Old Wounds

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 47

We all have things we don’t say. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, somehow, the truth always surfaces, and somehow, old wounds sometimes open up…

“Mos,” Hamzah called, as I speedily made my way down the cobbled pathway ahead of him, hearing his footsteps right behind me.

I didn’t turn back, even as his black trainers came into view, as I kept my head down. I wasn’t exactly angry, but sometimes, I could swear that Hamzah did need a filter on his mouth. And also…. well, it was good to make a guy sweat.

I was still in good spirits, despite it all.

And one of the reasons was that last night’s function had gone off smoothly. Being the first family function after years, it was actually great seeing everyone… even the annoying cousins that I usually didn’t enjoy seeing. On top of that was an influx of family, work friends… even Mickey and Lesley with Muslim guy from HR had pitched up and it was simply so amazing  to have them there on our special day.

Afterward, knowing  that Hamzah was planning to leave the next morning, we had retired to our own homes for a few hours, already exhausted, due to Zaid’s fussiness as he slept for all of four hours, before Hamzah came to fetch us both.

And it was expected that the goodbyes were a little more emotional than usual. My parents had both grown immensely attached to Zaid, and so had Nani and Jameela.

“Mohsina.”

His tone was pleading and he was slightly out of breath, having had to jog to catch up with me, but there was very evidently a speed limit on my performance, due to the baby in my arms.

”At least let me take Zaid so you can sulk in peace?”

I shot him a stony glare, not surprised to see the grin on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Open the door,” I said feistily, holding tighter onto Zaid as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys,

”Only if you forgive me,” he said earnestly, stepping forward to take Zaid from my arms. “Really. I did say I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid your question so I gave you a dumb response…”

Hmmm. Was that even an excuse? Comments like that weren’t completely baseless. That was the part that got me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking up at his face, noticing his suddenly grim expression, as he glanced at me back.

The conversation in the car had happened just a few minutes ago, but the words he had said hit a little deeper than intended.

The drive was pleasant enough, and surprisingly, Hamzah was a quiet driver.  While I chatted, snacked and munched  (mostly on chocolate) Hamzah kept his eye on the road in true dedication, determined to get there to our destination by late morning.

And even as I glanced at him from time to time, it took me a while to figure out that while I wondered if he was being quietly grumpy or if perhaps he wasn’t a morning person, that he was, in fact, actually reciting Qur’ān. As he drove the four hour drive to the local destination, sliding his phone open from time to time, probably checking some error or word he may have missed on his 13 line Quran application, Hamzah’s only purpose was to make sure he did his two para dhor for the day.

It was  after pulling into the most breathtakingly scenic road, seeing the mountains ahead of us, I had already figured that we weren’t exactly heading along  farm route like I assumed, and my first instinct was to ask him exactly what he had planned.

“So can I ask where we’re going?” I said, giving him a sideways glance as we sped along the smaller road, Hamzah’s eyes planted firmly on the road.

“Of course you can,” he said blandly, now glancing at me momentarily. “Doesn’t mean I have to tell you.”

I rolled my eyes at him as he smirked, and then turned serious again as he opened his phone again, and then moved his eyes to the road. Typical Hamzah.

And of course, as he did it, my whole intention was renewed, because even though he could obviously be a reclusive, irritable old grouch at times, I remembered my own attachment to Quran that had inspired me to change my life, and my pursuits and my spirits immediately lifted.

The fact that he was so dedicated and used this time for something worthy was quite admirable. I mean… This was, ideally, how our lives should be.

In the airport or the park, in between rounds or even in the shopping mall … our entire purpose and aim should be Qur’ān.  Qur’ān. Qur’ān. And how beautiful was it that the reading of it never makes one tired or weary… but it’s recital only increases ones love for the beautiful book of Allah. In fact, the heart only grows fonder, as recitation increases, and one finds himself or herself even more immersed in its love.

And if our hearts were pure as they should be we would never tire of reciting it.

And while I sat there watching him with severe FOMO, because I didn’t know enough of Qur’ān to recite without looking (and knowing that the minute I tried opening my phone application , I would immediately feel sick), all I could do was silently wish him to read louder as I put my head back and listened to his barely audible recitation as he continued.

“I had thought we were going to the farm,” I said when he stopped, feeling particularly soothed after three and a half hours in, not being able to take my eyes off the streaky sky that now came into full view, and seemed to stretch to beyond forever and more.

Hamzah didn’t look at me.

“Nah,” he said, as we turned into a dirt road. “Isn’t the farm standard a little… basic… for girls like you?”

Ouch.

Girls like me?

I frowned and I could immediately see the regret on his face as he realised what he had just said, and instantly apologized.

But the damage was done, and it stung. He had just implied that I was only after the big bucks. Again.

Besides, money and finances were a bit of a touchy subject for us … and I really didn’t want to delve into it.

It was just that, even my father didn’t know the full truth about what had happened when Hamzah had called off our Nikah and maybe it was time to see if Hamzah may know a little more than he let on…

But first, well… I had bigger fish to fry. He had just admitted that  there something he was hiding, too, and right then, I was determined to find out what it was.

I clenched my jaws together to stop my teeth from chattering, as we stood outside the door of the chalet where we would be spending that night at. I was literally freezing up.

I looked at his unflinching gaze, trying to read his expression. As always, Hamzah gave nothing away.

”Tell me, then, Mister,” I demanded, still annoyed but wanting to know more about the truth he wasn’t willing to reveal. “What you are avoiding telling me?”

I stepped back and plonked myself down on the cement bench behind me, not anticipating the coldness seep right through to my bone.

Yeech, it was frrreeeziing.

“Okay Missus,” he replied, shivering slightly in the morning cold too, even as he pulled on another puffer jacket over his current lightweight one. “Can we at least go inside first?”

I had one of my warmer coats over my grey modest tracksuit, while Zaid was covered in about four layers. Though the body heat was keeping him pretty comfy for now, I knew that it wasn’t a wise idea to be out in these cooler temperatures. I could also feel the tip of my nose going slightly numb, and I could assume that it would only be a few minutes before it started running unattractively, and I wouldn’t even have a hand to wipe it.

I nodded, a little half-heartedly, as Hamzah fiddled with the bunch of keys. It took a few tries before he got it, but eventually, the old wooden door creaked open and as he pushed it, signalling for me to go in, before he did, and pulled the door behind us.

And as I stepped in, I couldn’t help but feel immediately awakened, somewhere deep within me… a part of me that had been asleep for way too long.

The place was beautiful. Gorgeous, some may say. And if the door was any telltale sign of what lay beyond it, I might have thought that the place was a dump, but in actuality, I was kind of mesmerised by the untainted view before me.

SubhaanAllah. It was simply glorious. It had been a long time since I had appreciated nature like that.

The huge glass windows before me boasted most spectacular scenery, overlooking one of the most amazing canyons. For some reason, I always loved the time of year when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale… for days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless golden red array.. Autumn had always been my favourite season. The air was as crisp as the leaves on the trees, and a sky so blue spread before us, that you could drown in it…

As I stared, for a minute, I forgot that I even had Zaid in my arms.

”Do you like it?”

I withheld my answer until I put Zaid down, glad to see that he didn’t even stir. He had been up early, despite the late night, and it was about time he caught up with all his missing sleep.

”This is stunning,” I said truthfully. “I’m not sure how you even found this place.”

It was tucked away at the end of one of the most bumpy dirt roads, but it was worth getting up at 4am and travelling eternity and beyond for.

It also looked like a woman had a hand in the room preparation.

Rose petals were scattered along the floor, and bottled grape juice was perched on the bed pedestal. I wanted to ask him if Rabia had been involved, but mentioning her would probably immediately dampen my spirits. I didn’t want to stoop down to her level and rat her out, but Rabia had come to take Zaid the night before, it felt like she gave me the complete cold shoulder and I was a little annoyed about it.

Like, what did I ever do to her, except give her tit-for-tat when she really deserved it. She couldn’t really be holding a grudge from so long, could she?

Either way, I had made a firm resolution after Ramadhaan to keep myself out of people’s business and avoid picking out their faults. Even if it meant overlooking my slightly annoying sister-in-law, and acting as if it didn’t affect me, I was at least going to try. At least Saaliha was nice, even though she kept apologising to me for her sister gatecrashing the wedding towards the end.

That was a cute thing though, and when I met her, I found myself instantly taking a liking to Fareeha too.

”I saw it online,” he said easily, pulling off his jacket as he looked around, feeling the air around us ease off, as the under-floor heating warmed it up.  “Imraan knows the people who own it. Strangest thing ever. They have an Instagram page.  It actually looks exactly like the pictures.”

He had that look on his face and I knew he was trying to provoke a reaction and the old squabble we always had about social media, but nowadays, it didn’t bother me much. With all the excitement during the past two weeks, I didn’t quite need the dopamine influx and had kept my Instagram posting to a bare minimum. I had come a long way. I no longer had the urge to show my life to everyone who followed me.

The reality was far more engaging. I just hoped that I didn’t slip into old habits when things calmed down…

”I can see what you’re doing,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him as I pulled off my scarf and cap almost unconsciously. “Trying to distract me so I don’t ask about what you were hiding. Just spill it.”

And as Hamzah opened and closed his mouth, almost as if he was going to say something witty back, but got thrown off, and it only struck me then that it was the first time that he had actually seen me without my hijab, and I kind of wished that I had at least been a bit more dignified about removing it.

Why was I like this? Maybe Nani was right when she called Jameela and I jungalees yesterday.

“Okay, gorgeous,” he said breezily, after a few seconds, walking toward the glass doors that led outdoors, feeling my cheeks reddening slightly at the impromptu compliment.

He had pulled opened the door that led outside slightly, promptly lighting a cigarette as he stood there and turned to me.

“I’ll tell you, alright? I didn’t want to go back there because there are too many memories.”

He placed the cigarette in his mouth and pulled in deeply as we looked at each other, me slightly confused, before I finally asked:

”What memories exactly?” I said carefully, knowing that things may have happened there that I probably had no idea about. I had taken a seat on the ottoman at the end of the bed, facing him.

He didn’t say anything straight away. Instead, he turned his face toward the open door, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke than dawdled in the crisp morning air almost rythmically, before he turned back.

”Memories of our friends,” he said in low tone, after a few seconds of silence. “Liyaket. His wedding. Being there with him almost every holiday before that. Memories of all the good times I want to forget. Those kind of memories. You know?”

I swallowed and nodded, feeling an inevitable wave of grief overcome me as I digested just how lost Hamzah seemed right then.

I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect him to actually have real emotions that affected him and made him into entirely different and softer kind of character, who wasn’t always messing around and chasing the next good thing.

Death. One of the most painful reminders about the inevitability of this life. One of the most resilient kind of forces that pull you right out of your comfort zone.

I wanted to go forward and comfort or hug him, offer him some soothing words, but… well, we weren’t exactly at that kind of comfort level with each other as yet and I couldn’t even think of what to say…

Also, he was puffing away at his menthol cigarettes with such ferocity that I wasn’t sure that he’d even notice me through all that smoke.

As you may have gathered, I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hamzah’s smoking habit and often stayed as far away as possible.

And it was just as well, because Hamzah had already slipped through the opening, onto the balcony, and I didn’t blame him.

It was a most enchanting outlook. Mountains upon mountains, with the sun at its highest point right then, almost unveiling the naturally landscaped glory of nature that mesmerised us so completely.

A wired little bird feeder was situated on the edge of the balcony, and while I watched, tiny, colourful birds made their way in and out through little squares, arguing and teetering in a most adorable fashion as they pecked along at the scattered seeds, almost as if this was their most eventful meeting of the day.  I was sure that Zaid would enjoy watching them when he woke. He was starting to notice things and this would probably have him gurgling in glee.

And as I watched Hamzah, though I wanted to venture out too, I had a feeling that he needed his privacy right then, and I didn’t want to lose myself in the beauty as yet. Actually, I didn’t want to immerse myself in the moments, as much as they were calling out to me…

For some reason, I was still holding back. So much had happened in such a short time, and I felt as if needed to just let myself deal with it in the easiest way possible…

And as I turned away from him, knowing that Zaid would need another bottle shortly, I kind of absorbed myself in my tasks for the time-being.

I quietly folded my scarf with the pin on the counter, pulling my legs up onto the couch, I hastily pulled out laptop to check up on emails, as I tried to think of something to say when he came in next.

I stared at my laptop, a little displaced. I didn’t have anything to officially submit, but it was my new tool to keep me off social media. It wasn’t that I didn’t go on at all. I was just majorly limiting posting and getting carried away with baseless and mindless content.

