When we Grow Up

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 19

Growing up, I often saw my sister as the pillar of strength of our family. Unflinching. Unchanging. Always there, constantly protecting, going on, headstrong, even though she may be heading into a battlefield herself. A warrior in spirit, her head was always high, her resolve always unwavering.

And there’s something about the beginning of a story that sets the tone for a very long time to come.  The beginning is usually the time when our hearts are said to have perfect vision. That first moment. First look. First impression. The first feeling that we become accustomed to, is almost a forever one.  I often wonder about that theory of love that promises that people see each other clearer as we get to know each other… but in my opinion, it’s probable that the opposite may be very much more truer.

And even after all that… whichever way it all happens, when the dust settles and it all works out… One day you wake up in this place where everything feels right. Your soul is lit. Your heart is calm. Everything seems to be going according to plan.

But life has a funny way of shaking you up, when you may be slipping. Sometimes when we feel like we’re gliding through, spiritually we may just be sliding away. You see, sometimes we pin all our hopes on people. On conditions. On creation. And life has a way of bringing you back to your base, no matter how your journey may be going.

Sometimes we just become complacent, and need to be brought back. For us, during that time, it all started with an unwelcome message.

Plz tel ur sister that I’m really sorry.

The message came at 11.30 that Sunday evening and even though Maahira was the last person that I wanted to hear from after how she treated my sister, I was a little inclined to indulge her at that hour, when sleep was horribly evading me.

I lay on my bed, silently praying, hoping for the best, still digesting the events of the evening, trying to figure out how everything was changing and why it was all moving so fast. My gap year was nearly over. My sister was getting married. Life was changing and it was time to start growing up. My mind was running away with me and I couldn’t seem to stop it.

Buzz again.

I kno I was wrong, I shudnt hav dun what I did. 

I was trying to get into sum1s good books and now I kno that I was doing it all wrong.

I had a response but I wasn’t going to respond.

I had heard Layyanah and Mohsina talking. I wasn’t sure that I was going to believe the excuses but I wasn’t going to judge her either.


Plz jus tel her to reply.

What about those two months she spent waiting for her reply?

The evening had been eventful enough and maybe it was time to just give in. And what better to reply with than something that would burn her. Just a little.

My sister is busy. She’s proposed.

I pressed the send button, and her reply came almost immediately.

Oh Emm Gee!!!!!!! *dancing girl emoji*

Who is the lucky guy?

I smiled. I was absolutely ecstatic for my sister.

His name is Hamzah.

There was an elated feeling as I typed it. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement for her.

There wasn’t too much of a chance of Maahira knowing him because we were from the plaas part of Gauteng and Hamzah wasn’t.

Wats his sname?

I knew exactly why she was asking. And I knew exactly what to tell her.

He doesn’t have Instagram.

I typed. Mohsina warned me about that.

Or Facebook.

That was my next message.

Or Snapchat.

I knew she was probably googling him on her browser while we chatted.


She obviously did not know what else to say, and she was entitled to say it.

What the ….?!
How the hel is this going to work, even? The guy doesn’t even exist.

I knew what she meant. Someone I couldn’t find on Google was more or less non-existent.

But he was who he was and we were pretty in awe of it.

He may just surprise us.

And I left it at that as I crept down the hall that moonlit night and tapped at her door, opening it slightly as I watched my sister, her face illuminated as she either scrolled through her Instagram feed or watched a Netflix series on her phone. Her eyes shifted to me as I pushed the door open, and a small smile crept on her face as she realised that it was one of those nights that we were both a little too stimulated to catch even a wink of sleep before midnight.

I sat next to her as I tapped on my phone, scrolling through some of my own Instagram feed posts, wondering what kick my sister got out of it. I often deleted the darn thing, only to download it again, just because I was getting FOMO because all my friends were on it. Till this day, I still didn’t get the whole hype. Influencer feeds and bloggers… well, they just didn’t interest me. Mohsina, however, understood everyone on there and made excuses for them, saying it was their space to express themselves so they could sit on it for hours. For me, it was hogwash.

”Do you even know what you’re liking?” I asked, as I saw her double tapping a few times, and scrolling, almost unconsciously.

She shrugged.

“I need some mindless entertainment,” she murmured, finally putting her phone down and looking at me. “I abandoned Netflix last month and I can’t sleep.”

”Thinking of Hamzah?” I teased, as she rolled her eyes at me.

“No,” she said, sitting up in bed as letting her hair fall over her face. It wasn’t often that I saw my sister let her hair down. Literally. She was actually quite serenely beautiful and at peace when she relaxed and just took it easy. It’s not that she wasn’t usually. She just always appeared to be so occupied and fiercely independent. Everyone saw this stunning but busy working girl, but for me, well, now I saw Mohsina as a woman who was so much more.

”Just thinking,” she said softly, putting her phone down and looking at me.

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I had an idea that she had a lot on her mind. I mean, who wouldn’t?

“Maahira messaged me,” I said quietly. “To tell me to apologize to you.”

She sighed.

”I’m not sure how to tell her that I don’t feel like talking to her,” she said bluntly. “I’m just a bit disgusted.”

“I think she already knows that. I think she regrets it.”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t know quite how to get back there with Maahira. To that comfortable place.”

That was understandable. Betrayal was hard to stomach.

“I told her you’re proposed.”

She looked at me and frowned.

”Really?” She said. “But it’s not like, official and you know Maahira…”

Well, we didn’t do the final asking and saying yes thing, but I was sure that it was all going to go smoothly. And Maahira could tell who she wants. I was so happy for my sister.

”Everyone likes him,” I said quietly. “Even Nani. Are you shocked?”

”Not really,” she admitted. “Hamzah is a born charmer. He has dodge ways.”

I grinned. Trust Mohsina to put it that way.

”At least Nani will like one of you then,” I said and she smiled back.

Nani’s reaction though, was priceless. But truth be told, I didn’t expect it. And to be honest, I just found it so cute because the seal of the deal came when Nani came in with her look of extreme scrutiny, trying to suss him out, and Hamzah, being Hamzah, was barely even fazed. Maybe he was used to it, but it helped that he wasn’t shy, because all he had to do was take the bull by the horns and shamelessly get up, introduce himself and sit next to Nani after, with not a worry in the world.

It was the most unexpected yet admirable interaction of ever seen Nani have.

Despite her hounding her about how Mohsina knew Hamzah and everything else, meeting him today, Nani was literally blown away by Hamzah. And even though I coundn’t believe it myself, we could not have been more ecstatic.

“Did you tell him to bring the flowers for her?” I asked, shaking my head as I remembered how thrilled she was at the allocated bunch of lilies that was just for her. It was one of her favourite, white ones too.

”No ways,” she said. “The most I would have done was tell him to bring flowers for me. I got chocolates, but hey, I’m not complaining. I have to hand it to him- He thought of that all himself.”

She grinned and then shook her head. And it wasn’t easy to do but Hamzah knew just the right moves and in what doses to do them to impress her.

I climbed into her bed now, pulling the covers up and plopping my head down on the spare pillow next to her. It smelt of Mohsina – Chanel perfume and Dove body wash. My sister had her own distinct smell that I always loved.

And although we weren’t always sharing every second of our lives, I knew my sister pretty well. I hung onto every thread of information she gave me or I heard her talk about. I knew how her mind worked.

At any normal time, she didn’t have much tolerance for drama and she often had fought with Nani over things that didn’t make sense to her, but today – well, today, she had displayed forbearance like I had never seen before and that’s how I knew how much she wanted this to work. And yes, I knew Mohsina and I was very aware that to many people she could appear be very self-absorbed and indulgent at times, but today, she was a completely different person.

The truth was, Nani was a handful at times. And there were many unsolicited things that Nani complained about but to tell the truth, there were deeper secrets in our family that were worth fighting about. Mohsina was a lot of amazing things that no-one spoke about and if she even knew the half of it, I knew Nani would have been silenced.

And as I watched my sister for a few quiet  moments as I thought about it, I almost missed it and thought that I was mistaken, but as she sniffed I glimpsed the glimmer of a single tear rolling down her cheek and I found myself feeling all kinds of emotional too.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, sitting up slightly and reaching for her hand and grasping it lightly. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded silently, not yet able to talk. And it was so unlike Mohsina because I barely saw her emotional, but … well, a lot had happened and I was sure that it was all settling because maybe because she needed to work this out in her head.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, her voice strained due to the emotion.

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

“I’m supposed to be happy,” she said, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. “It had all turned out okay, but somehow, when people are all excited, I always get the feeling that I’m going to let them down. Like really badly.”

“Aw Mosee, dont say that,” I said softly, not understanding the pressure she was feeling. I didn’t know what it was to be her.

She barely showed it, but Mohsina’s heart was pretty incomparable. She was considerate. She was fair. She usually didn’t care about people’s perceptions or what they thought. Her focus wasn’t on those superficial things. But this, what she was feeling now- it was her sense of belonging and protectiveness that was overtaking her, more than ever.

And it was one of the unmentionable things in our household, but to be in her place now as I grew up, I think I was finally beginning to understand her feelings. The thing is, no one ever said it, but Mohsina had had immense pressure to start work, while she was still busy with a degree. Before she started working, for a smaller company before Hammond’s that she was working for part-time, we pretended not to notice, but things were getting pretty difficult, financially. The shop was quiet, I would see mummy filling samoosas for orders late at night. Often, she would take on more than she could manage. Muhammed Husayn had to change schools. Things weren’t looking good.

It was only when my sister started at Hammond’s, did things ease off. She saw to the house needs, took care of my brothers new wardrobe, gave my mother spending money, and even bought groceries regularly. Never once did she mention it, even to Nani, but I was in awe of her because she was so selfless to so many degrees. Being the eldest, I knew she felt responsible when Papa’s shop wasn’t doing well, when he couldn’t meet payments and she silently checked his books and helped out without even as much as a thank you. Almost like another parent, that was just the Mohsina that I knew and had grown up with over these few years.

She had held so much of responsibility…. she couldn’t help but feel her leaving us so much deeper than anyone else. We just didn’t know yet how much it would affect us.

“Okay, and I’m not one for soppiness,” she said, smiling through her tears. “To be quite frank, I’m the most un-soppy person you can ever find. But when Hamzah came today, it was like alarm bells were ringing… and just like that, it felt like one of those strings that were holding my heart so rigidly in place just snapped. And I supposed it was because I saw a side to him that I never saw before, but there was something else that just made me realise how much my family means to me.”

I blinked. This was a mouthful of emotion from my sister.

”What do you mean?” I asked carefully.

“I mean,” she went on, comfortable in the dark because it was way past midnight now and late at night.. well, secrets are best shared at this moonlit hour.

“It’s not like I know him so well… but I know a bit about him. A significant bit. But today- when I watched him with people who I love the most, I already knew that I don’t want to let anyone down. Neither does he.”

She sighed audibly.

“I’m just so scared, Jamz. I’m just so scared that I’m going to hurt him, or hurt Papa, or just mess this whole thing up…”

My heart contracted momentarily.

I knew what she was saying and it was the one thing I didn’t tell Mohsina. I just didn’t feel it fair to her, but she may have even noticed herself.

I mean, I knew that she had taken them by surprise, but out of everyone, there was something that just didn’t feel right and I could tell that Papa’s behaviour was most worrying.

And though I had asked him countless times if he was okay, all he did was nod, smile, and then a minute or two later, look worried again. He was beginning to make me worried, because the thing was, I really wanted this to work out for Mohsina. I just hoped that there wasn’t any major problem that he wasn’t telling us about and we weren’t going to be caught in the dark at the most unexpected time.

And okay, besides the one family connection of his that had freaked me out at Layyanah’s wedding, what I did know was that Hamzah was so good for Mohsina. Decent. Easy-going. Independent. The best for her in every way even though he seemed so different from her in other ways, it was how I could also see why the two of them just gelled. Of course, there were changes I noticed from both of them- good changes-  now that time had progressed, but everyone’s journey is different, and people change as they realize whats most important but through this… and I only hoped that they would both help each other to be better, to find each other and most of all, to find Allah.

The thing was, I wasn’t sure that Mohsina was being honest with Hamzah. I wasn’t sure if he even knew the half of what she did to keep us afloat.

It was just that I felt that right now, more than ever, I really needed to step in. I just couldn’t let my sister carry this burden any longer. But how did I make her feel better without letting her know exactly what I intended to do?

Ah. I knew just the thing.

