A Sliver of Silver

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 24

The sweet, pearly scent of jasmine from the wayward creeper behind me filled my nostrils as I trudged along, carried away with my tasks, almost immune to their beauty as I passed them by for the twentieth time that afternoon. Well, almost.

The thing was, no matter how many times I passed them, I couldn’t not pause in awe over how, in that expanse of dry land, they stood out so boldly, in all their glory, still possessing the courage to bloom in such staggering numbers. Their beauty was art at its finest…  designed by the most Powerful Creator… unrivalled by the works of man…


It was that word which was purest in form, which raises your rank… that deed which is better than gold or silver… even greater in reward than Jihaad…

I whispered it, under my breath, as I stood still for a moment on our stretch of partly grassy land, soaking in the scorching sun before retiring to the small patch of soil at the edge.

On the small plot that we had called home for nearly two decades, I was finally seeing it with a new eye. The way the land curved would be perfect for a little slide and play area for kids . The extensive acres would work beautifully for bench and table chill-off and picnic spot. And the corner where the existing barn was, would be the perfect spot for the coffee stop and rose garden.

Mohsina and Papa had finally given me the go- ahead for the revamp and I was bursting with energy and enthusiasm to get this thing running, making my way over to the spot where I was determined to plant the sixteen rose plants I had grabbed at a discounted rate  a few roads away.

Rose Plants for Sale’, had said outside, and I barely even entered the premises when I was blown away by the garden than boasted not only every colour of rose, but every flower under the sun.

I had expressed my awe to the lady and little her daughter, Khadijah, who owned the house. The lovely niqabi girl had given me a few gardening pointers, and I appreciated it. She seemed like she kept to herself and her little garden and that was my inspiration for my own little space…

This, for me, was a small start but it had to start somewhere, right?

I tossed the spade aside, my bare hands delving into the dry Earth, pulling my watering can to offer some moisture to the parched soil, allowing my nails to soil unreservedly as dug into the textures that existed beneath the surface.

Compost. Yes. A little compost would be just the thing needed for a little more potential. I pulled the bag I had bought towards me and poured out the contents onto the patch of soil, immersing myself in the textures and colours of the sand as I forked it in, now with my personal garden tools. My finger nails were still edged with brown Earth but the feeling of crusty nails was welcomed.  It reminded me of hard work and toil and I wanted to feel like I was working with a purpose…

“Salaam Jamz. Howsit? What you up to?”

I hadn’t even heard the car drive in. I looked from my eyes where I was kneeling to see Layyanah standing at her car, her cheeks looking slightly more flushed than usual as she stood, baby bump protruding cutely, looking like a perfect little mama-to-be in a sage dress top and skinny jeans that sat below her ankles.

Her scarf was tied around her head traditionally and she looked like she was probably coming from home. Even with no make-up, Layyanah looked amazing. I looked a bit like a hobo, in my torn overalls and gum boots. It was the only way work got done with its full intent.

“I’m getting this thing going,” I said, gesturing to the soil. “It’s our new business venture. Did Mohsina tell you?”

Layyanah smiled, her face instantly looking more at ease than just a minute ago.

”It looks lovely so far,” she said sincerely, nodding. “I love the concept. A little stop over for travellers or even an outing for a day. What a stunning setting you guys have here. What about a little petting zoo? I told Mohsina you guys have plenty of space. Where is she, by the way?”

A petting zoo?

That was an amazing idea. I made a mental note and looked up at Layyanah, who was waiting for my answer.

We had plenty of space. And even more so, because Mohsina had decided that it was time that she moved closer to work and got her own place. It was a fully-furnished and included in her package and I kind of understood why she would be crazy not to take it. It was just that I couldn’t help the heaviness I felt in my heart when I said it.

“I think she’s gone to look at the apartment ,” I replied, wiping my forehead with my palm and not wanting to delve into the subject and how it made me feel. How it made all of us feel.

I looked at Layyanah as she looked confused, and then she remembered. Of course she did.

The apartment. The part of the package that she had taken … what seemed to be the start of all these new changes and also a little heartbreak too.

“How are you feeling?” I said, changing the topic purposely as I gave my attention back to the now promising soul.

“More energetic in the past week,” she conceded, and as I glanced at her, I could see her face had fallen.

“Is she really moving out?”

I swallowed, not saying anything in reply as I continued with my task of tossing sand around..

By nature, I was a dreamer. Even as I absorbed myself  in work, my mind was miles away. A reader, a nature-lover, and a people-pleaser. I loved my family , and I loved things to be smooth and easy. When a little bit of drama usually ensued, my solution was always to tuck myself into my own world and to quietly get lost into the thicket of nature, daydreams and parallel universes.

The new venture though, was exciting me. It was the silver lining here. It kept me busy and calmed my mind.

Reality on that day was a far cry from where I really wanted to be, even though I knew that I needed to be there. Even though I knew that diversion was the best medicine right then.

Layyanah shook her head sadly and pulled the white garden chair to where I was, taking a seat opposite me, instead of going back home. She leaned into the back of the chair, stretching her legs out as she looked at me, almost as if she was unsure of what to say.

“Is this really happening?” She asked, pressing on, now looking like she was about to burst into tears at any point. It was obvious that she had this on her mind for a while and needed to get it out.

I looked at her and shrugged. I knew exactly how she felt. Mohsina was also ignoring me when I tried to talk to her about Hamzah. It almost seemed like she was a different person to the one who had been my sister for the past few years. Something in her had changed and I wasn’t even sure what it was. How could I ever understand or sympathise when she wouldn’t even give me the time of day?

The thing was, I didn’t understand it. This was what she was most scared of, but no-one else besides her was in control of. This was what was on her mind, when she was so scared of hurting people. It was almost as if she knew this would happen…

“How is Hamzah?” I asked, knowing that Layyanah probably would have seen him or known from her husband.

Layyanah sighed, her face looking slightly pained.

“Liy says he’s never seen him like this before,” she said, and my heart broke for them both. “He’s taken a week off… gone back home to the farm. His brother is there. He doesn’t talk about it but it’s obvious that he’s sunken into a hole of depression. It’s making me depressed. Is there nothing we can do to fix this?”

My heart contracted as I wondered the exact same thing.

But then again, I don’t blame him for heading back to that beautiful retreat that set my heart alight when I thought of it. I simply loved the small town feel, the nature and the feeling of not knowing what could be beyond the meadow..

The one time I had been there was like a dream.

Well. Until the intrusion of my peace by the girl who literally had me running beyond the hillocks.

And okay, maybe I was a bit naive, and I did expect the odd aunty or even some random guy… but it’s more or less goes without saying that anyone who had a fellow girlfriend making moves on you at any time and space would have found it creepy. I mean, you could easily move over to the ladies side if it was a guy stalking you.. but how do you escape a girl whose attention you didn’t want? Who had weird ideas? How do you explain the truth of what it is.. that’s it’s disgusting and you will never consider something so ridiculous?

Right? Because I knew that to walk away and remove myself from something that I had no control over, was the best thing, I did just that.

Like the sleepers of the cave, when the situation got overwhelming… their solution was to remove themselves and then leave Allah Ta’ala to do the rest.

And now, in this day and age, it seemed like trials were coming in quick succession. And I never did tell anyone the reason why I had to escape so suddenly, the day of Layyanah’s wedding. It was something that had eroded my mind for a few days, and then like anything that happens in life, fades into the background of our lives and then we forget about it.

And it was scary how my generation was getting on with the dialogue of ‘inclusivity’, as if it was all cool… and I was in shock so I didn’t anything or mention it before but I did realise that maybe it was a sign… a sign that maybe in this era, with social media at our fingertips and everything so accessible, just the constant talk about it and the fact that it’s becoming so normal (even if you condemn the act, which is a the way it should be) was actually detrimental to our Imaan.

Astaghfirullah. I sought refuge from the bottom of my heart.

Was I just so weak to be silent about what was forbidden and only hate a sin at heart?

“Are you okay?”

Layyanah was looking at me oddly and I nodded my head as I shelved my thinking for later.

I couldn’t tell her. Of course, I couldn’t say that it was one of her wedding attendees who was probably a connection who seemed to be exploring avenues with that were completely immoral. No. I couldn’t mention a thing. Wouldn’t that leave me to be questionable too?

I was still too young to deal with the scrutiny. Maybe it was better to just ignore it and act like it never happened…

“I suppose we all have to just accept it, don’t we?”

She said quietly, and I nodded as I realised she was talking about Hamzah and Mohsina again. I  dropped my garden tools and stretched out on the dry lawn in front of her. My heart was feeling a little less burdened in the sunshine.

”I suppose so,” I said, feeling a little sad about just that.

The afternoon sun was blazing down on us, and although I was perspiring slightly, I quite enjoyed the feeling on my back for that moment. It helped me forget the worries of my world.

Layyanah looked at me, cocking her head to one side.

”You know, if you really think about it,” she said, almost as if she was reminiscing now, her expression looking a little more at ease. “I know… Hamzah wasn’t Mohsina’s cup of tea, you know? Looks aside, I know girls go crazy for him and he knows it but Mos didn’t fall for his tricks, neh? But when it all happened what I can’t forget is what she did always say that even though he was stubborn and set in his ways, he had good values. He was a social butterfly, he was trusting and he was passionate about whatever he did, right? She admired it. Like he was cut out for what he was doing and he loved it. And it seems odd because he is so different to her because even though Mos is a genius at what she does, self-sufficient, a hard nut at a glance… she’s actually a bit insecure at times , but she shows it as being over confident, whereas she’s a beautiful, soft and loyal soul on the inside and when you dig deeper you can see it so well…”

Her ideology was perfectly fitted. She had pinned it right down to the absolute truth. Their personalities were absolutely contrasting.