Also… well, it had become a goal of mine to at least try and be the kind of wife that I wanted to. Maybe it was circumstances. Maybe it was history. Maybe it just needed more time.

I wasn’t there yet, but I knew precisely the kind I wanted to be.

An intelligent woman, a sincere well-wisher, a pious soul, a patient human, a comforting wife, a caring spouse, a loving mother, an expert homemaker… The Ideal Woman and a dream for many…

It was on the famous occasion when Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) stood up trembling, heading home to seek rest and solace in the tender care of none other than Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha).

This great woman, the best friend that she was, calmly comforted Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) giving him the strength he needed.
She addressed him thus, “By Allah! Allah Ta‘ala will never disgrace you! Indeed you join and maintain family ties, you bear the burdens of others, you earn for those who cannot acquire a livelihood, you extend hospitality to your guests and you provide assistance when a calamity or disaster strikes.”

Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha) spared no effort in consoling Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) at this greatest moment , which is perhaps the greatest of her deeds.

But this was the best of the best… and I knew that there were no greater examples that the Sahaabiya, and as looked into her life, I could tell that this was who  Sayyidah Khadeejah Al-Kubraa (radhiyallahu ‘anha) was.

And though I was inspired and aspired for something even close to that, I always knew that I would fall short, because of course, my husband wasn’t the greatest human of all time, Nabi Muhammed (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam).

Yes, we all want that perfect kind of love. The beautiful life that you want to live every moment and never share, because you just want to have it all to yourself will it. Everyone wants things cut out for them..

But that was the test, wasn’t it?

Everyone has their battles, and their bridges to cross. This was a unique kind of situation and I knew Hamzah and I still had multiple hurdles to cross. Ill feelings may crop up. Old wounds may open. Encountering speedbumps were inevitable and without delving into the whole bed of roses advice, I already knew that in fully winning my husbands heart, I was going to have to be a little more than just the basics.

And we had gotten this far, and while many people try to please everyone else in gaining their admiration, I knew that there was so much of beauty in the Hadith that stated that when the woman pleases her husband, then immediately, her Jannah is made.

I wondered what I would tell him when he came back. Maybe I would be explain to him that it was how it was all meant to be. Maybe I would tell him that perhaps those who have passed and left have so much better that had been prepared for them.

And as my ears picked up the sound of a cutely disgruntled moan from the bed, my heart immediately lifted because I knew just the thing to be the perfect ice-breaker. Zaid. I knew taking him out, armed with him on my hip would immediately clear the air to say what I wanted to.

Getting to him before the squealing became a full-on howl, I hastily picked Zaid up and checked his nappy, glad to see that it didn’t need a change right then.
I had bundled him all cosily, up in his jacket and beanie as I stepped out the door, all psyched up to conquer the unknown, ready to make the announcement that Zaid the cutest, cutesy was awake.

And as I felt the icy gust of wind hit us as I stepped onto the wooden deck, it was at the very same moment that Hamzah met my eye, as he sat on the wrought iron chair, talking on the phone with his mass amount of stubbed cigarettes next to him.

He turned to me as he saw me, and something about the way he looked at me right then told me that this wasn’t just a regular phone call.

I paused for a minute, wondering if I should maybe go inside, but he raised his hand at me, as if to signal for me to wait.

“Listen, bro,” he was saying, sounding a little hostile as he spoke. “Today is not possible. I don’t know when is. I’m not even in town. I don’t care how urgent she thinks this is-“

There was silence as I assumed the person cut him off, and as Hamzah looked exasperated, he promptly said he’ll call back and cut the call.

Zaid let out a huge, excited gurgle and threw himself forward as he saw Hamzah, noticing that he was there, but Hamzah just smiled half-heartedly and seemed extremely preoccupied.

“Sorry, Mos,” he said, his voice low as he typed something in his phone. “You will never believe who that was.”

And of course, my mind was already in overdrive as it  already concocted all the plausible possibilities… and as I deliberated which one to voice, Hamzah was probably too stressed to even notice the worry in my own eyes.

He had already lit another cigarette, puffing away as he looked outside, almost as if he was trying to draw some serenity from the beautiful view.

“Who was it?” Was all I managed to half-croak, intensely afraid of what the answer may be.

Hamzah’s expression, as always, was unreadable, and my heart thudded incessantly in my chest, as I wondered if our entire day would be spoilt with that one phone call.

And just when I felt I couldn’t take the suspense any more, Hamzah walked up to me, gently lifted Zaid up to his shoulder, whilst pensively meeting my gaze.

“That was Hashim,” he said quietly.

The mention of Hashim’s name already stumped me. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

And like picking the scab of an old wound, the pain my friend had once felt had resurfaced now, for completely different reasons.

“He wants to meet Zaid.”

---

Dearest Readers,

I think I am due for my short break and am hoping I didn’t leave the readers with a huge cliffhanger ❤️
Just a quick one that I’d love to know how readers feel about:
I’ve been deliberating over this, and I’m just wondering if Mos should tell Hamzah the entire truth about her recent corporate past. Just curious as to what the readers think… and what would the correct thing to do be.

Love to hear from the readers ..

Much Love

A x

Don’t forgot our Mission Sunnah Revival

❤️

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

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When you Trust the Timing

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 46

Saaliha

”I thought you were joking,” Rabia voice broke into my thoughts incredulously as she tapped on her twin brother’s shoulder, looking immensely disappointed. “There’s really no venue?!”

The atmosphere in the car was thick with excitement and preoccupation, along with a bundle of erratic nerves that was very much expected.
And on a day like this, there was something about the way the hearts were swayed on a special days like today, encompassing the feeling of celebration that Nikah brings.

I was, undoubtedly, in amazing spirits as we left my mother-in-laws place that day, with Imraan and Hamzah in the front seat of his car, and Rabia and I in the back. Uthman had decided to go with his grandparents because he was bound to be pampered rotten during the short trip to the location where Mohsina’s family home was.

I glimpsed at my sister-in-law, tearing my eyes away from the scenic mountainous view I was immersed in ahead of us, which reminded me of one of the famous sayings of Umar bin Khattab (RadiAllahu Anho) which went like:

What is destined will reach you, even if it be underneath two mountains. What is not destined, will not reach you, even if it be between your two lips.

And today was a undeniable reminder of whats meant to be, will be, but Rabia’s statement, well… It was just the kind of negativity to dampen my mood.

As Hamzah gave her an irritated scowl, as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror, taking a longer pull of his cigarette than usual, I could sense the irritation he was feeling. The way that he was lighting cigarette after cigarette, meant that he was probably a little stressed that night, and I kind of understood.

”What made you think I was joking?” he asked blandly,  exhaling out the window as I watched her pout. “I told you that it was at the house.”

”Oh hell,” she muttered with an irritated face, as she scanned the yard, where the marquee was set up. “How annoying. My heels are going to sink in this damn mud. Plus, there’s nowhere decent to even take any snaps.”

Was that the only thing she worried about?

I shook my head and looked away, not trusting myself to say anything.

For some reason, my sister-in-law was getting more and more more on my nerves these days. The love for pride and pomp was something that I didn’t quite get. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, probably even more irritated than my brother-in-law.

“You don’t have to show your followers every move you make,” Hamzah snapped unexpectedly, undeniably angry. “The best of Nikahs are the most simple ones, and hands down, I actually prefer this to any hall or venue function any day. More simple. Less stressful.”

It was actually quite nice that he was already standing up for his new in-laws. Imraan had mentioned that he felt strangely protective over them, with Mohsina only having a younger brother, and her father still getting out of debt, I knew that Hamzah was the type to take it much more personally than anyone else.

I wanted also to point out to Rabia that Mohsina didn’t have wealthy parents to pay for the function like she did, but I knew that it was top secret. Imraan had revealed to me in confidence that the family had gone through a rough patch and was still recovering, financially.

It had come to my knowledge that Mohsina had actually paid for the simple function herself, and it made me admire the kind of heart she had. The fact was that she wasn’t obligated to have a function, but for her parents sake and their respect, she was prepared to do whatever it took to make them happy.

”Thank God we’re having a proper Waleema,” Rabia muttered to herself. “Somewhere ten times better than this ugly dump.”

And of course, I knew that Rabia was famous for calling a spade a spade, but there was a difference between being straightforward and just plain down rude. Her words stung and her tone made me shudder, but more alarming was air of arrogance about her as she said it, and I immediately felt insulted. Unfortunately for Rabia, both her sisters-in-law were from farm-like places.

And it’s only when you witness the pride or arrogance of someone, do you realise what a detested and despised quality it is. After all, it was that quality which got Iblis thrown out of Jannah, and that quality of the Quraish, at the time of Badr, that caused their downfall…

And although I could tell that Hamzah had heard her, it was admirable that he had chosen to specifically ignore her and not start an argument, as he turned to Imraan. After all, remaining silent was always the best option when tempers were starting to flare, and I could tell by his thunderous face that he was really getting angry. Imraan shot Rabia a filthy look and she turned away, slightly deflated.

”I suggest you keep your comments to yourself,” he said sternly, and I got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time she had insulted someone’s home.

“Theres nothing wrong with having standards, right?”

Her question was ill-founded. And okay, I knew that my in-laws had spoilt her rotten as a kid, but this kind of behaviour was not something that they approved of. They never put anyone down or made them feel unworthy.

And being the youngest son, my in laws were insisted in having a bigger function at a popular venue, and Rabia was obviously one of the main event planners.

”Don’t make me walk out my own waleemah,” Hamzah had said firmly, as they tried to pull off the perfect waleemah function. “Any funny business… at all… I’ll take my family and leave.”

It was weird for him to say family, but it was true that Hamzah, Mohsina and little Zaid were now a little unit on their own.

Hamzah had made it clear that he didn’t want any photographers, music or extravagant details. People were thinking of the weirdest things just to make a statement and I could tell that my sister-in-law was testing limits. I just hoped that Hamzah was not going to get a huge surprise when he entered the hall two days later.

Besides, he had said enough.

And as I watched Rabia tapping on her phone and then  extending her arm to take a selfie… I couldn’t help but feel a jolt of irritation.

Everything had to be captured. Sometimes I wonder if it would really hurt to put the phone down and just take it all in, unfiltered. The rivalry doesn’t end… when it came to social media. It was a competition that knew no end, and she was completely sucked in.

And from this it was obvious that , Rabia was part of the‘beautiful’ generation. The generation that’s obsessed with making everything look just like an Instagram post; as perfect as can be.

Basically if you love taking photos, arranging the objects of the photo to make the image look ideal, or using filters and editing photos to make them look even better… well, you are too.

Rabia was clearly enamoured by the worldly things that Instagram and social media seemed to put on a pedestal. I mean, it was a well-known fact that it causes us to obsess over portraying a fabricated version of ourselves, and our lives, to the world.

The truth was that we see images of others flourishing online, on overseas holidays, extravagant functions, flashing money, living it up on their stories, not knowing the harsh realities (or falsification) behind those posts.

She smiled to herself as she tapped away, and I suppressed the urge to tell her something. Instead, I tried to focus on the low murmurs that were coming from the front seat while they found a suitable parking, in an attempt to decipher whether Imraan was having the talk he had planned to have with his brother or not.

And although I was still highly insecure about my sisters attempts at trying to find her husband a second wife, and rubbing off onto mine, Imraan and I had reached an easier place where we made a deal never to keep secrets from each other. Ever.

And though it meant that I had to reveal to him what Fareeha was up to and how it upset me, it also meant that when Imraan had come in that afternoon, looking a little more than just concerned, he couldn’t simply brush me off.

His face was riddled with worry as he took a seat, pulling out his phone and tapping vigourously as I eyed him out. The Nikah had gone well, and Hamzah too, seemed happy, but I couldn’t quite help feeling like something was amiss, and I knew he intended to get what was bothering Hamzah out of him today.

It was true that Hamzah had been against making Nikah from the initial stages. Somehow, he didn’t want to address the issues that had affected him and Mohsina back way things had changed back the previous year. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to bring up the past, but I only hoped that if didn’t cause any troubles in the future.

No matter what Imraan had said, I was quite sure that my brother-in-law was just nervous and that everyting would turn out perfectly.

After all, it was the first time he would see his new bride and it was completely normal. Given, it was a little late, since the Nikah was earlier that afternoon, but this whole situation was completely unconventional, so a few things were not exactly going to take place as per normal.

And as we had arrived a little early as planned, parking off near the house on account of Hamzah wanting to see Mohsina and Zaid before the function, I smiled as I watched him twiddle his fingers mindlessly just before getting off.

