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.

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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

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