Wistful Waterfalls

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 56

When Hamzah had mentioned the word adventure…. Well, let me just tell you, I wasn’t quite prepared for the kind that he had in mind.

It was the barely even what a sane person would call ‘morning’, of the day we were scheduled to leave the farm, when he had woken me up at an insanely early part, and actually expected me to get out of bed.

And of course, I had pulled Zaid off of me, squinted at him like he was crazy, and rolled over again. But that was the thing with Hamzah. He was so good at convincing me that it was going to be worth it, that I could do nothing more than pull on some lazy track pants and a long sleeve modest top.

“No need for the Abaya,” he said with a wink, after I’d prayed my Fajr Salaah, and I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering where we were going. “It’s just going to be us. You and me. Young, wild and free.”

Euw. Cheesy was not the word. I was so perturbed that I didn’t even take the hint that was being offered.

I made a puke face and pulled on a sports hijab, because I could already see him tying his laces and I kind of figured this was going to be some sort of wilderness expedition. Not that I was the sporty type, but I mean; sportswear was still trendy and I was just happy that I had brought my brand new modest activewear set with me.

And I wasn’t even sure how it happened but somehow, an hour later, there I was, the usually city-inclined  @mostlymohsina, at an unmentionable time of the morning, trudging through the thicket behind Hamzah through some random bush, with really no true sense of direction or information of what was to come.

The thing was, this wasn’t on the itinerary. I wasn’t really prepared for actual trekking through hiking trails and unstable grounds. I wasn’t even mentally prepped for creepy crawlies and weird spikey-like caterpillar thingums that we saw on bushes. I had already shocked Hamzah senseless with a few high pitched screams, to the point where he probably was tirelessly immune to the drama.

Besides that, I was literally just trying to maneuver myself through carnivore-territory without trying to freak out to much about getting murdered or killed, while I avoided cliff like edges that I could fall off and tried to just focus once again on Hamzah’s retreating back, that was now about a metre ahead of me.

“Where are we even going?” I nagged impatiently, poking him in the spot behind his shoulder blades with a stick that I had picked up along the way. It was the third time I had asked and it wasn’t as if I was the easiest person to deal with otherwise, pokes and all. “And how much longer?”

“Stop being such a control freak,” he muttered now, shaking his head at my impatience. I honestly could not stand suspense. It was the worst part of this whole trip.

I mean, it wasn’t all bad. The smell of nature had actually become strangely pleasant to me, and the sound of nothing but my rapid breathing was unusually calming. The intensity of the suns rays had been brazenly shining down on me for about half an hour now, and as the thickness of the greenery lifted, I shielded my eyes as I watched how focused Hamzah was.

And okay… maybe I was being a bit of a grouch, but gosh, he seemed to love this kind of stuff.

And as we found ourselves on a slightly more elevated point, when the sound of flowing water awakened my senses with the parting of the thicket, the sight below us revealed a most breathtaking lush valley that literally made me stop in my tracks. It was beauty upon beauty and beyond that all… all we could witness was the unveiling of the extraordinary mountainous skies that Allah Ta’ala had once again brought alive through every beginning of day. And as I gazed downwards, the untainted vision of blue waters in the sunken valley was a soothing salve to my senses…

My word, it was enchanting.

The gorgeous stream below us was slowly revealing itself through the thicket, and as I peeped through to get a better view, Hamzah had paused for a minute, almost as if he was recalling something, when I heard his phone ring in his pocket.

Signal! Oh my goodness. It was a miracle!

And there was nothing quite like it to defer my attention. Finally, I could check on Zaid. And messages. And life, as I knew it. Civilians were accessible! Also, though Saaliha was very confident that Zaid would be perfectly fine, my own heart had been so uncertain about leaving him for the entire three hours Hamzah had predicted we would take…

My aspirational husband had already taken out his iPhone, glanced at it with a certain flicker of emotion on his eye, and then put it back in his pocket. It was almost as if he don’t want to bother with the matter that was at hand then, and instinctively, my hand delved into my own pocket, but before I could even slide it upwards to unlock, Hamzah’s hand had already grabbed my phone, hastily tossing it onto the thickened floor of a nearby bush .

”Oh no, you didn’t,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes and looking at Hamzah as a sly smile crept onto his face.

He was smirking at me, as the filtered sun shone on his brown hair, with not an ounce of remorse on his striking face.

“No technology,” he said blandly, looking at me, his eyes stagnant, as if to challenge me.

Damn. I was itching to to take some pictures too. This spot was simply spectacular. It had been an hour of intense hiking to get to this point. I had to have something to show for it.

“But I need to take some snaps!” I whined, looking absolutely distraught as he threw his own phone into the another cushioned part of the bush.

He was pulling off his backpack and his cap, and a little Elfbar gadget he used to smoke when lighting a cigarette became too tedious. He had pulled out some snacks that we had packed, tossing a packet to where I was, before he sat down, facing the other way and puffed away.

“To hell with snaps,” he said smoothly, sitting closer to the edge as I took a step back while smoke clouded the air. “You took enough. And I’m warning you… Reach for it, and there will be consequences.”

And of course, I was barely the type to care about consequences. Especially from Hamzah. I mean, honestly, what could he really do?

I needed those pictures. It was like something was summoning me. All that effort. How could I not have something to show for it?

And as I stepped backward again, turning around exceptionally slowly while creeping silently toward the corner where my phone had been stashed, as Hamzah puffed away incessantly, I barely even heard a single scrunch of leaves behind me. In an instant, hands had already grasped me by the waist as I let out a startled shriek, as Hamzah literally air-lifted me off the ground to drag me back to where we had just been.

”Hey, man!” I yelled at him, struggling vehemently while trying to ease his unyielding grip on me.

“I told you there would be consequences, woman,” he warned aptly as I squealed again, but I could hear the humour in his voice as I wiggled around, now feeling just a little intimidated by his threats.

My wiggling was all in vain, due to his steely grip. He was barely even budging.

And okay. Maybe he was serious. Maybe I should just apologise.

”I’m sorry,” I said, putting on a pleading voice and hoping with every ounce within me that he wasn’t going to do what I thought he was.

No. Of course he wouldn’t throw me into the lurking waters below. He would never.

We were only standing at the edge of the bank of one of the most intimidatingly lakes I had ever seen. As I yanked myself backwards to try and escape him, his grip on my hand had tightened even more, while he stepped forward, toward the edge, and gave me a cheeky grin.

”You’re insane!” I almost shouted, struggling even more as I recognized that defiant look in his eye that signaled that he was about to do something crazy.

I did not know that I married a complete psychopath.

And okay, I wouldn’t have minded if he fulfilled his own deranged ideas, but why on Earth was he dragging me into it?!

I still couldn’t believe that he was actually thinking of that, but from the way he was focusing on it, I knew that he was absolutely serious. I wasn’t even sure if the water was deep enough for the height we were at, or if he had done this before…

”Hamzah, no!” I cried, honestly terrified, looking down at the torrents of water and pulling back with all the might I could muster, but he was too strong for me. “This is not funny anymore! Stop messing around!”

“Messing around?!” He said with a smirk. “Come on, City Girl from the Farm. Learn to live.”

”No no no!” I screeched, knowing what was going to happen but trying to stall him. “Not now!”

”If not now, then when?!”

It was all he said, and with that and a massive tug of strength that felt like my knees being buckled from behind me, a few milliseconds of gut-wrenching free fall ensued just before foamy, icy waters surrounded and drenched me to the bone.

For a minute, the air was completely knocked out of me as I pushed my head above the current, barely able to formulate a response for what he had just done.

Oh my goodness. He had actually done it. We had actually fell into the bloody water. What was wrong with him?!

I literally wanted to kill him. Right here in these waters, and leave him here to get devoured by the crocodiles.

And as I gasped for air, spluttering and spitting incoherent venom at him in an attempt to reprimand him, his expression was completely unbothered as he continued wading through the waters expertly against the current to the middle of the lake.

Somehow, he had known exactly where we had to jump, to get the perfect landing… and the thought that this was all planned made me even more infuriated.