And even as we all stepped out, Rabia and I lifting our dresses slightly, her with a slightly annoyed look on the face, we were already overwhelmed at the kind of reception we received.

Of course, I could tell that they had been awaiting our arrival specifically, even though the marquee was erected in the front yard, Mohsina’s sister came to usher us toward the entrance of the house, whilst her brother sidled up alongside Hamzah, already talking easily about some car show that had happened last week.

And as I stepped up, looking around me, scanning only for Zaid, I suppose it was inevitable that as we made our way inside, there he appeared, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as a pretty girl held him.

And maybe I was slightly dazed that day, on account of so much that had happened in such a short time, I almost missed her completely. And as I looked from Zaid to this gorgeous female figure that I could hardly recognise, it took me a few seconds to process who it was.

“Assalamualaikum!” She said, flashing us both a smile as I register that it was none other than my new sister-in-law. “I’m so happy to see you guys…”

And I knew I sound crazy, but seeing her after over a month came like a shock, and felt like I was seeing a new person, and I could tell that Rabia was just as surprised to see how amazingly different she now looked. I had instinctively made my way with Rabia to where she stood and giving her an enormous hug, so thrilled that her and Hamzah’s big day had finally come.

”Wa alaykum Salaam!” I said softly, embracing her tightly. “Mohsina, I hardly recognised you. You look so beautiful.”

And I wasn’t just saying that. She really looked exceedingly stunning, with a gold-edged hijab that was tied absolutely perfectly.

She flashed a nervous smile as her gaze flickered to her husband, and could tell that she was pretty overwhelmed.

I didn’t expect her to be out and about the house, like regular family member.

I had expected her to be like the usual brides who only make an appearance down in the marquee, dressed in some kind of gaudy outfit, but Mohsina was the epitome of sublime simplicity, but here she was, in a gorgeous white and gold embroidered abaya with extended sleeves, which seemed to be made to fit her most elegantly. Her cheeks were flushed with a little more than just blush but even so, she appeared unnaturally calm for a new bride. It took me a few seconds to realise that the reason for the enormous change in appearance was that she had, evidently, lost a ton of weight and I could already tell that my brother-in-law was a little more taken aback by how gorgeous she looked that day.

It was strange and sweet to witness their first meeting, and as he awkwardly approached her and extended his hand to shake hers, Zaid had obviously not got the Nikah vibes memo, and bubbling with excitement, plunged directly at him .

And of course, I couldn’t help but laugh because instead of letting the new couple greet each other, the little pumpkin conveniently transferred all the attention to himself. All Hamzah could do was hold him tightly and grin, as Mohsina shook her head, already giving up on the situation being any kind of conventional.

And how could it be? They had come together in a most unconventional way, and though everyone was thrilled, if life hadn’t turned out the way it did, it probably would have never changed.

For now though…. Having a baby in the picture already was going to be a bit challenging, but I could tell that they were both prepared to take it in their stride.

And even though no-one complained, I knew that it was probably time to intervene and get my own dose of Zaidoo, so I stepped forward, hoping he would remember me.

”Let me take him!” I said jovially, as I moved on to take Zaid from Hamzah. It took them a few minutes of awkwardness before they made their way to a slightly more isolated area, just outside the main lounge, and I couldn’t help but notice what a lovely couple they did make.

With Mohsina’s softer features looking particularly striking that day, and Hamzah with his natural charm, looking more like Imraan as the days went by, I knew that many eyes would probably be on them that day. Tears filled my eyes momentarily as I wondered how time had flown so fast, that my once 11-year-old brother-in-law was already married.

And as I left them, hoping they would get enough time to talk before guests started filling the hall, Zaid was passed from arm to arm as we tried to keep him from Mohsina for that evening.

He was, very evidently, restless and pining for her, and as the function started, her sister had come to take him outside for a small walk, so the lecture and beautiful Qirāt recital could take place without him bawling his eyes off.

All the time, as I sat, I could see Mohsina’s eyes searching for him, almost as if she could think of nothing else. He had, very evidently, taken over her life as much as he did ours. And of course, I tried to ignore the unfounded feeling that I may not get as much as him now as I hoped, but I had to also put my own selfish desires aside and respect her and Hamzah’s wishes.

And despite my small concerns, the joy and feeling of celebrating that was in the air was very much palpable. Mohsinas family, I could not deny, was most welcoming and hospitable. Remembering that she came from a simple home, I was in awe of how every member of her family served and saw to the needs of the guest personally and most graciously.

The food was, very evidently, deliciously home-made, and the small function went so beautifully that even Rabia had nothing to complain about. And although it was simple and completely unflashy, what I knew for sure, from her boisterous and very evident love for him, was that Hamzah was most definitely going to be pampered endlessly by Mohsinas amazing Nani, who kept swooning over him, unashamedly boasting about her new grandson-in-law, and stopping at nothing to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect.

And it was. From the beginning to end, the marquee devoid of cameras or there was so much of Barakah and happiness, that nothing could deter the couple from beaming so brightly, that I’m sure that their faces must have been sore from all the smiling they both did that day.

I was all lost in thought as I watched Jameela take Zaid to the front table where Mohsina was sitting and laughing with a friend of hers, noticing the look of sheer relief on both their faces as Zaid saw her and immediately grasped her neck, as if he never wanted to let go…

“Can you believe your brother-in-law is getting married?”

I turned slightly to the right with my smile widening, as I heard the voice of Haseena, Maulana Umar’s wife, grinning at my new sister-in-law.  My heart filled with joy, and I couldn’t help but reach out and hug her fiercely, taking in her familiar embrace as she hugged me back.

We had known each other for years, but seldom saw each other because of Maulana’s work that always entailed him going out for jamaat and taking her with him. Besides, life was so hectic at times, and with five kids, I couldn’t imagine what her days were like.

“I honestly am finding it hard to deal, Hasoo,” I said, remembering the nickname we always used for her before she was even married to Maulana Umar, or rather just Umar, at that time. “I can’t believe he’s grown up and I’m married for almost 12 years this year!”

Back then, Haseena was a completely ordinary, contemporary girl who loved to make a fashion statement and caught everyone’s attention. And though still positively stunning, when I saw her now, I could hardly believe that this girl in jilbaab was the same girl that had changed her life so drastically, and turned over a completely new leaf.

“It means we’re getting old, aren’t we?” She said, with a twinkle in her eye, and I laughed in agreement. It was bitter-sweet, this getting old thing.

And so was this event.

”It’s a bit emotional, isn’t it?” she said, almost saying aloud how I felt. “The baby… their friends… now, how Allah planned it… they’ve become a new couple. I know Maulana is optimistic that it will work out and the baby needs a proper home, but imagine if this was you or I, Sawls… it’s kind of a huge sacrifice isn’t it?”

I nodded solemnly, feeling an ache in my gut because I knew that Liyaket would have been really thrilled to see his best friend finally settling down. I had remembered hearing Imraan joking about how Liyaket often teased Hamzah about his tendency to jump from girl to girl in the office.

“He’s really changed,” I said softly to her. “I think he’s finally grown up. Soon we’ll be planning our kids weddings, have you thought about that?”

She laughed, and as we spoke easily about life, kids and everything else, the crowd was dispersing and the men slowly started filtering into the hall, she easily excused herself to go to the car where Maulana Umar was probably already waiting. Giving her an even more massive hug, as she left, I could barely believe that this day that we had all been waiting for so long was already nearly over.

Meeting Haseena was lovely and kind of the cherry on the top, as I remembered the earlier days when I just got married and how everything had settled into place. In a mere moment, seeing her again felt like no time had passed, and it was a beautiful feeling that made me look forward to the waleemah a little more.

Meeting with the people of the past reminds us of the way things once were, the happiness that we experienced growing up, and all the wonder. It was a natural feeling that just brought a smile to your face.

And as some familiar faces came up to greet us, the amazing atmosphere of unity and family was such a special feeling.

The feeling of everything falling into place so beautifully was incomparable. And as we got ready to leave too, toward the end of the function when Hamzah had come in to sit with Mohsina, and as they talked intimately, about something serious, I couldn’t help but feel a little at a loss for words, after Haseena’s words.

What these two had done was something that was quite amazing. Though it was a joining of families… a union of hearts and hopefully the initiation of something in breakable… but most importantly, it was the forming of a little orphaned boy’s home and family.

The fact that they had put all their differences aside and taken this plunge was something that I couldn’t quite believe my brother-in-law had so selflessly been able to commit to.

And yes, it may be a challenge. Imraan had voiced his concerns, unreservedly, to me earlier that week.

I did notice that Hamzah had been quiet recently, but to be fair, he had undergone a helluva lot in the past month, and no one could expect him to come out unchanged…

He had barely had a chance to really reflect over the Yemeni war situation before Liyakets passing brought him crashing down on him, and then was Ramadhaan and Al ‘Aqsa, that he had done in the spur of the moment, and in between it all, becoming something like a father to Zaid, well…

The whole transition may be extremely difficult and even heartbreaking, as they remembered their friends in every first word, first step and little achievement that he made through the years. Losing someone was not a once off.

You lose them over and over, sometimes many times a day. When the loss, momentarily forgotten, creeps up, and attacks you from behind, it’s like fresh waves of grief rip into your heart once again.

And although they will be living and carrying on without them, what a beautiful reminder it was, that they had most certainly left one of their most amazing gifts behind.

And as they left behind what may have started on rough and unsteady footing, and went toward what may be a better and more promising future that held something so much better, I couldn’t help but feel immensely excited about it.

And as I helped them clean away some dishes as Rabia sat and looked bored as she typed on her phone, Imraan speaking to Mohsinas father in the distance, my heart was palpably undergoing a host of emotions that I still couldn’t full figure, but as I took a seat, various thoughts were still whirling through my mind.

Seeing family and friends and so many people that we hadn’t met over the years was amazing. This was a union of two families, a breaking of barriers, and a spectacular reason for renewed hope… and the conclusion of the saying by Umar bin Khattab (Radiallaho Anho) as it continued, was a perfect reminder.

­

Go easy on yourself, for the outcome of all affairs is determined by Allah’s decree. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from you it cannot flee.

The thing is, life can be fulfilling at different times of our lives. Sometimes you just have to trust the timing. Theres always opportunity to be wanting to sit and wonder about how things could have turned out differently.. But you can also trust that you have never missed out on what was meant for you.

And though its hard to trust when so much is unknown, try not to take it in all at once.

Pause. Breathe in. Take it in, shade by shade, tree by tree, scent by scent, friendship by friendship… Take in the magic of the moment you are in, without really worrying about what’s to come next or beyond the amazemnet of that moment. Let it be enough. Breathe it in, and let it be enough.

The story thats unfolding right then may be world’s apart from what we expected but it doesn’t mean that it wont be beautiful and life-changing.

And as I breathed in the moment, savoring it’s uniqueness, the vibration on the table broke into my thoughts, as I wondered who would be trying to call me right then.

And just as I picked it up, seeing a missed call from my younger sister and knowing that this was probably not just a general courtesy call, it was at that moment that the message from her came through, and it gave me a slightly unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach as I wondered if Fareeha was really telling the truth.

Imraan told Aadil to join u guys for tea. We’re in the area. See you in 5. xx

---

Just a tad bit of wedding humour …

Don’t forgot our Mission Sunnah Revival

❤️

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

The Greatest Gift

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 45

And all of a sudden, it was June, and as the morning sun broke over the tips of the mountain edges, the sunshine appeared like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

It’s silhouette boasted its sublime beauty as I cast my gaze over it, I couldn’t help but sniff the the scent of roses in the air and hold out a hope that it was surely a promising sign. And as nature showed off it’s best winter bits, I wanted to sink myself into the realm of abandonment that it promised, but it was just that, with Faadils arrival that morning… I was starting to doubt my own optimism.

And as I hastily made my way to the kitchen window, sneaking past Nani and Ma, who, along with one of my aunties, seemed to be very absorbed in their meal preparation, each allocated a task that looked particularly tedious, I kind of hoped that they wouldn’t notice me there.

I had strategically positioned myself in the the corner of the kitchen that that had the most extensive view of the yard, purely because it was the only perfect  spot for me to spy on my sister and her boss, just to ascertain if things were really as dandy as she had pretended they were.

And with the backdrop of Quránic recital and slight chatter in the background, my sole intent at that point was to locate them and attempt to figure out his intention too.

And as I watched the from afar, clapping my eyes on  Mohsina, in her black cloak and scarf, talking somewhat civilly to her boss, a fear had gripped me as I realised that this wasn’t just a normal conversation.