They could probably spend every day fighting about mundane things. They could clash over everything.  I mean, I’m sure they would argue about everything.

Were they just too different? 

“And I keep thinking to myself,” she continued, her eyes dancing now as if she realised something extremely unexpected. “I know that they are complete opposites, but it’s almost like they fill in each other’s blanks, don’t they? Can two people ever compliment each other better?”

Ah. That was what she was trying to say, and she had a point there. Could that not just be the perfect combo?! Maybe. Differences can be fun too, right?

“Do we really have to?” She said, with a small smile playing on her face. I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about now and what she was so optimistic about, when everything had seemed like a dead loss.

”Do we really what?” I said, confused.

Layyanah’s eyes were shining slightly as she watched me.

“Do we really have to just accept their decision and move on?”

I shrugged. They obviously didn’t see it the way she did. Mohsina had said that they just aren’t compatible. Hamzah was too old-fashioned and had different ideas  about their future.

She looked like she was onto something but I wasn’t really wanting to interfere. The situation between Hamzah and my sister was pretty hopeless, according to me.

And as I glimpsed out into the horizon, as Layyanah said it was getting late and had to leave, I could see a figure that resembled Papa making his way toward us, slowly, as if he was soaking in everything around him for the first time ever.

He was venturing outside for the first time in ages as he slowly recovered, and I couldn’t help but smile broadly, thinking of how every cloud definitely has a little bit of silver around it. How even in the worst situations there is a sliver of goodness that we sometimes can’t see until they were right in our midst..

Some things just took a little longer… little more tears to get to the light… a little more energy to reap the rewards…

Some people just carry a torch with them, wherever they go. Light follows their footsteps, almost as if it doesn’t know how to shine without them.

Having hope is not dangerous. It’s essential to keep us going. Layyanah might have been talking a load of hogwash that didn’t make sense to me at the time, but when she left that day, somehow, my heart felt a load lighter than it had been those past few days. In any dark cloud, I could see a sliver of hope that was shining in the horizon.

Khair (goodness), people often say, comes even out of the most hopeless of situations.

Maybe, just maybe… everything wasn’t going to turn out as horribly as it seemed…

So I managed one more, next after the New Year InshaAllah ! Hope everyone is well! 💕

Quivk Q: Was wondering what do readers think about bringing Covid into the story, to bring in deeper lessons… or do we keep it completely fictional regarding that?

Would appreciate your feedback 💭

Just keeping it simple and sticking to the Sunnah we’ve already done. Being holiday time sometimes it’s better to maintain our current deeds… Allah make it easy ❤️

Sunnah of Making Salaam

It’s common nowadays that even when seeing other Muslims out and about, people are hesitant to greet. Let’s try and bring back this beautiful Sunnah and reignite the love ❤️

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

٤ جمادى الأولى

Hazrat أنس رضى الله تعالى عنه narrates that he passed by some children, so he greeted them (made Salaam) and he said: رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم used to do so (greet children).

(Bukhaaree Shareef/Muslim Shareef)

Greeting children inculcates humility, and at the same time, teach children the importance of offering Salaam.
It creates love and affection in hearts.
If there is fear of lust, by greeting a pretty girl or handsome lad, then one should refrain.








FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah


When Emojis don’t Cut it

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 23

I’m not sure if there’s an emoji for betrayal. Like a knife going through someone’s back, or an arrow piercing through a heart or something painfully relevant.

Or was there an emoji for utmost devastation..? For feeling mentally, physically and emotionally broken? For terrifying fear… for the unprecedented event of shattering someone’s heart, breaking their trust,  without knowing how to stop yourself from doing that one thing that they thought you would never do…

Is there anyway to condense emotions so intense, into something so futile?

And even if there was… even though I had always turned to social media, to tapping away on my device, to channeling all my energy into a dedication or pictured post for my relief, I wasn’t sure if it would have made any difference. The emojis, I mean. A little symbol that had become a way of expression could never divulge how real and raw emotion can cause so much of turbulence within. Can emojis ever cut it?

The thing was, and always had been for me: A social media analogy was far less of a drainer. When you post something wrong or controversial, it’s easy to retract. To dilute with emojis. To send out an apology. To delete the post. To deactivate an account.

In real life… You don’t just lose a follower. In real life you lose someone you valued. You lose a friend. A beloved. Someone who you once may have had a real connection with, and in real life… well, it was so much more real.

What if every like, every face expression, every heart, and reply we give to someone online is actually taking away from our offline relationships?

And it was all coming at me at once, my entire world feeling rocked and a little more complicated… as I tried to rummage through my emotions and how I was feeling…

The feelings were so overwhelming, and I was breaking under them.

And then there was darkness, as if the trigger had been pulled, thoughts scattered like debris.

In the avenues of my mind, I was trapped at every turn…

I sat on the bench outside the hospital, unable to control the shivering as I tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. My mind was tripping with the lucid thoughts and accounts of what had just occurred, and I knew tonight would be no exception.

I couldn’t reach out. I couldn’t break free. I was completely submerged in ghastly thoughts. My mind was a haze of broken events that had transpired, and my heart was, through it all, feeling like it was horribly shattered.

”Your father owes me money,” the man said as he stared me down, me feeling all cramped and edgy with the most unfortunate thoughts, in the back of a Ford bakkie with a canopy, racing over the highway like we had some kind of urgent destination.

The man’s voice was surprisingly mellow, although his demeanor was repulsive. He watched me as I sat, silently at first, the vehicle bumping along as I kept hitting my head behind me.

No one had cared, and to tell the truth, neither did I. The little bumps were like jolts of rude awakenings that reminded me that it was a tormented reality, and not just a dream that I was hoping it was.

”You going to talk or we going to have to make you?”
He asked, after a few minutes, a wry smile creeping on his face.

I didn’t like the way he was looking at me then but I was already in a compromising situation, so there was nothing much I could do to help it, except co-operate.

These people didn’t appreciate an attitude but I was in no mood to be polite.

”So what do you want from me?” I asked boldly, not even knowing where I got the pluck from. “How do you know I’m going to be your solution?”

”You have money,” the guy said steadily. He was probably in his forties, with a small beard and bald spot on the top of his head. “You’re the accountant, right? We have an idea that you’re where your father is drawing money from every month.”

I sucked in my breath, angered by the way they were painting my father. Like some kind of beggar.

As much as I wanted to play his bluff, a game with him to irritate them, I didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary with these horrible people. I was in the worst possible situation and my only intent was to get out of it.

The memories of them searching me, unfazed by my aversion to their touch, was making my stomach churn with revulsion. Humiliation was putting it mildly.

I was at that stage where I realised that nothing I did or said was going to stop them, except if I gave in to them.

“I am,” I said carefully, my voice sounding foreign even to myself. “I’ll give you what you want. Every penny. But I don’t know how much you talking about or how long it will take.”

How I managed such a lengthy response, I didn’t know.

Middle aged balding guy looked at me, probably unsure of whether to believe me, but also as if he was seeing someone else beside some corporate rich glamour girl who could sort out his bills.

“And if you don’t?”

I swallowed. The way his eyes were penetrating, almost through me, was enough to break me whilst they sent me down memory lane.

Two years back… The image of the masked man who had cornered my father in the parking lot of his supermarket building, the butt of his ugly gun smashing down on my face as I tried to stop them, still haunted me… I still carried that scar… a significant physical mark on the corner of my cheek. If it was the same people, I knew these people would stop at nothing… I knew they could not just hurt me, but take away my dignity while they were at it.

And there’s always a story… and as our one goes.. my dearest uncle was the biggest player in this mess. The selfish drug-addict often borrowed money from people – leaving many people, including my father with the debts, and directing everyone to him for payment. Papa had been struggling with keeping his shop open and the added debt wasn’t helping the situation. Now, of course, we had an entirely different scenario, with angry loan sharks and aggressive drug-lords. Who this guy was, I wasn’t sure, but I knew either way, he wasn’t good news.

What a terrible price to pay for a few hours of a drug-induced high and pleasurable sin…

”We need at least half,” he demanded rudely, his face hard and devoid of any compassion. “Like yesterday.”

These people had seen too much.. dealt with too much … killed too many to even give an atoms worth of consideration for my mental state. He was chewing something, and spat out the window before he looked at me once again. He wasn’t finished.

“Else you’re not getting to go home tonight,” he said almost as an afterthought, his eyes telling a story that I never wanted to find out about. “There’s other things we can do with girls who look like you.”

I shuddered as he glanced at mw suggestively, nausea overcoming  me almost immediately. My eyes widened involuntary as he edged closer and I felt my body shudder with fear as his eyes did a complete once-over me.

He touched my cheek, unashamedly, scrutinising every bit of my body. The guy who had shoved me down the staircase had morphed into our designated driver, but I could tell them the guy in front of me was the disgusting master-mind behind it all… and I couldn’t even break free from his unyielding grasp.

