grabbing a tissue to wipe the tears and running nose. “It’s too p- paaainfulll…”

He was looking completely bewildered. I didn’t blame him.

“But that’s your name,” he said obviously, narrowing his amber eyes and shaking his head. “Can you just relax?! Sheesh.”

He shook his head and walked calmly to the sink, filled a glass with water and walked up to me. I took it from him, despite the hiccups that were starting to disrupt my breathing.

”No-one is taking over anything,” he said quietly, grasping me gently by my shoulders and looking me in the eye. I was forced to meet his gaze as he looked questioningly at me.

Yes. I knew he was becoming suspicious of my behavior and I needed to stop.

”Ruby, is everything okay?”

It was a simple question, but the flicker of suspicion in his eye was undeniable.

And of course I couldn’t tell him.

I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t. He’d go crazy. We had a pregnancy scare a few months ago and I could literally see him shivering in his shoes at the prospect. Yes, he might not be outwardly emotional about it, but I knew he’d probably be completely dumbfounded at the prospect.

Leave alone that, the thought of what my dear mother would say was giving me sleepless nights. And nightmares. If that was even simultaneously possible. It would probably be a reason for her to dig up all that resentment of the past. Tell me how crazy wives behave. How they lose their handsome husbands. Irresponsible. Over fertile. I mean, who in the world was over fertile these days?!

”I-I’m  okay,” I stuttered, swallowing hard and looking away. I could see him eyeing me out scrupulously.

”It’s not such a big deal,” he said calmly. “He’s just coming to talk to her.”

I nodded slowly, trying to focus. Siraj. Khawlah. Focus on what triggered this all. Focus on the problem here…

”But I thought that you didn’t want him to?” I said, trying to steady my voice. “That’s what it sounded like when Siraj called earlier and you were going crazy on me because I told him to come. I didn’t know. How was I to know that he was all ulterior motives..”

And there I went again, my eyes all teary and nose all sniffly.

”Babe, I wasn’t going crazy on you…” Ahmed said, raising his eyebrows, but looking a little bit more sympathetic than usual. “I’m sorry, but believe me, you haven’t seen me going crazy yet. Alhumdulillah… I’ve become pretty good at controlling my anger these days.”

I pouted at him, feeling a little stupid for acting kuku and over emotional earlier. But he didn’t answer my question. He didn’t settle my concerns. I wanted him to tell me that I was justified in my feelings. Was I the only one feeling like this was wrong on so many levels?

”So you’re okay with it?” I asked candidly, sniffing loudly but not really knowing how to feel anymore.

“It’s not that,” he said tiredly, running his hand through his beard and shrugging. “Its just… well, there comes a time in life where things change. I had to rethink. This is my sister. Your brother. We loved them but we can’t hold onto it because the truth is… they don’t exist anymore. All we have is memories and they were great… but if we don’t give her support then she will always be stuck in the past…”

I looked at Ahmed, my heart sinking as he said it. But I wanted to hold on. I wanted them to always exist. Why was it so unfair?

Ahmed had developed such a diplomatic approach to it, but I still couldn’t stomach Siraj and Khawlah. It was just weird. But then again, maybe people thought the same about Ahmed and I. Who knows? Anyway, it didnt matter. It was just my crazy side that was surfacing at the worst of times..

I walked over to the window and looked out at where my sister-in-law was. Being here, in a new home that was also their old home was quite an experience for us. There was still a lot to do cosmetically but it was warm and beautiful in a different way. Yes, it had taken a lot of convincing and it had it’s challenges  but when I finally agreed to move here, it was the best thing ever to see Ahmed so much more comfortable and settled than he had ever been at the estate. Plus, on the up side, it meant that Shabeer didn’t have access to the house anymore, on the rare occasion that he actually came to see the boys.

I watched Khawlah scooping soil from a bucket at the lower end of the garden, probably wanting to take it up to where her and the boys were making their new flower bed. Her hair was tied back loosely and her face was flushed with excitement and a tinge of exhaustion from being out i  the sun most of the day. How the years fly. From that girl who came to me with that courage that I so badly needed at the time, giving me that window to a world where I would find so much more than I had ever bargained for.
Like a breath of fresh air, I couldn’t help but remember the teenage girl that she was back then, beautiful and strong and full of promise. I still couldn’t believe that she was all grown up, and a mother to my niece. But despite all that, no-one could deny that she was still as stunning as she always was… if not more.

“But arent you upset?” I asked, needing to justify my own feelings.