I mean, why would he come all the way here just to talk about some audit? Besides….The look on his face, when he said he wanted to meet with Mohsina… there was something that I couldn’t mistake. It was obvious that he had feelings for my sister… and the worst part was, I think that my sister wasn’t completely unaware.

And as I processed and sighed, as I watched them in the distance, almost as if they were talking about something intimate, I literally wanted to run out and scream at my sister, like a policewoman, to tell her to keep her hands above her head and just take a step back. But of course I couldn’t. After all, she wasn’t a baby. I was supposed to be the smaller sister, who needed the taking care of.

And as if it was a final straw, I just sucked in my breath as I saw him pulling something out from inside his coat, and then, as they both stepped out of my view, I was literally at my wits end.

Oh gosh, no, he musnt. He must not spoil this. he must not try to bribe or threaten her with materialistic things, he must not, he cann-

“Jameela!”

I jumped as I heard Nani’s voice right next to me, widening my eyes as I realised that she had caught me red-handed, my eyes fixed outside like an obsessed crazy woman.

“Who you looking at like that?” She asked, her eyes narrowing over her spectacles as she looked at me accusingly.

“Nothing Nani,” I said, swallowing nervously.

Oh goodness. If she had to see Mohsina and Faadil, Nani would probably lose her mind. I could not imagine all the things she would say if she had to know the very obvious truth. How could my sister ever be so stupid?

And of course, I had to think of something really fast because Nani was still looking at me suspiciously and trying to figure out exactly what I had been up to. She knew that something was up but from where she stood, she couldn’t see them. All she could see was the gorgeous morning sun that had settled so easily over the veld that was displayed before us, and it was a breathtaking sight.

What Nani didn’t know that my breath was kind of punched out of me for completely different reasons.

She hovered for a minute, before looking at me – and then suddenly, tapped my arm almost aggressively.

“Ouch,” I said, rubbing my arm.

Mohsina and Faadil were no longer in view and although I wondered exactly where they had gone to, I was quite grateful that it meant that Nani wouldn’t spot them, but she still wasn’t looking happy.

She was shaking her head at me disappointingly.

“You looking at that boy isn’t it?” She said accusingly. “That fella’ your father got for the shop. I saw him here earlier.”

Oh gosh. Nani. Only she would call him a ‘fella’.

“Erm…” I started, not really sure if I should really allow her think that I was being like one beh-sharam who couldn’t control her gaze and was checking out boys so candidly.

But Nani wasn’t hearing any of it. She was already on her own roll, and Ma and my Aunty’s ears had also perked up.

“Don’t you go getting any ideas!” She continued, giving me a death glare, with her eyes widened. “Jameeela, you are a good girl, you don’t go doing all funny things like your sister. We’ll find you one nice boy from in the family and get you married there. You must remember that your Nana’s father came here in 1915 as a trader. Not as sugar cane worker. We can’t get all mixed up with lower class people.”

I widened my eyes, a little shocked at this onslaught. Haai, I didn’t even know about all these things. Did Nani even know that we lived in the 21st century?

“Mummy,” my mother said, clearing her throat, and obviously feeling a need to step in. “You know we don’t worry about all these things. As long as he is a namaazi (prays regularly) and comes from a good family, we will accept whatever Jameela chooses.”

“No such thing,” Nani insisted, looking appalled, and raising her rolling pin in warning. “If he’s not aapra wala (our people), how he will provide for her? How will they get along?”

She shrugged her shoulders and then turned to the counter, hastily pulling out a container from the cupboard to add more flour to the dough she had just made.

I glanced at my mother, noticing her silence for a few seconds, as she probably gathered what next to say.

I didn’t quite understand. Growing up, my parents never made much mention about such things like sugar cane workers and different castes. All I knew was that we were Muslim and we had to strive to be the best Muslims we can be. Ma often told us that we could never judge anyone, no matter what they were, what they looked like or where they came from. I also understood that everyone had their differences but if there is love and understanding between families then anything can be easily conquered.

“Mummy, don’t teach her all these funny ways,” Ma was saying reproachfully, as she glanced at me. “She mustn’t worry about material things so much. Nowadays girls have too many lists and criteria that need to be ticked off, that every boy they see is not good enough. If they can’t afford her facial products, he’s not good enough. If they don’t have money in the family, he’s not good enough. It’s not Islamic. Nowadays, we spoil the girls too much and then when the husbands can’t maintain them, they come back home and we cry.”

Now Ma was generalising and putting me down unnecessarily. We weren’t all like that.

I wasn’t quite sure about that. I wasn’t really worried about if the guy could afford me. But I did know that Mohsina had worried about those things at one stage. Money was important. Family was important. Complexion was important.

I just didn’t agree. As far as I was concerned, I just want someone with a mild temper, good manners and who had Deen. I just wished Nani could understand that.

“You saw what happened with Mohsina,” Mummy was saying as Nani looked indignant. “If her situation didn’t change, only Allah knows what kind of home she would have got…”

Ma was right about that. Imagine if, according to by suspicions, Faadil was the next son-in-law. I wasn’t even sure where he fitted in, with regard to all of that traditional hogwash… but I wasn’t exactly sure that he would make the greatest husband. Financially, I knew he might have made up for it though. But at the end of the day, money doesn’t really buy you happiness, does it?

And now that they had moved on to talk about my Bari Foi’s niece in law who had gotten married into a ‘poor’ family and was actually really happy, I decided to make my way out the kitchen since the point of money not buying happiness was proven, and because Mohsina and her boss’s presence was becoming a major concern for me right then.

I only hoped that she wasn’t getting herself deeper and deeper into more sins….

And as I made my way down to the hallway passage, peeping around the corner to see if she was maybe on the patio, it was at that moment that the door opened and my sister walked in, barely even looking up to see if anyone was around.

Her red-rimmed eyes were a dead giveaway, and as she trudged up the stairs, I followed her into the room where Zaid was still napping, careful not to make too much of noise and wake him. I could tell that that was probably the last thing Mohsina needed right then.

She had already delved into her bag-packing, and as much as I didn’t want to to pry, and she had told me to mind my own business, I knew that this was something that I couldn’t just shove under the rug.

”Mos,” I said softly,  sitting on the rug near the bed and grabbing a few vests of Zaid’s to fold and pack. “Is everything okay at work?”

Mohsina glanced at me, and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye as she nodded.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, and looked away again.

I had to ask her. There was no two ways about it. I had to.

”Mos, does Hamzah know about him?” I said, my heart beating incessantly as panic filled my gut. Did she know how dangerous this could be? How much of pain and hurt she could cause if she didn’t handle this correctly?

She shook her head and looked at me, tears filling her eyes once again, as she looked away. She was clearly overwhelmed with emotion. What had happened outside was probably more than she bargained for.

And there was no denying that the situation at hand now was completely terrible.

”Ah, Mos,” was all I could say, as she hopelessly covered her face with her hands, looking as if she was completely inconsolable. To tell the truth, so was I. I had no idea what to tell her.

But because my nature was to be a dreamer and full of hope, I knew that I had to be positive and give her some too…

“It’s going to be okay,” was all could say soothingly, getting up to place my arms around her shoulders comfortingly, but if didn’t quite do the trick.

Within her, was already a torrent of emotion that seemed to overcome her as she clutched me and sobbed her heart out for a good few minutes. And as she did so, I could feel the crushing of self-desire, the breaking of her inner-most despair, and the sheer desperation that she clung onto me with. It was like she was searching for something that she hadn’t quite realised that she had lost…. trying to piece all those broken pieces together… but they didn’t quite fit…

And even though it took her a few minutes, eventually, as the tears ceased and her body eventually calmed, as I held onto her tightly, with it, she had released all of the hurt and grievances that were holding her back.

”I just feel so terrible,” she said, pulling back slightly as she looked at me. “I always thought that I loved Faadil. That he was everything I wanted.”

What she had just uttered was way more than I knew, a revelation of something undercover that had transpired, but I held my tongue back from calling her out right then.

“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, feeling a bit worried about her response. “He knows you are marrying Hamzah?”

It was the furtherest I’d ever come to asking her the truth about her boss and the look in her eyes was a dead giveaway.

“He literally begged me not to,” she confessed as she nodded, pulling at a thread on the duvet cover, not meeting my eye. “It was everything I had ever wanted. Most insta-worthy kind of scene. The backdrop, the smooth words, the revealing of the most stunning one carat diamond ring…”

I sucked in my breath as she trailed off, instantly feeling panicked. A one carat engagement ring? She still didn’t meet my eye and my heart contracted painfully. What this world does to us was something I sometimes couldn’t make sense of…

“He promised me the world,” she continued weakly, as she confirmed my suspicions. “Said that Zaid would stay with us. He could employ two nannies- for the day and night, and a helper too, for housework. He said he was looking into it and we could even accommodate him at Hammond’s, by making some adjustments to my schedule and a small nursery with a qualified assistant. He wants to make it more child-friendly. He’s prepared to do whatever it takes.”

”Oh gosh, Mos,” I said, my heart beating crazily as she said it.

She sounded like she was already bought. A night nanny?

My word, that was a luxury. I knew how little sleep Mohsina was getting these days.

And my heart sunk because I already knew that she was going to fall for it, hook, line and sinker. All of these things were what Mohsina  always wanted in a marriage. The stability. The money. The financial security.

After all, Hamzah was only a CA. Fine, he wasn’t exactly incapable of providing, but he was still establishing himself. How could that compare to the associate Director Faadil, who manages a mega-corporation and had millions on his payroll every year? He could probably even hire a helicopter to transport them wherever she wanted. He could give Mohsina the life that she always dreamt of, and she wouldn’t even have to sacrifice Zaid.

Why would she not jump at this opportunity?

“Jameela, he even said I didn’t have to work, if I wanted to be a stay-at-home mother,” she continued quietly, glancing at Zaid who was shifting slightly in his sleep. “It’s not only about Hammond’s. He was sorry he didn’t tell me all this before but when he heard that I was getting married, it made him realise how much I meant to him and he just can’t let me make this mistake…”

I narrowed my eyes, as anger rose in my chest.

I had no words for this… treachery. Whether something went on before this or not… All this time, throughout losing Layyanah and coping with the emotions that had brought, Faadil was nowhere in the picture.

He took her for granted because he thought she would be around, no matter what. When Zaid came into the picture, it probably suited him better, because he assumed that she’d be focused on him and not really on the market anymore. Suddenly… When he heard that Hamzah was prepared to marry her… everything changes?

Why was she so gullible?

I can’t understand. I wanted to cry.

“So you going to believe him?!” I almost cried.

My heart was beating crazily as I said it. My sister was way in over her head.

She looked at me, and tears filled her eyes again.

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” she cried, tears falling freely as she continued. “I would have died for this kind of commitment from him, Jameela. But Jamz… You don’t understand, Jameela. That kind of life he’s offering me.. where I could have anything I wanted at the click of a finger…”

My heart lifted slightly as I waited for her to finish.

”That life means nothing to me anymore,” she finished, and my heart soared as she said the words.

It was inexplicable right then. The relief I felt, was like the warmth of the  sunshine on my face early this morning. The brightness that it brought was not just light alone, but new life, and hope, and soothing to the heart… much needed relief from the torrents of rain that seemed to be the drenching us for weeks on end. Breathing came easily again, and as I filled my lungs with new air, once again, I felt alive and eternally grateful for this great bounty.

Mohsina sniffed and dabbed her eyes.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered, meeting my eye.. “Back to that place where Allah was only a second option for me. Back to that place where I didn’t trust Allah enough to let Him come through for me. And now that He’s come through for me, and He brought amazing things through for me again, am I just going to desert Him and forget everything He granted me in His mercy? Does He not say that when you take one step toward him, He will run to you, so am I going to just turn my back on Him once again?”

Her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at me, almost as if I was capable of giving her those answers. Only she held the pen to her story. Only she could determine how this was going to end…

“And I know I was wrong, Jamz,” she confessed, as she swallowed back more emotion. “I was wrong with Faadil and I was wrong with Hamzah. I know that before this, I made Allah Ta’ala wait, and everyone else took precedence. The thing is, I realised that you can love someone until you are blue in the face, but you can’t force them to meet you on the bridge. Even those with the most love for you can still leave. Whether it’s a friend or family or a beloved…. whether it was Maahira, my family, Hamzah or even Faadil who was so busy while I went through my own turmoil after losing Layy… everyone takes a step away from you at some point. But not Allah. But not Allah, Jameela…”

She paused, swallowed and looked at me. She was so right.