”Mosee, have trust in Allah,” I said quietly. “I know you’re scared and it’s a big step to take, but you have to have Tawakkul that it will all work out for the best. I know it’s late and you have work in the morning, but you know that this is the perfect time to ask of Allah? When Allah Taála waits for us to ask of Him? Right now.. at this hour… when everyone is asleep in their comfortable beds… To pour out our worries and hopes, to ask for whatever you want… to trust your decisions, make Duaa and then take the plunge…”

Your Lord has proclaimed, “Call upon Me, I will respond to you. Surely those who are too proud to worship Me will enter Hell, fully humbled.” (Holy Qurán, Surah Ghafir, Verse 60)

There was a few seconds of silence.

“That’s my girl,” Mohsina finally spoke with conviction, sounding like she was so immensely proud. Of me. She was proud of me?

I didn’t know what to say. I wish I had accomplished half of what she did.

“You’re my very own spiritual warrior, Jamz,” she conceded, turning to face me. “No jokes. You always know where to shove those worries and concerns and make them all go away. How you just know what to say, I have no idea. I love you so much right now.”

I smiled into the dark. I wasn’t what she said I was but it was just something that I tried to do myself. I also knew that talking wasn’t always the best thing. Yes, I had many ambitions for myself, but I was still so confused. I did know that I didn’t want to study, but I also knew that marriage wasn’t an option right now. I just needed some time. Between my dream of going into business, doing an Aalimah course and studying a BEd, I was the most confused teenager in the world.

It’s just that I had an idea that could work. I had so many plans. Papa could sell the shop and be managing it. Ma could use her baking and cooking expertise. Muhammed Husayn could help out in weekends. I had the most amazing of ideas and I knew that our small plot of land with the barn in front would be the perfect place for it. No-one would listen but I was going to make it work, regardless.

I wasn’t scared of working hard. My parents had both worked hard to put us through school and bring us up. I had business in my blood and I knew that I could make it good for us without taking too many risks.

Tomorrow was a new day and a new week and I knew that I would do some serious things if I put my mind to it. I just needed that push and this was it. This was what I needed.

Yes, there are many uncertainties, but life has a funny way of shaking you up, when you may be slipping. Sometimes when we feel like we’re gliding through, spiritually we may just be sliding away. You see, sometimes we pin all our hopes on people. On conditions. On creation. Sometimes we get so sucked in by this Duniyaa, that we are completely distanced from Allah, even when we are blatantly ignoring the fact that he is taking care of everything so beautifully for us.

You see, there’s a special kind of journey for those who choose Allah above everything. Above wealth. Above comfort. Above love, even, the love of this world. When we choose to submit, through difficulty or ease. When you choose Allah and His way of life, things are not always promised to be easy.

But when you remember that there’s a way to resurface, to overcome, to revert from any dip that we may have taken… it’s pretty simple to come back. Yes, to be strong is great but there are times when we have to come undone. To be vulnerable. Let the weight of your emotions flow. When we let it all go.

I looked at my sister now as she got out of bed to make a fresh ablution. For all these years, her life had been solely focused on getting our family through the tough times. Her small but grand gestures would never be anything I could compare to, but I knew that even a little perseverance could go a long way. And even when I watched my sister, one thing I realized now was that growing up doesn’t just simply end. It’s not a once-off journey.

We are always growing, always changing. We keep trying new things. We keep coming back to where we left off.

Change isn’t always smooth-sailing. Growing up isn’t always the easiest thing. But sometimes it’s the only way to progress, to be selfless, to care about something other than yourself.. and to reach greater heights.

From time to time, even when the scars on your soul start to ache, remember that you made it through that rough time and once again, as you grow, it will get you through again.

Mission Sunnah Revival! Sunnah before sleeping. 

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيمر

Hazrat Baraa Ibne ‘Aazib
(حضرت براء ابن عازب)
رضى الله تعالى عنه
When رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم would retire to his bed, he would lie down on his right side, thereafter he supplicated:
اللهم اسلمت نفسى اليك
O الله! I submit myself to You
ووجهت وجهى اليك
And I turned my face to You
وفوضت امرى اليك
And I entrusted all my affairs to You
والجات ظهرى اليك
And I placed my back (body) in Your protection
رغبة و رهبة اليك
In anticipation of Your reward and due to fear of Your punishment
لا ملجا و لا منجا منك إلا اليك
There is no escape, nor salvation from You, except with You
آمنت بكتابك الذى أنزلت
I believe in Your book, which You revealed
و نبيك الذى أرسلت
And (I believe) Your Prophet, whom You sent.

(Bukhaaree Shareef)

Supplicating the above, is actually a renewal of belief.
Sleeping on the right side, is beneficial from various perspectives and a Sunnah.
A person can get up early, without difficulty
It reminds of the grave, because we are buried in that position.







FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah



When it’s Crunch Time

Bismihi Ta’ala


I’ve spent twenty odd years of my life trying to come to terms with the fact that human beings do sometimes fade in and out of each other’s lives. Whether it’s friends or family, or someone you may have kept a little closer to your heart … plans change, timelines differ, life happens… people come and go…

And there are times when the transition is taken in your stride, when there may be something amazing and waiting for you instead as you barely feel the pangs of losing someone who was once your close friend. Sometimes someone leaving reminds you of a truer purpose. It brings you more, in other ways. And then there are times, when letting someone into your life can be an event of its own…

Hey you. Salaam. 

I hadn’t seen a message from her in weeks and I had to do a double take as I read her name. Two months too late. Maahira had actually messaged, as if we hadn’t really fallen out of a friendship and nothing had happened at all.

“Sorry Layy,” I said, stopping her in mid sentence as I picked up my phone.. “This girl… the one from London.. she just messaged.”

Layyanah frowned slightly.

“Maahira?!” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

I glanced at her, a little surprised. I don’t think I ever mentioned her name to Layyanah.

“How do you know her name?” I asked, putting my phone down again without opening the message.

I think was too risky to reply right then. What was she even messaging me for?

Layyanah rolled her eyes.

“Found her on LinkedIn,” she said blandly. She was frowning and there was obviously a reason why. “Female Muslim CA in London. Huge Instagram following. A little self-centred if you ask me, but hey, if you like that kind of thing…”

She trailed off and I looked away. I wondered what people thought of my instagram page. I loved Maahira’s page, @londongirlfromjozie. Her feed was so… vibey and boisterous. The influencers who followed her were absolutely goals. It was one of my favourite until. Well, until she ratted me out to whoever she ratted me out to.

I was soon going to find out.

“So she and Hashim met via networking,” she said. “There was a huge influencer meet in London and he was trying to see how he could use them for his business. They obviously had a thing going on after. His wife had mentioned that there was some London girl she had caught him chatting to. And after you told me it also meant that I could threaten him so he doesn’t interfere with my wedding plans…”

She had a smirk on her face, while I was still reeling in shock. Like people had extra-marital relationships, and no-one even batted an eyelid? And my friend… well, my EX- friend, but someone who I knew as one of my day ones… she was the one involved? I could not even.

“What do you influencers think of yourself anyway?” She said, but she wasn’t being insulting. I was half listening. “Thinking they can do as they please. Treat people like they want. Like, what exactly do influencers even do? Help you decide what colour lipstick to use?!”

She had a point there but I wasn’t really listening. Even if I said so myself, the influencer thing was kind of gone out of control, but that was a topic for another day.

I mean, I knew that I was guilty too, but Maahira… She had told Haashim because she was obviously involved with him and committing Zinaa… the one that was so detested and betrayed someone else… I just … no, it couldn’t be true.

“Just hold up,” I said shaking my head, needing to clarify. “Maahira and your brother Haashim?”

Layyanah nodded, looking at her phone now, and while she scrolled through hastily.

“You want proof?”

Of course I wanted proof.

She faced her screen to me, showing me a picture of the Eiffel tower. It was all lit up and beautiful against the night sky, and I knew I had seen that picture before before she tapped again, and showed me the exact same picture, on a different profile. On Maahira’s.

The caption itself was a little cliched.

The City of Love  ❤️ 

But that was expected, wasn’t it?

I knew Maahira took a trip to Paris not very long back and had a host of amazing pictures to vouch for it. I mean, of course she would. It would be so lame if she didn’t.

“See the hashtags?” she pressed, handing me the phone.

It was the usual. #travel #traveldiaries #paris #travelparis #beauty #cityoflove #instalove #instalike #likeforlike … it went on and on.

“What?” I said, squinting at the screen in confusion.

“The last one!” Layyanah said bossily.

Sheesh, the girl was feisty

My eyes skipped the million hashtags, and focused on the last one. I probably would have missed it if she didn’t point it out.


“Maashim,” I said aloud. I was confused.

“Maahira + Haashim” she said, as if it was so obvious.

Oh. My. Word.

It was so obvious. And not obvious. The two of them were involved… sometime in June. I wanted to puke.

Oh hell, and now she was messaging me. I would have to deal with her later. Let her hang for a bit. There was no way that I was going to act like I’m in need of her friendship. She must have known that he was married. What’s the use of dressing all modest and stuff when you can’t even control yourself with it came to a married man? It was disgusting.

But now I was judging her. I knew I didn’t want to backbite either. What was said was said… but to nitpick it would be more damage.

I would have to think twice about her. But what if she was reaching out? What she was doing was bad… if she was still involved, but maybe that why I needed to chat to her? Help her?

Maybe I would later. Besides, I had Layy now, and she was way better. She was not only a better friend, but she was also helping me to be better too.

I had to divert to what we were talking about before Maahira’s message interrupted us. I had to focus.

The meeting with Faadil that nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.

Yes, the meeting that had scared the crap out of me, but once it was over, it was like breathing out the hugest sigh of relief.

Faadil hadn’t heard any office rumours about us. Even Lesley seemed pretty cool and subdued after her whole drunken incident and I was kind of enjoying the office peace. Lesley was actually being a pretty decent human being nowadays. I had just told Layyanah that it was like she genuinely changed since that day at the farm.

And now that work was in discussion, what Faadil did mention was another story altogether, and that Layynah and I were in the middle of discussing just before Maahira’s message came.

And of course I was all worried and anxious about it. And then on top of that, being in professional proximity to Hamzah meant that I had to be more aware to lower my gaze, to halt my senses, to not smell the scent of aftershave that had become so familiar…

And that’s exactly how it hit me that Zinaa is actually punishing yourself twice. First, it’s the actual sin, and then again, it’s the punishment that comes with remembering the sin and the regret that came after. And in Maahira’s case… maybe even more than that. The Hayaa factor that Nani was going on about once upon a time, it wasn’t only about dress. It honestly made me wonder if maybe this whole male-dominated workplace was really just one huge problem that I refused to face up to yet.

And when it came to the following year, I knew it was expected, but since Faadil had called us to his office earlier that week, I was kind of having nightmares about what the work load may be if I had to earn that promotion.

You see, as far as I understood, getting married didn’t mean that I’d have to give up my career. And I know what you’re thinking. I know. Muslim girls are supposed to be home, to cook, to take care of their husband and their home but knowing that Hamzah knew where I was coming from, I didn’t expect him to actually want that. I mean, Hamzah, of all people, wanted a traditional wife?

And of course, before then, he was just another guy who was threatened by my career. But now that my career was beginning to threaten my own peace of mind, I kind of had an idea of shelving the entire thing and just sitting in my own happy bubble next year. I just wasn’t brave enough to say it aloud in case anyone held me to it.

The thing was, I wasn’t crazy about my job but the money was a huge draw card. I mean, I knew that Hamzah had a fat lot to say about Faadil, but who would turn down an instant cash offer of 250k?

And I knew that I probably might have not chased it because after doing some soul searching, I did kind of realise that an office job was not really my true calling after all.

What Layyanah was trying to do right now was try and convince me that I really didn’t need the stress of a day job and she was already winning.

“I know it’s not clear cut,” she said. “But why do you even want to push so hard and work with that nut? Faadil is a slave driver. Hamzah will earn enough for the both of you and you’re having so much of fun with this little pattiserie thing you got going. Plus, you’re your own boss.”

That, was another story altogether. Last week, as I was making a batch of red velvet cheesecakes for another client, when I (half) jokingly told my father that I was considering becoming a pastry chef, I could literally see his eyes bulging out of his head.

“MOHSINA!” he boomed. He said my name with extra pronunciation, like MUH-SEEEN-AAA and it always made me skrik. “What on earth is a pastry chef? You make pastries whole day? How much do you earn?”

“Well, actually Papa,” I said, trying to sound like I knew my stuff. “Profit margins on food are really considerate . If I do a few orders a week, I can actually make a decent living.”