I was already out of breath and focusing on keeping myself anchored, and as he surfaced again, his face glimmering irritatingly with water droplets, I lunged forward to attack him. Hamzah, obviously exceptionally more capable in the water than I ever imagined, dodged me effortlessly.

“I c-can’t believe you!” I screamed, my face right in front of his now, still in shock as I flailed my one free hand around in the water. “Let go of me! I want to g-get out!”

I was livid. Raging with anger and completely unimpressed. I could see a mocking humour in his eyes, and it just infuriated me more.

“Relax,” he said calmly, but still not letting go. “Stop acting like such a girl. Why do you always have to be in control?”

“C-Control?!” I said incredulously, still slightly shivery although I was trying to warm myself up. “This is n-not about control! It’s about c-crazy men who throw women off cliffs!”

He laughed, finding the entire thing extremely amusing. I still wanted to hurt him.

I was still struggling to get my other hand free, but his grip was way too tight to even try. I was angry and frustrated and now irrevocably soaked. I honestly wanted to cry.

”I can’t believe that you did that!” I shrieked, hating every second. I hated swimming. I hated water. I hated feeling cold.

I still could not believe that Hamzah was such an obnoxious piece of crap.

“Can you just stop screaming?” He said, his eyes darkening now as he pulled me towards the centre of the lake. “People will think I’m murdering you.”

”You probably are, you psychopath,” I shot back, still angry and but feeling myself calming down, without even realising.

“Why would I even want to kill you,” he said abruptly, as if it was self-explanatory. “I don’t even have a motive. It’s not like you have any money I can even-“

He was cut off by the proximity of my hand to his face as he said it, but he was so good in the water that he had now grasped both my hands by the wrists to annoy me further.

He thought he was funny. This man had a cheek.

“You’re evil!” I screeched, my face thunderous now as he gave me a smirk. “How do you know I can even swim?”

“That’s why I’m here, Instagram diva,” he said obviously, not even turning to look at me as he floated along now, me in tow.

“Just trust me, and relax, aight?” He replied, squeezing my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

”You must be kidding me,” I said with a fake laugh, shaking my head at the idea of even trusting him after this.

And although I was fighting it, against my will, the cool waters were doing their thing with me. I attempted to ease myself through them with Hamzah’s guidance, and I couldn’t help but feel soothed by the white noise as the water current crashed against me as we moved along, and for a moment, I began to enjoy the feeling of water surrounding me.

There was no way I would admit it. I continued to struggle but it was to no avail. I still wanted a way out, but instead, we were just moving deeper and deeper in.

And just as I was about to ask Hamzah where on Earth he was going, all of a sudden, we stopped, and as I turned,  the cascading sound of a waterfall filled my ears, as I turned to look. Torrents of water were just ahead of us, falling from a height of about fifty meters, and sight of it – like a hue of paradise- immediately made me freeze in awe. I didn’t even struggle anymore, as we edged closer, my gaze fixed on the spectacular view ahead, as Hamzah also looked almost longingly at the glorious drop of water that towered ahead of us.

It was something like I had never set my sights on before. For a minute… just a crazy minute… I wondered how it would feel to be underneath there. For a crazy minute, I actually wished that Hamzah had pulled me right under, to feel the weight of that pounding water from the top of my head.

Goodness. Hamzah’s wild streak was rubbing off on me.

And then, just as quick as the thought entered, I berated myself for thinking of such insane things because there was no doubt that he would probably just do that…

I glanced at Hamza, knowing that was exactly on his mind when I saw the raw emotion in his eyes… but it was only when he spoke, that I knew exactly why.

”I was only ten when I came here for the first time,” his voice said in my ear, as I pulled myself far enough to create a distance between us, and close enough to feel safe.

Ten years old? Seems like the guy was always crazy.

The sound of the waterfall was now even louder than before as we approached it.

“It was with Liyaket,” he continued, and I looked at him as he said it, and my heart softened. “After Hifdh class one day, we stood there, where we were, and jumped in for the first time. Imraan warned us not to. He told my parents after and my mother almost killed us both. No regrets, though. It’s the best feeling in the world… and since then, well… every year it was our thing…  and we would make this our trademark.”

“Once crazy, always crazy,” I said, shaking my head as I glanced at him.

He smiled faintly, but continued.

“Want to know something?” He said, still now, as he watched the pounding of water ahead of us. “The last time we came was… well… we came just before Zaid was born. It was like two weeks before he passed away… that he told me he wanted to come back here…”

I was quiet now, as I heard Hamzah, not even daring to look at him. I was still a tad bit angry at him, but also… well… I was kind of touched that he had brought me here.

And why wouldn’t I be?

The beauty before me was absolutely breathtaking. There were no words I could use to describe a wonder so magnificent. I had never been to a place like this before. I always shied away from nature, engaging myself in worlds that were so far from real… when it had so much to offer me. I could not believe that I had lived my whole life without seeing this before.

There were no phones, no Instagram posts and no means for diversions, but for the first time in years, I felt inspired and awakened by the setting before me, with no need to filter or replay… and I could not attribute its greatness to anything but Allah Ta’alas magnificence.

“He told me that he had a dream,” he said quietly, as he inched a little closer. “And I didn’t even think anything of it. He had seen in it that he was swimming in blue waters and there were unusual white birds flying above him. I laughed it off, you know. Told him that the only birds we’ll get flying above him here were Mynahs and they would probably give him some blessings on his head…”

I swallowed, surprised at how emotional I was getting while he said it. What an awesome dream…

“You know what I imagine him doing right now?” He said quietly, coming a little closer and for the first time in the waters, I felt completely at ease. Even though I was holding on for dear life due to the strong current, at that moment, nothing felt more safe than being right there.

I turned to look at him, because the sound of the waterfall was getting even louder now. We were approaching it from the side and he paused for a moment, droplets of water glistening on his beard, before he spoke again.

“Every time I read that ayah, it’s only he who comes to mind:

…As for those who believe and do good, We certainly never deny the reward of those who are best in deeds.

أُو۟لَـٰٓئِكَ لَهُمْ جَنَّـٰتُ عَدْنٍۢ تَجْرِى مِن تَحْتِهِمُ ٱلْأَنْهَـٰرُ يُحَلَّوْنَ فِيهَا مِنْ أَسَاوِرَ مِن ذَهَبٍۢ وَيَلْبَسُونَ ثِيَابًا خُضْرًۭا مِّن سُندُسٍۢ وَإِسْتَبْرَقٍۢ مُّتَّكِـِٔينَ فِيهَا عَلَى ٱلْأَرَآئِكِ ۚ نِعْمَ ٱلثَّوَابُ وَحَسُنَتْ مُرْتَفَقًۭا
It is they who will have the Gardens of Eternity, with rivers flowing under their feet .They will be adorned therein with bracelets of gold and will wear green garments of fine silk and brocade, reclining therein on adorned couches. Excellent is the reward, and good is the resting place.

(Al-Kahf 30-31)

It was a beautiful ayah, SubhaanAllah… that so astoundingly described the most unfiltered parts of Jannah…

“And I can almost still picture him right there,” Hamzah murmured as he moved forward, pointing toward the drop of water that was plummeting down, his chest now against my back and I could see the smile on his face while he probably held the vision in his mind. “And I only hope that he will get the most amazing kinds of waterfalls… In rivers of eternal bliss… with the most unusual birds of Jannah really flying above him… Having the time of his eternal life.
Imagine what types of rivers and falls are there, Mos… and he’s just free, in a place where there is no pain and no grief. He had so much that tied him up, so many difficulties… and yet he never complained. On the other hand, I had so much of opportunity and so much of ease… and I had gone so off track. How does it always happen that way? And after he changed his life, you know, he always said that he didn’t know how he would make up for it… but yet he did so much to fix himself. His Salaah was paramount in his life. His Dhor was flawless. He took everything to extreme levels. Lived a pure, honest life. No nonsense. No interest. No loans. He was such an example and I don’t even know how I was blessed with his friendship…”

Hamzah sighed and I didn’t even know what to say to that. I had just silent, listening in total awe…

”The thing is,” he said, glancing at me momentarily. “I think Liyaket would have liked that I brought you here. To our spot.