Not Allah. He stays where He is, waiting for us to come back, even when we’ve forsaken him.

And it was obvious that it hurt her. That’s how it was with Haraam relationships. She had forgot Allah and it pained her and it broke her and sometimes you are reduced to a point when you are not even sure if you could ever be repaired…

“I’m so proud of you, Mos,” I whispered, not able to speak any louder due to the emotion that weighed me down.

This wasn’t easy for her. I could see that. But this wasn’t only about her. There was a greater picture, a bigger story, and a more promising future that she had to make for herself.

“Don’t be,” Mohsina said remorsefully, shaking her head. “I ignored my Creator. I put everyone else first, and I made Him wait. I was sooo terrible. And I know that it may take a while to get to a comfortable place with Hamzah. Old dirt may pop up. The past may haunt us. It may not be easy from day one, but I know that Allah will heal every pain and replace it with something better. And that’s why I know that this … what Allah has allowed and inspired, it’s only through Him. If He has done so much for me, even if this is not perfect, even if it’s not that amazing kind of feeling and the perfect situation… I know that I have reached out for Allah and He is more beautiful than any sin…and all I want now, even if this doesn’t go perfectly, even if Hamzah hears about this and wants to call it off, even if there’s no-one else here for me… even if I have nothing else…. all I want, Jamz, is for Allah to forever hold my hand…. and that will be the Greatest Gift…”

Her voice broke at that point and I understood exactly what she said, as she pulled herself together, trying to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks as she let loose every emotion that had been consuming her. She had got it spot on, and I couldn’t even believe that she had reached this place where Allah came before everything else. The most beautiful part was that she had no idea about this spectacular sacrifice that she had just made and that had so completely inspired me too…

“Gosh,” she moaned, glancing at herself in the mirror and looking horrified. “I’m going to look like a train-wreck for my Nikah. I’m not sure if Hamzah will even recognise me…”

I smiled as I watched her carefully dab her face with some toner, and apply a little bit of concealer to cover up her puffy eyes.

I didn’t know what else to say. Honestly, my voice was just kind of stuck in my throat because I could not possible even convey the joy that I felt right then.

Soon Zaid would be awake and her time would run out, so I hastily helped her with her packing, silently thanking Allah for making Nani give out that huge sum of Sadaqah that saved us from a very unfortunate plight.

I still could barely believe what had happened, but I knew that she’d made a mistake. I knew that she regretted it. But as I glimpsed her smile that day, I also knew that despite whatever had happened in the past, very clearly, her heart was very much focused on her future.

As the time for the Nikah approached, and she emerged from her room, I noticed that my pretty sisters cheeks were naturally flushed, as a new bride should be, but it wasn’t even that that was making her glow the way she was.

And I didn’t know much about love or soulmates, or any of that stuff, but as I looked at her, knowing that this though this was something she had prayed for fervently,  I could feel that her entire purpose and aim here was for Allah’s pleasure. She had, undoubtedly, sacrificed so much to get here, and I knew that, most definitely, the sacrifice had not gone unnoticed.

And as she focused on her new chapter, the part where she left it to Allah, and surrendered herself in a must sublime way, I could feel my own heart soaring with joy. Zaid was in a particularly good mood after his nap but what her feelings were at the time when she had given her answer to my father and and they had headed off to masjid, I could not imagine. All I knew was that this was, by far, one of the most crucial moments of her life and she would probably never forget it. As the time of the Nikah drew nearer, and the excitement in the house mounted, I could not have imagined a more beautiful transition of woman to wife, than my sister had endured that day.

It was just pure exhilaration as I shifted my gaze to my sister, and I forced myself to hold back. My eyes were filling with tears and the lump in my throat seemed to expand.

The streaming of the live Nikah was transmitted through the link, and the break in transmission got us slightly on edge, but as Mohsina’s phone beeped next to us and she showed me the screen approximately three minutes later, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw the simple two sentence congratulatory iMessage.

Hamzah:

Deals all done, wifey. Too late to run. 

I shook my head, knowing that only Hamzah would be daring enough to send a message like that at this moment as she smiled almost in contempt and tapped a reply. No doubt, Mohsina probably had a witty comeback.
She placed her phoned down, knowing that congratulations were in order from everyone else too, and as I took pleasure in her happiness, it was as if this morning’s emotional escapade had never happened.

Gazing at her, her beauty even more apparent on account of her sublime joy, there she was, this new woman, all set for this new journey, with only Allah in mind, as she knocked down all those obstacles that had ever stood in her way.

And yes, it was truly such a momentous occasion, and as I watched her, her recently slender figure draped in a simple but beautiful abaya that she had purchased for the Nikah, with the sun gleaming through the window and highlighting her subtly made up face, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia had caught me off guard. She had, most certainly, grown into a woman who was so much more worthy of all those mistakes she had made, and I knew that throughout every encounter and trial and setback, she always emerged stronger and more beautiful than she had been before.  Every test purified her and every setback had served to bring her back to her purpose, and I knew that this step was going to be the greatest one yet…

And as I slunk back with Zaid in my arms, waiting for my turn to offer her a proper greeting and goodbye, as Nani gave her Du’aa (prayer) of happiness and many, many pious offspring which made me cringe, I could hear Ma and one of our cousins wishing her with the beautiful words that our Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) had taught us to pray for couple:

Barakallahu lakuma wa baraka alaikuma wa jama’a baynakuma fii khair.
May Allah bless your union, and shower His blessings upon you, and unite you in goodness.

And as I glimpsed her face, all I wanted to do was reach out for her and hold her close to me, not only because she had been through such an enormous change of heart, but also because she was, undoubtedly, doing the most amazing and selfless thing. And I couldn’t believe it, because what I could see before me was the unfolding of the most beautiful kind of love story. It was the most inspiring kind of reformation that I ever had the privilege of witnessing.

And that’s when I realised, that this journey that Mohsina was taking was not about Faadil and breaking free. It wasn’t about Nani or my parents expectations. It wasn’t even about Hamzah or Zaid any more. And that was what got me, because everyone who was so in awe of this amazing match and union, will make you believe that this is the happily ever after, where the shoe fit Cinderella or the frog turned back into a Prince. People will make you believe that this is the once upon a time and then end of the rainbow that we’ve all been searching for, the initiation of them both riding into the sunset to have their very own happy ending.

But it wasn’t.

And when she gave me a small smile, almost as if she herself couldn’t believe that this day had actually come and my sister was no longer just the  accomplished and Instagram-obsessed, self-motivated, career-driven chartered accountant that she had once been, I knew it for sure. In her place, instead, there was a calmer, self-contented girl on a journey of reclaiming her heart, who relied on Allah and Him alone, and I couldn’t quite believe this amazing change in her had actually taken place.

And as I soaked it all in, if there’s one thing I learnt, it’s that when you really want something, always remember that you hold the pen to your story. You can close the pages of chapters and start a brand new one whenever you need. You can walk away from those things that may ruin you or drain your spirit. Learn to embrace that middle road, the middle chapters, after which you are not sure what comes, because this too… are filled with magic and hope.
You can seek those people who you always wanted, and write them in, as you please.  You, and only you, hold the pen to your own beautiful story.

Live a beautiful love. Dream a beautiful dream. Guide your soul, through His guidance.

One day, even if it doesn’t come together right then, it eventually was will see that all that is with Allah, is never lost. In fact the Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam)
has said: “You will never give up a thing for the sake of Allah (swt), but that Allah will replace it for you with something that is better for you than it.” (Ahmad)

Sometimes Allah takes in order to give. His giving is not always in the form we think we want. He knows best, what is best. But still somehow, we will give your whole life, still, to reaching this ‘place’. You do this because in the fairy tale, that’s where the story ends. It ends at the finding, the joining, the wedding. It is found at the oneness of two souls.

What they don’t tell us is that that we will never finally be complete, because we haven’t yet found that source of completion. The final piece that joins it all together. The deal-sealer. The beginning of the path back to Him. That the ‘something better’ or the ‘best’ is the greatest gift: nearness to Him.

Sometimes the greatest gift lies beyond the taking and the returning…  sometimes the greatest gifts, is that something eternal, that never tires, never leaves and never breaks….

And that is the only Greatest Gift that is forever worth waiting for.

---

Authors note: Dear readers, just a quick one to say that this was an extra long post so the next one (or two?) before the break will be a bit shorter, InshaAllah…

Much Love,

A

xx

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aan

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

When the Game’s not Over

Bismihi Ta’ala 

Part 44

Mohsina

Buzz. Buzz!

Maahira: No!

Are you serious?

Me: you heard me. He’s here. Right now.

Maahira: Did u even tell Hamzah???

Me:  .

Maahira: boy, you’re in trouble.

Me: Not my fault. Didn’t have a chance to talk again. Tonight.

Maahira: Talk. tonight? Watch me while I die laughing.

Me: *rolling eyes*

Maahira was being super immature.

And as I thought about what to reply amidst my anxiety, it was precisely at that moment when Jameela started pounding on the door, in complete fishwife style.

It was the first time that my usually dazed and dreamy sister was actually sounding more panicked and out of control than me.

“Mos, are you in there?!” She called, sounding like she was losing her marbles. “Mos, you won’t believe it! Your boss… ex boss… is here ! He’s waiting outside. It’s a bit early for the function but from what he told me, I doubt he’s here for that…”

“Just keep him outside,” I said hastily, pulling on my drabbiest cloak and a black scarf. Last thing I needed was Nani spotting the ‘business mens’ and going outside with a rolling pin. “I’m coming out.”

”Dont worry,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t want to come in. He’s at the shop.”

I sighed, relieved, as I checked in the mirror and picked up my phone again. I cannot look good. I cannot make an effort for him. I cannot.

Buzz again. 

Maahira: listen. Tell him 2 respect ur wishes and leave. He can’t even be there at d function. Plz listen 2 me this time. U can’t risk it.

Gosh. She wanted me to chase him out. I might as well send Nani.

Me: What if he pulls out all the lines?

Maahira: don’t be fickle. You cannot fall for it.

Me: Faadil is smoother than chocolate ice cream. You know me and chocolate.

Maahira: then go on a damn diet, girl. It’s time to divorce chocolate! Chocolate is bad for your health!

Me: *sad face*

Maahira: are u crazy? What are you even thinking about. This is Hamzah. He wants to make this work.

Me: :>

Maahira:  That’s my girl. Allah will put Barakah in the right thing when you do it the right way. Faadil is never going to be the right way.

She was right. Faadil wanted a long engagement and huge, flashy wedding with all his high flying associates. Hamzah’s requirements were so much simpler.

Simple wedding. Simple home. Simple life.

It was a simple equation.

Simple everything = More Barakah. No questions.

Me: I know. I need to be strong.

Maahira: U are. C u later now. Still recovering  from Samoosa run #2. Burying all hopes of happily ever after in my pillow. Scarred 4 life. xx

I smiled, despite my sombreness at the current predicament I found myself in. I couldn’t wait to hear Part Two of Maahiras Samoosa Run Escapades, because they were always filled with the most dramatic and hilarious scenarios.

And after convincing myself that chocolate is really bad, I was all psyched up to handle Faadil’s smoothness, and knock it right out my system.

Besides, after the week that I’d had, I was hoping that no obstacles would be chucked in to throw me off course. But such was my luck… everything that had happened seemed like it was meant to throw me off track and the tests that were happening entailed me grappling to stay on the right path, no matter what it took.

And I know that you are wondering where it all started so let me dive straight into it and spare you the grief, because all I knew was that I was way in over my head.

But that’s the thing with Tawakkul, isn’t it? Even when you are over you head, somehow, things still come through for you, when you have faith that Allah will see it through. The thing with Tawakkul is not only to pray and believe that not only will you be able to believe that nothing can harm you with Allah by your side, but to fully understand that you have the strength to fight anything because your strength comes only from Allah Azza Wa Jal.

And at that point, right after Ramadhan, when spirits were still flying high and my heart was endowed with faith of higher degrees, I had some kind of hope in my heart that what I wanted would somehow be granted.

In fact, even at the beginning, I remember already feeling exhausted, as I had complained to Jameela. If only I knew what the rest of the week entailed, I would have been far less dramatic.

”I can’t breathe,” I had remembered saying to her as she walked into the room, with me scrounging around for a decent abaya to wear, as Muhammed Husayn told me that Hamzah and Papa were waiting downstairs to speak to me.

“I had a feeling that outfit was a bit of a clingy one, especially around the upper area…”

I glared at her as she grinned at me quite obnoxiously, quite peeved that she was making light of a potentially serious situation.