He looked interested for a bit and then he narrowed his eyes.

”You couldn’t have studied so long to become a pastry chef,” he said, and my mothers face fell.

The truth was, my mother was hoping that through my business I would meet some prospective clients son who would be blown away by my mini cheesecakes and come home to propose immediately.

Parents were difficult to please, especially when they both wanted different things for you. Even with working, Ma always made sure that my priorities were in check. I knew that she had compromised a lot of her values and idealism by letting me go into a male-dominated workplace. She never wanted that for me. My father was adamant that it was my calling. The thing was, till now, he thought that I sat in a corner with screens around me. He knew I interacted with people, but he didn’t know how savage it could be at times.

Anyway, according to my father, pastry chef-ing wasn’t an option. But once I’m married, well…

”Listen babe,” Layyanah said. “Even though I’m feeling like kak, I’m living the life. Honestly, Liy is so self-sufficient. He sorts out his lunch, and sometimes even helps with supper and the dishes. I feel so bad that he has to make his own breakfast if I’m in the bathroom puking my guts out or if I’m feeling too nauseas to even get out of bed, but imagine if I had to be at work by a certain time?! I would have literally died. And got fired too. Don’t burden yourself if you don’t need to. Why do you want to fight for it? If the guy is telling you to chill, just chill, neh?”

The idea was becoming more and more appealing. I mean, it wasn’t too long ago that I was beginning to feel a bit stifled in office life, annoyed by influencer life, and feeling that maybe I needed a change. I mean, the feeling was there, but whether I can would actually take the step….

Layyanah was actually so on point and I had no idea. Islam came at a time when women had been degraded to such a commodity that they had no rights at all. It just so happens that the 21st century idealism has once again placed woman in such a position that not only do they have to prove themselves in the workplace, they are now under double pressure as the duties of family life do not ease. I mean, let’s face it. No man has the ability to nurture a child like a woman does. A man lacks the emotional ability, the feminine sensitivity and general understanding that a woman has with a child. They’re simply not capable of doing it the way we do, and that’s a fact.

Placing a woman in that position is oppression in the name of liberation.. For no real reason, I was intent on pushing myself, proving myself, just because I was a female who wanted to make her father happy and prove something to the world. The thing is, as a woman, the world tells you that you are supposed to be aspirational. You’re supposed to want the corporate life, with it’s tight hours and stringent laws, fame game and slavery. You’re supposed to go against everything Allah intended for the woman, which makes so much of sense, because you can’t just be that useless and traditional house wife that sits at home and procreates.

Decisions. It seemed so clear cut but I hated making them.

”I don’t know, woman,” I said, half-defeated. “I hate relying on a man. It’s going to be a big adjustment.”

Layyanah smiled at me sympathetically.

“No rush, doll,” she said. ”By the way, Liy just messaged. He says that Hamzah is asking if they can come tomorrow? His mother will call later?”

Tomorrow? What?

He really had no idea what my family was like. I still needed to talk to Nani and tell her that she needed to behave herself and not act like I was a horrible granddaughter  in front of my future in laws. Oh gosh, dealing with Nani was going to be a whole other issue that I wasn’t yet ready for. I just knew she was going to ask me all these awkward and uncomfortable questions and I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Tell him give me one more week,” I pleaded with Layy. “Tell him I said please.”

I knew that Liyaket and Hamzah were together – which meant that Layyanah could get an answer immediately.

She tapped on her phone and then looked up at me.

“He said Sunday is the latest. His parents are pushing for it, and he can’t keep putting them off.

I sighed, and rolled my eyes. I kept on putting this off and I knew Hamzah was getting annoyed. What choice did I have? Being Friday evening, Nani was due to come anytime now. It had been a tiring week at work and everyone knew how scary Nani could be.

“He also says that he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your mini pastries.”

She grinned as I scowled.

The problem with Layyanah and Liyaket being an intermediary communication tool was that I never knew when either of them were making up things. And very probably, all the soppy comments were probably completely fabricated.

“By the way, before I go, did I tell you how proud I am of you?” She said sweetly, as she grabbed her bag from the top of the chair. “Of both of you. I regret so much when I think of how I could have changed the way I had gotten to know Liyaket. I’m so happy that you guys are staying away, I mean… I didn’t know any better. But Mos, you’ll are like goals. Being so strong, not even talking and waiting for the halaal way… you won’t regret this.”

I swallowed hard. Okay, so maybe we weren’t talking right now and our intentions were pure but there was a stage when I knew that we were being reckless and disregarding the laws of Allah.

I gave a small smile, not really wanting to be praised when I knew I wasn’t as good as she was making out. I knew it was wrong, but right now I had other things on my mind.

And I was going to tell Layyanah to stop false-praising, but Nani’s voice in the hallway was enough to make my heartbeat escalate. Okay, I knew that I was over-reacting, but I was already at wits end trying to figure out exactly how to tell my parents that I had actually found someone myself. Nani was another story altogether.

Last week she was upset because I said that the Briyani was too spicy.. I mean, she didn’t even make it. But it was like the sky came falling down when I made the comment. I had a feeling it had to do with me saying no to some doctor she wanted to come home to see me. Honestly, it’s like she just waits for me to say one thing wrong and then all her frustration is coming out on me.

“What too spicy?” She said, her eyes widening at me. “You want to complain but can’t cook. You don’t even know how to make simple curry.”

I was offended. I could make a curry. A simple kebab curry, with my mothers pre-cooked tomato chutney and pre-rolled kebabs. Haai. Why she be judging me like that?

“Young people,” she muttered. “Want to complain about everything, because too spoilt. Mothers fault. Don’t worry about cooking. Only about Insagram and Tokkie Tok, and all these shaytaan, but can’t even pick up spoon.”

Tokkie Tok? Oh. Kay. She switched to Gujarati for extra effect.

“Then when getting married want to complain why the parents are involved,” she continued. “Then they only know one thing- divorce. When I went to my married home, my father told me my mauth (death) must leave here. No matter who said what. No matter what your Nana did. Never once I ran to them to complain.”

She raised a finger at my mother, and Ma merely pursed her lips. I mean, what do you say to that?

I rolled my eyes. Like, do they even understand the trials that we go through in this generation? Okay, fine, they had to worry about putting food on the table and society stigma and stuff, but us- we had other worries. Like, global warming, climate change, overpopulation… how were we going to compete with an application that may replace our positions at the workplace. And what about crime? immigration? People coming in from all corners of the world, and leaving their lives here to go to other corners.

I mean, cooking was one thing, but these were real problems that gave me full on anxiety.

But Nani, well, she wouldn’t understand. I mean, we came from different centuries.

Either way, I knew that I’d have to tell her tonight, and with a proposal coming home in literally two days, I know both my parents were probably going to kill me for such short notice.

It was crunch time, and I just hoped I would live to tell the tale.

Mission Sunnah Revival: Sunnah of Lowering/Guarding the Gaze 

It is in this instance and era, surrounded by half-naked people, that we must have the courage to follow the command of Allah and His Prophet Muhammad (Sallalahu alaihi wa Sallam) and lower our gazes.

Despite what anyone may say, looking upon that which one is not supposed to is going near adultery, for an illicit affair begins with a lustful glance.

Allah wishes for us not to commit this ugly sin, and thus He commands us to lower our gazes:

Tell the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that will make for greater purity for them; And Allah is well acquainted with all that they do.

And tell the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty…” (Quran 24:30-31).

The Sunnah of lowering the gaze even on social media is also important and detrimental to our imaan if not done, a stepping stone to greater sins.






  1. FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

The Art of Waiting

Bismihi Ta’ala


It’s common knowledge about the human race, that when facts become a little illusive, people become damn inquisitive. Everyone wants the details. The low down. Wanting to know when and why and how it will all happen. Wanting to know, before hand, given advanced notice. Everyone wants to be one up in the game, so they won’t be caught off-guard, unprepared, on their back foot… when it all goes down.

But there are many things we are not given knowledge of in this world, simply because that’s the way it’s meant to be. Many instances when we have to wait… when we have no idea of whats in store for us in the future. And for one, when I delved into the dark, I had no idea what to expect or what would come out of my situation. And if I myself was a little confused and uncertain, well, how the hell was I going to give anyone else any answers?

But life is such that many things that Allah has kept hidden from us, and many things that only Allah has knowledge of. This world is such that we can plot and plan, but at the end of it, the final decision is in the hands of the one Maker, Breaker and Decision-Taker.

A man asked the Prophet (sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) about the Hour (i.e. Day of Judgment) saying, “When will the Hour be?”

The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “What have you prepared for it?”

The man said, “Nothing, except that I love Allah and His Apostle.”

The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “You will be with those whom you love.”

The Sahabah said: We had never been so glad as we were on hearing that saying of the Prophet (i.e., “You will be with those whom you love.”)

Therefore, I love the Prophet Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam, Abu Bakr (RA) and `Umar, (RA) and I hope that I will be with them because of my love for them though my deeds are not similar to theirs.

And yes, there were many things I didn’t know, like what date we were setting the wedding for or how many people I wanted to invite, but as I looked at my brother who was walking toward me with his Sunnah style beard and clothing, there was one thing that I did know.

And yes, even though I had many undesirable qualities in me, one thing that I did have in me was that I loved him for what he was. If I looked at my brother, or my father, or even Maulana Umar, who I saw more often now that Imraan was moving back to the farm, even though I myself had zero of his qualities, I had a deep-rooted admiration for them. For what their did. For how seriously they took Deen. For fighting (and at times, literally fighting) for what they believed in.

I was amazed by their perseverance in a western world, to be who they were and be consistent, even when there was so much against them.

I loved who they were, and through that love, I only hoped that we I could be united with them in the next world. That was all. But was it enough?

And as I cooled off on my parents lounger at our family home at a gated estate in the north of Johannesburg, shoes off and legs up as Imraan sat at the edge of my couch, I glanced at my phone and wondered how people did it. Like, with the click of a button, the whole world becomes your oyster. How do you even stay strong and hold yourself back? How did you control urges to do wrong and just be strong?

I watched my brother from the corner of my eye as he kicked his shoes off, knowing what he was itching to find out about.

And it was a welcome diversion. My mother had been hounding me about things I didn’t and couldn’t give her answers to. Like, what was Mohsina’s favourite colour? Would she prefer rose gold jewelry or white gold? Whether she was a chocolate or flowers kind of person.
Between her and my sister’s nagging, I had to make a u-turn every time I saw them. I could honestly do with some normal conversation. Details weren’t my thing, and frankly, I didn’t really care.

“So how did it go?” Imraan asked, his dark brows raised at me slightly as his one leg jiggled mindlessly. “The interview.”

I shrugged. I had told him last week that I was leaving Hammond’s to move to another company called TSW. It seemed like a good move to make and to tell the truth, I was feeling pretty excited about the change.

“They’re a big company too,” he said, watching me skeptically. “Big company with some big clients. May be a little bit of a jolt for you, especially since it will be the start of your career. Don’t you feel you may want to stick to who you know?”

”I like a challenge,” I said, running my hands through my growing beard roughly. “Change is good. Change is what helps me to grow.”

It was true. I thrived on change. There had been so many changes and I didn’t feel like I was lacking in any way because of it.

The interview with TWC had gone pretty well, by my standards. It was a slightly smaller company than Hammonds but they were desperately in need of a CA for their debtors department and I kind of got the feeling that I fitted the profile perfectly. Also, they had mostly men on the pay roll which I’m sure Imraan would be happy with.

Imraan went silent and I looked up as my sister-in-law, Saaliha came in with a plate of some sort of filled puri treat that I remembered. She probably remembered how I had devoured the whole tray and I thanked her and took one, munching noisily as she poured tea for Imraan and coffee for me.

Okay, I won’t lie. Now that I thought about it, I was a little spoilt. The thing was, I was the baby of the family and to tell the truth, till that point, I was ridiculously indulged by all the women that surrounded us. And now that I watched my sister in law, I wasn’t quite sure how Mohsina would adjust to that role. But it didn’t matter, did it? I had everyone else to do it for me, didn’t I?

”So you definitely moving ship,” Imraan said, taking a sip of his tea. “And your wife?”

He said wife like we were already married. I sat up and gulped half the mug of coffee.

“We haven’t discussed it yet,” I said nonchalantly.

And I was trying to play it cool and not think about next year too much. All I knew was that I had made it clear that Hammonds wasn’t an option for either of us. Faadil was another story altogether but what I did know was that there were some things that are better left unsaid. I had caught him more than once in some unfavourable situations and working under someone whose priorities were skewed was never going to do any good for anyone.