And I wasn’t sure how I even did it. How I convinced him to let me go. How I managed to log onto my accounts then, showing them that I would hand it all over, if they just left me alone. I sat, cross-legged with a Dell laptop on my lap, hands trembling while they watched over me, my phone in their hands for OTP’s and controlling any incoming calls or stopping any like of mobile tracking, to do that payment they so desperately wanted. They were rushing for it to be over so they were out of risk, and then they hastily shoved me out of the van as we passed by the same route, leaving me to scramble off the road just in time to flee a passing car.

I was mortified. Unmistakably robbed and violated. I had basically handed over the bulk of my savings and it wasn’t even the full amount that was owed to them.  The repulsive odour of the older man as he breathed over me, watching me do the transaction he was instructing me to was implanted in my memory, even as I tried with all my might to shove it out.

And he wasn’t thrilled but I promised them that the next week I’d have the rest. I assured them that I was offered a promotion with a huge increase. I would be getting a hefty incentive and a bigger salary every month… and of course it would all be settled.

And even though I was now safe, sitting on the bench for a moment longer as the breeze sashayed over me, my heart was heavy and burdened because the knowledge that they kept so much more than just my hard-earned money was what was breaking me beyond all boundaries.

They couldn’t just stop at that, it wasn’t enough.

And because they could see how I was clutching onto it, how valued it was to me, it had become their prerogative to take from me one of my most irreplaceable items I’d ever possessed.

It was the necklace and diamond pendant that Hamzah and family had gifted me just the week before, symbolising the finality of our commitment. The proposal. And the memory of that afternoon the had handed it over was as clear as day as I recalled how we had just finished talking alone, about future plans and how we wanted to live a different kind of life to the office life we had known for the past year… when he leaned toward me for a brief moment and said, with a smirk:

“I chose it myself,” he said, his eyebrows gesturing slightly towards where his mother was standing and watching us, with a longish jewellery box in her hand. “They insisted you would like the other one but I think I know you better than them.”

His stunning lashes were even more attractive close up and I looked away as his mother chased him down the hall, telling him that it was their time with me now, and he needed to behave himself.

Of course, I nodded and agreed with them as he pulled his face and then grinned at me before making his way off to the men’s side. And as his mother popped open the box, I couldn’t have been more in love with the the stunning piece of jewelry that already became my best friend. Call me superficial, but if I wasn’t certain about Hamzah before that, this was most definitely a winner. It was a simple and elegant diamond piece but I knew that it cost a fortune, and I instantly felt horrible and shallow because he felt like he had to spend so much of money on me… like, I wasn’t complaining.. but did I appear to be such high maintenance?

In any world, a 1-carat diamond pendant was no play. But despite that… that itself wasn’t the big deal. I knew what it was because it was highly trending and I had seen the chain being advertised on social media.

It was called the ‘Eternal Flame’ setting which was inspired by this legend of undying flames, which continues to burn despite all external elements. Apparently, according to some lengend which was probably a load of hogwash but got the sales coming in at a steady pace..  these eternal flames, which burn continuously, join two souls together in unconditional love. And it was extremely intense and romantic, and even though it did make my tummy do a slight flip-flop, I wasn’t going to show him that he had won the trophy. Well, not yet.

I stood silently as Hamzah’s sister-in-law, Saaliha, gently clipped the necklace on over my grey chiffon scarf. I had work a white dress with grey detail that day and the pendant accessorised it perfectly. To tell the truth, I was on cloud nine, and that chain was a memory and the only thing of real value… of surmount importance, and because of their blatant disregard for my dignity, had been yanked off me as collateral…

I pictured Hamzah’s face for a second, as I sat there, trying to tune my senses out of everything that had happened.

How will I ever explain to him why I couldn’t salvage it? Why didn’t I fight to keep that one part of my self-worth, the part that should have been one of the most important right then…

My heart was still beating rapidly, even though it had been ten minutes since I had been freed, shoved me on the pavement outside the hospital. How my wobbly legs had carried me over to the entrance, I wasn’t sure. It was late and my phone wasn’t returned, but I didn’t care. My worst fears were over for now and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and sleep this away as if it never happened. There was no use going to the police. This wasn’t a criminal issue. It was a self-inflicted problem that I couldn’t ever divulge to anyone…

I had already made up my mind that I could tell no-one about this. My fathers reputation… his pride… his Izzat, as Nani would say… all of this… I could never let them know that things had gotten so bad that I nearly had to give myself up. Nearly. I couldn’t even think what might have happened if I hadn’t prayed fervently to ask Allah’s help to shield me from any evil intentions.

I took a deep breath as I lifted myself off the bench, finding my bearings, and then entering the hospital once again. They had left my keys with me so I could get home, but anything else of value was taken and stashed for when I paid the rest. I took a deep breath as I made my way down to the elevator. It was now close to midnight and I assumed that everyone had gone home. I’m sure that my mother had tried contacting me, but I would have to deal with that tomorrow.

Of course everyone had left by then. I didn’t know that they had left to search for me. That they were fervently reciting their adhkaar and tasbeehs, crazy with worry and hoping for my safe return, I didn’t even realise how much of time had passed. When the security guard saw me, I could see him talking into his Walkie talkie hastily, but as I waved at him easily, he looked confused, and then just shook his head and nodded back at me.

How I cleaned myself up, re-did my make up in record time and even drove home that night was like a blur. Tears flowed freely as I sat there, my mind taking me when I finally reached my driveway, I stopped as the gate closed, and sobbed my heart out for a few minutes before I finally drove up to go to the house.

And I was a little shocked as I saw Ma, Nani and Jameela all crowding around me even before I entered, racing down to the garage as they realised I had arrived, looking as if the entire world had collapsed in my absence. In all of that, I didn’t even realise how long I had been gone.

“Shukar to Allah!” Nani was saying loudly as she saw me, looking as if she was utterly distraught.

I paused for a second as she said it, again and again, and it was as if my entire world was being revived, with those words.

Shukar to Allah. Shukar to Allah.

I mean, how had I not even thought this… to thank Him for bringing me out of what had been a most unexpected ordeal? How had I not seen Him with me, all this time. In my hour of need, whilst I sat in my little bubble of hope of escape, was it not Him that brought me through? In my darkest hour, when I didn’t know if I’d ever see the light of day again, was it not Him that brought me home?

Allah. Allah. Was it not Him only, that despite my sins, despite my disregard, despite everything that I had done that proved my complacency and heedlessness… that had come through for me?

Allah, of course; it was only You. When I was caught in a maze, a place of uncertainty, a web of greed and hopelessness… it was only You that brought me through. When I was lost in a forest, and every path looked the same… it was only You who brought me home.

I was slightly shaking while Nani wiped her tears away and grasped me by my shoulders gently. I cringed as I remembered how those repulsive men had handled me.. I couldn’t stand anyone touching me, not without thinking about the horrible feelings I had been subjected to… not without that memory leaving it’s horrid mark on me.

“We were so worried,” Ma whispered, shaking her head, and just looking plain down relieved.

Muhammed Husayn was making calls, saying I was fine and had come home, to whoever he was talking to.

Ma’s eyes were brimming with tears as I stepped back, feigning indifference as they asked me again and again if everything was really okay. Jameela and Muhammed Husayn were standing around, looking like lost puppies, and I kissed their cheeks, putting on a brave front, knowing that I’d have to think up a workable explanation in record time.

I took a deep breath and put a smile on my face, knowing that I couldn’t show any weakness.

And that’s why I made up my mind that I couldn’t say anything to them about Papa. It would only cause more worry and concern. I explained to them that my phone was stolen and there really was no need to panic. It was slightly stressful  but I was okay, and everything was going to be okay. There was a reason Faadil had offered me that incentive, just a few days before. There was no time more than the present that I could do with it.

All I had to do was mail him, tell him I was ready to take that offer, sort the cash situation out, and put up with a year or two more at Hammond’s. That’s all.

There had to be a long term plan though. After that, I could pursue my dreams. I knew that I had to think about something for my family to be sustained, that was going to put less pressure on them. And missing work the next day, because I knew that I couldn’t face everyone, (especially Hamzah) yet, I spoke to Jameela about her plans for her coffee shop. She actually had worked things out quite meticulously. My sister had good business skills, and I found myself l among towards this as a small business to start up. Papa had to get out of what he was doing. The supermarket was becoming a risk.. there were too many factors attached.. too many horrible people involved now. Factors that haunted me and made it extremely dangerous.

And it so happened that Papa was discharged the next day, and seeing him almost made me tear up again. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, what kind of emotions were pulsating through me as I tried to explain the feeling of broken trust, of humiliation, of extreme and piercing sadness… and then of pity, as I wondered how we had gotten to where we were.

The way he looked at me when he first came in, for a split second, I felt as if he knew the ordeal I had endured and then when I looked at him again, I was sure I was mistaken. That rush of emotion… that overwhelming grief and terrifying fear as I relived it… no words, expressions or even emojis could do it justice.

And even though I was brimming over with frustrated emotion, I wasn’t going to bring it up. And maybe I could have at some point but not when he was in this state. I knew I should be a good girl and quietly deal with my own emotions. I had long ago accepted that I had to take care of of my family. I also understood that we had to somehow drag ourselves out of this… somehow, we would pull through.

For the first time in years, I didn’t care about my phone. About new posts. About downloading all my applications and keeping up with what was going on.