Their spot. I could literally see Hamzah’s mind recalling the vivid memories.

“I think he would have liked that.”

By then, my anger had already dissipated. And that was a sweet thing to say. I was already fully drenched, so why shouldn’t I just let myself enjoy the moment?

“It was the only time I saw Liyaket with no other care in the world. Free. Completely at ease,” he said softly. “I just want you to share that too, you know?”

“I know,” I said quietly, feeling exactly like Hamzah had described. Free. Not a care in this earthly existence.

“But man, Mos,” he said, almost as if it was a second thought, his honey-brown eyes twinkling even more in the sunlight as he gazed at me. “You’re a fighter.”

“No,” I said, with a wistful smile. “I’m a whole army.”

He grinned and even though I absolutely hated him just a few minutes ago, he was such a con-artist at swindling my heart, and as he came forward, his nose against my forehead as he pecked my nose gently, I knew that I couldn’t bail out now.

I mean; a few months ago, well… I would have never imagined this. In my heart… I was always a city girl. I would have never, in my wildest dreams, imagined Hamzah and I ever being out in the wildest of wilderness… in the depths of silent beauty that spoke right to my soul… having a heartfelt conversation about rivers and waterfalls of ethereal beauty, gardens of eternal bliss, unlike any others in our wildest dreams… And it was such a profound moment, in the most extraordinary setting that had awoken me, inspired me and made me see things in a completely new light…

And oh yes, the kind of world that was Hamzah’s was something like I’d never known before.

And that is when I truly realised the meaning of:

Death is a gift for a believer (Bayhaqi). 

Because for the one who truly believes, it is through the gateway of death that he finds the door to eternal contentment and happiness…

And because of Liyaket, being here was something that was really important to him, and I had understood that. All these months… so much had pained him and grieved him and just being here for now had already brought him so much of joy… the thoughts of Jannah and the Aakhirah and everything that was still to come had evidently already lifted our spirits… 

And though it didn’t lessen the heartache in any way, and the pain of loss was all fresh and devastating once again, all I could think of was how all this had come to show me a completely different sort of life… how it got us to focus on a different path and how our entire perspective had changed through the tragedy had  we both felt so deeply.

It made me ponder. I mean, we all wanted Jannah. The amazement and the splendor … the milky rivers and the most sublime kind of gifts…we all wanted that kind of abode where the purest of Malaaikah would greet us … where there is nothing but ultimate perfection to encompass for eternity…

But the thing is, were we really earning it? What was I really going to secure my final abode?

I had been so caught up in the world and it’s ornaments… so consumed by everything it had to offer… that very often, we even forget our ultimate destination.

And that’s when it came to me, and I realised that even the most trying situations come with their own goodness. That though there was much pain and strife, through Hamzah coming into my life, a whole new world had suddenly opened for me. Perhaps the sole purpose of this entire thing was not for Zaid at all. Perhaps everything that had happened till then has no relation to what it’s true purpose was. Perhaps Allah Ta’ala, through his mercy, had wanted me to come to a realisation of Him, that would change my entire world.

All my life, all I ever worried about was me. My career. My job. My life. My problems. And then this happened, and everything changed.

And I’m not saying that this thing with Hamzah was always mind blowing and mesmerising… but what I did know was that somehow, the office-loving Chartered Accountant was slowly but surely morphing into an unyielding, adventure-seeking cow-girl, and I wasn’t even resisting it. Such beauty and splendour could not possibly fall on a heart and bring forth no effect…

It was a mixture of ultimate surrender, as I felt myself lose the desire to be in control, just for that moment. It was an acceptance of such grandeur and amazement and as we both stood there, for the first time in years for me, I could barely believe how absolutely unlike anything else in the world this feeling felt.

Everyone needs a spot sometimes, a place where the world grows quiet and solace can be found in the fact that a tree is just… well, a tree. Everyone needs a moment to breathe in the magnificence of the natural beauty that was before us, gifted by the Lord of the Worlds. Sometimes it’s only in the stillness of nature, combined with the soothing scent of towering trees and wistful waterfalls, one finds a purifying bliss… and being with Hamzah, well, I hadn’t realised it before but this is what it took for me to understand who was the centre of the ultimate kind of wealth…

And that was the thing with life, in this day and age, isn’t it? We are so caught up in  emails and WhatsApp messages that we forget that there are meant to be real things that we also take much joy in. We forget those moments we could spend obsessing over the perfection of Allah in the curves of a tree’s branches, or watching a spider gracefully spin it’s web. We are blind to the beauty of a blue-bird taking flight or the crusted colours of the leaves in autumn, as they begin to morph. We forget the little things like cascading waterfalls and gorgeously bloody sunsets, capturing the heart of the one you love. We are unaware of the feeling of falling, completely and effortlessly, as those explosions that crackle away like fireworks explode within our souls, allowing ourselves a chance to love so wholeheartedly that we lose the desire to always want to be in control.

And that was just one minuscule part of it… but among the other lessons we may learn along this path— after a long road of falling, tripping, losing, failure, winning and so many mistakes—is that there will be some people you love because of what they give you and the way they make you feel. It will be for it your Nafs, and it will always be about how you feel. So if you’re chasing a feeling, you’ll always be chasing.

But, once in a while, there is another love that can exist.

This love… is not a selfish love and is the rarest type. And if it is pure, and not competing with, the love of Allah Ta’ala Himself, it will also bring about the most joy. To love in any other way is to be needy, to be dependent, to have expectations—all the ingredients for misery and disappointment.

And this is a love that you will give to the creation—not for what you can get in return from them. You will love and you will give, but you will be sufficed from Him. And the one who is sufficed by the Rabb Himself, is the richest and most generous of all lovers.

Your love will be by Him, for Him, and because of Him. That is the liberation of the self from serving any encapsulated thing. And that is freedom. That is happiness.

That is love.

---

Dearest Readers 

Sincerely hope everyone is well. Abit of a longer nature-inspired post that I did quite enjoy writing…

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to truly appreciate his magnificence when we see it… 

Please take note of our very important Sunnah reminders. 

much love
A xx

Sunnah of (Digital) Company:

We live in a world where digital media surrounds us. We mindlessly forget that we are what we feed, and these WhatsApp, instagram and twitter feeds have an effect on us.

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to be particular even about our digital company, and save us from falling into bad companionship.

Abu Musa reported: The Prophet, (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Verily, the parable of good company and a bad company is only that of a seller of musk and a blacksmith. The seller of musk will give you some perfume, you will buy some, or you will notice a good smell. As for the blacksmith, he will burn your clothes or you will notice a bad smell.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5534,

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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When Doorways are Brightened

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 55

When the light of Islam started spreading to people during the lifetime of our beloved Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam), if there is one outstanding lesson that stayed with me… it is that every change, every stage where conditions are altered, has only benefit for the believer.

And that was why this particular Hadith rang so true:

“Amazing is the affair of the believer, verily all of his affair is good and this is not for no one except the believer. If something of good/happiness befalls him he is grateful and that is good for him. If something of harm befalls him he is patient and that is good for him”

(Saheeh Muslim #2999)

And as I glanced out at the beauty of the skies on that particular afternoon, nothing was clearer to me than the fact that like everything thing else, even the constant change of affairs for the believer, only comes with great goodness.

Because often we become blind to the fact, that if only we look at the life of our blessed Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam), even during the most turbulent times… there was so much to be learnt. So much to note… that when the elation of victory came to his ears, he taught us to smile with appreciation… and at the most gut-wrenching experiences, even he (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) didn’t hold back his tears. In every avenue, our beloved Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) taught us, through his life and his Seerah, that throughout every stage Allah puts us through, throughout every test, there is a beautiful result that not only moulds us, but polishes us to such an extent that we are the ones that shine eternally.