As for Mohsina, ideally I’d want her to be home. We didn’t need the extra income, so there was no need to really push ourselves to the limits when it came to building our careers.

“Really?” Imraan said, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Bru, you don’t think of will be a problem? I mean , for me, the woman is the Queen of the home. My wife knows that and she loves it. But you need to discuss it with her first, you can’t leave these things unsaid..”

I shrugged again. Okay, so let me just explain. Imraan and I were born a whole generation, if not two, apart, when he had gotten married, things were just a little different. Some things went without saying. Women I knew who were working back them may have had a little business on the side, just to keep them busy or earn additional income, but it wasn’t like how it is with my generation. We were just savage. Women had actual careers that they took really seriously. Women and men in the workplace were almost on equal wavelengths. They competed directly with each other. It was an idea that was never foreign to me because it’s what I had known all along, ever since I had entered the workplace.

To tell the truth, I knew that I had to clear some things up. There were a few things about my fiancé’s life that I wasn’t comfortable with and I had let her know some of it, in no uncertain terms. But it was one thing at time. Baby steps, right?

“It’s different now, Imo,” I said, placing my mugg down and sitting back and looking at my brother. “Chics are different. No one wants to sit at home.”

”What you mean no-one wants to stay home?” he said, looking confused. “It’s this feminism stuff isn’t it? Did she say that?”

“Not really,” I said, feeling a little defensive about it. I mean, how else was I supposed to feel, I know what I seemed like.

Feminism. Something that goes against the natural way of how the Almighty intended for the world to run.

Men and women are not created equal or there wouldn’t be any need for two genders for us to survive.

Women didn’t see the value in being home because to be out there, sacrificing their lives, their time and their marriages didn’t matter as much as proving that they were equal to men.

“Listen, bro,” he said, lowering his voice. “Your mother, Rabia and the wife are all going shopping for your proposal next week. What if she doesn’t think the way you do? You better sort your shit out before they waste all that stuff for nothing. Saaliha already bought a new cloak. Do you guys… meet.. ?”

”Not anymore,” I said confidently, glad that we had made the resolution to stay away until Nikah. And I had been doing so. So far.

He just shook his head.

“That means you’ll were involved right?” He said, his eyes slightly narrowed. My brother wasn’t stupid. He knows what happens to a boy and girl when they get together. Especially in a work environment where there are no boundaries.

“Not exactly,” I said carefully. I was still feeling awkward about discussing these things with my older brother. He was like 10 years older than I was. It almost felt like my father.

“Make Taubah,” said my brother-turned-nearly Maulana. “Like sincere repentance. You guys are making it all clean now, so try going in with a clean slate.”

He said Taubah like I needed to hang my head in shame.

“Don’t stress,” I said to him, waving my hand indifferently, not wanting to divulge further. “We just spoke.”

”Just spoke?” He pressed, completely oblivious to my awkwardness and obviously not believing me. He ran a real no-bullshit regime. “Either way…You know speaking is Zinaa too, don’t you?”

And okay, so maybe we had done it all wrong. I mean, I spoke to chics all the time and I never hid it from anyone. There was no use acting all holier-than-thou and going behind peoples backs and meeting up. For me, what you saw was what you got, and I wasn’t about to hide my sins. I knew it didn’t validate it, but my mindset was a little skewed and I knew it. I just couldn’t stop myself.

And that’s why, when things first started with Mohsina, I actually had no idea what was going to happen. I was taking it as it comes, like I usually did. And coincidentally, it was around that time when I was kind of sneaking around, not because I wanted to but for her sake, that Liyaket pulled me aside one day.

And I knew that Liyaket knew, because he helped to set it all up, but what he didn’t know was that I probably wasn’t as serious as he wanted me to be. What he said though, was what made me think:

If you not willing to change for anyone, don’t expect anyone to change for you.”

Liyaket always had these deep lines that came out of nowhere. And I supposed it kind of went with our conversation before he got married of settling down and getting out of all my previous immature habits. Liyaket wanted to me to settle down, and all I knew was that there wasn’t anyone worth settling down with. His point was that I probably wasn’t a person anyone took seriously about settling down with either. And of course it stung, but I supposed it was true.

And at that point, until then, I wasn’t serious. I didn’t understand boundaries. I didn’t have any. I had become so used to doing as I pleased. The thing was, when I saw Mohsina that Nikah day, looking unlike the career-inspired girl I knew from work, I kind of got the feeling that she was stressed about something out of her control. And I was just asking out of concern.

And she was looking just a little distressed and unlike herself, so I had to ask.

“I can’t find my brother,” she said, looking defeated and exhausted. “And we need to leave, like, right now. Have you seen him by any miracle?”

And of course I saw her brother. I remembered meeting him earlier that day. He was awkward, like most teenagers, he looked very much like he was still trying to figure himself out. And when Sa’ad got talking to him about something, I remembered him telling his father that they were headed to the front shed. Sa’ad was Maulana Umar’s son and I had introduced her brother to him, knowing he was a good guy, but not knowing that the two of them will go off and go awol in the bushes. And that was precisely where I was taking her to. No funny business was intended at that point. I just felt responsible.

“How do you like the farm?” I asked, just making conversation as I showed her the way. I wasn’t going to act like a cake now that we were out of work territory.

And as we walked across the meadow where two horses stood, almost submerged in the greenery, I was so used to it, that I didnt notice her staring at the plot in awe. And as I followed her gaze, I knind of guessed  it seemed like we were in a completely different world.

Nothing else did it justice. No words. No pictures. I didn’t even bother with raising my phone because this moment… well, it was everything. It was more than snaps or captions or posts. It was more than just living in virtual reality, blinded to the real life that was so brutal and consuming and kept her away from this kind of sincere beauty.

“Do you ever wonder about life beyond there?”  I said, looking out into the open, unable to digest that this place was really quite enchanting. It seemed like another world.

I looked at her for a minute, and at first I thought that she didn’t hear me. She didn’t meet my eye.

And then, as I averted my gaze and we trudged into the thicket, the easiest path to the mentioned shed, her voice sounded like a different person.

“I feel like I haven’t been living all this time,” she said, , sounding completely different to the self-centered career girl I knew all along. “Like we’ve been missing out on all of this for so long and everything else is just one big lie. Can you imagine waking up to this every day? Can you even imagine just leaving the whole world and it’s illusions, and just putting it all behind, because this … well, this is so much more real than you’ve ever felt in your life.”

I looked at her, silent because I was a little shocked, but she didn’t really notice. Instead, she just laughed.

Almost as if she realised something humorous.

“Oh yes,” she grinned, walking along. “You don’t have to imagine. You guys probably do it all the time.”

The next words I said without even thinking. And there were some alarm bells ringing but I was completely oblivious to it as I said them.

“Why don’t you stay over and you can see for yourself?”

And of course, I didn’t even realise what I was saying until I finished say it. Of course, I meant that she could stay with my sister – there were so many rooms there-  we each had our own allocated houses on the plot and my sisters was pretty much free.

She gave me a weird look and then all I could think was, oh shit. I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?

And she didn’t get a chance to respond because we had already reached the shed and her brother and Sa’ad were already in view with a few different farm knives in front of them. All my fathers tools and slaughtering knives were here and it seemed like Sa’ad had been introduced to them before. I just didn’t know that Mohsina’s brother was into all that stuff, but teenagers were weird like that. I could already see Sa’ad giving me weird looks, and I knew that being Maulana’s son, he was probably wondering what I was doing with a girl, but for me and my mindset- well, I didn’t owe him any explanation. I was too busy fretting about the stupid thing I had said a few moments back. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

“My parents will be waiting for us,” was all she said as she left, pulling her brother with her as I nodded, feeling a little awkward now.

She was going to be travelling home alone, and i knew I should have offered  to follow them or something but at that point I was already feeling that I had crossed way too many boundaries. And I was right. But see, this is what happens when boundaries are crossed. It doesn’t end there, because once a spark is ignited, it’s kind of hard to put it off.

But that was all history, and I knew that Imraan had a point.

Yes, there was a shame in sin, but the bigger shame was when you don’t repent for it.

And after Imraan’s chat, and him explaining way more to me, I pulled myself together. I really did want to be better. A better Muslim. A better person. Besides Jumuah, I barely even made it for Salaah to the mosque in years and I knew that something had to change.

I left home after greeting my mother, responding to her questions after she showed me the fifteen choices of jewellery and asking me to choose which one to take for the proposal which was getting everyone all in a frenzy. Of course, she was only planning ahead, and though it made me only a little unsettled, after chatting to Imraan, I kind of got why.

I felt like I needed to work on so much, before I took that step. But given time… Well, who knew what time could bring? There’s something amazing that I learnt about waiting. There is a beauty in waiting, sometimes, for something that you really want.

Once you slow down, then you see it. Once you slow down long enough from overanalysing, overthinking and unraveling the past. Sometimes we have to shelve the fear, abandon the hesitancy, and then just take the bait, like a fish in icy waters, looking for its prey.

And there’s a beauty… a certain art in waiting for something you really want. There’s an appreciation in not having what you want right then, just because you want it. It’s the training. The suppressing. The knowledge that not everything in this Duniyaa is for us to use and abuse as we want. The art of waiting is that it gives us time… Time to take those baby steps. Time to find that comfort that we need to.

As I stepped outside, instead of heading to play cards like I usually would, I knew that maybe it was time to do some true introspection. It was time to use the time I had for the better, not for the worse.

And maybe waiting would be easier if you knew something would definitely be a part of your story, but sometimes when you focus on that, you may be depriving yourself of all the other amazing things that are waiting for you on the path you’re meant to take.

Sometimes all those wrong chapters of your life need to be left behind. Let them serve as lessons and move on to better things.

Maybe it was an epiphany, but I knew that this was coming and right now, was the time. It was time to follow the footsteps of those that I wanted to be with, not now, but forever.

Mission Sunnah Revival: Sunnah of Lowering/Guarding the Gaze 

It is in this instance and era, surrounded by half-naked people, that we must have the courage to follow the command of Allah and His Prophet Muhammad (Sallalahu alaihi wa Sallam) and lower our gazes.

Despite what anyone may say, looking upon that which one is not supposed to is going near adultery, for an illicit affair begins with a lustful glance.

Allah wishes for us not to commit this ugly sin, and thus He commands us to lower our gazes:

Tell the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that will make for greater purity for them; And Allah is well acquainted with all that they do.

And tell the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty…” (Quran 24:30-31).

The Sunnah of lowering the gaze even on social media is also important and detrimental to our imaan if not done, a stepping stone to greater sins.






FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When the Game Changes

Bismihi Ta’ala

Two months later


I once heard someone say that for the generation of people that we call the millennials, sitting is the new smoking. And with all the health aversions that come with that, more concerning is the thing that we often do while we’re sitting:

Mindlessly scrolling through our social media feeds when we have a few spare minutes (or for some like me, when I’m not working, sometimes for hours). And as we probably know intuitively, and as the research is confirming, it’s not the best habit for health or even for our collective psychology. In a world where we think through, we learn through, we escape into … it becomes something that is completely consuming and an actual hobby, we still find ourselves lonely and isolated, even with every application or device at our disposal.

And there were many things that I could tell you about during that frame of time where I was grappling to find myself, but the one that stood out for me was finding myself out of a virtual world that I was positively sinking into before that.

It’s not always easy to change your perspective. To see a new world, new choices, new possibilities. Often when submerged in darkness, it’s almost impossible to even find a sliver of light.

And I’d be lying if I said that that day spent out in the open, almost in another dimension, in the midst of the consuming greenery of Kwa-Zulu Natal and its splendour, did not make a difference to me. Of course it did, but as much as it had changed my heart, there was something else that had changed too.

Sometimes change is not once off. We are constantly changing. Morphing. Emerging. And sometimes it’s not always for the better.

And with all my Netflix and Instafam challenges that were going on, whether it was a make-up challenge or little reel that I was doing just for kicks, I knew that it was going to pull me back into it, as soon as I got back to my normal routine.

But even amidst all that, in retrospect, it was the beginning of a different era for me, a game changer, and Layyanah’s simple wedding was when it all started.

Two months later, as I sat on a bar stool near my newly bought Kitchen Aid mixer, I was now in a completely different dimension altogether.

Hey babes. U busy?