I read my Salaah a little more fervently those few days. Prayed a little harder. Asked a little more desperately. I deeply craved some guidance. Some hope. Some unfiltered sign that I was doing the right thing.

My heart was aching. Breaking. Undeniably shaking in conviction and faith, and I had to set it right.

Oh Allah, only You know my condition. Oh Allah, I am tormented with nightmares. I’m traumatised by those oppressors. Only You know my pain, Oh King of Kings. I want to be freed. Oh Allah, erase all these evil memories from my mind.

Oh Allah, you choose whats best and protect me from hurt, protect me from others, and protect others from me. Oh Allah, when no-one else was there, You saved me… You’ve shown me how big You are, and how small I really am. How Great you are, and how insignificant I am. I come to You in weakness, You help me with Your strength… Oh Allah, I entrust all my affairs to you, I surrender it to you… 

My eyes were, for the first time in years, brimming with tears as I pleaded.

I didn’t know how else to handle my emotions. Who else to pour it all out to..

I didn’t know what to think about my future. About my marriage. It’s not that I didn’t care. I just had no energy  to burden someone else with our family problems. I simply could not come clean, and in the back of my mind, although I knew that what I had to do may cause a stir…

I also knew that there was no other way and presumed that whatever small hiccup this would cause would soon pass.

And although I maybe expected a tantrum, an argument or a fight… what I didn’t expect was my decision to do what I needed to, to be blown completely out of proportion. By the end of the following week, after making my final decision and everything feeling like it was going way too fast, the phones were ringing off the hook…

Jameela was tearing up, trying to ask me what was going on. Ma was desperately trying to understand if what was said and what she had heard was really meant… and Nani… well, Nani was the giveaway. The one sign that stood to show that the situation was entirely hopeless… as she sat on the kitchen stool, her head hanging in her hands as she refused to speak to anyone as the entire thing went down in the most unexpected way.

Never in my life had I felt so disgusted with myself, so disappointed… so broken about everyone else being shattered too.

The day Hamzah exited our lives, when he called the house phone to ask for me… sounding completely civil  as he spoke to my mother and then my brother, and then they passed the receiver over to me, I barely recognised this person whose voice was dripping with painful venom whilst he said what I never thought I’d ever hear him say…

I knew that there was no hope for anything else. No expression, reaction or emoji could ever do it justice.

Everything was falling apart.


Sunnah of Making Salaam

It’s common nowadays that even when seeing other Muslims out and about, people are hesitant to greet. Let’s try and bring back this beautiful Sunnah and reignite the love ❤️

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

٤ جمادى الأولى

Hazrat أنس رضى الله تعالى عنه narrates that he passed by some children, so he greeted them (made Salaam) and he said: رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم used to do so (greet children).

(Bukhaaree Shareef/Muslim Shareef)

Greeting children inculcates humility, and at the same time, teach children the importance of offering Salaam.
It creates love and affection in hearts.
If there is fear of lust, by greeting a pretty girl or handsome lad, then one should refrain.








FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Not Meant to Be

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 22

In a world of instant messaging and fibre internet connections… generation Z (as they call those growing up in this era) has become accustomed to everything that’s immediate, so much so, that for us to wait for anything to take its proper course becomes almost unbearable.

These days, it’s all about immediate gratification in the new age that we live in, but even with the world at our literal fingertips, time and time again… our Merciful Lord nudges us to bring forth for us a profound lesson that no matter how much we try to cheat the system, force something, or steer destiny, we’re never in charge. Allah’s lessons come at a time to remind us of just how little we are, and how Great He really is.

And as with Duniya, it seems to be true of people too… the more you chase, the more it evades us. Sometimes you have to just let things be, to let things take it’s course, as tiresome or painful as it may be. And its something that we cant avoid because that’s when Qadr comes in. What’s meant to be. What’s not meant to be. It’s generally the sublime knowledge and acceptance that whatever has occurred has simply happened the way it had because it was in your Taqdeer. Although it may mean that maybe that contract wasn’t meant for you, or that job opportunity evaded you… it means that whatever loss, hurt or even pain occurs… it just so happened that way because it was in your Taqdeer. It was Qadr.

Sayyiduna ‘Abdullah ibn ‘Amr ibnul ‘As says, I heard Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) say:

“Allah has ordained [the destiny] of the creation fifty thousand years before he created the skies and the earth”

(Sahih Muslim, Hadith: 2653)

You see, the concept of Taqdeer is an amazing process that takes its own course. And yes, it’s natural to have complicated thoughts when trying to understand it. Even knowing what we do, sometimes we wonder how and why and even what if…

And at times, the thoughts can get overwhelming. Why things happen the way they do. Sometimes we get carried away with our own visions and aims in life, that when something throws us off base, we don’t quite know how to deal with it.

And we all needed ways to deal with what life throws us at times.  Something to alleviate the mountains that we carry, especially when we were feeling mentally crowded and needing to unburden.

And as the water engulfed my entire body, and I felt myself truly release… in that alternative, liquid world, it was here that I often found freedom of my mind, letting go of all the worries of the world, as the definitive silence presented to me the golden opportunity that I had been aching for to let my mind drown in its own thoughts.

Open water swimming had always been my thing, my go-to, my refuge.

I had forgotten the feeling. Swimming at night had been my subordinate option at one time in my life, during the second and third year of studies, when I needed break from the constant battering of modules that I wasn’t sure I’d make the cut for.

And it wasn’t the real deal because I missed that open feeling like a hole in my gut. Mountains in the distance. Diving into the sunrise, or breaking into the jaw-dropping sunsets. No visible limits to where the oceans ended. Seagulls flying above, sometimes joining me for a dip before getting on with their daily duties…

It was where I found my base, got my focus, explored my true ambition.

I felt almost like it was wrapping me in a protective layer of comfort and security… my mind was somewhat appeased, once again.

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was  the coldness surrounded me, engulfing my senses, making me forget the worries of the day until they reached a state of numbness, almost as if the water was washing it away.

I almost forgot about the past work week. About the stressful and urgent audits and recons that my brain had become accustomed to dealing with at the last minute, about the the things I wanted to forget when there was drama a few months before that I had to deal with Faadil… and now the revelation that very week that had brought it all back for me.

I wasn’t quite sure how I became a center of this issue but there I was, trying to forget what I had overheard Lesley saying to Mickey in a fit of mistaken rage about Faadil, just like the girl I had dated a few months back for a brief period had confirmed too.

Turned out that Faadil was bordering strongly on sexual harassment in the workplace, and whether the girls were consenting to it or not initially… I knew that he was now taking it to another level. If I knew two of the girls, there were probably more. As much as I didn’t want to involve myself in these type of things I knew it was only a matter of time that someone had to expose him. I just didn’t want to be the person to do it.

And then of course, to top off the stress, tonight was the emergency with Mohsina’s father and my heart was literally in my throat as I prayed with all my night that he’d make it through. I wasn’t sure whether I should go or not, whether it was appropriate or not… but it had come to a point where I cared about Mohsina’s family too, even if she didn’t know or appreciate it.

I was still wondering if I did the right thing, if I reacted too harshly, whether I should take a stand at work tomorrow or whether I needed to just switch myself off… but as the lights from above the surface penetrated through, and my head broke through to the surface, my sister’s annoyed voice was a sure reality check that pulled me right out of my innermost thoughts.

“Your phones been ringing off the hook for the past seven minutes!” She almost shouted in exasperation, holding it in the air while I wiped my face with one hand and made my way to the steps. I dried my hands on the towel next to the pool rail and grabbed it, looking at the list of missed calls.

Liyaket (4)

M Husayn (2)

An unknown number had tried another 3 times.

I supposed that one of the downfalls of hiding underwater from the world was that you couldn’t hear a thing that was happening beyond it. As comforting as it was, it didn’t mesh well with emergencies.

Rabia was looking at me quizzically as I towel dried my dripping body and dialled Liyaket back. It was late. My twin sister was in pyjamas and looking like I had disturbed her peace but I wasn’t really bothered about that. My sister disturbed my peace way too often for my liking. All these missed calls were a little bit concerning.

“Hey,” I said, as he picked up the phone. “You called?”

”Where you?” He asked, sounding a little panicked. “You know where’s Mohsina?”

”Err, no,” I said obviously, still breathing a little heavily from the underwater dives. “Hospital last. Why?”

”No one can get hold of her,” he replied. “Phones off. Last she was at there and then just disappeared.”

Maybe she had decided to take a break from the drama?

”Any other reason to panic?” I asked. This was sounding fishy but there were other possibilities besides assuming the worst. I was a pretty calm guy and didn’t usually jump to conclusions.

“I don’t know,” he concluded. “It’s been an hour. You should be worried. I don’t even know why you guys are taking so long to make this thing final. Then we wouldn’t have all these problems .”

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling a tinge of regret at the way I behaved earlier. Liyaket was right. But as much as I wanted to bring the Nikah forward, Mohsina’s father didn’t seem to be as keen. Earlier on had been a test, because it was my sister who had told me about her father… and she had seen it on Instagram. It was just… unexpected.

I was upset. No doubt. But it wasn’t a game changer. I also understood that my future wife was dealing with a situation that was beyond her control and made a mistake.

Now, to make amends, I was trying her brother, only to get voicemail. They had done a full search of the hospital now and all they had found was her card holder that might have fallen out her bag.