And in the books of Seerah, we understand the truth of these conditions that are so graciously taught. We are shown that after the tragic death of his beloveds, Allah Ta’ala brought our Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam)on a spectacular journey to the heavens. After the aching torture of Ta’if, awaited for him melodious songs of the joyous Ansaar as he entered their city. After the heart-wrenching brutality of Uhud and the heartbreaking loss of his beloved uncle, would be a glorious victory at the conquest of Makkah, that sent hearts soaring infinitely…

After every season, every drought, every difficulty… Allah Azza Wa Jal brings forth something so much more splendid… sometimes even beyond what one can ever encompass.

And I was all caught up in my amazement, revelling in the blooming beauties after the winter chills. Spotting the first rose bud of the new season through the front doorway had already brightened my entire day.

I could barely digest the sight of the gorgeously promising stems and shoots, which were boasting their fervour, full of purply-red potential, and as I breathed in the crisp air letting its freshness fill my lungs until I could breathe in no more, I couldn’t help but let my eyes devour their glorious beauty. I wasn’t even sure how we had gotten to this point.

Ah, life. Once again. After the crop has dried and reduced to something that seems irretrievable, Allah’s promise is that He puts His magic into it, and once again, it gets you inundated with splendour over it.

A new change. A new chance. For us, as human beings, it had become such a strange thing. As our lives morphed and changed into captures and content creation, I sometimes wondered if we were even living, or just pretending to.

Turning my face toward the sun, I wondered how humans had been so deluded. I wondered how we willingly traded those real moments for fake ones. How we traded the feeling of being in a moment, to just capturing it. How we compete, in every sense of the word, for virtual lives.

But now… as I savoured the feeling of wet soil, my hands giving into the sensorial experience, after what felt like months…  I felt completely awakened. Inspired. Hopeful. The potential that new opportunities had brought… the medicine that nature had brought in its indulgence, well, I almost couldn’t believe that it was already a whole year since I started and all my plants were still pretty much surviving. Well, most of them anyway…

One, two, three…. well… all the way to sixteen, I had counted.

Though I loved the beauty and grandeur they brought, I wasn’t exactly the dedicated type. I often got caught up in parellel universes and forgot when next I was supposed to be planting but if I wasn’t completely deluded, it seemed like there were actually a few more rose plants than I original had.

I wasn’t sure how that had happened but I did know that Papa had seen to the garden once or twice or at least facilitated it. I just didn’t know who had manicured them so expertly that they looked like they were living an entirely new life.

They were extremely thirsty, but it had not gone without any noticeable advantages. The shoots had appeared almost overnight, with two tiny buds visible, and I knew that the efforts were surely not wasted.

The blazing sun had been tormenting me that day as I squatted next to the flower bed with my gardening set, feeling like I had probably gone fifty shades of sunburnt in that short space of time. Sweat trickled down my chest, but I really didn’t even bother.
I had pulled the bucket out once again with the wheel barrow, making my way to the front of the garden to fill up for the third time now, not realizing what a racquet I was making in the process until I heard the voice of the outdoor worker that Papa used.

“He is asking if we must do it for you?” A voice called out from behind me, in his Zimbabwean accent. “We will water here later.”

I turned slightly, feeling a little awkward.

Firstly, who was the he in question? And secondly, well, how did they even know I was here.

Being a Monday afternoon, when the coffee shop closed, I really expected I had no idea that the noisy wheelbarrow that was passing by the front house every ten minutes had caused a little more of a stir than intended.

“Sorry,” I called, looking at the guy briefly, trying to see if the ‘he’ in question was really him, and wondering if he was watching me.  I mean, was dressed decently but I looked like a hobo, but that was the least of my worries right then. “Who will water them?”

“Zubair say it is better to water them later.”

I nodded. So it was him.

Zubair says. I glanced backwards, glimpsing only the shadow of a figure in the window of the front house. How long he may have been standing there, I wasn’t sure.

But anyway. He was right. I had forgotten. And I was busy with them so I thought I might as well do it. I was lazy to come back later when the sun was a little less severe, and I had no idea he did it personally  every day. In fact, I had a strong feeling that he was probably responsible for its survival.

“Okay,” I said bluntly, closing the water and hoping he would go back inside. “Later is fine.”

After all, it was my home. I just didn’t realise that Zubair had no life outside work and that he did nothing on his day off but watch all the crazy things I got up to. I mean, where was his family? I was itching to ask Papa why he never visited them. It was just so strange.

And as I lowered my head and moved toward the house, taking my personal tools with me, I couldn’t help but feel a little inadequate.

He probably thought I was this silly airhead just interfering with the roses. It was obvious that he had probably been taking care of them all this time, but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t play my part.

And that too, I knew I had to avoid trying to see him now, because well, I knew I had to watch myself. Lower my gaze. Lower my gaze. Lower my gaze.

I mean, I couldn’t stop reminding myself enough but it was really hard. Plus, I wasn’t there for any sinister intentions so I would make more effort to prove my dedication, and ask Papa to drop me off at the nursery that week where I had bought the potted roses from.

Although it wasn’t a fully fledged nursery, I loved what they had done with the place and every time I went there, I just couldn’t help but feel so much at ease.

The thing was, The Rose Lady with the cute little girl, whose name I had come to learn to learn was Khawlah, actually owned the entire place and opened her wonderful garden up to disadvantaged children. She had the most amazing plants and set-up, and the tree! There was nothing more I wanted to do than just sit there with a book and dose off while I listened to the sound of birds teetering above me. And not only did she open it up as a play area… but she had also mentioned that her husband also did Hifdh classes there… which made the place even more amazing.

And of course, my heart was completely melted because the last time I went, there were a whole bus of underprivileged smaller kids who had come to make use of the facilities, while she taught them how to plant seedlings, and they were just so amazing to watch.

I wasn’t sure what her story was, but I remembered her daughter telling me once that her Abba had passed away before she was born and he had cancer. I wanted to cry when she had said it, ok such a indifferent way, almost as if it was a very natural thing to happen. And though I didn’t know any more than that, every time I met the lady, she was so sincere in whatever she did and always gave me extra seedlings to plant and so much of advice, that I kept wanting to go back to support her…

And as I entered the house, still lost in my thoughts, I sincerely hoped that one day,l I could hear and learn from her story. My mind was still stuck on that gorgeous garden, when my sisters voice rang out next to me, making me jump with shock.

“There you are!”

I looked up as I heard her voice, a smile creeping on my face because this was one of the best surprises today. I didn’t even know that Mohsina was back from the farm and the fact that she was here was an immediate anti-depressant.

“Tell me Zaid is here?” I said, hugging her tightly and  looking hopeful, but also knowing that he sometimes went to Liyakets mother when they were

Mohsina’s bright smile was even more promising.

”He is,” she said, as my mother came in with my little sweetheart, and honestly, seeing him made me feel as if my heart was going to burst. I had missed him so, so much.

”Did you tell Nani you are coming?” I said, taking Zaid from my mother whilst she dialled someone on the landline and went out again.

“Ma just did,” she said with a sheepish grin. “And Maahira is also popping in. She’s going back next week after the last Samoosa run. Really waiting to hear about that one! Anyway, I desperately needed to get away from the house. Rabia is driving me bonkers and Hamzah is completely oblivious. He’s not even in a rush to move. I feel like I need to run away.”

Uh oh. I knew that Mohsina’s sister-in-law was a bit of a nosy one, but I didn’t quite understand that she could be so manipulative. At least it was a temporary arrangement that they were all together till their place was ready. But if Hamzah wasn’t ready to move, well….

“Soon you’ll have your space,” I said soothingly, as she rolled her eyes, looking outside as the men left for salaah and Zaid gurgled into my neck.

“If she doesn’t decide she’s moving in with us,” Mohsina retorted, making her way to the three seater couch in the interleading room, and plugged something into the wall. She looked exhausted as she rolled her eyes.

I looked at it, a little confused at first as I saw her opening her cloak, when realisation dawned. I could not believe that I had forgotten!

“Oh my word, Mos,” I squealed, widening my eyes and looking at her as she narrowed her eyes at me. “I completely forgot. How’s the whole dudu-thing going?”