I glanced as my phone lit up, actually not keen on replying right then because my fingers were intricately piping the little rosettes on my mini cheesecakes. The phone would have to wait, for once. These salted-caramel babies were going off later for a special order and I wanted them to be perfect. And yes, you are probably wondering what on Earth happened to the Snapchat and Netflix addicted version of Mostly Mohsina, but the journey that had brought me up that point was definitely not to be undermined.

The next message came before I could even break away from the task at hand.

I’m coming over.

I set my piping bag down, wiping off the icing that had decorated my lower arm by mistake, and then popping the cakes into the bar fridge I had bought especially for my baking.

I glanced in the mirror, taking in this new lady, with her hair wrapped up neatly, and my new pro chef-style apron, who appeared so collected and unconcerned at the incessant buzzing of her phone. Sometimes, real life was really more exciting than what went on in that delusional alternative.

And seeing her car already in the driveway and my lack of replies, I knew that Layannah had probably checked with Jameela if I was home before she took the two-minute drive over. And in all fairness, Layyanah kind of had a right to come over and hound me.  It had been nearly two months of beating around the bush and then flat out denying anything was serious.

And I was being cautious. All I was doing at that point was trying to figure out who I was. Trying to keep everyone happy. Trying to not get caught up. Trying to divert my attention. Trying to stay off social media. Trying to be a better version of me.

Sometimes you need someone who you take seriously to make you take the plunge. Sometimes it just takes something bigger to make a difference.
Everything was looking a little clearer. A little more purer. A little more transparent.

Since I dropped Netflix, my time management skills were soaring. And now that I was all into my pastry cheffing, which was very likely my next feasible career option, I pressed out the extra cream that was in the piping bag, wiped my hands and grabbed my phone to hastily type away before she entered the kitchen.

I could already hear her and Jameela chatting away in the hallway about baby-related items, but I needed a heads up just in case my inkling about her knowing the unknown were right.

Did u tell Liyaket?

It was a simple and to the point iMessage because we had made a resolution that any extensive messages were out of bounds. I just needed to know one thing.

Hamzah’s reply, as usual, was quick.

I thought u said no messaging. 

I scowled. So he was being cocky about it. I did say no messages. We had also said no calls, but he had called the day before when he needed to know if my family had anything planned the following weekend. And this was urgent. I wanted to know what I was up for when Layyanah arrived and he was obviously refusing to be transparent for a reason that I knew too well.

Also, I knew that those Hamzah and Liyaket couldn’t keep a thing from each other, so I should have known. They were worse than women. Still, he had no right to open his big mouth without telling me, especially since Liyaket hid nothing from Layyanah either.

And speaking of her, it was at that moment that my friend emerged from the lounge, all bright eyed and ecstatic.

If pregnancy glow was a real thing, Layyanah definitely had it. She wore a grey hijab tied traditionally and a long blush dress with grey tights and patent grey pumps. Her cheeks were glowing and she was looking amazing and I couldn’t help but feel emotional about how far she had come, spiritually. She had changed so much, and not only in her appearance. I had seen that she had even begun reading her salaah, which I knew was a huge step for anyone, after so many years of not praying. I was so, so proud of her.

“Salaaaam lovieee,” Layyanah cooed as she entered, her eyes all glowing and excited.

Layyanah was here in record time. She had become a piece of furniture here now that she lived a few streets away from us, and my parents and Nani absolutely loved her to bits.

And of course, I was over the moon that Liyaket had found a cute little 3-bedroom house, fully equipped with a little yard and a flatlet outside in the area. Liyaket’s mother had been a tenant of someone somewhere for years, and now that Liyaket could finally stand in his own feet, he often said that the least he could do was help to look after his mother. It was the perfect set-up because now that Layyanah was expecting, it would definitely be good to have the little help she could offer, since her parents were not exactly involved in their life much. And yes, I had spoken to her about her mother and though she had said that she was trying to make amends with her parents, from what I heard, they weren’t really interested in being involved in her ‘lowly’ life.

But for Layyanah, it didn’t matter. Although Liyakets mother was not in the best of health and had tremendous back problems, she was absolutely ecstatic that a baby was on its way, and to tell the truth, so was I.

”Hey you,” I smiled, wiping my hands on my apron and kissing her cheek lightly. Jameela was right behind her. “How’s my angel girl doing?”

It was too early to find out the baby gender, but I was convinced she was having a girl. Liyaket had another theory though.

“Killing me slowly,” she groaned, making a puking face. “I cannot eat a thing. It’s nearly 12 weeks and if it doesn’t end soon I think I may just have to give it a good scolding.”

“Don’t terrorise my baby,” I warned her. “You know I’m going to be her favourite aunty, don’t you?”

“Then it better behave,” she retorted, but there was a huge smile on her face as she said it. “Because her favourite aunty is going to be getting married soon and I cannot be feeling like I’m dying on the Nikah day! Liyaket just told me that you guys are planning the wedding for January. I’m so freakin’ excited!”

I knew it. Where I preferred to be quiet and private, Hamzah was the complete opposite.

I hated drama.

Ssshhhh!” I said, placing my finger to my lips. “My parents don’t know yet. I have to speak to my father first. They only want to come in two weeks so I’m kind of waiting till next week before..”

I could see Jameela looking at me with a smirk on her face. Of course she knew, and to be frank, she was obsessed with Hamzah and his family. I’m not even joking. She honestly thought that the guy could do no wrong and speak no wrong. I had no chance if there was ever an argument, because Jameela was always on his side.

Layyanah narrowed her eyes and then widened them, as her expression changed.

”But why so longgg?!” She moaned, looking annoyed.

I rolled my eyes. Long?!

”Make Nikah, and then carry on as you’ll are!” She said simply. “Easy peezy.”

I knew that she was talking from a place of concern for us and she was so right. Ideally, to make Nikah would be awesome so we could chat, guilt-free, and just get to know each other in the meantime.

But there were always buts. We were both at really crucial points in our career and we couldn’t not announce a Nikah. Hamzah was on the brink of signing with a big company for next year. We also didn’t want interfere with the office policy and work place rules.

”It’s not long!” I argued. “Next year is literally around the corner. If we do it now it will just be a big drama  and you know how I love drama.”

It wasn’t long. It was a few weeks away. I felt like it was just just yesterday that Hamzah and I were going through that weird and awkward phase after Liyaket and Layyanah’s wedding where we had no idea how to face each other.

And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think of Hamzah as more than a friend that fateful day out in the open, when emotions had overcome me the spring air was knocking me completely off my base. But of course, I wasn’t that type to go all gaga over a guy, and the last person I ever expected to be even slightly impressed  by was Hamzah.

And then the following weekend, when I met Layyanah for coffee at our usual spot, her eyes were all shiny and excited, like she was hiding a huge secret.

At that point it was too soon for a pregnancy announcement and so I looked at her, all confused, wondering what exactly she was all bright-eyed about.

And then she said:

“So what do you think about Hamzah?”

And I had frowned slightly, wondering why she was asking.

“He’s cool,” was all I said, not giving away too much.

And yes. It was typical me. Trying to deny feelings and all that. I was scared. Really scared that he would be the one to pull his usual tricks on me because by now, I knew them all too well.

“Cool as in?!” She pressed, raising her eyebrows. “Does he make the cut for Mostly Mohsina’s high standards or not? Because Liyaket think that Hamzah needs a girl to ground him and we think that that girl is you.”

“So you guys are trying to set him up with me?” I said, a little annoyed.

I felt like I was a dirty rag being used to wipe a spilled mess because I was convenient. I wasn’t just prepared to be used because I was there.


Why couldn’t Hamzah make his own decisions?

“Listen,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “I know Hamzah and I know how he rolls. There’s no way that I’m going to be one of those girls who go all gaga and then he drops like hot potato. Sorry, Layy. I’m not interested, neh.”

Pssshht. Like really. What did she think I was? Did she think I was going to fall for that?

Layyanah sighed. And then she knocked me for a six.

“Hamzah’s crazy about you,” she blurted, rolling her eyes and I just kind of went into cardiac arrest. Right there. “Do you even know how bloody unapproachable you are?”

And I was lying if I said that the feelings and butterflies that come with someone who you really want to know about can be stifled. I tried with everything I had within me to fight it, to ignore it, and to act like I didn’t care, because I knew that no good could come out of something that started with sin.

And no, none of it was right or then there was a hint of seriousness a week later, when there came the game changer and it was so strange because it was only afterward that I realised that some things happen with lessons that are two-fold. That sometimes Allah wants good for you, ans puts you in the deep end because he knows you deserve so much more than what you settled for.

The Holy Qur’aan mentions:

‘And approach not adultery, for it is a shameful deed and an evil, opening the road to other evils.’

In a world where every second person was involved in a relationship and set on completely disregarding the laws of Allah, going out and walking around Sandton or Rosebank with my guy, going out to the famous coffee shops we all loved as if it was the trending thing to do. But was it trending when it came to the laws of Allah?

Because the verse was so true when it’s said that Zinaa opens the doorway to other sins. We are so caught up, so brainwashed and convinced that Zinaa and extra marital relationships are ‘normal’, that haraam has become a norm and halaal no longer has any value. Limits have been pushed and boundaries have been broken. It’s progressed so much and to such an extent that no joy is even found in what’s become ‘normal’. Unfortunately, for some, no joy is even found in the simple haraam. And this is the cause for the degradation of humans, and why they fall into the trap of LGBTQ, thinking it’s all okay to be however you want to be… when really, it goes completely against the laws of nature to satisfy yourself with anything other than what’s Halaal.

And no, people don’t just change overnight. It happens over a frame of time, where people slowly get dragged into sin and as they get deeper and deeper, they kind of get sucked in.

It just so happened that things had kind of spiralled out of control for me before we got to grips with what we were getting into. At first it was more of a ‘let’s see where this thing is going’ kind of tune. We chatted. We joked. We even met on a whim, outside the office, for a quick walk to the Gautrein before a meeting.

Yes, sometimes we change, but the change is not always for the better.

Together with this sin, my virtual reality continued at a steady pace of filming reels and reviewing products and keeping followers hooked. As always, there has to be a game changer.

Now, by now I’m sure that you are well aware of how seriously I take my social media pages. And in case you didn’t know, Hamzah was born on a completely differently planet. He had no social media applications whatsoever and relentlessly picked on my occupation with mine. And so it went, a light-hearted reel that I had done about Muslim guys pick up lines (that had zilch to do with him) just for kicks went viral (which is every influencers dream) and spiked my followers to almost 12k. Of course, I was ecstatic. It was a dream come true, and I honestly was blown away by the response.

And nevermind everything that goes with the whole social media upkeep, anything was worth it. I didn’t think much of it, because for me, that was who I was. I was virtual reality, and my life was pretty much absorbed in it, so I really didn’t see the issue.

I barely thought it would reach Hamzah (and I’m sure it was the work of his annoying sister who had become my rival after the episode at the wedding) but it did, and the entire thing just blew out of proportion.

And of course, I had the upper hand, because being me, all liberated and independent, I knew that it shouldn’t concern him. I mean, it was my life and my business and I told him precisely that.

Like, there was no way I was going to let some (random) guy come and trash and change everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. I had put a lot of effort into my social media pages. I earned money from them too. I didn’t deserve to be told what I couldn’t do. If you weren’t paying me, you don’t have a right to question me. I was feminism at its best… or should I say, at its worst. I just couldn’t see it yet.

”What’s the big deal?” I had typed ferociously (please tell me, how do you even argue with someone over iMessage?!). “It’s not like it even has anything to do with you.”

And he only said this:

Its unnecessary. I don’t like to see you on social media. It’s like you are selling yourself.

Now that, just made me mad. If it was a guy doing it, it would be a different story, wouldn’t it? But because I was a woman and I had filmed something humorous, I was selling myself? 

How dare he tell me what I could or couldn’t do? I didn’t have a ring on my finger. As long as we both were where we were, we could both do as we please.


Wrong. We forget that we have a Creator and Provider to please too. That each gender has his specific strengths and weaknesses and Hayaa is a crucial part of Imaan.

Once your Hayaa is compromised, so is your Imaan, and it was a risky gamble to take, but I did.

And yes, with all my new ideologies and perception that I was only accountable to myself, I was wrong. But then again, so was he. We were wrong in our approach, wrong in what we were doing. Wrong in trying to combat Haraam with something Haraam, and he may have had a point but that’s precisely what got him.