“Listen,” she said, pulling off the pretty baby pink abaya she was wearing, with a cream trimming. “Wear this, but stop acting like you are having an anxiety attack. He only wants to speak about Zaid. Your outfits not going to make a difference.”

I glared at her.

“Or maybe it will,” she said mischievously and I narrowed my eyes, but I was, honestly, quite relieved and very intent on being modest.

I mean, modesty was our trait. What defined us as Muslims. Besides, what else could come out of strutting myself, except Nani having anxiety attacks too and we really didn’t need more kuku people in the house at the moment…

After being quite certain that looking decent and unexposed would have a far greater impact than being revealing, I calmed my nerves and made my way down the stairs, surprisingly keeping myself together. My frame of mind had altered significantly, and strangely enough, those things that impressed me before, seemed almost inappropriate. Where a basic slack suit would have been fine before, going on front of non-mahrams with anything slightly fitted made me cringe. I can’t believe how I actually wore topas above my bum before.

And making my way down to the lounge very self-consciously, with my father in the passage and the rest of my family seated just outside the house for Eid supper, I didn’t even process that the house was unusually quiet inside. By some miracle, Nani hadn’t gotten wind of Hamzah here yet, being so busy with the evening meal, and the silence felt a little strange. I actually half-wished that Nani had been let in on it but then then again, if everything didn’t go as she expected, the dramatics would have been inconsolable, so I instantly held the thought back.

And as I halted outside the lounge door, I could hear Muhammed Husayn talking to Hamzah, and as I entered, I was quite shocked that my otherwise unconscious brother was actually offering Hamzah something to eat. The fact that he had some manners was a great surprise…

“Thanks bru,” I could hear Hamzah’s voice say politely. “It’s been a busy Eid. I cannot eat a single thing more. Maybe just some water.”

And if I wasn’t bordering on palpitations, I would have probably greeted as I entered, but as I entered, my heart was literally in my throat as I realised that not only was my family not present at all, but Hamzah’s entire family was missing too.

In fact, it kind of caught me off-guard, because it  meant that while Muhammed Husayn went off to fetch the water, all I was faced with in a painfully appealing blue-grey kurta, his legs folded underneath him, Sunnah style, as he sat with a gurgling Zaid, was Hamzah himself.

And with Zaid already on the carpet, and in his element, I had arrived just in time to see the royal roll-over from tummy to back, and it always made me laugh when my little guy had that look of amazement on his face, as soon as he accomplished his goal.

I smiled as I saw it again, watching Hamzah excitedly pick him up and throw him in the air, while Zaid broke into a fit of giggles, just before they both caught site of me.

I had just entered the room, clearing my throat noisily, not able to conceal the major trauma that it had brought on, because according to me, that stuff was just damn dangerous…

”Sorry,” Hamzah said sheepishly, glancing at me briefly I stood there, probably looking as formidable as ever, before he quickly turned his gaze away.

“Assalamualaikum.”

”Wa alaykum Salaam,” I mumbled, relaxing a bit because I knew I shouldn’t be so possessive, so I added . “It’s okay. He loved it.”

And I wished I could just chill but being there, right now, was making me all sorts of unsettled, because honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to make it through this meeting.

Muhammed Husayn had re-entered, watching us almost anxiously, as if we were some kind of ping-pong match. I wasn’t quite sure what he expected. To tell the truth, I wasn’t quite sure what I expected either…

”I’m sorry if I disturbed your Eid supper,” Hamzah said, his back to me as I made my way to the couch behind him, and my father hovered outside. Sitting within this view was awkward, and I wasn’t quite sure why I felt that way.

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t even with my family and that some of my cousins annoyed me anyway, but I didn’t.

There was so much on my mind. I had heard, through the grapevine, that he had decided to go to Al-Aqsa as a last minute I’thikaaf plan, and it was something that I wanted to desperately ask him about. I wanted to ask him what had inspired him in the spur of the moment. I wanted to know how he felt now, after such an overwhelming trip.

I wanted to ask how his Tarawēeh had gone. How he felt first Ramadhaan after losing his bestest friend. I wanted to know if his heart had been healed with the word of Allah. I wanted to ask him if Ramadhaan had gone as it planned, and if Allah had made apparent His love for him through the recital of Qur’ān that had become his beautiful refuge. I wanted to ask him about his journey from then until now… about how he had undergone the significant change that I’d glimpsed a few months back, before everything went so terribly wrong.

I wanted to ask him too, if he felt the navigation of Qur’ānic guidance that had brought him back to his route, when circumstances had swayed him off-track, and love and loss had broken him inside. I wanted to ask him if he had felt the weight of Allah’s word that had intervened between his heart and his whims and if his purpose in life had changed as much as mine did….

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say al the words I needed to. I couldn’t even say one.

And at first I didn’t understand it. it’s not like I hadn’t spoken with men before. I wasn’t that green. As an external auditor, my entire career had been meetings and clashes with the opposite sex, and it was barely appropriate or ideal. I did it because I didn’t have any motivation not to. I didn’t have the kind of conscience that halted me.

Now, though, as I stood there, with only Hamzah in view, even though I was properly dressed, I could honestly say that I never felt so awkward in my life. Something major had altered within me and I literally felt like hiding behind a curtain.

I knew, on this journey I was taking, there was a little room for deviation. As much as I wanted to ask him… I knew that there was a way to speak, to be modest and aware and keep myself from appearing anything less than dignified.

”My father said you wanted to speak to me,” was what I said quietly, careful not to be speak too openly.

And as he nodded, without looking at me, and the whole situation was oddly surreal.

And as if a reminder was vital, in the back of my mind was the story of Musaa (AS), which stood out for me as having some of the most important lessons. Attraction to the opposite gender is not taboo; it’s like hunger in Ramadan, and it’s completely natural. But, as a lesson, in this story, Allah shows us how to control them:

Allah Ta’ala says: Then there came to him one of them, (daughter of Shu’aib (AS)) walking shyly, as it was narrated from the Commander of the Faithful, ʿUmar ibn Al-Khaṭṭâb:

“She was covering herself with the folds of her garment.” Ibn Abî Ḥâtim recorded that ʿAmr ibn Maymûn said: “ʿUmar said: ‘She came walking shyly, putting her garment over her face. She was not one of those audacious women who come and go as they please.’”

The âyah goes on: She said: “Verily, my father calls you that he may reward you for having watered (our flocks) for us.”

And those words… well, it was a beautiful example of good manners and modesty: she did not invite him directly lest he have some suspicious thoughts about her. Rather she said: My father is inviting you so that he may reward you for watering our sheep.

How simple and beautiful were the ways of our pious Ambiyaa, who showed us a most virtuous way of life…

I breathed in as I awaited his response.

”Yes,” he said blandly. “I spoke to your father. He said to speak with you. Its been a long two weeks, and I can’t describe how much I missed this guy. With going back to work I thought it’s best to work out some kind of proper arrangement so we can both have the best of him.”

I took a deep breath, knowing what I had to tell him first, before we figured out a better arrangement.

“We can…. but, I resigned,” I said flatly, looking at a spot on the carpet near him, and swallowing hard. “Two weeks ago. From Hammonds.”

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

He was the one person I was waiting to break the news to, since it had happened, because I knew that this would be my one shot of redemption. It would be my one shot to prove that I was taking this seriously. It was my one chance to prove that maybe… just maybe… I was more worthy than he had thought… but the news had a less than desired effect..

He glanced at me briefly, before looking down again. It didn’t seem to be news to him. I couldn’t seem to meet his eye either.

“I see,” he said quietly, gently lifting Zaid up onto his lap, and shifting onto the couch, so he could face me, without meeting my gaze. “Did you get a new offer somewhere in else?”

He was waiting for my answer and his tone was neutral as he asked, but I knew that there was a note of inquisition there.

“I’m thinking about doing something different,” I ventured carefully, purposely wanting to knock him for a six. “I wanted to study Qur’an.”

I could tell from the way his gaze suddenly faltered, that this was something he didn’t quite expect.

Good, I thought to myself. I liked to catch people off guard. I was, after all, anything but predictable.

And I expected more of a reaction, but all he did was tickle Zaid’s tummy, almost as if he was avoiding a response.

Zaid, however, was making up for it completely.  And as we both sat in silence, listening to Zaid giggling gurgling away, both Hamzah and I were on completely different wavelengths.

“That a massive change,” he said softly after a minute… so softly that I barely heard him. “I didn’t know how much had happened while I was gone.”

I kept silent, simply because I could not formulate the words to say what I needed to. There was still so much to let him know, about Hammonds, about the job, about everything that had happened in between that had upset our entire future…

But how could I even begin? 

How could I explain to him that those vile men had taken me and broken my spirit to such unworthiness? How could I explain to him the humiliation of having to beg for my fathers safety, with money I didn’t even have? How could I tell him the feeling of having to literally sell my happiness into the safety that Faadil had promised me?

But it was over now, right? It didn’t matter. We just had to work on Zaid and giving him the best we could.

I couldn’t look at him. The moment I tried, everything came flooding back, and I didn’t want to remember that, as the basis that formed us. I didn’t want to remember the hurt and the ugliness and the general feeling of hostility caused by wealth and status that existed between us.

This was too much.

I hadn’t even said what I needed to say. I hadn’t even gathered my thoughts enough to string them into the kind of thread that would patch up all those shredded pieces. I hadn’t told him that I had prayed, in the early hours of the morning, and that I had asked Allah to illuminate a way. I didn’t tell him how he had inspired my change… How he made me want to be better… and I hadn’t even told him all the things that I so desperately needed to say way back when I never got to say them….

Instead, I just looked down again. So that was it. That’s all he really wanted to speak about. Alright then.

I shifted in my seat, now intensely aware of the silence and not sure if it was my cue to leave. After all, there was no need for me to be sitting here with a strange man, if we had nothing more to discuss.

Hamzah’s focus had now been shifted to Zaid, who was now suddenly a little more unsettled, as he let us know in his own way that it was probably time for bed. Knowing that his tummy was starting up again, my first instinct was only his comfort.

“I think Zaidoo needs to la-la,” I said cheerfully, swallowing back all emotion that may have surfaced, knowing that it was time to call it a day. “I’ll take him up.”

If not anything else, maybe this will be the beginning of a more civilised relationship between us, that we both would be more accepting of.

It would be the initiation of more understanding and compromise. That sounded like a good plan.

“Relax,” Hamzah said to me, instantly scooping Zaid up and cradling him in his arms expertly now, as he popped a dummy into his mouth.

I turned my face because it was doing strange things to my insides because I had no idea that Hamzah actually had it in him to do human things like rock babies to sleep.

“I’ll do it. I missed this guy way too much to part with him…”

I was instantly on edge now, feeling a little threatened that he was getting so cozy with my little guy. I knew it was silly of me but i couldn’t help the possessiveness.

”But you’ll have to,” I said firmly, not wanting to raise an argument about who was keeping him tonight. We had discussed this a while ago. “Part with him, I mean.”

“I know,” Hamzah said, but I could hear an edge to his voice. “But I may change my mind.”

I narrowed my eyes. Now he was making me anxious again. One minute I was sure that he was a saint, and the next I wanted to strangle him.

“You can’t,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Not allowed.”

”I’m not allowed to change my mind?” He asked incredulously, and I shook my head vehemently, no longer feeling so aware of myself.

When I got ready for an argument, unfortunately, I was all about tit-for-tat. As much as I knew that I needed to work on it, I just couldn’t swallow my anger.

”Its not fair on me,” I said bluntly. What will I do without Zaid here? He was my safety net. “You can’t just swop and change as you please.”

”But what if I want to?” he insisted, looking at Muhammed Husayn now, almost as if he was talking to him. “I like change. It’s more exciting when it’s not expected. What if Zaid wants to?”

”Not in this case,” I insisted, revving myslef up for a proper motive to argue. How could he pin this on a baby? “Zaid doesn’t know any better!”

I couldn’t believe he was pursuing this.
Muhammed Husayn was looking at us both now, opening his mouth to try and stop us.

“Okay okay,” my brother said, glancing at me as if I was embarrassing him, “Can’t you’ll just come to some agreement…”

Zaid had conveniently abandoned the sleeping mission and was bobbing over Hamzah’s shoulder, flashing me a scampish grin.

It was almost as if they were all ganging up on me and I loathed the betrayal.

Frankly, even if Zaid started blowing me kisses right then, I wasn’t gonna sway.

“Maybe we can do a trade off?” Hamzah said furtively, and I knew he was aiming for a compromise. I wasn’t.