She flushed slightly as she fiddled with her shawl, trying to adjust herslef so she didn’t expose anything unsightly, and then smiled. It really was a tricky thing, this breastfeeding thing, wasn’t it?

“The Dudu thing is making me feel like a cow,” she said, not looking impressed.

I tried not to pay too much attention as the low hum of the pump sounded; playing with Zaid as he cooed and blubbered obliviously.

”Sorry about the noise,” she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Trying to increase supply. It’s like a mission to pump, and you don’t understand how sore it is. It’s just as well that Zaid doesn’t have teeth.”

I grinned.

Now, that, would definitely be funny.

“Hey,” she squealed, not impressed by my concealed giggles as I turned my face away. “Not you too. Hamzah finds the entire thing very amusing. Calls me Cow in the City. Just rude, if you ask me. You guys don’t understand how much of pressure it is. Wanting to succeed. Why don’t you guys try and see how this feels?”

”No way!” I said, looking at her squarely, and then cracking a smile. “Did you offer Hamzah to try too?”

I laughed at the thought while Mohsina just shook her head and gave a small smile as Zaid rolled over and got into crawling position on the carpet. I couldn’t believe he was already so big. It was only a few weeks and he was already like a little man.

“Hamzah just has a big mouth,” she said after a few seconds, rolling her eyes again. “But shame, he helps a lot. I’m quite surprised. Although he is regretting being my Hifdh teacher. It’s the only time I actually see him looking like he may lose his cool. He says he needs more cheesecake supply as payment…”

Mohsina was grinning as she said it, but I was honestly so happy that she actually started with this part of her journey. I knew that she really wanted to start with classes or something else worthwhile.

Honestly, it was the most romantic that the Qur’ān had actually brought them together…

That was like Muslim couple goals.

“You’re lucky he has the patience for it,” I said, thinking how sweet it was. I mean, that was what I wanted. The romantic kind of Muslim love story that couples used each other to get to Jannah together with…

She shrugged, obviously not realising how lucky she really was to find such a good guy after everything, as we heard voices entering the entrance hall. I realised that Maahira or Nani had probably arrived, and Mohsina looked at me, as she answered.

“I know,” she said solemnly, almost as if she read my mind, with a small smile, as Maahira entered. “He’s a great teacher.”

Maahira had literally entered the room, looking af Mohsina with a sly smile as she heard what she just said.

”Who’s a good teacher, eh?” She said with a smirk. “And what exactly is he teaching?”

Mohsina laughed and got up to hug her friend, eager to catch up with all the lost time in between the wedding and Maahira leaving for London again. Since Maahira had been down, it had only been a few times that they had seen each other before Mos made Nikah and then everything just got even more crazy after.

I sat quietly in the corner with Zaid, while I listened to  her talking about the Samoosa run escapades that made her lose hope in ever being married. Now she was ready to go back and hope for better luck next time.

“Or you might find someone in London?” I piped up hopefully, seeing how much Maahira wanted to settle down. And I got it. She wasn’t getting younger. But also, I knew Allah would reveal the right person to get at the right time…

“Yup, but in my circles they won’t exactly do the Samoosa run Halaal kind of way,” she said simply, looking deflated.

“I got a plan though,” Mohsina said, looking at Maahira with a cheeky grin. “Maybe Hamzah and I can come visit and we can make our own kind of Samoosa runs. You know? Hamzah can pick a guy from one of those Turkish places and bam. Why can’t the guys family do all the Samoosa frying for a change?”

Maahira laughed, while they chatted about what the outcomes there would be, while I found my mind actually musing over it too. I mean, okay, maybe not exactly the Samoosa thing, but if a women had to put forward proposals more often and it was actually not looked down as being immodest or forward….

“But why not?” I said, just voicing my thoughts and shrugging just shoulders. “After all, Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) accepted a proposal from Khadijah (RA) and it wasn’t frowned upon at all. She saw him, she admired him, and she put forward her proposal. She was wealthier and shared everything with him thereafter.. What’s wrong with it?”

Maahira agreed, and winked at me.

“You’re right, Jamz,” she said with a grin. “The next guy that I fancy, I’m definitely going to talk to his mother. And you should do it too.”

And while she laughed it off, I couldn’t help but notice Mohsina sneak a sideways glance at me, while I remained silent. For a moment, I was sure that there was a flicker of something in Mohsina’s eye but she didn’t say anything, until Maahira left the seating area to take Zaid to look out the window, while he cooed noisily.

”Jameela,” she said quietly, her brown eyes narrowing slightly as she watched me. “Are you still entertaining thoughts about that guy?”

Oh gosh. Why did I have to put my foot in it.

“What guy?” I said innocently, pulling at a thread on the carpet. I didn’t meet her eye.

“You know who I’m talking about,” she muttered quietly. “You’re still young for marriage. Why don’t you study or something? Get something to secure you. Anything.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t interested in studying, especially not as a security. While Mohsina still believed that a degree was essential, I was pretty content doing a small business or something creative if ever I needed to. I loved to draw, had learned to sew that year … and I really enjoyed designing things too.

After all, I had designed the rooms that were being put up for the glamping site. I was sewing the aprons that the cashier and coffee shop workers used too. I loved using my hands and working with them. It was a constant thing that kept me busy.

The corporate world though, was most definitely not for me, because I had seen first hand how it sucked every ounce out of my sister. I had hated it. If I had to study, an Islamic course, or something at the local madrassa would be better for me. Just not right then.

“I’m happy where I am,” I said. “I help daddy with the coffee shop and the new project. I can bake. Sew. Or do other stuff to earn money. Whatever. And I’m going to be 19 soon…”

Mohsina wasn’t quite impressed though.

”Still too young,” she snapped. “And you know you shouldn’t even think of him. He’s not  an option. He’s got no proper job. No money. No degree. He’s dangerous, in every sense of the word, and I don’t want to see my sister getting hurt.”

Dangerous.

Was he really? I mean, I had believed he was but for the past few months, there was nothing further from danger that I saw. He was kind and polite, went to the mosque for every salaah, plus he was modest and extremely well- mannered. Everyone who met him spoke well of his demeanor. I’d never spoken to him unnecessarily or directly, but everything I saw about him wasn’t what she made it out to be.

Mohsina was just forming her own invalid opinions in her head and I didn’t think it was fair. Not fair at all actually.

“I’m not going to get hurt,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not like that.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell her. Like when you like someone, well… why couldn’t I ask my father for advice? Papa seemed to love him to bits. Maybe he didn’t have money or status, but all that wasn’t important to me. All I wanted was someone who was good and kind and looked after me.

“Just stay away from him,” Mohsina whispered, as Ma and Nani walked into the room now. “Else you know what will happen.”

I sighed, looking at my sister, feeling a little down as I watched Nani go all gaga over her and Zaid, before Hamzah made his appearance after Salaah, and the attention would probably be diverted. I couldn’t even argue my point with her now. Since Mos had mentioned it, I really wondered if she was right. Perhaps I was being a bit too hasty.

And as the rest of them got busy yapping about nothing in particular, and Hamzah and my brother entered on the other side of the lounge, the noise levels were just a little overbearing. And I knew I was being a little grumpy because of what Mohsina had just told me, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

I had made my way to the kitchen to grab a few drinks and clear my head, and just as I opened the fridge, the sound of our house bell had already sounded. And of course, with me being closest to the door, it only made sense that I should be the one to get it. With all the excitement (mostly Nani’s, when she saw Hamzah), who knew if they even heard the bell?

And so, tucking three drinks under my arm, and two in my one hand, so I could free up the other hand to answer the door, I peeped through the window to the right of the door, seeing a Muslim girl at the front patio.

And yes, I was a little paranoid since the last time when our doorway was darkened by Zubair and his uncle, but looking out to see a hijaabi girl with a pretty smile on her face… my heart was already settled.

Pulling the door open, I had plastered a pleasant smile on my face. I had assumed that maybe it was someone who just came to the house instead of the coffee shop, or someone who probably needed directions…

And as I greeted, she hastily replied to my greeting, and while doing so, something in her expression just made me feel at ease with her. For some reason, it felt like I met her before, but I knew I didn’t…

”I’m so sorry,” she breathed, her face all exasperated and full of expression, as she spoke again. “You must be wondering who I am and why on Earth I’m here… my name is Nusaybah…”

”It’s okay,” I said, wanting to explain that we were used to it. But she was already explaining.