As long as there is no commitment then there are no rules. And simply ‘going out’ with someone does not define commitment. I expected him to call it quits, at that point. And I didn’t care. I took the risk. Arrogance had consumed me. In my world, I didn’t need a man to prove my worth. And I put on a brave front when we didn’t speak for a day, I wasn’t going to go crawling back with my tail in my legs. And I knew that I was being full of myself, but Hamzah was, surprisingly, not as immature as I was and as I thought.

And woah, his response really blew me away.

Because he didn’t act the way I thought he would. Instead, he told his mother about me. And his sister. And then his brother. And then he phoned me to tell me that it’s time to be serious and that he’s coming home to meet my parents, but this time,I need to change something too, and that this was my cue to trash all my reel-making.

How the hell is that for a game changer?!

And of course I was completely stunned. Not to mention, reeling from panic. All I could think of was that this was happening way too fast. We had barely spoken for 2 minutes. Did he even know my crazy Nani and family and how they behaved?!

How on earth did he just decide that he was ready to take this to another level?

And then, common sense was finally settling in for me. If this was what he wanted, it meant that Hamzah, of all people was actually serious about me. Why, I had no idea. But this meant that we really had to change something. There was no way that we can carry on chatting and ‘dating’ because I knew very well that there was never any barakah in that. It was no use denying the facts.

And I didn’t expect it, but the thing was, staying away made things more exciting. It was like venturing into the unknown. Nikah was a few weeks away and  all we had to be was a be patient and everything would fall into place.

Sometimes it takes two people to be strong. When it comes to things like this, one person just doesn’t make the cut. What was the excitement in doing something that was forbidden when there was a simple and easy way to make it all right?

And yes, though Nani, friends and family were keeping me busy in the weekend, work was still sucking me in during the week. I was still focused and determined to prove myself, and I could see that I was a huge competition for many people who were still running after the incentive that had been offered over 2 months back.

The last thing we needed was anyone finding out and ratting us out at work, because a bad referral wouldn’t be good for any new opportunities.

And it was barely a day after Layyanah had promised to plan my entire wedding function, when I sat all absorbed in the latest account that Faadil had assigned to me, when the memo from his e-mail address came, summoning me to his office for a meeting within ten minutes. And I was all cool about it, thinking that maybe he was rushing off for a meeting and needed to check in with me before he went off until I made my way over to his door, when I realised that this wasn’t exactly about what I presumed.

As I pushed the door open, sitting on the chair on the other side of Faadil’s desk was none other than Hamzah, and I immediately did a double take as he caught my eye, and I recognised that look of concern as he communicated for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, we might be in for it.

For once in my life, I didn’t know what to say until Faadil gestured for me to sit down. Oh yes, if I thought that we had a game changer before, this was going to be an even bigger one.

“Take a seat,” he said in his office voice, and I knew that he meant business. “There’s something I need to discuss with you two.”


Dearest Readers,

Shukran to everyone for reading❤️

Although the topic of Zinaa in the Quran and Sunnah is obviously clear and unambiguous, the reality of our times is that Zinaa in schools, universities and even the workplace is so common and even regarded now as a norm.

And although in the past I’ve steered clear of it, I think sometimes we have to take the bull by the horns and talk about it. Although this in no way validates it, the best is to stop the sin and make Nikah and atone for it.  At times when it’s not always possible, to show a way of lessening Allah’s displeasure, Ulema advise to leave the sin completely. 

May Allah forgive us for the wrongs we’ve done in our past, and especially for the ones we never hastened to make right. I hope that this can sincerely review someone’s perspective on extra marital relations and hope that for the pleasure of Allah we can stop sin, especially amongst our youth, and bring Barakah into our lives again.

Please let me know your thoughts – hoping we can explore the topic a bit more. Thoughts? 

Duaas for the ummah 🤲🏼

Much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival: Sunnah of Lowering/Guarding the Gaze 

It is in this instance and era, surrounded by half-naked people, that we must have the courage to follow the command of Allah and His Prophet Muhammad (Sallalahu alaihi wa Sallam) and lower our gazes.

Allah says:

Do not go near fornication and adultery, it is an abomination and an evil way.” (Quran 17:32).

This sin is so hateful in the sight of Our Lord, that He commanded us to not even go near it.

Despite what anyone may say, looking upon that which one is not supposed to is going near adultery, for an illicit affair begins with a lustful glance.

Allah wishes for us not to commit this ugly sin, and thus He commands us to lower our gazes:

  • Tell the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that will make for greater purity for them; And Allah is well acquainted with all that they do.

And tell the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty…” (Quran 24:30-31).

The Sunnah of lowering the gaze even on social media is also important and detrimental to our imaan if not done, a stepping stone to greater sins.






FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah


Desperate Mistakes

Apologies for the confusion. Am re-publishing the post since the notifications haven’t worked. Happy reading 🤍

Bismihi Ta’ala


Sometimes its easier not to reply. To not read those messages. Not to read into someone’s words. Not to have to explain to anyone. Not to blame ourselves, our timing or our lives.

But maybe it’s not so easy when you know some things could have been avoided. That you could have made it right, before you did it all wrong. That you wouldn’t have regretted, if you had just not made that mistake.

And as it turns out, sometimes you have to do the wrong thing. To falter. Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful, but they’re the only way to find out how to make yourself better. Sometimes you have to err to become a better version of you. To repent. To return. And to find your way back to the beginning, to Allah, and to where you need to be to start all over again.

And okay, I know that my mistakes may have been a little stupid. There had been so many over a short period of time, and sometimes when I looked back I wondered if I had been sucked into some kind of Bermuda Triangle that was draining me of all common sense. Maybe I was a little over confident of my ability to be the kind of die-hard that I usually was. In normal situations, I was as solid as a rock, but when emotions were involved, I wasn’t quite sure how to draw barriers.

It had been a hectic day that was going to be a start to a rocky few months. When Layyanah had introduced me to her mother, I completely got why she wanted me to be there.

There we were, waiting nervously and in a bit of a frenzy as we worried about whether she would eat or not, whether she would stay for long or not, what to tell Liyaket or not, and all up in arms about how to deal with the situation that had kind of come out of the blue.

Firstly, the woman came in a Rolls Royce. (Can you believe it?) Her long hair was flying in the wind, and she wore a white slinky white suit, with huge sunglasses and high heels. She honestly looked like she stepped out of a Kardashian episode and I’m not even kidding. To tell the truth, aesthetically, the woman looked absolutely perfect, and even though she was probably in her 40’s, every guy who she walked past turned to look because she was that much of a show stopper.

But as she walked towards me and I greeted her Bruegel, there was something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite figure out. Yes, she was a beautiful woman but inside, under all those layers of expnsive perfume and make-up, I had myself wondering if she was really and truly happy. Somehow, when I looked through her, she resembled a shell of a person walking around.

She spoke informally, almost as if she was putting on a show. Her voice was a little higher-pitched than necessary and now that I could see her up-close, her eyelashes looked so layered that I wondered if they would fall off.

”So how’s married life, love?”

She smirked as she watched Layyanah after air kissing her on both sides of her cheeks, and then eyeing me out with a wink.

“At least I can say that my daughter married a C.A,” she said, shrugging and looking at me. Her accent was emphatic and put-on. Actually, it was more of a put-off. “Problem is, I don’t even have any snaps to show for it. I hope you took some decent wedding pictures at least, Layyanah. I have to show the girls that you didn’t get married in an Abaya. I mean, the dress is not Dior but I suppose it will do.”

Layyanah shook her head as her mother coaxed her to smile, and Liyaket sat obediently toward the back of the room, looking anxious to make an exit. His introduction had been brief and awkward, and I completely got why.

”Fay, please don’t take any pictures for Instagram,” Layyanah requested.

Fay? She called her mother Fay?!

Her mother waved her hand indifferently.

”It’s just a little bridal glamour,” she said, not looking at me yet. Of course, I was just the non-existent friends. I was grateful she didn’t know any more. “Stop having a heart attack.”

Layyanah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“Anyway, this place is so quaint!” Fay cooed, flipping her long hair and sitting back again as she put her phone down. “Not exactly my style, you know, but I suppose you can’t have no money and still have the best. You do know that, don’t you, hunny?”

Layyanah was silent. Liyaket excused himslef now, knowing that there really was nothing else for him to do after he showed himself for all of two minutes. If I was him, I would have done the exact same. Why should he stick around for the name-bashing?

Fay seemed completely oblivious.

“You know, I was telling your father,” she said excitedly. “Our anniversary is coming up and I’m itching to plan a function, love. Back then, our wedding was so basic. Better than this though, and it was cute and stuff, but not tasteful, you know? These functions I see online… They’re exquisite! Of course, we will have to see whats trending in three months time and I’m following all the right decor pages for tips. Okay, so maybe I had a 1000 people and a five course meal but now it’s fine up to seven courses and everything is individually plated. Let’s not forget the hand-made personalised favours that they’re giving guests that are something else completely. A dream wedding,  Layy, if only you just listened to us we could have given you everything you wanted…”

I kind of wanted to duck away but I couldn’t. It was just too sensitive.

“Everything I wanted?!” Layyanah cut in, raising her eyebrows. “Oh please Fay, it was everything you wanted. I was just going with the flow because there would have been a big performance if I didn’t agree!”

Woah. I didn’t realise that Layyanah could be so edgy, even to her own mother. I mean, it was still her mother, right? Surely there had to be some barriers there.

Her mother was unruffled. She looked like she was used to this.

”Layyanah darling,” she said. “You’re my daughter, I know exactly what you like.”

She said it so naturally and Layyanah was buying none of it.

“You have no idea!” Layyanah spat, her eyes flashing angrily. “All you want to do is waste money on stupid junk that no-one even cares about! And Daddy is even more stupid because he just dishes out to you as you want. Let’s just spend money on temporary dumb things even though people are starving in the world. You know why you guys are perfect together?! You both have no sense and no bloody conscience and I cant believe you still want to waste money on more bloody extravagance!”


I was stunned into shock because Layyanah didn’t use the word ‘bloody’. She used another more vicious word that I only heard in some Netflix series. I was only grateful that Liyaket was gone so he didn’t see this side of her. He might have been a bit scarred.

And I completely got her point, but as I watched them go back and forth I realized that this whole dynamic was all skewed, and it kind of scared me.

Instead of Layyanah being petrified of her mother and the consequences (like I was at any given moment when my mother was around), she treated her like one of her casual friends. She spoke to her like she would speak to any girl from the office, maybe even a little looser. She even addressed her haphazardly by a nickname, with no respect. And the thing was, I was no expert on parenting and it was a far off notion for me (duh!), but I could see exactly where the problem was.

Some parents confuse parenting with being friendly, but they forget the most important thing.

Anyone can be a friend, but parents have a unique and important role that involves them ‘parenting’ first.  And yes, it was all Layyanah, my friend, but the fact was that Layyanah behaved this way because her parents never drew any boundaries. Speaking your mind was disrespectful when you spoke however you liked. Assertiveness is only okay when you don’t trample the rights of others. Especially your parents. The thing was, nowadays, bringing honour to those who brought you up was no longer a thing. Where once Muslim kids were admired for their manners, nowadays, they aren’t. Nowadays, they just gave crap and then recieved more in return.

Jibraeel (AS) said, “Inform me about the Hour.” He (the Prophet)(sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said, “About that the one questioned knows no more than the questioner.” So, he said, “Well, inform me about its signs.” He said, “They are that the slave-girl will give birth to her mistress…”

Sahih Muslim (8)

And that was exactly what it looked like. Like a slave who was just being subjecting to whatever Layyanah was dishing out. She was giving it to her mother, with absolutely no reproach for what she said.

And as I sat there, reeling in shock, boy, was I glad when Layyanah finally said:

”We’ve already discussed this topic fifty million times over, so can we just drop it?!”

Layyanah was looking at her mother now, and I could see she that she had calmed down, which hopefully meant that the no more language and profanity were on the cards. Her mother shrugged and turned to me, and at that moment, I felt a teeny bit of sympathy for her. Just for a milli-second, and then it was gone.

The thing was, unfortunately,  there was no respect from either side, or even any kind of mothering. She didn’t offer her any useful advice or tell her how to take care of her husband, like I know my mother would do. She didn’t even give her any Duáas, like any normnal parent would.

Honestly, now all Layyanah looked like was defeated and teary and like she needed was a shoulder to lean on and someone talk to. Here her mother was, all focused on how to spend more money and be more extravagant.

I wasn’t even sure what to say, but Fay just gave an exasperated sigh and then turned to me, all smiles.

Oh gosh, was it my turn next?

“Why do I feel like I know you?” She asked, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest as she said it.

There we go. Probably from the photos that they sent the hitman.