“I’m not interested,” I snapped, getting up and walking a few steps toward the exit to show I was serious,  but not wanting to go without Zaid. “I don’t compromise on my deals and that’s final. Muhammed Husayn, please bring Zaid up to me. Now.”

I shot my brother a warning glance and Hamzah had the cheek to look amused. He actually found it funny.

“Okay okay,” Hamzah laughed, putting his hands up in surrender, as I halted, waiting for him to hand over Zaid. “I’m sorry, I’m just joking. Just open this, and I’ll stop being a pest.”

Ugh. He was being ten times worse than a pest.

He had apologised and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry. This was the worst part about Hamzah. He was always up to some stupid prank. I thought that he would have grown up from back in the day, but he obviously hadn’t got the memo. That was, clearly why, no-one intelligent ever trusted him enough to get involved with him. Except me. Clever me.

I was glaring at him now like he was the bane of my life.

Also, what was with this audacity to look so alluringly proud of himself and it made me even more agitated. Even as he handed a silver paper packet over, I was still fuming, feeling like I had compromised way more than my sanity to accommodate him. If this was another prank, he had to leave…

But because he sounded so sincere as he handed over the package that I had barely noticed was next to him all this time, I kind of crumbled a little, letting him pass it to me through my brother, whilst studying it silently, with a no-nonsense look on my face.

“I brought you something,” he said quietly, as I opened the packet. Actually, more like ripped it apart, due to my state of mind, which almost immediately dissipated as it opened. “It’s kind of an apology.”

And as he said it, the thing was, if I had a weak spot for anything, they weren’t many people who didn’t know what it was. Coffee and Cadbury chocolate were my favs, and just catching a glimpse of that purple-blue wrapper always made my heart sing, and as I pulled it out, the huge slab of Bubbly chocolate was basically a soothing to my eyes.

On it though, I hadn’t even processed, stuck with a fancy piece of washi tape was a little handwritten note:

‘Another chocolate, another chance?’

And my mind was so clouded with emotion that I couldn’t quite understand. And of course, I felt a little conned into forgiving him but if didn’t quite answer what exactly Hamzah was saying until he looked up at me, and then spoke.

“In case you are wondering,” he said with a grin, his eyes meeting mine for the first time that evening. “Muhammed Husayn did tell me that he ate your chocolate.”

Muhammed Husayn was looking only slightly apologetic, as I glanced at him.

“Also… I’ve been doing my fair share of thinking,” he said quietly, sounding extremely apprehensive. I figured this wasn’t easy for him to say. Who would have thought Hamzah actually lost his pluck? “And well…. after Maulana gave me a good talking to about being mature and stuff…. I spoke to your father and asked his advice…”

I actually had no idea that my father spoke to him , and as I looked toward where my father stood, he smiled at me, almost reassuringly.

”What did my father say?” I asked, a little calmer now, as I wondered what the two of them really spoke about and if he was really just talking about my father’s concerns… or someone else’s.

“He said he worried about you and Zaid,” he said steadily, glancing up at me, his eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze for a minute. “I did too. So I asked Allah to show me a sign about what I needed to do and when you told me just now that you had quit Hammond’s and wanted to start classes… Well, I suppose that was it.”

Wait. A sign?!

“Listen,” he said softly, obviously noticing my alarmed expression. “I know that we are all just figuring things out. What I do believe is that everything happens for a reason and all I can see is Allah piecing this whole thing together in a better way. And maybe it wasn’t meant to be before, and the timing was off, but I do firmly believe that Allah is showing us that sometimes these things can’t be planned or chosen, and maybe we lost so much and people we love but is it maybe possible that through this all, Allah is choosing us to be together in a most unconventional way..?”

Woah.

Us? Did he just say us? Together?

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat, biting back emotion as he said it while I spotted my father lingering by the doorway, with a strange look on his face.

Oh gosh. Tears were filling my eyes and I wasn’t even sure if I had was understanding right. I missed Layyanah so much right then.

But Hamzah wasn’t finished.

“I love Zaid too, and I know know you can do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have to. All I know is that I don’t want to have to miss another Eid day with him ever again.”

“…..”

That was me. It was just snot and tears and I couldn’t quite believe I was already starting to bawl my eyes out. Every damn thing just made me want to ugly cry. And I wasn’t certain but I thought I heard Hamzah just say that he might want me in his life.

And I’d like to say that I was bowled over by this very impromptu proposal, but I’m afraid that there weren’t many words to describe how I felt right then. It was a bitter – sweet occasion that brought back so many memories of Liyaket and Layyanah and I couldn’t help but think of how they would have felt right then.

And sometimes we look for these situations as if they can be found, but the thing is, sometimes it comes suddenly, overwhelming you, like a hot summer storm. Sometimes these things can’t be planned and chosen. Sometimes Allah intervenes directly, and the entire thing just becomes a new part of you that you’ve reached, and there’s no going back without soaking it all in.

And the rest as history, of course, because I already knew what I wanted. There was no way I could even hold Hamzah’s annoying tendencies against him because I knew that there was no better way to work this out, and despite my worries and concerns, Allah had come through for me in so many more ways that I had ever imagined

And of course, I had been on cloud nine till Monday morning, basking in congratulations and well- wishes and being extremely grateful to Allah for inspiring Hamzah’s decision, because I knew that none of it was possible without my Rabb who was forever looking out and keeping watch for me. Besides that, we knew that it was the best thing for Zaid, but it didn’t mean that it was only about him. We had both given our final answers two days after making isthikhaarah, and everything felt so right, that I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

But as always, reality had to intervene at some point, and I suppose it was a way of getting back at me as I found myself slightly anxious- making my way back to the office, facing real life once again.

Hands down, that last day at Hammond’s was the hardest and the huge set back for me. Seeing everyone again, going through the motions… was extremely overwhelming. Most of all, meeting Faadil, this time, making sure we stayed an arms length away from each other, with no emotional attachment at all, was most difficult.

And it was emotionally taxing and he had tried to convince me otherwise, but on that day we had both agreed that we were going to be mature about our break up, and wish each other well for the future. That’s what closure meant. The meeting had ended off on a slightly nostalgic tone, but the relief I felt after, hoping that he was no longer holding onto a future together helped me to shoved the thoughts out of my mind as I tried to push myself into the week ahead.

It was just that, even at that time I had made it clear, I got a feeling that the conversation wasn’t completely over. He had been cool about it, but from past rumours, I knew that Faadil was always the one to call things off, and he had tried to make it sound like he was, but my news had kind of knocked him off course.

Nonetheless, I shoved any stray thoughts out of my head, because at long last, I had made it to the Nikah day and my heart was in my throat as I thought of what  it would all entail. Over the past few months, I had imagined different and varying scenarios in my mind, but none could really compare to how it really felt that day, right up until Faadil phoned to say he was outside my parents home.

He hadn’t come inside. I remembered telling him once that my family was pretty traditional and I was glad he respected it. It was just that now, after trying to call and message multiple times, he had now let me know that he had taken a small road trip to see me without knowing that today was my big day. There he was, standing in the open, with grassy fields as a backdrop, familiar scent of Montale Oud that I had become to accustomed to was way too familiar for comfort.

And I know. I know what you’re thinking. Another man calling me and wanting to see me while I was supposed to be getting married on that day, was probably the lowest I could go. I was stupid. Really stupid. I felt crap about it too. But this time, it wasn’t like all those months ago, when Faadil had caught me at my weakest resolve.

It wasn’t about making the most of my unmarried status. I had grown up. I knew where my loyalties lay. I had made a commitment to Hamzah, and it meant much more than anything that had ever happened with Faadil. What I did know was that rejection was barely his cup of tea, and this was his last attempt at closure, or perhaps a last attempt to change my mind…

Perhaps he expected to win in the end, like he always made sure he did. But this time, I had to just take one look at him before I knew that this wasn’t just Faadil the great, coming to blow his own horn.

What started with sin, must end in ruin. Right?

“Mos,” he started weakly, as soon as he spotted me. The relief on his face as he saw me was undeniable. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

I looked down, knowing that I owed it to Hamzah to at least be a little conservative. Maybe he thought that instead of calling, if he placed himself in front of me, it would change my mind. What Faadil didn’t know was that my attraction for him was based only on the temporary things that now meant nothing to me….

”Just hear me out,” he almost begged. “I know this is a little late, and I heard you’re getting married today. Mos, I can’t lose you…”

---

Dearest readers

Extra long bonus post. It was the other POV I had written so I tied it up… so will try and post again soon InshaAllah, since l I’m due for a short break after Mosee’s drama is over .. ❤️

Much love

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I it’s recommended to set a certain amount of Quran to read every day, to purify the rusted hearts.

Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “Stick to the reading of the Quran, as it is Noor for you in this li free and treasure in the Aakhirah.”

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aan

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

­

Counting Chickens

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 43

We’re Home.
And then we aren’t.

Sometimes we are lost, and then suddenly, we’re not.

And I’m not going to make this about love or soulmates or all the soppy stuff, because I honestly believe that it’s not about all of that.
What I can say, for sure, is that every one of us has a hole in us. A hole that we try to fill with different, temporary things, in order to gain our peace.

And while we get busy finding careers, holidays, soulmates and having kids, we forget that our happiness and peace cannot depend on them alone. A temporary fix cannot ever, fill a permanent hole.

When there is nothing else that can find that void but Allah, we lose ourselves in chasing the wrong things, to the wrong people, and on the wrong paths, until we finally find the source of it all.

Allah Azza Wa Jal, and His words.

And as much as it guides, protects and frees us…  most importantly, it brings us back to our beautiful purpose.

And as it hit me, almost out of the blue, as the sun met the sky on the horizon once again, and I closed my Mushaf, I could not have ever thought of a better way to comprehend what was unfolding right before me, right then.

My Lord, You have not created all of this without a purpose. Exalted is You.
(Qur’an, 3:191)

Purpose, everything has one. Nothing in the heavens or the earth or inside of me or inside of you is created without a purpose. And as we grow, and we learn, and we put self-absorption, doubt and temporary fixes aside, we come to realize what our true purpose in life is.

And as I crept toward the window, glimpsing the motion of hundreds of dust specks that swirled around in the morning light, as if they were doing a little happy dance of their own… my own heart lifted…

Like a sweet surrender to the sunnier side of life, I couldn’t quite believe that after all that rain, we had been blessed with the most gorgeous of days just when we needed it most.

And breathing in the crisp winter air, i savored the time of day I loved most about the farm we called home, admiring the stretch of glorious green before me. The sweet sight of the sun kissing the mountain tops, and then spreading beyond to highlight the best bits of country-life before me, in their optimum form, made  my spirits instantly soar. After a week of rains, seeing the sun find its way through the clouds to bless us with its warmth once again gave me a very palpable oozing within my chest…

And now, after the slightly stormy season of our life, I had high hopes that the sun was here to stay.

Even at that time of the morning, the house was buzzing with activity. Pots clanged as my mother counted chickens and argued about whether there would be enough, and I could hear my father shouting at Muhammed Husayn to get out of bed and come help him outside.

I could already see a few workers in the yard, clearing the grassy patch where the marquee would go, so that  it wouldn’t be too drenched with the morning dew that seemed so excessive that particular day.

“Mummy, can you just relax?” I could hear my mother saying from where I stood on the landing. “I hope you didn’t invite the whole world. We really won’t need so much of food. And it’s not the first time they have had a wedding in the family…”

”But it’s the first time we are having wedding in my family!” Nani said bossily. “What Will Khairoon and Taahira say if it’s not enough? Aunty Bhen is also waiting to see the menu. As it is she is planning her grandsons wedding from now and he’s not even proposed.”

Nani had more of a social life than me. How was that even fair?

“You shouldn’t have told her so early,” Ma scolded. “Then you wouldn’t have to give the whole itinerary. Plus, simplicity is the Sunnah.”

“What early?” Nani argued, missing the point. “I only told Khairoon two days ago and her kitchri was coming out. Leave it. Next time I won’t tell her till day of wedding. Just now something will go wrong and we will know why. Everything must be perfect.”

And I had chuckled to myself, wondering where Nani picked up stuff like that, but Nani and her eccentrics was really the highlight of every occasion.

She started rattling something in Gujarati that I barely understood, but I could tell that Ma had given up already. Nani was on a roll and no one could stop her.

And of course, despite the emotion, no one could help but be bowled over by Nani’s reaction to the proposal news. It was a mixture of excitement, happiness and tears as she processed them, and her theatrics, when my father had said that Mohsina and Hamzah and were proposed (again) was something that had made a very lasting impression.