“My friend Khawlah… you know… she sells all the amazing garden stuff a few roads away. She says that my brother once had some rose plants delivered to your address. I figured that maybe he may know you guys… Or you may know him?”

And I was a little stunned as I began to process it, because without even knowing, someone had obviously been adding to my rose garden.

“I’m sorry,” I said shaking my head, still a bit confused. “Who is your brother?”

She immediately slapped her palm in her forehead comically, looking ridiculously humoured by her own demeanour. I didn’t realise that just like our doorway was darkened with her brother a few months back, after the doom that came with that… now, with her eccentrically bubbly approach, it was to be most certainly brightened by this very boisterous character…

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered apologetically, her mouth opening comically and her eyes still wide. “Silly me! His name is Zubair. Tall, dark and handsome, you know?! My father is being stubborn, and refuses to even check on him or track him down. I’m only down for one week more and I had to literally do an investigation to find this address. This is my absolute last resort. Please, please, tell me… Do you have any idea where he is?”

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

With the New Islamic Year already here, and these auspicious days, one of the lessons from the Seerah is how Nabi (SAW) forgave his oppressors, and let go of old whims.

A sublime quality that Nabi (SAW) inculcated into his life on various occasions, and especially on the occasion of Hijrah.

May Allah Almighty give us all the ability to forgive others for the wrong they do to us and make us more productive Muslims through this and may Allah forgive us all for our sins, ameen.

O Allah, purify our hearts from grudges, envy, and cheating. O Allah, amend our relations with our relatives. O Allah, amend our relations with our loved ones. O Allah, make life an increase for us in every good and make death a relief for us from every evil with Your mercy, O Most Merciful of the Merciful.

Aaameen.

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When Spring Comes

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 54

I once heard a beautiful saying that went something like:

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.

And I suppose it really hit home for me because as humans, we are always ready to fall into the trap of complacency.

Ghaflat. We forget our bounties. We take our gifts for granted. When we don’t taste the bitterness of trials, even the good times become unexceptional. We forget that even though winter can be so bitterly cold, the beauty of spring can never be hindered….

And indeed, Allah Ta’ala sends the trials, whereby we may be purified, strengthened and returned to Him. Allah sends the trials because we have to know for sure that with that hunger, thirst and cold, Allah can also relieve us with abundant food, the water and the shelter. Allah placed the test in our midst, but with it, He beautifully placed within our breast the ṣabr (patience), and even the riḍā (contentment) to withstand it.

Yes, Allah (SWT) sent Adam (AS) down to this world where he would have to struggle and face trials… But with that forgiveness of the first prophet, he also gave us a hope of His Divine help.

…if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome…

And as I looked out that morning, smiling at the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine… I couldn’t help but feel my heart lift slightly at the sight.

And the thing is … the amazing thing is that when we begin to appreciate even the little things, it opens up much more than we thought we would ever see. There are always flowers for those who want to see them, even when it’s not the season. There is always beauty, in even the most trying situations.

A new season would be coming, and as winter made its way out that year, after we had enjoyed the long nights and fireplace evenings, I couldn’t help but but wonder what the next season would bring.

And little did I know what a host of emotions were in store that very weekend. Some may call them interventions. Some call them coincidental. Whatever the term, it’s true that there are some things in life that happen the way we don’t quite expect it to…

“Mummy,” Uthman called, running into the kitchen with a look on his face that signified that he was pretty amazed. “Guess who’s here?!”

When I pulled out a spatula from the kitchen drawer, I couldn’t help feel the gust of hot air from the oven throw me off-balance, as I flashed a grin at my child. The feeling of being slightly out of sorts was a little unfamiliar. The weather had been warming up too, and it was a complete blessing, especially in this part of the world, where temperatures went under zero degrees Celsius in the midst of winter. The way the sunshine filtered through the window was one of the most comforting feelings.

“Hmmmm,” I said, smiling at Uthman, and rubbing my temple. “Is it the president?”

”No!” Uthman said, smiling at me like I was crazy.

Uthman was always excited to have visitors. The following week was going to be one of the best ones for him because Fareeha’s kids would be coming, when she left for Hajj. To tell the truth, I was a bit nervous for my crazy sisters kids to be in my zone, but I knew that if I prepared myself in advance and overdosed on rescue remedy, I’d be just fine.

There was really no need to stress.

“Oh wait,” I said, scratching my head thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s someone else famous?”

”Not exactly,” he replied, still finding it hilarious that I couldn’t figure out who was there. The truth was, I did know, but of course, my son keeping me in suspense was the most entertaining thing for him.

“Well, whoever the superstar is,” I said triumphantly with a grin, as I watched Imraan come in. “Please tell me them to join us for lunch. I’m already well-prepared..”

”Mummy!” Uthman said, jumping on the spot and shaking his head at the same time. Where did he get so much of energy from?! “Come and see!”

I laughed as Uthman ran outside again, his excitement mounting as I watched Hamzah get off the car, greet Imraan and pop open the boot. In the past, Hamzah had always brought something small, even if it was a box of smarties for Uthman when he would come, and Uthman always looked forward to it. The fact that he actually hadn’t come here in months made it all the more exciting and I was quite aware that after Liyaket passed away, my brother-in-law had way too much on his plate to even think of it .

Imraan had already helped Hamzah take some of his bags through to the house next door, and catching him on his way back, I couldn’t help but ask.

”Is everything okay?” I asked softly, wiping my hands on a dish cloth in my hand so I could venture to the car  and greet them. “They came so suddenly…”

”Hamzah thought it was best to be out of town for a while,” he said quietly. “Don’t mention it though. He hasn’t told her.”

”Why not?” I asked, not thinking that this was a good idea. “If Zaid is at risk then he should..”

It was true. Anything that could potentially be a risk should be assessed and eliminated. The truth was, from the time that I heard that Layyanah’s brother had called Hamzah, I had been on edge and it definitely seemed like a risky thing.

”Don’t stress about it, love,” he said, with a small smile. “Allah will take care of it.”

”Insha Allah,” I said quietly as I followed him to the door, still not convinced.

And as the morning sun streamed in, I could not quite believe how beautiful the hilly farmlands appeared this morning. As spring approached, and with the onset of rain that had also brought much hope and potential… I felt as if I was looking at a completely new place.

I gazed out, the morning sun doing its thing over the grassy landscape, while I watched it slowly illuminate the stretches before me. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Like nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another hope and experience grew especially strong as winter started to wilt…

My eyes moved as I watched Hamzah already heading to the house that he usually used when he came, looking for Mohsina. It was about 200m away and Uthman was already excitedly chatting to him about the plans to do some exploring later in the day.

It was going to be a full house. My in-laws had also arrived the day before and having Zaid here was going to be the highlight of the weekend. I couldn’t wait to lay on the grass with him and blow raspberries on his chubby tummy. He was definitely going to bring the silly out of us that weekend, and I couldn’t wait to indulge myself to my hearts content.

“Assalamualaikum,” I called out, moving forward and helping Mohsina with her nappy bag and then reaching out to give her a hug as she jumped off the car with little Zaid. It had just been a few weeks and Zaid was looking like a little man already. I could not stop swooning over how cute he looked and I literally wanted to bite his cheeks off.

And I was literally about to take him into my arms when out of the blue, Rabia had already wedged herself in between Mohsina and I, swiftly snatching Zaid away before I even realised what was going on. I blinked, for a few minutes, looking at Mohsina in confusion, wondering what exactly had happened and where Zaid had gone to.

Rabia was already two meters away, grinning like the cat that caught the mouse.

”Sorry Sawls,” Rabia said, not looking sorry at all as she snuggled Zaid to her. “It’s my turn first. But don’t worry, you’re next. Mohsina, you and Hamzah can have some couple time. Take some snaps. I already told him that this weekend you aren’t going to have Zaid at all!”