I smiled sweetly, sticking out my hand, business style. Layyanah had introduced us briefly but not formally.

“I’m Mohsina,” I said pleasantly. I was used to putting on a front. “I’m a CA at Hammonds. Layy and I worked together.”

Well, that kind of impressed her, but she looked at me quizzically, and then suddenly, her eyes lit up,

“Oh my word,” she mused, her eyes getting wider. “Your’re the Mostly Mohsina, aren’t you?! Hey, I know you! Like I really know you! How’s your mother? And your sister? Oh yes, I remember that time when you guys went on that family holiday to the beach house on the west coast. It looked stunning! I keep telling Layys father that we need to take a holiday locally. Like, Ras Al Khaimah always blows us away, but maybe after Dubai we’ll try something local.”

Okay, so let me explain- so in all fairness, it wasn’t exactly a family holiday. It was a holiday of family, and I wasn’t exactly lying but social media was a tough world. It was just the wording that mattered. My father had gone with my mother and sister to visit some of his family at a beautiful villa, and the pictures were magically stunning. Private beaches and heated pools. The most unusual coral and white sandy shores. Of course, it was the perfect content to use for my weekend post. The thing is, you had to keep coming up with content to keep people interested. Don’t hate the player. That was the game.

“I feel like I’m your best friend,” she went on, clasping my hand and gazing at me in admiration. “And you’re like an influencer, right? Ive been following you for two years now and I lurrvv your feed!”

And of course, I was feeling all chuffed and excited that all my hard work wasn’t going to waste. I mean, that’s what it was all about right? Making an impression. Making sure that people remember you for all the fancy and unique things you post. It’s not about reality. No ways. It was a world that was as far away from reality than anything.

I just couldn’t understand why I was feeling so far from that world right then. it was like I had been disconnected from it, even if it was just for this little while.

And I was still trying to process my feelings while Layyanah tried to offer her mother something, but she was already talking about leaving because she didn’t want Layyanahs father to find out where she was.

I mean, even though she was superficial and extremely caught up, she was still a mother, and that’s why she had come.

And as my brain was still processing this very strange relationship, out of the blue, Jameela suddenly knocked on the door, excusing herslef and then knelt down next to me. Of course, Layyanahs mother seemed thrilled to see her, because she was my sister. I had a feeling like she felt that she really did know me, even when I had never met her before in real life. And okay, it was a teeny bit freaky. Jameela was looking confused as her mother gushed over her, and then she turned to me as her focus changed, kneeling down slightly, close to my ear.

“We need to leave,” Jameela said, her voice sounding a little more hysteric than usual. “Like right now.”

I turned to look at my sister, excusing myself from Layyanah as I noticed the panicked look on jameelas face. We did need to leave. The wind was starting to pick up significantly.

“What’s going on?” I hissed at her, pulling her away from the them as I excused myself and moved into a corner.

”We just have to leave,” she muttered, keeping her voice low. “I’ll explain later.”

“Where’s Muhammed Husayn?”

She shrugged.

“Someone said the shed at the front of the plot,” she said, not seeming too worried. “I tried looking for him, but as usual, I can’t find him and now I’m going to the car. I don’t care anymore! Let him stay here!”

Oh hell, now my brother was gone awol. He had probably got that guy to show him something old and historical and went to explore. Weird child. Typical teenager. Inconsiderate. As usual, I had to pick up the pieces because Jameela was pretty useless at everything besides planning coffee shops and wasting money.

I told Layyanah I’d see her soon, and even though her mother was leaving too, she held on to me a little longer than necessary, sounding both nervous and excited at that same time, as I left them to say their goodbyes.

And I was all excited and optimistic for my friend and this new chapter of her life, but I was also aware that it could also turn out horribly if she didn’t watch her back.

And if it all turned out okay, I would be eternally grateful. But for now, I had bigger things to sort out, like getting home.  I was all out for soaking up the sunset but my parents were already freaking out about us being home after dark and I knew it was time to leave.

And after heading off for the shed to look for my brother, my entire purpose in life was disrupted. All I did was follow the instructions and go toward the front of the plot (If I knew where that was). The problem was, it was so huge and vast, that instead of it being a short drive, it ended up being a half hour route on foot that brought me right back to where I started. I was positively fuming, wondering why the hell Muhammed Husayn was so irresponsible, when all I had to do was ask someone for help that I so desperately needed.

There were many things that may have been a cause, and set me off track. I was soaking in my glory, all chuffed by the recognition of my Instagram page that was apparently amazing (according to Fay), and probably set me off on a wrong foot from the beginning. Jameela was going bezerk on me because she was intent on leaving and I was getting all sorts of panicked because it was nearly Asr time and I knew that if I didn’t hurry up, timing in getting home would be a disaster. To top it off, there had been a cloud burst and I was all soaked and shivering to the extent that I was actually regretting even coming here on the first place.

And yes, I must have looked an utter state. And it was no wonder that I emerged all wet and terrrifying as I trudged up the bank to where my car was parked. I could see Hamzah in the distance but I wasn’t going to risk it the whole conversation out of work thing, especially when I looked like this. I wouldn’t have done it in any circumstance, and besides, it was against every rule of decency I had ever known.

And although I desperately tried to block my face, luck was just on my side that day. And no, I didn’t want to pass all the blame over, but I would have just walked straight ahead and tried calling Husayn for the 15th time that hour, but I was also tired and hungry and I just wanted to go home.

See, I knew about barriers. Walls. I always had them up. I was extra careful, especially  after Nani had been on my back about having too much of freedom. I took these things seriously. Yes, I wasn’t the best and I spoke where necessary, but I wasn’t that type. I wasn’t the type to just fall into traps. I was the type to avoid them all, but this one, I didn’t even see coming.

“Hey,” he said briefly, obviously noticing my strained face that I was desperately trying to hide. Yes, it was only Hamzah but I looked like a disheveled rag doll.

I expected some remark about Snapchat or Facebook as he watched me busy on my phone, trying to call my brother desperately, only to get no answer, but he didn’t have that usual attitude that he did at work. He looked calmer. Easy. Maybe the air here had smothered his annoying tendencies.

Or maybe he was probably just feeling sorry for me because I looked like a shipwreck.

”It’s okay,” I said, trying to appear composed when I wanted to cry. He actually looked like a completely foreign person now, in a dark kurta and slightly styled hair. At least someone here was looking normal. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, and then narrowed his eyes.

”You don’t look okay,” he said, and I looked at him. His eyebrows were raised questioningly. “You sure everything is okay? Is Lesley still around?”

“Lesley’s fine,” I snapped, a little faster than I intended. Of course I didn’t look fine. I had just been attacked violently by torrents of rain. Why did he have to rub it in?

Also, why did he have to bring Lesley into this? She was already on her prepaid Uber back home, and it was so unfair. All I wanted to do was find my brother and go home too.

And of course, now Hamzah was looking at me like I was some kind of kuku case. But honestly, there really was more to life than Lesley. And yes, I didn’t resent her, but I think I had enough of her for the entire week. The girl had really tested me that day.

He held his hands up, and I could immediately see that weird look in his eyes again.

“I was just checking,” he said defensively, but his voice didn’t sound like him. Well, not like the usual him. “I’m glad you sorted it out. See you.”

And I should’ve left it at that. I mean, there was no real harm done. But now I was feeling bad.

Why, I didn’t know.

And that was mistake number two.

Because no matter what, feelings and regret and whatever else was brewing, I knew that it wasn’t worth the risk of falling into sin. But sometimes, we’re just weak. Sometimes our minds are screaming for us to be a little rational, but our hearts are pulling us the complete opposite way.

No, it wasn’t okay. And yes, it had happened before. Being alone with him, even here in the open, even if I needed help. This wasn’t the same as it was before.

It was a desperate measure. Maybe a mistake that I didn’t even think much of, but would cost us so much more than I could ever imagine at the time.

”I’m sorry,” I called out, blowing my nose, because it was all snotty and runny due to the crazy weather and helluva emotions. His back was still to me as he paused, but didn’t turn around.

“Hamzah, wait. I need your help.”

Dear Readers,

Just a quick one to say that I always look forward to your comments. Any thoughts on Layyanah and what she may be getting into?

Always appreciate the input, it definitely gets the creative juices flowing. 🤍

much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival: the beautiful Sunnah of eating and licking fingers.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

١٥ ربيع الأول ١٤٤٣
15th Rabee’ul Awwal 1443 – South Africa

22nd October 2021

رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم said:
If the morsel of any one of you fall, then he should pick it up, thereafter remove any dirt etc on it, and eat it. And he should not leave it (morsel), for satan.
And he should not wipe his hand, with a cloth, until he lick his fingers, for verily he doesn’t know, in which portion of his food, is the blessing (Barakah)

(Muslim Shareef)

If a morsel fall down, then we must not regard it as, reprehensible.
There’s great reward in picking up a morsel and eating it, regarding it a Sunnah.
If it’s not possible to eat it, then place it in such a place, where some animal can eat it.j

A Gust of Wind

Bismihi Ta’ala


No one really knows at what point their life will change. Most of the time, we are just weathering the storm, going with the flow, taking things as they come. And then suddenly, out of the blue, like a gust of wind that sometimes nearly knocks you out, it reaches us. Sometimes change comes at a time where you never really expected it, even when you are completely averse to it. It comes with its magical whispers, waking you up to another world, and before you know it, you’re already it’s best friend.

And sometimes change comes in the form of a crazy drunk colleague who gets you understanding a lot more about your purpose in life, even when you were running away from it all this time.

And so it happens, often times in life, things happen that may seem funny in retrospect, but at that moment… well, in that moment, there’s no way that you can ever see a remotely funny side to a situation that’s almost ruining your day.

And in a way I could understand how this may have been the beginning of quite a complicated relationship, but in many ways, it could have also served to be the reason that I would find myself in a very compromising position at work during the next few months.

“How you doing, babe?” Lesley slurred, all smiles and positive vibes as she winked at me, and I wanted to kind of curl up and play dead on her behalf.

It was obvious that she didn’t realize it, but she looked like at something out of a Star Wars movie.

“Lesley, what are you doing here?” I hissed, getting up and looking around, trying to figure out if anyone else had noticed her discomposure. She was wearing a short dress and her hair make up was still looking semi-decent, but she was still sticking out like a sore thumb.

“A lil birdie tol’ me about the wedding parr-ey,” she said weirdly, her eyes glowing in a way that meant that she was a little tipsier than we thought.

Um,” was all I managed to say, because as I got up and noticed someone hovering over by the house, watching us both, I was already kind of freaking out about how to handle the situation with Lesley.

It was quite obvious that Lesley had not only gate-crashed, but she had probably had a little too much to drink on the way too. The fact that she had called this a wedding party obviously meant that she had expected something different here instead of a small and civilized Nikah and lunch.

The question was, what did I do from here?
Did I expose her? Hide her? Or simply try and get her out of here before it becomes a big deal that I couldn’t control?

“Lesley,” I said, trying to be calm. “Can we chat for a bit? Over there?”

I gestured to a spot behind a tree. I could already see a few eyes on us, and I wished that we could go somewhere and I could make this a little more appropriate, but it was impossible in this open area.

“I came for a wedding!” She exclaimed, shaking her head and spreading her arms out to the view before us. “I’m so ex-hited! I just want to be here, out in the open, have a par-ry! Cele-bation time, yeah?”

She did a little jiggle with her hips and I widened my eyes, noticing more people stopping and watching us as she stumbled slightly.

Bad. This was getting bad.

And of course, I wanted to pick up my phone and tell Layyanah so I could get some input and advice from a third party, but firstly, I had no phone on me for once, and also – I knew that I couldn’t be so selfish. She and Liyaket were spending some time together, and I kind of wished that I could just duck Les away somewhere until she resurfaced to a subdued state… but before that could even happen it was inevitable that someone was coming towards us and I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to tell them.

I offered a small smile as the girl approached,mentally sizing up the pretty girl with the black and yellow modest dress and black hijab, trying to smile at her before she accused me of trying to cause havoc at a peaceful wedding.

“Salaam,” I said, trying to keep a smile on my face.

“Assalamualaikum,” she said, a little stiffly, and I could feel the annoyance that she was oozing.

Hiiii!”  Lesley called from where she was, completely oblivious to the hostility, and I cringed inwardly.

“May I ask if you know her?” Stand-offish girl asked, raising her eyebrows at me judgmentally.