Ahmed met my eye as I turned to him, and even after all these years… I wasn’t surprised to see the hurt in his eyes as they had been there from the very first day we lost Adam.

“We wil never forget Adam,” he said softly. “And I was upset. I might have even still been angry if I hadn’t spoken to Molvi. The thing is, she’s got a right to decide.  Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard.  Even if it’s Siraj. It may be awkward but he made me see the entire thing in a completely different light. Think about ththe Sahaba, Ruby. The Ansaar and Muhaajiureen. How they were. Yes, we can’t compare to them but we need to wonder. We need to change our outlook. To prefer others to ourselves… to want to see them happy…”

I swallowed and looked at my husband, not being able to fully accept what he was saying. He wanted me to change my outlook but it wasn’t so easy. To me, Adam and Khawlah were it. They were love. Pure love. For the sole pleasure of Allah kind of love… building each other and growing through their marriage… I had never even knew that kind of beauty existed until I saw what they had and now… now he wanted me to erase and forget it as if it didn’t exist…

But then, the kind of love that Nabi SAW had tried to bring between his companions was also for the pleasure of Allah too. There were no boundaries. Nothing was too much.

And so the narration goes, when the Muhaajireen had come to Madina, the Prophet (S.A.W.), in his unique manner, began pairing off the Muhajirin (immigrants of Makkah) and the Ansaar (Muslim residents of Madinah). This established a firm bond of brotherhood and was meant to strengthen social cohesion and ease the destitution of the Muhajirin.

Abdur-Rahman (R.A.) was linked by the Prophet (S.A.W.) with Saad ibn Ar-Rabiah (R.A.). Saad (R.A.) in the spirit of generosity and magnanimity with which the Ansaar greeted the Muhajirin, said to Abdur-Rahman (R.A.):

“My brother! Among the people of Madinah I have the most wealth. I have two orchards and I have two wives. See which of the two orchards you like and I shall vacate it for you and which of my two wives is pleasing to you and I will divorce her for you.”

Abdur-Rahman (R.A.) must have been embarrassed and said in reply:

“May Allah bless you in your family and your wealth. But just show me where the suq (market) is.”

And many know that the result hereafter was the wealth of Abdur Rahmans bin Auf (RA) which was earned within days and then used for the benefit of the Muslims for years to come. But the point of it was not the wealth, but the generosity and pure goodwill that that they possessed…

And what was more amazing was that likewise, when Allah favoured the Muhaajireen with certain things, the Ansaar did not feel any objection to this, nor did they harbour any ill feelings or envy towards their brothers in faith for being distinguished with these favours. Instead, they favoured them over their own selves with whatever they had, even if they themselves were in need of what they offered…

”Ruby,” he said softly, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was giving me that look… the one that said that he already knew what I was thinking and I needed to change. He knew me too well.

”Think about it,” he said softly, coming forward to peck me on the forehead and the turning around to leave the room.

And I did. Siraj was in his way here, so it didn’t leave me much time but I knew that Ahmed had a point. A good point too. I collapsed into the chair in the kitchen, trying to gather my thoughts when little Khadijah waltzed fancily into the kitchen, already convincing me that she had been a really good girl and deserved a slab of chocolate.

And honestly, after four boys, I really felt the character and sparkly nature of this girl so refreshing. Sometimes just thinking of her put a smile on my face.. that gorgeous niece of mine always cheered me up. And of course, looking at her was like an immediate soothing to my soul. Except for the fact that she looked fiercely like my brother, and the fact Adam couldn’t see his beautiful daughter, her presence was like a tingling windchime in the garden of my heart. She was so amazingly special to me.

And as she looked at me and climbed up onto the stool with a chocolate in hand and started chatting away about nothing in particular, I couldn’t help but be lost in her incredible cuteness and crave more. This beautiful niece of mine just got me every time and what better way to indulge myself with her talk as I  thought of getting her opinion on what was bugging my brains since Siraj had called. I mean, I knew he loved my niece to bits but shouldn’t she have a say as well?

Maybe I was being my annoying self. Maybe it was the crazy part of me that was tempting me to ask. Maybe I was looking for a problem when there was none. Maybe I just needed to justify my own feelings.

”What do you think of getting a daddy?” I asked her candidly as I grabbed a piece of  her favourite slab of Dairy Milk.

“What’s a daddy?” She asked candidly, her pretty eyes narrowing at me, just like her uncles did when he was a little confused at my odd behavior. Which was a lot of the time.

And I couldn’t help but think to myself that that if I had a daughter,with eyes like Ahmed’s, she would probably look a lot like Khadijah. I just wished that I would stop being so chicken ahout telling my husband the truth so I could be more excited about the prospect.