She gave an evil laugh, walking away triumphantly as she gave him more cuddles. My sister-in-law was really something else. I looked at Mohsina, who was a little expressionless as she watched her, but skilfully recovering as she she smiled at me apologetically.

She looked like she was already well-equipped to handle Rabia.

”Sorry,” she said apologetically. “You know Rabia…

”Dont worry,” I said, waving my hand nonchalantly. “That’s Rabia, and we’re used to her. We’ll see you guys in a bit?”

Mohsina nodded, looking grateful that lunch was sorted. Each house was separate and had their own provisions, but there was no need for them to prepare if we already had more than enough.

I had already sorted my favourite salads because for me, a braai was all about the salads, and Imraan had already set up the stand for an old-fashioned charcoal barbecue. We kept it simple most times, but with everyone here, as always, my mother-in-law had really gone out of her way to prepare a bit more than necessary.

And as I got busy with taking out the lunch items, and setting the tables, I barely even have thought to what happened to Zaid thereafter. My mind was already working on overdrive, hoping that I wouldn’t forget to take out everything that we had made.

And after Rabia had forcefully removed him out of my arms, I had assumed that she had probably forgotten that I wanted to spend some time with Zaid too. I shrugged off the feeling of irritation as I heard the door opening, seeing Hamzah making his way in, with a disgruntled expression on his face as he looked around, greeting my mother-in-law who was seated in the lounge affectionately, and after a few seconds, looking even more frustrated than him, came Mohsina.

And it didn’t even click with me that Zaid wasn’t with either of them, until Mohsina came up to me, and said in a low voice:

”Have you seen Rabia?”

Mohsina was wearing a pretty but modest black dress with a sage coloured scarf. She looked particularly lovely and the colour really suited her, but as I looked at her troubled expression, it was only at that moment that I’d figured that the couple must have had a small tiff and it was very obvious that it was because of Rabia.

I shook my head, a little worried but not sure if I should do something. After all, Rabia was a law unto herself and she couldn’t have gone that far anyway.

”I’m sure she will bring back him soon,” I said, trying to assure her. “Must I call her? She probably took him for a walk.”

”Sorry,” Mohsina mumbled, looking at me gratefully now, slightly embarrassed. “Hamzah’s calling her for a while now. No answer. Anyways, I was so worried about him that I didn’t even ask if I can help with anything. Can I butter the rolls?”

I got it. She was worried about Zaid. How could she not be?

“Relax,” I insisted, smiling at her. “Everything is done. I’m sure Zaid is just fine and used to her. They must have had plenty of bonding time last week.”

I didn’t want to tell her how Rabia literally forced my in-laws to let her go to the house while Hamzah and Mohsina were supposed to be there alone. Their couple time must have been completely sabotaged.

Before she could say anything in reply though, I could see Hamzah making his way toward us, positioning himself just behind her while he leant on the counter.

”She’s on her way back with him,” he said, and I couldn’t help but hear that he sounded a little annoyed, but I wasn’t sure with who. “He fell asleep. Can you stop stressing yourself out now?”

Whether Rabia had meant to or not, I could see that she had succeeded in causing a row between the two of them. Hamzah was probably torn between his wife and his sister, probably wondering why Mohsina was so upset and thinking what the big deal was… but honestly, the brothers just didn’t quite see how manipulative Rabia could really be.

Mohsina just nodded briefly while Hamzah went back inside, and then turned to me, looking a little more settled, while she shrugged.

“Rabia is a little possessive over Zaid,” she said, her voice dropping. “Also, TMI… I know, but she saw the pill bottles the doctor gave me for induced lactation. I think she is worried she won’t get to spend enough time with him, but now she is really taking it a bit far.”

I didn’t want to tell her that Rabia just had a habit of going to extremes. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if she did it on purpose…

I didn’t comment on Rabia because I knew that nothing good could come out of it. I had learnt to keep silent at times like that, but the first part… well, that really interested, me.

“Wow… you’re really going to feed him?” I said, really feeling so excited for her, but not quite believing that she would actually do it.

She nodded, and her eyes were really shining with enthusiasm. I was just really quite surprised by the fact that she would be so willing.

”I’ve heard so many amazing experiences of bonding and how amazing it is to feed your baby,” she said quietly. “And you know… I was so fascinated to discover breastfeeding is mentioned in the Qur’an. I also read that the mother receives the reward of a good deed for every single drop she gives her child… did you know that?”

I was honestly amazed. How merciful is Allah Ta’ala that something which is so natural is rewarded in such great proximity. If only I knew that all those years ago, when I had fed Uthman for two full years, even though it was one of the most challenging things to do. Breastfeeding hadn’t been easy for me. I had suffered with the worst of issues during it, but I persisted because I wanted to do it.

“The baby doesn’t need anything besides the mothers milk for the first six months of their life,” I said ruefully while Mohsina smiled and nodded. That fact still amazed me, and she seemed amazed too.

“A huge saving, if only I’d known earlier,” she said light-heartedly. And of course she wasn’t serious, because how could anyone have ever known that she would be plunged into this kind of situation…

I smiled, although the entire situation still made me feel slightly heartbroken as I remembered how Layyanah had been so committed to exclusively breastfeeding.

“The price of formula has become crazy….”

I breathed in, trying to settle my emotions. I didn’t even realise that I was tearing. Gosh, it was her best friend, and I was going all emo on her…

Back to what she was saying…

“You’re right,” I said softly, swallowing and blinking hard to stop the tears. “It’s not only formula though. I actually got a shock when I went to the supermarket last week with Imraan and we cashed up. Everything is just gone so expensive…”

I mean, there was nothing like the price of commodities to bring you back to reality.. Everything was getting more and more pricey, and the cost of living globally was almost unmanageable for the majority of the world.

But all of that… the way we found ourselves in this predicament is something that is mentioned that on one occasion that Musaa (Alaihi Salam) once asked Allah (SWT), something to the effect of:

What is a sign of your happiness?

Allah Ta’ala, in reply, said to him that’s when He is happy… then the worlds processes take place in great harmony. This will mean that at the time of sowing the seeds into the ground, Allah Ta’ala sends his rain… and then, at the time of harvesting, Allah Ta’ala holds back His rain. Everything happens at the right time, in a methodical process. A sign of Allah’s happiness is that He puts the administrative and financial affairs of the people in the hands of people who are righteous and generous. That the events of happenings of the world occur in harmony…

Musaa (AS) then asked, Ya Allah, what then, will be the sign of Your unhappiness?

So Allah Ta’ala replied to say that the opposite is done. That in this case, when the people are sinful, the rain is not sent when it is needed. When the world is commuting evil, the rulers of the people are corrupt and incompetent. When everything is in havoc…  the price of consumables and life becomes almost unbearable.

And there is no other reason but our own sins. Our bad deeds and disregard for Allah’s laws is what brings the inflation, the corruption and the predicament we find ourselves in today…

I sighed, feeling a bit deflated about the situation, knowing that we could only start with ourselves. My mother-in-law had come to the kitchen already, talking jovially to Mohsina about Zaid now, as Mohsina made his bottle and they ventured into the feeding topic again.

It was baby talk all over again and it was cute, but I was never really ready to engage in it completely. And it wasn’t that I was jealous. I had passed that point a long time ago. I was really happy that Zaid now had a family that loved him so much, and a mother figure like Mohsina, who took him as her real son.

It was just that I wasn’t always sure how to react. I wasn’t even sure if I had a place in Zaid’s life, although I loved him to bits. Now, as Mohsina asked my mother-in-law her own advice about breastfeeding, I could see that she was extremely thrilled about the prospect, and the two of them were already speaking about how the hormones also change your body, moods and emotions.

It seemed to be scaring Mohsina a bit, because my mother-in-law had already told her that she would have to start trying to latch him soon if she really wanted to go through with this. That part had caught her off guard.

And as they spoke, I couldn’t help but feel like pregnancy and breastfeeding was so far off for me. Every month had been a waiting game, and it had come to the point when I didn’t even track my cycle anymore, because it would just leave more room for more grief and disappointment… disappointment which I just could not handle anymore.