And I was starting to get worried. I mean, of course I cared about her. Despite what had happened in earlier, despite my mood, despite her mistakes, despite everything, she was someone I cared about. A lot.

Water was still dripping from my hair as I irritatedly wiped it, pulling my t-shirt over me as the cold evening air hit my chest with a vengeance. It was November but the chill was strangely very palpable. I quickly put on my shoes, knowing that I had to see what I could do. Dialling Mohsina’s number, it went straight to voicemail. We knew that we needed to call someone to help track it, because that was our only bet.

Rabia was watching me pacing with a strangely worried look on her face. She was looking a bit too concerned although it wasn’t a secret that the two of them didn’t seem to hit it off.

”You sure it’s not a false alarm?” She asked, and I immediately realised why she was asking. She didn’t like all the attention I was giving this.

“I don’t know,” I shot back. “Why don’t you check her Instagram?”

It was a dig at my sister as well as Mohsina, but I couldn’t control my annoyance. It did seem like my sister had it in for her but that was the least of my concerns.

I had literally just grabbed my keys to head out when a call came from hey future brother-in-law, saying she had just arrived and looked a little out of sorts but she was adamant that she was okay and there was no need to worry.

And of course there was no need to panic. I felt a little stupid for being paranoid, but with the crime rates I did expect something to have happened and it turned out that she had gone to get something to eat down the road and been pick-pocketed. It didn’t sound highly traumatic. There was an accident on the way back and that’s what caused her delay. That was all the information I had gotten between them and Liyaket, and to be honest, I was just glad that she was okay. I didn’t think anything more. I didn’t think it was a good time to go over there right then. Her house was a good 20 minutes away, even without the peak-hour Jo’burg traffic.

And so I left it at that. It was completely uncharacteristic of her to miss work usually but given the situation, I kind of expected it when she didn’t pitch up on Friday.

And because I was feeling bad about being hard on her at the hospital, and now the stolen phone incident, the next day I hastily dialed the usual florist I use to deliver some roses and a card. I knew it would be good to check with  them if they needed anything. I called her father and I was glad that he did seem to be feeling much better the following day. I was glad that things were settling down.

And as life goes, I also knew that things were not always easy. Even though I didn’t always act like it, I liked to think that I was a mature guy. I knew that as a couple, we would have our differences, even in the future. I also knew that as much as she seemed to be independent and tough, there was a vulnerability about Mohsina that had attracted me to her in the first place. It was something that I had glimpsed in a place far away from the rat-race of our workplace, out in the openness, somehow connecting us in a way we never had presumed possible. It was something that changed the way we saw each other, but also made us take a step that we never thought we would.

But that was that, and I had repented. That was it. There was no going back there. I knew that I was wrong now. I mean, there was only so much of sin you could make before you realized how it was breaking you. But chemistry was often what made us step into the red zone.

I mean, even in Islam, you’re allowed to be attracted to someone. The inclinations itself is not haram, it’s the sin that usually comes with it and that we had both fought hard to stay away from for the past few weeks. For a brief moment, I saw a part of Mohsina that was always what I had wanted. She was gorgeous, quirky and funny, and most of all… for those moments I had spent with her, she was present. It was pure and unfiltered, and that was the part of her that I was going to capture again… because once we were married, there would be no boundaries.
That was when we didn’t have to hold back… and when the real adventure would begin.

And as mankind was made, one couldn’t control the heart. It was restless with trepidation… awaiting the big event in my life, yearning for companionship but also apprehensive about the responsibility this would bring.

Staying away wasn’t easy but focusing on my own journey helped. From the baseless and tormented soul that was fluttering around, trying to find my base and some kind  of hope for myself during these past few years… I wasn’t going to be so hard on her. I knew I also needed to be patient. There were a few deal-breakers but for now what I did know was that we were now in tune with what we wanted in life and that had reached a place where neither of us would ever do anything to intentionally hurt the other… or so I had thought.

It was after the weekend of tremendous waleemah planning and who-should-be-on-the-invite-list brainstorming that I was trying to escape that I finally checked into the office on Monday, determined to get my thoughts off the wedding for the week. It had been the first wedding in a few years and my family was going a little overboard. My head was filled with their mundane details that I didn’t care about, but with the wedding planning, came me thinking about my future wife way too much than was acceptable.

And I went in early on purpose, hoping to get into my office and get in a smoke break before Mohsina got to work that morning. As per routine, Faadil summoned me to his office for the usual passing of his allocated work to me that happened every week.

He looked at me as I walked in, eyeing me out in his Armani suit and matching tie, looking like he was ready for a killer week already. I watched him, expressionless, as he flipped though his MacBook, unable to shake the irate feeling I got when I watched him with his steely eyes and unapproachable demeanour. He knew that I knew things I shouldn’t. He just didn’t know how much.

“You sure you don’t want that position?” He asked breezily as he glanced over to me, as if it was all cool between us. “You’re the most  scrupulous auditor here, you do know that?”

It was the closest to a compliment I had ever got from him and I wondered what brought it on. But no. The buttering up wasn’t going to convince me to be driven into accepting a position at Hammond’s. I was done.

“Nah,” I said indifferently. “I’m all good.”

And after turning down the external auditor offer he had tried to force on me twice last week, I could see that he was trying to drown me in work. What I did know was that if he pushed me too hard, I had enough blackmail on him that I could expose and I wasn’t scared to do it.

Besides the womanizing that I had caught him in the act doing more than a few times, Faadil was good at his job in a way that he kept his team way too busy to be worried about anything else besides work, and that was exactly what I needed that week.

And when I finally saw Mohsina at work after her weekend, I didn’t notice anything majorly different. She still seemed pretty together, and I had even seen her laughing with Lesley as I passed by and greeted them from far. She didn’t even seem to be bothered about last weeks ordeal in any way, and I was glad she was finally feeling well enough to be at work.

And so there I was, even though Faadil annoyed the crap out of me, and his womanising ways were quite disgusting, I put up with him because I needed a good referral. I was intent on doing my best and getting out, so I knew that even though I had left Hammond’s behind me, I had kicked it’s butt before I did.

Everything seemed to be going well. Despite the small hiccups, despite the fact that work was becoming a little overbearing, I loved what I did and I didn’t hide it.

It was one of those mornings when things seemed to be fitting perfectly in place, like an old puzzle, when a bulk e-mail from Faadil popped up in my inbox. I didn’t open it straight away because I was busy with a last minute SARS reconciliation that someone hadn’t completed but before I knew it, I could hear the office almost sparking now with conversation. It sounded like an exciting chatter, and as I looked around me, I realised that maybe that mail was a little more important and as I clicked on it, my eyes scanning the contents, my heart dropped fifty feet below my desk, as I digested what it meant.

At first, I thought there was a mistake. I mean, no-one was so self-absorbed to not even understand the basics of the journey we were about to take together. To not even consult about something so majorly important. Could it have been possible that she had not even realised the implications of this?

Last we discussed, Mohsina was thinking of taking a year off to explore working from home opportunities and it suited me fine. This, though. This was the worst thing that could happen and I didn’t even know how to digest it.

I glanced at the announcement again, now processing what it said…

We would like to announce a brand new Senior External Auditor. Mohsina has been with us for over a year now and we are thrilled to have her with us, permanently now, starting a new journey…

I pushed my chair backwards, feeling dizzy as I got up, my entire world feeling like it was crashing down.

Maybe there were signs before this but at that moment me it was as clear as day.

This was the last straw. I knew exactly what had to happen now.

Whether it was fate or destiny, I wasn’t sure… but some things were just not worth fighting for…

Was so good hearing from everyone… I know its a cliff hanger but we’re getting to it soon…🤍

One of the dear sisters suggested Wazifahs for kidnapping etc. I know of a foolproof Duaa that is always so effective when finding anything that’s lost or stolen. With Yaqeen, Insha Allah, it will be returned.

If anyone else knows any Wazifahs or amals, please do comment below. It will be much appreciated and I’ll create a separate page for it Insha Allah.

Much Love,

A xx

Duaa for lost item and persons 

اللهُمَّ رَادَّ الضَّالَّةِ، وَهَادِيَ الضَّلَالَةِ تَهْدِي مِنَ الضَّلَالَةِ، ارْدُدْ عَلَيَّ ضَالَّتِي بِقُدْرَتِكِ وَسُلْطَانِكَ، فَإِنَّهَا مِنْ عَطَائِكَ وَفَضْلِكَ

Allahumma raddad dallati wa hadiyad dalalati tahdi minad dalalati urdud ‘alayya dallati bi qudratika wa sultanika fa innaha min ‘ata-ika wa fadlik.


Sunnah of Making Salaam

It’s common nowadays that even when seeing other Muslims out and about, people are hesitant to greet. Let’s try and bring back this beautiful Sunnah and reignite the love ❤️

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

٤ جمادى الأولى

Hazrat أنس رضى الله تعالى عنه narrates that he passed by some children, so he greeted them (made Salaam) and he said: رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم used to do so (greet children).

(Bukhaaree Shareef/Muslim Shareef)

Greeting children inculcates humility, and at the same time, teach children the importance of offering Salaam.
It creates love and affection in hearts.
If there is fear of lust, by greeting a pretty girl or handsome lad, then one should refrain.








FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

A Wake Up Call

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 21

Often what makes us fall into despair is focusing on the wrong things. As it often happened, in my warped state of mind, when I was in trying situations, my mind tricked me into doing things that I knew were never going to benefit me, but regardless of that knowledge, still sucked me in.

And I knew I got it all wrong. And many of us do get it wrong a lot of the time. When we’re feeling a little broken, instead of focusing on the one who can fix us, we focus on the break. Instead of focusing on ar- Rahman, the Most Merciful, we focus on our sin. When we’re in pain, instead of focusing on the One who removes pain, we dwell in the pain. In this way, when dealing with problems of this Duniya, we focus on this life, but not the perfection of Allah Ta’ala. All of our pain, our despair, our heartache… is only because we focus on creation, instead of the Creator Himself. Sometimes we have to check where our heart is at and I knew that I had some serious introspection to do. I just couldn’t drag myself out of my rut yet. Sometimes we needed a wake up call to pull us out.

And as I sat on the bench, waiting for more feedback about just father, while Ma and Nani sat diligently reading their Yaaseen, there I was, flipping the camera on my phone, taking a picture of the clinical tiles of the hospital, convinced that it was just the diversion I needed.

This needed some live footage. Plus, this was a real drama. My father was actually not critical anymore, but he was still under observation and so with the pressure easing, a quick post and update was just what I needed. I had initially posted in my stories, requesting duaas, asking for prayers… hoping and praying fervently that Papa would be okay when emotions were at their most overwhelming  .. but now that the wait and desperation was over, I knew that a good soppy post and dedication would be just the thing to fix me… right?

”What are you doing?” Jameela asked, looking slightly annoyed as she saw me tapping away.

By the time I reached the hospital, Jameela had given me the news that Papa was stable. It was a relief, of course, but it didn’t mean that Papa was in the safe zone. The doctors were running some tests and we’d know for sure in the morning if he would have to ubdergo an op or not. Ma and Nani were having dhikr-reading marathons and using their WhatsApp groups for the best while I fulfilled my own attention cravings.

“Catching up on Insta,” I replied indifferently. In my mind, it wasn’t even flagged as a a problem. I continued to type.

You always encouraged me to pursue my dreams.

You taught me that there is no substitute for hard work.

You told me to fly and I knew I could do it.
My Papa, my hero. The one who motivated me. Who helped me to get where I am today.

I love you so much and wish you the speediest recovery so that we can have you here, edging us on again. Can’t imagine life without you 💔

It was a great post and it captured my emotions perfectly, but something was missing. There was just something about social media… something that devalued the dedication… and the truth was that it just didn’t make sense because Papa wouldn’t ever see it because he didn’t have Instagram and didn’t really care much about social media.

But, that wasn’t the point. It was my refuge. I was feeling pretty battered. Broken and tired and all sorts of stressed out. Social media and people had always been my answer, my refuge and my solution, no matter what situation I found myself in. Although I had improved in some aspects, it was still very much a part of my life. Sometimes someone’s comment or words of motivation would just kind of hit home for me. Maybe someone’s DM would inspire me. But today… well today, I wasn’t sure what it was but it seemed like nothing was working.

Jameela was still throwing me weird glances as I typed away, but I didn’t care. It was easy for her to act all righteous and judgemental. She didn’t have the responsibility of work and a career and having to deal with annoying people every day. She didn’t have to come home from a long day and feel the need to zone out of reality for a bit.

I respected her for way of doing things (even her weird ideas that she was convinced about) and she needed to respect mine. My sister and I were complete opposites in terms of our coping mechanisms. Often, she would assess things quietly and then talk them through, while often for me, I would say nothing to anyone but almost everything on social media. It was my way of dealing, but this incident was testing my limits… just a little.

I sighed as I finished my long post about the past hour, sitting here, full of anxiety and slightly exaggerating how we were dealing with it, when Jameela spoke, sounding relieved.

“There’s Layyanah,” Jameela said, and I glanced up as I saw my friend and entering with her hand over her little baby bump. I was already swooning. She was so cute. “And Liyaket’”

I didn’t think they’d come. But wait, who told them?

But it didn’t matter because as I glanced again, I instantly felt a little better as I saw them … and then a few seconds later, Hamzah was following, entering behind them both.

And I did a little double take because Hamzah was wearing a light-coloured kurta and prayer hat which shocked me, but then I kind of figured that he had probably left mosque and rushed here. He had these Thursday night programmes that he had started attending that were part of his whole new journey and it was quite inspiring. Well, in theory.

For a moment my resolve weakened and I felt like crumbling, knowing that I could finally offload onto someone.

“Hey doll, Salaam,” Layyanah was already in front of me and I got up, allowing her to wrap her arms around me so I could bury my face into her shoulder, even if it was just for a few moments of comfort and salvation, while I attempted to gain my composure once again.

I had to admit, even for me given the situation, it was extremely difficult to keep it together, because at that moment, even though my father was stable for now, all the possibilities that had overwhelmed me were still very much playing on my mind. I had become all kinds of snotty and emotional for a few minutes as I drove home, breaking previous records for tissue consumption and really just going all out this time.

To tell the truth, I really could not bear the thought of life without my father. My life would be crumbling if that thought was a reality…

I greeted Hamzah briefly, a little surprised that he had come, and I could see something on his mind, but he could see Ma and Nani watching him and expecting his attention instead. And I ignored the idea of something being amiss because we weren’t married or anything and it wasn’t exactly important to me but as he passed me, going over to greet them, I could see the hurt in his eyes as he unmistakably shook his head at me.

I swallowed hard, not quite sure how to deal. He seemed upset. Disappointed. Why though, I didn’t understand.

And maybe I wanted him to say something. I mean, I was demented like that. I liked a challenge. Someone who questioned me. Disagreed with me. Pointed out my faults and fought it out. I was a unique kind of crazy but he said nothing and then went back to where Liyaket was while Layyanah stood with me for a while before the doctor came, asking simple questions about what happened and making small talk.

She was just there to comfort me but the cold shoulder from Hamzah was very palpable. After speaking to my brother he had briefly greeted Nani and Ma and left. He had basically come for them, not me. And that was okay. Who cared? 

“What’s Hamzah’s deal?” I asked Layyanah, seeing them getting ready to leave too. Layyanah just shrugged and said something about him finding out about my father’s condition from his sister, and told me she’ll chat to me later again.

And of course I didn’t want to keep her and give her my pathetic explanation, so instead, I knew just the person to bug.

And when I plopped down next to Jameela again, I was all aggro and annoyed because I obviously felt like he was overreacting and I was pretty fussed up and l let Jameela know just that.

”Can you believe Hamzah?” I said, clearly miffed. “Acting all holier than thou and then getting fussed up like I owe him something? I’m the one whose supposed to be having a tragedy here. What is his deal even?!”

Jameela glanced at me, almost as if she was unsure of what to say. Or whether she should say it.

”What?” I said, frowning. “Stop giving me that look.”

What I didn’t know was that my sister was just a little less tactful in telling me exactly what I needed to know when I did.

”You told Instagram before anyone else,” she said pointedly. “You do know that? It’s like those people who find out their family member passed away via a broadcast or WhatsApp status. Do you even know how that feels? A private and personal thing that happened… maybe you could have let him know some other way?”

I scowled. She was on his side, duh.

”Did you even tell Layyanah?”

Layyanah? What did Layyanah have to do with this? Everything was okay. Papa was going to be okay. And I didn’t get it.

“Think about how they feel,” she said. “How we feel too. It’s my father… a family matter… and you put it out there for all your followers who know nothing about our lives to see. I messaged Layyanah. She said Hamzah wanted to come but not on his own, so he asked them to come too. You should be happy someone cares about your family as much to actually come and check. He even spoke to the doctor, do you even know that?”

After a few minutes that I realised how stupid I was and how I kept on putting myself in the bush over and over again. I could share the entire details with the social media world, give them the time of day, be so open and divulging where no one truly cared… but for the people who did care… well, I didn’t care two hoots about telling them.

“We have so much to make shukar for,” she continued, sounding like she was about to launch into a Bayaan. “Ma was just saying that it could have been an instant life-changing event. We lucky it’s just a warning. To make shukar to Allah is the least we can do… by being obedient and thanking him.. by recognising what part He played here to make it all turn out okay. I suppose we all have to make changes in our life.”

I knew she was hinting at my social media obsessions and it was a low blow. I didn’t even tell Layyanah. Who was I even looking for what from?

But now I was feeling guilty. Terrible, in fact.

What I didn’t know was that hardships were not meant to overcome, blinded, just to cross the bridge and get it done with. It turns out that hardships, trials, difficulties… Allah places at certain points in our life when we need Him most, and so we could turn to Him. And yes, I was trying to be better recently. Choosing Allah’s pleasure above my leisure. Weaning myself off Netties. Trying not to be so obsessed with reels.
But the fact was that when we choose Allah, when we become closer to Him, when we put Him above everything else, when we submit… it wasn’t always an easy life that we were promised. And the story of Umm Habibah (RA), wife of the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) was one that always stuck with me, when I thought of how sacrificing everything for Allah’s pleasure often didn’t bring you immediate rewards. Sometimes we have to toil, endure and wait a little longer before we see the fruits we reap through our patience.

