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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• Beauty
• Celebration
• Change
• Chickens
• Dreamer
• Duniyaa
• Family
• Farm
• Heart
• Hereafter
• Islam
• Keys
• Lost
• Love
• Marriage
• Nature
• Nikah
• Purpose
• Reality
• World