And as Muhammed Husayn had cheekily told Nani that Mohsina had finally found a muscle man to marry, Nani had literally paused in the middle of cleaning the dhaniya, with an odd look of her face.

And while she was probably to figure out whether he was for real or not, and my father came in and confirmed it, an array of emotions consumed me too, as she shook her head silently, and then wiped her eyes, which were filling with constant tears.

Then, as if her entire life depended on thing thing, what she did next, was nothing short of amazing.

And I knew it was something completely astounding because as long as I knew Nani, her signature accessory that she had worn since half a century ago, was a simple but obviously expensive gold bracelet, around her left wrist. And it had been there for so long, that if you saw Nani without that, at any time, then you would probably question if it really was Nani at all, because it had literally become an essential part of her identity. And like most of the older people I knew, their gold and jewelry meant the world to them, and was their prized possession.

This particular piece, she had mentioned, was one that she had from before she even got married, so how old it was; I probably couldn’t even calculate.

But that wasn’t the point. Hearing the news, was something that had immediately stirred her, and as if it was an automatic reaction, as a token of gratitude… in the moment of elation, she immediately unclipped the bracelet, gave it to my father, and said:

”Weigh it and give the money away in Sadaqah (charity).”

And of course, like me, my father had looked at her like she had lost her mind.

Like, was she for real? She had just given away an expensive gold bracelet, on hearing one snippet of good news? I could not comprehend. I was, honestly, lost for words.

And of course I didn’t understand, because when I looked at it, I realised that because of Nani’s extreme elation, older and more religious people knew nothing more than to turn to Allah Ta’ala in every situation. Like a built-in reminder, their entire purpose and every circumstance always took them back to Allah.

And that’s when I recalled that several of the Sahabah (radiyallahu’anhum) had also practised this very act, of showing their gratitude to Allah Ta’ala for his favour by donating a portion of their wealth, I was rightfully blown away.

And of course, Muhammed Husayn raised his eyebrows at Nani, and singled Mosee out.

”Mos, see how happy Nani is that you going. She’s giving away all her jewellery.”

Mohsina had narrowed her eyes at him, as he said it, but Nani was still emotional as she looked up at him.

”So long I have waited for my grandchild to give me this news. My Du’aas are all being answered in front of my eyes. Why can’t I part with a little bit of Duniyaa because of it, huh? Don’t be so naa-shukriyaa.”

Mohsina had stuck her tongue out at Muhammed Husayn, but despite their light-heartedness, their was a tone of solemnity that was already imminent.

And what she said wasn’t just some kind of silly tradition. What I didn’t know then was that it was actually a Sunnah to give Sadaqah on hearing of good news.

In Bukhari it’s mentioned that Ka’b ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu), upon receiving the good news of Allah Ta’ala accepting his repentance, gave the clothing he possessed to the person who passed on the message to him.

And as I recalled the Sunnah of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) and his Sahabah when I saw her immediate reaction, I could not quite believe that qualities like this  existed in people of my lifetime.

The feeling of celebration was in the air and everything that came with it was immensely beautiful and uplifting.

I mean, I had always loved Hamzah for Mohsina but after everything that had happened, I really didn’t want to keep my hopes so high.

I mean, in every way, it seemed far-fetched, disastrous and near impossible, but somehow, when it comes together in a most unexpected way, you honestly could not have imagined it any other way.

From what I had gathered from my father and Muhammed Husayn’s snippets (which was not very detailed) and after a hugely emotional and slightly tense exchange, the question was popped and from what she had said previously, Mohsina knew that there was nothing more that she wanted more than to marry him.

And as I stood outside, as they finished talking, I could tell that both had undergone a tremendous amount of change over that past month, and their decision had been a beautiful result of that.

And despite knowing the outcome, later on when I finally asked my sister how it went, her vague answer was:

”All I can say is I was that there were two game changers…” she said mysteriously, with a coy glint in her eyes, as I raised my eyebrows at her questioningly.

“Zaidoo, and the bubbly chocolate,” she said with a smile, and I laughed.

For Mohsina, I knew that chocolate could fix almost any situation, and if Hamzah knew that, I was quite certain that he would be able to handle her pretty well…

Of course, although I lowered my gaze as he exited, I could tell that like Mohsina, Hamzah was very much at peace right then, as they got ready for this huge and crucial step of their lives.

All in all, it wasn’t one of those cliched, I can’t live without you, kind of proposals, and I didn’t expect it to be.

And it was barely the most conventional situation. There was, for starters, a little baby who relied on them, needed them and who they both loved immensely. Also, being in a situation where they had history meant that they had to put weird vibes behind them and move on, with no questions asked.
But while that was true, what I knew for sure was that Mohsina had changed, but how Hamzah had inspired her was something she hadn’t yet told him. I just hoped that one day, everything would come together beautifully, so they could work on all those little holes that needed to be patched up once and for all..

And so, without even giving anything else much thought, after they had made their Isthikhaarah, the week had gone by, as Mohsina went in to the office to round off her work, sort out her life and trying to squish other emotions as she brought her belongings back from the Hammond’s apartment, to start a brand new chapter of life once again.

And of course, I couldn’t help but think to myself how strange life was, in that way. One minute, you’re psyching yourself up for the job of your lifetime, changing addresses and wardrobes, and the next, you’re headed in a completely different direction o, and starting off again, in a almost unprecedented way…

I could sense a change in her as she visited her old life again, but I put it down to her having slight withdrawal, which was completely natural when you left a part of your old life behind. How much she had really endured, I wasn’t even aware. Although Mohsina had put on a brave face, for the first time, there was a reservation in her eyes that I couldn’t quite put my put finger on…

There was so much she had been through. So much her heart had altered. And that very morning, as I assumed Zaidoo was asleep, I knew that I couldn’t rest until I spoke to my sister before I went down and immersed myself in all of the preparations that Ma was already screaming for me to come help with. And as I called down to my mother that I was coming, I found myself pausing for a moment, outside Mohsina’s  room door before I entered, savouring the moment as much as I could, so it would seem to go on forever.

I was weird like that. I took note of the lasts and first of life… finding them strangely sentimental.
And as I breathed in deeply again, I knocked softly at first, hearing tiny whimpers from inside, knowing that Zaid was probably threatening to wake up and Mohsina was desperately trying to keep him asleep.

And as I pushed the door open, just slightly, my suspicions were confirmed as Mohsina put her fingers to her lips with widened eyes. Tapping him more vigorously was in vain because Zaid had already sensed an opportunity to abort sleeping mission and sat up immediately, blinking his eyes comically as he stuffed two fingers in his mouth and looked at me as if he was the luckiest little guy in the entire world.

And of course, I couldn’t resist, and as Mohsina sighed, I couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Oh my word, he just gets cuter by the day,” I sighed, as I dove on the bed, and pinched his chubby cheeks.

And of course, my sister was had no choice but to get up, knowing that today was going to be the big day… and soon her life would changed completely.

”So, how’s the ‘wife-to-be’?” I asked, glancing and winking at my sister, whose nerves seemed to be word very thin over the past few days.

To be fair, Zaid was also being a little bit troublesome and extremely clingy, and I wasn’t sure if that was what was making her a little edgier than usual.

All she had to do now was forget about everything else and focus on Hamzah, Zaid and herself. Yes, I understood that they had a bit to work through… but there was always enough time…. right?

“I’m fine,” she said, flashing me a quick smile before returning to her task of folding Zaid’s clothes and packing them in an open suitcase.

“You want me to keep him tonight? You deserve a better nights sleep you know… before everything changes completely.”

She frowned as she glanced at me.

I knew that Hamzah was going to be renting an apartment closer to his work place where they would be staying, but before the month end, she had mentioned that they may go away for a short break to that amazing farm house that had blown me away.

In my world, basking in the glorious sunshine with birds twittering above them, there was no better place to start a new life. Amidst a stunning backdrop of greenery and tranquility, it would be the perfect setting for the two, or rather, three, of them to bond with no signal towers in sight and make the most of the country air.

Ah yes, I was very clearly a dreamer and my realist sister was quick to remind me of it.

”No,” she said, unnecessarily bluntly. “All hell breaks loose if one of us are not with him. I don’t think it’s possible to leave him.”

”But that’s barely even romantic,” I moaned, with a frown. After all, she wasn’t Shrek’s wife who locked herself up at night.

”Unfortunately, Jams,” she said, turning to me with an odd expression in her eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but this marriage is not about romance.”

I frowned. She was such a bummer.

And she was wrong. I wasn’t sure that Hamzah even knew what she thought that they were setting themselves up for. They could make the most of any situation if they put their heads together. But evidently, they hadn’t.

”Is everything okay?” I asked now, getting a little worried. Her phone, which was on the mantle piece, had buzzed twice and each time she glanced at it, save looked even more edgy. She seemed a little more preoccupied though, as I tried to prove answers out her.

“Is that Hamzah?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her, hoping they weren’t chatting.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, and then, without warning I could see that wall coming down and shutting us off again.

“Mind your own business,” she said quietly, obviously not wanting to disclose what was going on. And of course, I hated it when she did that and I was ready to leave her to her own devices again, but I knew I had to say something more.

I wanted to yell at her and tell her not to let her old life suck get in again. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know how lucky she was to be given a second chance. I wanted to tell her that she can’t be doing this to us all over again. But I didn’t.

”You are sure about this, right?” Was all I said, looking at her questioningly.

I was so sure that this was the right thing for her and Hamzah, but what was going on?

”Im sure,” she said stiffly, and I took it as a cue to leave, thousands of unspoken words still hung in the air.

In my mind’s eye, I had this inspiring idea of telling her that it’s never too late to start again. To let her know its never too late time to pack your life into a suitcase too, and start some place new. I wanted to tell her that there were so many possibilities, and if only she could start over, the pen to write her life is in her hands…

I breathed in, calming down slightly as I realized that maybe it was something small and it would blow over and settle again. I was optimistic like that, counting chickens and all. After all, the Nikah was a few hours away. There was no going back from here, right?

And as I left her upstairs with Zaid and obediently followed my mother’s instructions, making my way out to the front to check if there was an extra bag of flour in the shop for Nani’s rotis, I wasn’t really thinking about much else. Mohsina was most unpredictable.

One day she was the happiest person in the world, and the next, she acted as if the world was coming to an end. It was a strange but definitive pattern that followed, but it seemed that every time Mohsina went back into office mode, something in her altered and her entire demeanor changed.

And as I unlocked and pushed open the empty coffee shop, which we had closed for the wedding week, and spotted the bag of flour in the far corners of the back room, all I could think about was Mohsina.

Yes, she had taken steps in the right direction, to reclaim her heart, and to get those keys back and , but as it happens, sometimes we slip and end up giving in to Duniyaa once again. I could see her faltering, allowing it to break her and bring her down again. She was seeking something from nothing, digging in, but all that would happen here is she would break her fingers in the process. And before that happened, it was up to me to pull her out…

And pulling the bag into an easier position to lift and hoist up, as I placed it securely under my arm, I was barely even aware of my surroundings as I exited the shop through the front door. Turning around to lock up, as we always did, as an extra precaution, I barely even heard the car that had appeared from nowhere., right behind me, until the person had jumped off.

“Salaam,” a voice said, and as I turned around in surprise, a whiff of a expensive perfume filled my nostrils. I was a little take aback by who was in front of me.

“Can I help you?” I asked politely, pulling my scarf over my head a little more securely taking in his suit and pants, with a tightly secured tie. “I’m afraid the shop is closed for the weekend, but if you’re after coffee, I can get someone to make you a cup quickly.”

Business man shook his head, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Zubair pausing and watching us from a distance, probably wondering what he wanted. After all, handling the shop was Zubair’s job, and I had a good mind of calling him over and tell him to serve the gentleman, so I could get on with my task.

What I didn’t realize was that while I failed to recognize him, Zubair had remembered exactly who this stranger was.

”I don’t need coffee,” office man said with a grim but poised smile. He exuded confidence, even though he was completely out of place in this farm-like setting.

And of course, as he introduced himself, and realization dawned, everything about Mohsina’s recent behavior now suddenly made sense.

“It’s Faadil. I came here to speak to Mohsina. I was wondering if you could call her for me?”

I wasn’t sure how much of a setback this would be, but I had a feeling that maybe… just maybe….
Maybe I had been too quick to count my chickens.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I it’s recommended to set a certain amount of Quran to read every day, to purify the rusted hearts.

Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “Stick to the reading of the Quran, as it is Noor for you in this li free and treasure in the Aakhirah.”

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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