Umm Habibah (RA) was one of the emigrants along with her husband, Ubaidullah ibn Jahsh, who was the first cousin of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam). To her misfortune, Ubaidullah, for some reason or another, took to drinking, and converted to Christianity.
Thus, Umm Habibah had to suffer not only separation from her home and family at Makkah, but she also suffered alienation from a beloved husband. Yet, as a courageous believer, she bore all these difficulties with patience and perseverance, finding solace in the freedom she enjoyed along with the other emigrants in Abyssinia under the protection of Emperor Negus who was an open-minded Christian.

And though this was far from easy, Allah is never unaware of the difficulties of His beloved slaves. He saw to her needs, and honoured her not only by being asked in marriage to Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) but she was also honored by having the Emperor of Abyssinia himself proxy suitor. Her marriage was unique and one of its kind, and Allah Ta’ala beautifully elevated her status through it.

It was a sound reminder for me that when you choose Deen and you put Allah first and look for your solutions with what Allah has ordained, though things may seem difficult and trying, there is always a perfect ending that Allah has prepared for his righteous slaves.

And okay, I got her point. Maybe I was trying to dilute my emotions by drowning them in social media. Perhaps I wasn’t dealing with this in the best way. Yes, it was hurtful what I did, I supposed, but sometimes I just didn’t think. My heart was bursting with emotion. On one side was my father and my family, the one part of my life that had been constant and always there, whether social media featured or not, and then there was Hamzah, this new addition that I was still trying to figure out exactly where he belonged.

And as Jameela got talking to some lady next to us, I knew that the only way to break away and set this right was to stash my phone for now and make my presence felt. Going up to where my fathers ward was, I took a little detour, taking time to think and hoping they would let me in. The hospital wasn’t especially fancy. It had good doctors and their nurses were said to be pretty decent.

I walked through a deserted corridor, slowly looking around, taking in the clinical decor with a dash of colour here and there. The medical ward where Papa was, was about two rows down, and as I passed a middle aged Muslim man with a bulge under his shirt, I didn’t even think much of it, as another guy followed behind.

“Her!” The man shouted. “It’s her. The daughter! Get her!”

It took a split second after for me to realize it was the man in front that was signalling to the one behind, and before I even knew what was going on, the man behind was already slap-bang in my  path, instantly pushing and slamming me hard against the wall behind me whilst covering my mouth with his sweaty palm. I was frozen with panic, gagging as the combination of his body odour and stench of cigarette breath overwhelmed me. My scarf was shifting as he held me, and I felt myself trying to reach to cover my hair at least, as the man held me even more fiercely, but it was no use. I felt paralysed with fear.

“Scream and I’ll shoot you,” he muttered in a raspy breath, as I felt the tip of a handgun press into my rib-cage and my breath quickened substantially. I honestly could not believe what was happening, as tried to look frantically around for someone to help.

How could I be all alone in a public place? Except for the two men, the floor was absolutely deserted.

As panic rose within me, I tried with all my might to break free and run, but he was already onto me, and I was like a trapped rabbit. The guy was too strong and savage, pinning me even harder as he felt me struggle, and before I knew it, I was shoved into a side door and we were going down an emergency staircase that was even more isolated than the hospital corridor.

This was it. No one would hear me here and I could feel the tears streaming down my face as I thought of my parents, family and friends, not knowing what these two disgusting men were probably going to subject me to, or where I was going. Not knowing if they would hurt me, kill me or kidnap me… I knew that this had to do with money but I didn’t want to accept my fathers current predicament until now. There were too many fears that had been confirmed, yet too many questions marks. This was the last straw for them and I knew that these people were brutal enough to get what they wanted by any means, even if it meant hurting someone to get it.

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought of this happening to me. I had been so caught up in a world that was so far from reality. Sheltered by my privilege. Delusional by illusion. Unaware of how my situation could change in a split second, if I didn’t watch where I was headed… and that was precisely how it was going down.

Life was taking a deliberately sickening twist and it was an awakening that was going to blow things way out of proportion…

Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

It’s been a bit quiet and I’m sure everyones been busy… hope to hear from readers soon..

Thoughts on Mohsina? Is a wake up call necessary and will it help?

look forward to reading your thoughts…🤍


A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival:

Sunnah of Making Salaam

It’s common nowadays that even when seeing other Muslims out and about, people are hesitant to greet. Let’s try and bring back this beautiful Sunnah and reignite the love ❤️

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

٤ جمادى الأولى

Hazrat أنس رضى الله تعالى عنه narrates that he passed by some children, so he greeted them (made Salaam) and he said: رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم used to do so (greet children).

(Bukhaaree Shareef/Muslim Shareef)

Greeting children inculcates humility, and at the same time, teach children the importance of offering Salaam.
It creates love and affection in hearts.
If there is fear of lust, by greeting a pretty girl or handsome lad, then one should refrain.








FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

An Offer to Refuse

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 20

Everyone’s journey is different. Every soul is shaped differently. Some people just take longer to touch base… some people just need a little more time to find their mettle.

But the goal to take that step… to make that change… to take the plunge… well, as time passes, it’s become something that’s increasingly difficult to achieve. With the dust that comes with social media, with the mindless scrolling and tainted illusion that sucks you in… in a new era, there are many new things that had evolved and occurred and sometimes we are at a loss for words because we cannot understand exactly how science and technology and the information overload that comes with it has taken over our minds and this world.

It’s not difficult to see how it’s effect has thrown us completely off base. In the effort to connect with everyone around us, we often forsake the connection that we should be aspiring for – we forget the One Who controls it all.. we forget what should be the most important. And with the device of delusion that’s continuously stuck to our hand, though it’s connected people to the entire world, it has disconnected a great number from Allah Ta‘ala… as well as from those closest to them.

And it scared me sometimes. Many things did. I was scared of changing, of not changing. Of being over the top, and of not being enough. I’m scared of finally taking that step, only to find out that it wasn’t in the right direction. I’m scared of knowing what I want, but not having the courage to finally reach for it. I was scared of the unknown, and at that stage of my life when I felt like I was on the fence, I was desperately scrounging around for scraps of inspiration, and I just wasn’t getting it.

“Hey Mos,” Lesley called from the other side of the office. “Can you figure this audit? I’ve sent you the evidence docs and I’ve checked and rechecked but I can’t see what Faadil is saying I need to see. By the way, I love your outfit today. And you are looking awesome. Your hijab style is goals.”

I looked as Lesley, as she walked towards me. She was wearing a pretty pink blouse and a grey skirt, which kind of matched with my charcoal coloured modest suit that I had bought online last week. Inside I had work a mustard cami and my matching hijab was slightly more draped than it usually was and I barely thought she’d notice. How Lesley even knew about Hijab style was beyond me.

As for me, I was just starting to revamp my wardrobe when I realized that I may not be working in an office next year, and the thought was making me slightly depressed. I knew that it was shallow but I was really looking forward to that part of my career. The part where I busted money on cute outfits and then regretted it.

I sighed and clicked on my inbox icon, opening the document and scanning through the bottom figures, cross checking them with the evidence she sent.

“It’s going to take a while,” I said, rubbing my temples. My head was pounding. I had already sat through two meetings and was currently working on a review for next week’s audit and my brain was cooked.  “Have you ticked all the boxes. Maybe there’s no real issue with this one?”

”Faadil says there is,” she said sulkily. “He’s so bloody sticky when it comes to these things and he won’t even go easy on me even though I’ve been to him twenty times – heyyyy, Hamzah. Auditing master. Just the guy I need.”

Where did he pop up from? 

Hamzah was walking past and I could only assume that he was coming from a rooftop smoke break because that was usually when he silently passed this way.

We did try to avoid each other as much as possible. It was awkward but being around other people when we couldn’t be transparent was also strange.

Of course, the situation wasn’t ideal but it kept us away from sin and that was important for me on this new journey I was trying to take. I just wasn’t sure on how far I was getting with it. Every day was one step forward, and then two steps back, as I got caught up in something or the other. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be even remotely pious?

Lesley grinned and stood up, purposely showing off a little bit more leg than necessary as she walked around to the front of my table and leaned over to open the otter documents. Since my desk was right in front I supposed it was easier to just use my computer, never mind that they were disturbing my peace.

I shook my head and pushed my chair backwards begrudgingly, giving her enough space to manoeuvre without cramping my style. Some things didn’t change.  At least her skirts were getting a teeny bit longer though. I wasn’t sure if she was actually getting modest or if it was the whole modest fashion thing that was just catching onto her. Either way, there had been some good changes. It was trending nowadays anyway.

“Hey Les,” Hamzah said as he came closer, and I glanced at him. Today he looked like Hamzah from the office. Not Hamzah that I saw on Sunday and made my family go gaga over him.

“Salaam, howsit?” It was a general greeting aimed at me that seemed pretty neutral. I hadn’t seen him today and I nodded back, pushing myself further back because I really didn’t need Lesley catching onto any vibes.

I was perfectly fine with steering clear of office rumours (even if they may be true) and so was Hamzah.

He glanced at me but said nothing more as he moved around to the front of my desk to look at what Lesley was talking about.

She was explaining something about the financial recording and then what Faadil said about how she couldn’t solve this to save her life or her job. Faadil did run a tight ship, but sometimes he was just mean.

“It may be something small that slipped through the cracks,” he said  scanning through the documents that were on my MacBook for two minutes. “Oh yes, there we go.”