“We work together,” I said carefully. “At Hammond’s. She was feeling left out so, err, she kind of found her way here…”

I gave an awkward laugh but the ice-queen didn’t look amused. I had seen Mickey here somewhere, and I knew that Liyaket and him were close so that probably explained this predicament. Maybe he didn’t get the memo on it being undercover.

Oh,” the girl said, not looking too happy with that consensus. “So you’re all are office girls?”

I cocked my head slightly and narrowed my eyes. Why did she make that sound so demeaning?

I replied with a shrug. Who cares what she thought.

“Office girls and office boys,” I said, slightly sarcastically.

She reminded me of Nani, but even Nani was nicer. This girl was just being evil.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t in the mood to humor her. It was one thing if Lesley was behaving inappropriately but to act as if it was my fault was just ridiculous. Either way, I was feeling a little protective over my colleague so there was no need for me to even try and get on this girl’s good side, if she even had one.
I stared her down until she finally spoke again.

Her next words were just icy.

“Well, this is our property and you need to tell her that she needs to leave,” the girl said, looking indignant, and I kind of felt like punching her in the face.

No!” I said vehemently, getting all charged up. “I won’t do that.”

Her property? I wondered who she was to Hamzah’s family. Shame, maybe she didn’t get enough attention when she was younger. I rolled my eyes, preparing myself for a full on confrontation as her eyes widened in shock. And yes, I was all ready for it.

And the truth was, I didn’t exactly think about my behavior, and I was all about giving tit for tat, but it was besides the point. It was just as well that at that moment there was a voice behind me that called out my name and I spun around, to figure out who this unknown person was and if I even knew her.

The thing is, when someone pisses you off, there are a number of ways in which we can react. Some people break down into tears, some simply ignore the offender and walk away, and others retaliate. Now, I wasn’t the type to go all weepy and give her the satisfaction of breaking me. It wasn’t my style. I was the type to give it right back to her, exactly like she deserved it. But the thing was, I had to check myself. Was it pride? Arrogance? Or was I just giving into my Nafs and behaving like the animal inside me that I hadnt yet tamed?

As people who should be an example to others, as Muslims, the question we need to ask is, “What is it that will please Allah Ta‘ala?”

And it always helped not to lose your cool. It helped to take a moment, to breathe, and then think about your response… And that little interruption allowed me to take a second to check myself.

And yes, I was glad that I didn’t lose my head because it probably would not have been a pretty sight. I also may have just ruined Liyaket and Layyanahs big day with a big scene and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

The new unknown girl who was in niqaab came over, said something to Miss Goody-Two shoes and then turned to me, and I could see from her eyes that she was smiling.

She looked a hundred times more approachable than the Mean Girl version 2.0 who was trying to make my life a misery minutes ago, and there was a live lesson for me right there, even in the way she introduced herself. Character was something that shone through no matter what.

“I’m so sorry about that, Mohsina,” she said sweetly, after greeting. “My sister-in-law tends to get a bit overwhelmed in stressful situations. I’m Saaliha, Hamzah’s brother’s wife. Just checking if you maybe want to take your friend to a room to um, rest? There is a free one behind this one.”

She gestured to the room behind us, and I was slightly surprised at her suggestion. The thing was, Lesley wasn’t exactly a guest, but this was a big lesson for me. I wasn’t even sure how this girl knew my name and who had told her what to say, but that mystery wasn’t important right now. All I knew was that there was a lesson to learn right there.

The thing was, they could have easily got her escorted out of here, especially since she wasn’t in the most admirable state… but to treat her with dignity and kindness was what trumped it for me. She obviously had no idea that Muslim weddings were any different and I’m sure she didn’t come here with the intention of causing havoc. Lesley was out of line, but she still didn’t deserve to be treated with contempt.

And there I was, wanting to punch a girl because she had a bad attitude.

When Nabi (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) would dispatch any of the Sahaabah (radhiyallahu ‘anhum) to fulfil a need of Deen, he would instruct them saying, “Give glad tidings and do not chase (people) away. Create ease, not difficulty.” (Sunan Abi Dawood #4835)

The thing is, Allah Ta‘ala has blessed us with a Deen that is not only natural but also an embodiment of ease. It is a natural attraction… a means for people to be invited, without even verbally explaining. All we had to do was have the best manners so that they will want to understand the beauty of Islam.

And since I was so busy admiring this contrast of character that was right before me, it took me a few minutes to process what she had said about taking Lesley to a room until I turned to see her in question, in all her trampled glory, nearly flat out on the grass.

Okay, I got that country air kind of feeling but Lesley was just taking it to another level.

Also, well, I supposed that she was just all into the whole party vibe and she had probably misunderstood the entire concept when she heard ‘wedding’.

I sighed and nodded, wondering how I was going to get her to come with me, but Lesley was in such a dazed state that she willingly obliged, hanging onto my shoulder as we walked together to a room around the corner from the house.

I felt like a mother who was taking care of my naughty kid. Lesley was even acting like a remorseful teenager. She looked guilty and apologized, merely nodding in agreement as I explained to her that I was going to leave her to get a bit of rest, and helped her to get under the blankets. It was only half a minute or so before her eyes started closing, and I left her to doze off for a little while, knowing that Layyanah would probably be looking for me and hoping to find Jameela too before lunch.

And it was a crazy day yet, because with the hype of the wedding and being so excited for my friend, I tried my best to do what I could in terms of helping and serving.  I clashed into Miss Goody-Two-Shoes about three times, but I purposely stayed out of her way because I really did not want to be bitter about her earlier attitude.

Besides, there were so many other amazing things about the day to focus on.  The thing was, as I looked around, I knew that in Layyanah’s mind and from what she was used to, her wedding lunch or waleemah might have been completely different. I knew that her parents would not have settled for anything less than the best for her.
This function, however, was simple, with paper plates and slightly fancy paper serviettes. Some mats were laid on the floor, Sunnah style, and I assumed it was the house people who sat there. There were no engraved favours or personalized napkins. There were no fancy orchid flower arrangements, but simple flowers that were in single vases on the table, which I knew were picked from the garden here. The simple white table cloths and lack of cutlery was far from what she was accustomed to. There was no themed wedding cake, only a few simple trays of home-made treats, that would be served after the meal.

To top it off, as the cherry on the top for me, some of the neighbors had been invited and to see their simplicity and the way that they observed the Sunnah of washing hands, eating and even licking their fingers so impeccably was a breath of fresh air. And yes, I was watching them carefully because it was something that I never saw in the high-flying circles of Jo’burg where extravagance was rife, but something that many had sadly lost the essence of. It was simply beautiful to see it alive here.

And although this was much less than what she might have imagined materialistically,  as I glanced as Layyanah, who was sitting next to me, all she seemed like was beautifully at peace.

I had helped her to do her make up and someone else had offered to tie her hijab. That change also, was so amazing to see in itself. Everyone had come together to help make sure the few guests were served most graciously. It was intimate and comfortable and most stress-free. There was nothing but happiness and sunshine that was shining down on us, and it just reinforced for me that big bucks and fancy things were not the best things in life, after all.

And I was all about piling up dirty dishes and taking them for washing as everyone sat around and talked, but as I glimpsed at Jameela talking to some aunty, I could feel my feet aching and seeing the extensive garden got me feeling all nature-inspired once again. I wanted to soak up the sun for a bit, before the clouds would take over. I could already see the wind getting a little more disruptive as I picked up a few serviettes that had flown off the table. It looked like rain may be on it’s way.

And even though I knew that going to find Muhammed Husayn and heading home may be the best idea right then, as I glimpsed Layyanah sitting in the distance with Liyaket, my heart did a little contraction on seeing how intimate and settled they looked, forgetting for a moment all the drama of the week and what I was supposed to be focusing on right then.

Seeing those two just made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside, because I was just so glad that everything had worked out for the best. And as I stood and eyed them out from behind for a few seconds, seeing Liyaket getting up and placing his hand on Layyanah’s shoulder reassuringly before he left, I knew it was my cue to catch up with her briefly, and see if she needed anything. Some things, you could only tell your girls, and I got that.

Lifting my dress slightly as I made my way over, I plopped down next to her, completely ungraciously, happy to see that she was beaming blissfully. I sat without saying a word, made a silent Duáa for her, seeing the wisdom in the words that were advised to say after a marriage would take place.

When supplicating for the newlywed, Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) would say, “Barak Allahu laka wa baraka alaik, wa jama’a bainakuma fi khair” 
“May Allah bless you and send blessings upon you, and bring goodness between you.” 

And yes, I wished all of that and more for the two of them, and my emotions were driving me to all sorts of undesirable states but I knew I had to hold it together and at least appear composed.

“Hey you,” she said casually, as I nodded my head at her, too choked up to say anything. She smiled and looked ahead.

The weather was slowly changing and I could feel the wind picking up as we sat there. I wrapped my arms around me as the breeze intensified, looking out into the meadow. Somehow, the sunshine had made everything seem brighter. Now that there was a little cloud cover, my mood was feeling a little more subdued.

“You clean up good, by the way,” she murmured, nudging me ever-so-slightly with a small smirk. “Dressed to impress, neh?”

I laughed sarcastically.

“Now that you noticed, there was a random girl who wasn’t too impressed with me today,” I said, rolling my eyes, not really intending to relate the entire story to her.

“I may know her,” she said, looking like she wasn’t letting on what she knew.

“Really?” I asked. How did she know what had happened? “Who was she anyway?”‘

“Does it matter?” she said softly, and I knew that she didn’t want to say anything bad. “What matters is that I do know someone who was impressed by you today. About how you handled the Lesley drama. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at her, slightly confused.

”You know?” I asked, stating the obvious. “Who?”

Who was she talking about?

”I heard,” she said, raising her eyebrows, but still smiling. “Liy just told me.”

I was hoping she wouldn’t hear. Which reminded me that I needed to check up on Les before I left. Maybe feed her some Briyani and get her an Uber back home.

Layyanah had enough on her head as it was. I never thought that I’d be the type to be considerate but there I was. Considerate and all.

And hey, wait, what did she say about someone being impressed by me?

I hoped it wasn’t some weird stalker type with unkempt hair and crooked teeth.

“You never know when you make an impression on someone,” she said quietly, not exactly answering my question. “At work you’re always so hard and composed and focused, and I loved that part of you. The go-getter, the straight-talk, the corporate monster in you is good but I like the other side to you so much better.”

“What other side?” I said innocently, trying to keep a straight face. “Did I happen to show you that I’m actually human?”

She grinned. It was so good to see her so happy, and she wasn’t just smiling with her eyes. The happiness was overflowing, directly from her heart.

“There’s a lot more to you than you think of yourself, you know, Mos,” she continued, her smile wavering slightly. “Sometimes we don’t realize how we impact someone else’s life. How you can make someone smile when you say something quirky to them. Or they feel chuffed when you compliment them. Maybe your input made someone think twice and I know it did for me.”

Ah man. I was so chuffed by her words. Like really, I think that was the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. I actually didn’t know that I could actually come across as …. nice. Wow.

“And so,” she continued, not meeting my eye. “So when you asked me about my mother earlier, if I told them about my Nikah… I know I had to at least let you know that she contacted me. I haven’t told Liyaket yet.”

My inflated ego was slowly deflating. Why did I smell trouble?

Weren’t Layyanah’s parents like fixated on this great and glorious lifestyle for their daughter? But I couldn’t get carried away as yet. Maybe there was a good reason for it and they weren’t really coming after me like the mafia-like people who had probably put a hit on me for helping their daughter to run away.

And like a gust from the blue, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me, as she relayed to me exactly what was going on.

“Can you please stay a little while longer?” she said, her eyes pleading with mine as she finally looked at me. I wanted to cry. Surely, I was going to die on an isolated farm 220 kilometres from home.

“I really wanted you to meet her.”

Mission Sunnah Revival: the beautiful Sunnah of eating and licking fingers.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

١٥ ربيع الأول ١٤٤٣
15th Rabee’ul Awwal 1443 – South Africa

22nd October 2021

رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم said:
If the morsel of any one of you fall, then he should pick it up, thereafter remove any dirt etc on it, and eat it. And he should not leave it (morsel), for satan.
And he should not wipe his hand, with a cloth, until he lick his fingers, for verily he doesn’t know, in which portion of his food, is the blessing (Barakah)

(Muslim Shareef)

If a morsel fall down, then we must not regard it as, reprehensible.
There’s great reward in picking up a morsel and eating it, regarding it a Sunnah.
If it’s not possible to eat it, then place it in such a place, where some animal can eat it.


An amazing quality to inculcate into our lives…





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