”What?!” She said impatiently, tugging at my sleeve.

A daddy. Oh yes, she didn’t know the word.

”Your own Abba,” I tried to explain, snapping out of my ridiculous dream world. “Like a man. Who will live with you.”

Was that really a good way to explain? I felt like slapping my hand to my forehead.

”My Abba’s dead,” she said obviously, flicking her little finger on mine, and looking me straight in the eye.

Goodness, this child was something else.

“I mean like another one,” I said, trying to recover from the ‘dead’ part. She was so… brutal.

“Your brother?” She said now, looking at me like I was crazy. “That’s my Abba. He’s Dead. By Allah’s house. And he’s happy there.  Duh.”

I widened my eyes in shock. That mouth! My word, she was a something else. Duh-ing me. How dare she?

If her mother was here I knew that would have at least warranted a twisted ear, but because I was her besotted Aunt, she knew that she could get away with it. Of course.

”I know!” I said, still recovering from her raised eyebrows. Girls were really something else. Never in my years of raising boys did I encounter this kind of obvious judgement from a three-year-old.

Aadam would have probably been chuckling if he could hear her. I could just imagine my brother smirking as if it was the funniest thing in the world. My heart ached slightly but I knew that I couldn’t let the emotion get me all flustered and back out with my interrogation now.

”Listen missy,” I said, giving in to her request for another chocolate and kissing her little nose as I tried to build up the courage again. “I know you love your mummy but you do know that sometimes Mummies also need -“

My conversation was conveniently cut off at that point as Khadijah suddenly let out a squeal of unhindered delight, hastily jumped off the kitchen chair as my heart jumped to my throat, and literally sprinted to the door.

”Tito!” She shouted as she literllay jumped at to my uncle who was already greeting and beaming at the enthusiastic welcome. My word. She was shameless in her affection for him, and it annoyed me relentlessly.

Tito was Siraj’s nickname and I actually had no idea how it even evolved to that. He sounded like some weird Italian uncle. From ‘Ucle Tiraj’ when she was two, it then became ‘Tita’, and then eventually evolved to Tito… and the name just stuck. He was one of Khadijah’s favorites and it was quite obvious that the feeling was mutual. Maybe that should have been enough to settle my fears but somehow it wasn’t.

He lifted her effortlessly and the two of them started rattling off some nursery rhyme that made her giggle and made me inwardly roll my eyes. Why, oh why was it so hard to be a nice human sometimes? 

That should have been Adam with his daughter. Not my uncle who I wasn’t quite sure how to behave with now that I knew about his sinister intentions.

Ah, such was life.

And of course I wanted to be cool about it. I wanted to be the nice sister-in-law and niece. I wanted to talk to my uncle normally. To ask him about work and his estranged wife who was soon to become ex-wife and wanted him to move on, and everything else that we usually spoke or joked about but there was a very awkward atmosphere in the room and I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Could I really help it if my crazy side was stopping me from being all the nice things that I wanted to be?

And as I battled with my inner self and watched the two of them head off to the patio, the doorbell ringing was a welcomed diversion from my over active mind. Knowing that Ahmed was outside with Siraj, I got up and walked to the passage to open the door, barely expecting to see Ma standing there, with my father directly behind. It had been a week or two since I had seen her but it was the first time she had come to my new home. And of course I was happy to see her, but because of the concerning unreadable look in her eyes… something within my gut was telling me that this was probably not just a regular visit…

”Ma asked me to bring her,” my father said, sounding like he usually did when my mother forced him to do something that he didn’t want to. It was a common occurrence and he had the look on his face too.

I really felt for him. My poor father was always getting caught in the middle of the craziness of the female members of my family… mine included.

What I didn’t know yet was that Ma’s reason for being here was about to reveal a little more craziness than we all knew…

---

Dearest Readers, 

Please make maaf for my delay in posting. Aiming to be a bit earlier this week… InshaAllah 

I’m sure many people feel like Ruby does, right? 

Much Love  

A xx

Sunnah of Fasting in Shawwaal

Sayyadina Abu Ayyub al-Ansari (Radiyallahu ‘Anhu) reported that our noble Prophet, the Imam of Tawheed (Sallallahu ‘Alaihi wa Sallam) said: “Whoever fasts Ramadhan and follows it with six days of Shawwal, it will be as if he fasted for a lifetime.” (Muslim, Abu Dawud, At-Tirmidhi, An-Nisa’i and Ibn Majah)

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

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#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

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