He clicked a few times and then finally typed in something and stood up again. He loosened his tie and I looked away and I could see him expertly placing himself close enough to get his point across but far enough not to have to invade personal space or look at her directly. He sent the documents back to her before he quickly explained what the issue was and then went off, back to his side of the offices.

And of course, I breathed a huge sigh of relief as he left but for some reason, I was a little unsettled.

It was the obvious change and no-one could miss it. I knew it. I’m sure Lesley noticed but she was so grateful that it didn’t faze her. The thing was, he didn’t make small talk or chit chat. With anyone. Not like he used to, where he would humour or even drop a line here or there. No side glances. He didn’t even look at Lesley for goodness sake.

It was just pure business and nothing else. No hidden agenda. And of course, I couldn’t believe it, but the evidence was all there. Hamzah was actually a changed guy and to tell the truth, it was leaving me feeling a little bit at a loss.

I sighed as I watched him walk through the electronic doors, unsure of what to feel.

And I know. I know what you thinking. I was acting harami-like. Of course I should have been happy. I mean, this was huge. Life-changing. Amazing. I was so happy for him.

But my fear, as always, was: where did that leave me? Here he was, this great maulana-like personality with so much of modesty and shame all of a sudden, and there I was, miles from there, not even sure when my journey was going to start.

“You okay?” Lesley said, and I only realised then that she was still at my desk. Still tapping away, using my laptop, even though Hamzah had sent her the files she needed so she could go back to her own desk and sort her stuff out. He obviously saw the peeved look on my face. He knew the things that annoyed me.

“I’m fine,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I just like my space.”

Why were people so invested in my space?

”Ooh,” Lesley said. “A little edgy this morning, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes. I really missed Layyanah some days. Lesley was a bit draining and best preferred in small doses. Plus I couldn’t chat about Hamzah to her. She didn’t know a thing yet.

“I need to finish this review,” I said, feeling a little bad and knowing I wouldn’t have many other coffee-companions if Lesley abandoned me. “We’ll meet later for coffee?”

Lesley was asking some questions earlier in the week about some Muslim guy who worked in HR and I was hoping to tell her to steer clear before she gets carried away as usual. She was even talking about reverting, which I knew wasn’t a bad thing… but if it was only for some guy, I had to do my bit and talk to her properly. Plus I just needed her off my back for now, so I could think in peace.

This mornings meeting had taken more out of me then I thought. Everyone was finalising their posts for next year. Deciding what they would be doing. Making ‘long-term’ plans. Telling Faadil that I wasn’t intending on staying on at Hammond’s next year was actually way harder than I had thought.

“You kidding me, right?” He asked, looking at me like I was crazy. “You plan on staying home next year? That’s a joke.”

He looked appalled, and I shook my head.

“Actually, I’m hoping to start my own business,” I said quietly, trying to avoid eye contact with this allegedly handsome man that Lesley kept going gaga over.

”You opening your own firm?” He said, raising his eyebrows. Of course, that was a bit drastic.

“Not exactly,” I said, carefully. “I’m not planning on doing auditing next year.”

What exactly was I supposed to tell him? That I planned on becoming a pastry chef? He would probably laugh himself sick.

Judging from my fathers reaction, I wasn’t going to test the waters. But if I wasn’t feeling the numbers, I wasn’t feeling them. Maybe some creativity was all I needed. Even if it was just for a little while.

He was silent for a few seconds, and then got up and looked out the window which overlooked the view of Jo’burg CBD and always got me in the mood for the corporate feels. Honestly, Faadil’s office was absolutely goals. It wasn’t only huge, but it also was on the top floor which meant that he got the most stunning view, especially during the early mornings and late evening hours, when he often worked. I mean, Jo’burg was my thing. It was just pumping with life and opportunity. In fact, gazing out right now was kind of getting under my skin, and I had to check myself again.

Maybe I could live with this. The glamour of a corporate life. That’s what it was all about, right?

“I’m going to offer you something that you can’t refuse,” he finally said, pacing the office now and turning to look at me. “A senior external auditor. The offer that everyone is after. But I’ll up the incentive, by 50k. Are you in? Do we have you here at Hammond’s next year?”

I looked up at him, slightly shocked at this crazy offer. Any sane person could not possibly refuse it. Like. Who on earth even studies for so long and realises that she hates her job? The question was, I wasn’t even sure what my mental state was at that moment. How badly did he want a demented person on his payroll?

Why did I always feel like I was on the fence?

“I’m not asking for an answer now,” he said, noting my silence which was partly stemmed by shock. “Think about it. Sleep over it. By next week Friday, give me your answer.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood with confidence as he watched me trying to figure out what to say to him. Like, was he for real?

But it was a dream offer, but as sense kicked in again, I knew that I couldn’t accept. External auditors also went out of town regularly. My mother would probably freak if I left my husband and went out to work. Imagine Nani’s reaction. She would very possibly have my head.

I was already certain that I was going to refuse it but I left the room with my answer still pending.

My heart just couldn’t give it all up at once. The journey that was undergoing wasn’t an easy one. There were so many changes taking place… so much that I had to think about and wonder if this was the best thing for me.

And then there was Hamzah and his own journey, that was at a crucial point right now. In some ways, I felt like we were on completely different wavelengths, but in other ways, I expected him to be the one that would understand me the most.

All he had to do is find a job to suit his needs and settle in. With me, there were so many emotions, negotiations, compromises… which probably attested to the fact that I probably wasn’t cut out for this stuff in the first place. Why couldn’t I just figure this out? I couldn’t even figure myself out.

The thing was, everything for him was pretty clear cut. It was easier for men.

Were men just more inclined to perfection that us? I remembered a Hadith that spoke about the spiritual perfection, but there was obviously a lot of wisdom in what was mentioned.

The Messenger of Allah, Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam, said:

كَمَلَ مِنْ الرِّجَالِ كَثِيرٌ وَلَمْ يَكْمُلْ مِنْ النِّسَاءِ إِلَّا آسِيَةُ امْرَأَةُ فِرْعَوْنَ وَمَرْيَمُ بِنْتُ عِمْرَانَ

There were many men who achieved (spiritual) perfection and none were perfect among women except Asiyah, the wife of Pharaoh, and Mary, the daughter of ‘Imran.

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī

I mean, I knew about the great women of the world. About the wife of Firaun, Tyrant of all tyrants, who had such firm faith that she had endured the most brutal punishment for believing in a God other than her husband, who was convinced that he was the Almighty himself. So unshakable was her faith that Allah set her soul free before her actual murder… and rewarded her when she was being tortured in such a way that a huge boulder was dropped on her while her body was reported to be literally nailed to the ground.

And then there was Maryam (AS), mother Of Isaa (Jesus) (AS) who was the epitome of faith and chastity, and whom Allah Ta’ala had Himself sent out of season fruits for her consumption, because of her extreme piety and Tawakkul. Such were the women of the world who were our examples, who displayed beautiful patience and modesty, and yet I was still questioning what my role in life was to be…

But yes… Yes, it was harder for women, especially when we went against the natural laws of what Allah had set for us, our space in the household, against what nature intended… but was it impossible?

The thing was, who did I want to aspire to be like? Was it the women of the world that were my role models, or the women of the Aakhirah that I wanted to be with?

I didn’t even know that soul searching was still an option, I was lost in a frenzy of work and goals and aspiring to be something that the world wanted me to be but I wasn’t sure of myself.

And because it was a Thursday evening, I was taking it easy with finishing off for the day, my mind was pretty occupied as I tried to finish off the last bits of intense work before Friday came. I always liked to leave the lighter, less brain-consuming stuff for Fridays. Plus, it gave me more time to read my Qur’an and to get back into the Jumuah zone. It was Nani’s insistence that all our reading had to be finished on a Thursday night and as I grew up, I kept to that tradition and tried never to break away from it. It was just that, during the week, I was slipping.

I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet, but my spirituality was very erratic, especially if Jameela was busy and not on my back. There were too many days that I felt like I was merely existing, and not really worshiping  the way I was supposed to, praying like how I was supposed to.

And that was probably why seeing Hamzah like this, knowing that the Mosque had become his regular refuge, seeing his life changing… well, that’s why it scared me. I was all kinds of panicked, wondering what would happen if I never had to reach that stage.. if I never had to meet him where he was? Would we drift apart? Would he lose interest if I didn’t meet him on the bridge? Would he just give up on me, if I couldn’t come through?

My thoughts were a maze of infinitely overwhelming possibilities, and although I wanted to think the best, the horrid scenarios were coming at me like never before. And I barely heard my phone buzzing as I trashed a folder on my computer, realizing that it was last years audit and it was already on the cloud, so I wouldn’t need it. And as I turned to glance at Jameela’s name on my iPhone screen, which was strange because it was a normal call and not even FaceTime, I didn’t even think that there may be a deeper reason for it.

But as I picked up and I heard her panicked voice, all calm and reason flew out the window.

“Mohsina, you have to come home right now,” she said shakily, her voice sounding panicked.

I froze on the chair I was sitting on, shock waves pulsating through my body. It was like everything was crumbling around me all at once, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“There’s been a huge incident .. We’re on our way to the hospital… Papa’s had a severe heart attack. “


Don’t forget extra Durood this Jumuah. 🤍

Just a quick one – any thoughts on Mohsina, her choices, her confusion? I feel like I’m hitting home for myself a lot- but is anyone else understanding the struggle?!

Much love

A xx

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