Sometimes you just had to learn a little more about gratitude. I had learn to live in the moment. To be happy with what Allah had given me. I had learnt to look at those who couldn’t have kids at all, and be grateful for the fact that Alhumdulillah… Allah had given me one beautiful child at least.

And for starters… well, I wasn’t even dreading the onset of my menstrual cycle that month. It usually left an aching hole in my gut, for the first two days, until the feelings of inadequacy and brokenness had faded. And this month… well, I was due for it…

I paused with drizzling chocolate over the pavlova casings as I caught a snippet of what my mother-in-law and Mohsina were chatting about, while my mind tried to figure out dates. Uthman and the men were well out earshot and they were already having a full on coversation of pregnancy woes and breastfeeding problems.

”With Hamzah and Rabia I was just big all over,” my mother-in-law was saying, smiling fondly as she recalled. After ten years, she had the twins, but it must have been memorable in a way that she couldn’t forget. I just couldn’t imagine.
Carrying twins must have been something else completely.

“I had to be on her rest from 20 weeks,” she continued. “It was the longest 12 weeks ever, but Allah made it all work out perfectly in the end. They both came home after a week and the moment I saw them, I had already forgotten about the pregnancy…”

How beautifully Allah plans it. The minute we lay our eyes on that beautiful bundle, everything discomfort seems like nothing at all. I suppose that’s why Jannah was so beautiful. When we glimpse that beautiful abode, well… everything will make sense…

“Layyanah was all tummy,” Mohsina was saying, smiling notalgically. “All I remember her saying was that she just felt bloated at the beginning, and she did a test and it was positive…”

My mother-in-law smiled and I looked at her with interest, almost as if she had said something majorly significant.

Did she just say bloated? 

The calculations in my mind were still going on as I tried to figure out if I was right. According to that… I was already 4 days late. I mean, it wasn’t groundbreaking, but 4 days was 4 days, right? I mean, I did usually get a bit tired and bloated… but the thing is, now that Mohsina mentioned the bloating, welll… I knew I was definitely feeling it.

But no. It could not be. I was getting my hopes up for nothing.
Pregnancy is just one of many things that can cause bloating. It could be anything else. Anything else at all.

And of course, there was no need to think otherwise. In my head at that point, I was still telling myself that I would just wait for the usual thing to happen, as it had, almost every month for seven years, and deal with it when it does.

And as Rabia came back with Zaid at that very moment, all in high spirits with not even a consideration for Mohsina’s worry, I immediately took the bottle from her and asked her if I could feed him, before placing him on the carpet with little play gym I kept there for him. I wanted to forget my recent discovery, and losing myself in his gurgles and giggles was an amazing feeling.

I was literally obsessed with his double dimpled smile and his tiny fingers and toes. I really wished that they would stay longer than just the two days, and I knew that if I asked Imraan to talk to Hamzah, he may agree. It would be the perfect distraction for me, and I knew I needed it right then.

And despite the slight drama between Mohsina and Rabia that had ensued, the rest of the evening had been beautifully smooth. I was trying very hard not to focus on how many days late I was. Instead, I had turned my attention to the weather, noting that it was one of those amazing days that were mild and cool, but as the sun started to set, I could see Imraan already getting the fireplace ready for the chill that would take over soon.

Zaid was stationed permanently next to Rabia now, who was keeping them both warm while Mohsina and Hamzah had headed off for a little walk while there was still light outside.

And knew that I was being a little obsessive, but as I visited the bathroom to make whudhu (ablution), I couldn’t help but pop my head into the second drawer, wondering if I would be completely bonkers if I actually used a test right then. There were still two brand new ones, and as I glanced at them, something in me was creating an overwhelming desire to just check.

As much as I was trying to avoid it, I was one of those people who just couldn’t switch off my crazy. When something was gnawing at me, any slightly lenient situation would put me in a fix. After all, there was still some time before Maghrib salaah and I was already in my bathroom. The night would be busy and then if he too tired to check later.

Why not? My mind was saying. You’re already late.

And of course, the sensible part of my mind begged to differ.

So what if I was late? Four days wasn’t even a record.

You rather just check. You won’t be disappointed after. Whatever happens is Allah’s will.

That was true as well. But what about the disappointment after? 

I couldn’t stop myself. Despite the doubt and uncertainty, I had to know. I just couldn’t wait any longer.

I literally wanted to block my eyes after, not knowing how to bring myself to look.

I knew it took up to two minutes sometimes, but I also knew that when something was cooking then the result came quicker, and as I washed my hands and summoned every bit of courage I had within me to make its show… well, I finally allowed my eyes to stray to the stick that was lying next to the sink…

And when I say my heart skipped a beat, it was no exaggeration. Right there, were two dark pink lines staring at me… and I had to literally pinch myself to check if I wasn’t dreaming.

I hadn’t even realised that my heart was hammering noisily in my chest, and everything else had just taken a backseat for those few moments…

The winter was bitter… but the results of spring were oh-so-sweet…

I could barely believe that within my heart, as hope blossomed with no reservation, like the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…

My entire heart was bursting, as I realised that even when you cut off all the flowers in the winter…

You can never stop Spring from coming once again…

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

With the New Islamic Year already here, and these auspicious days, one of the lessons from the Seerah is how Nabi (SAW) forgave his oppressors, and let go of old whims.

A sublime quality that Nabi (SAW) inculcated into his life on various occasions, and especially on the occasion of Hijrah.

May Allah Almighty give us all the ability to forgive others for the wrong they do to us and make us more productive Muslims through this and may Allah forgive us all for our sins, ameen.

O Allah, purify our hearts from grudges, envy, and cheating. O Allah, amend our relations with our relatives. O Allah, amend our relations with our loved ones. O Allah, make life an increase for us in every good and make death a relief for us from every evil with Your mercy, O Most Merciful of the Merciful.

Aaameen.

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When Adventures Begin

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 53

There are moments in your life when you realise that time is divided into two parts- that’s there’s a before and there’s an after, and you realize that nothing will ever be the same again.

Okay I’m just kidding. But honestly, I could not believe this was happening to me. The first day I decided to use a stove and load shedding gets right in the middle of my good house-wife plans. No electricity from 6AM that morning was really a pain in the most inconvenient places.

You see, when Hamzah told me that the stove was gas, I figured it would be no issue. I didn’t know that you literally had to burn your fingers off before getting a decent flame to cook with. And after striking the match about a hundred times, I had finally got somewhere, before I managed to crack an egg in the stainless steel bowl I had found in the third drawer. I had attempted what I would have found impossible at any other point in my life.

I was just as bad as figuring the kitchen utensils but I knew that today, more than any other day, when Zaid was busy gurgling away in his bouncer and feeling like a king, and Rabia wasn’t around, would be a good day to start learning. At least it meant that I  could have the kitchen to myself and not have to worry about her watching me like the incapable chef that I was.

“Are you using the stove yet?” Hamzah called in a concerned tone, from the top of the stairs. “Are you sure you okay?”

”Im fine!” I said bluntly.

Gosh, how rude. It was his code for saying: “Please don’t burn the house down.”

He was worse than Nani.

“Hamzah seems to think we can’t cook,” I said quietly to Zaid, who was smiling at me adorably. “Let’s give him the shock of his life, okay?”

Zaid gurgled happily, looking exceptionally pleased with the idea. I wished I could knock him for a six with a 5 course breakfast but it was a tall order. Eggs and baked beans were all I could manage for now.

Yes, I was a bit insulted but I sucked it up and poured the egg into the hot pan with oil , watching it splutter with glee as I took a step back, a little concerned for my face. Like, what if the gas exploded and hit me? It was the first time I had used a gas stove and I didn’t have a death wish.

Also, I was super annoyed because I couldn’t even send Jameela and Nani a picture of my cooking accomplishments right then, because signal was as crappy as ever. Nani had already sent me some easy recipes and a request for pictures and I had gotten the hint that cooking for Hamzah was an essential.  She was convinced that Hamzah’s sole purpose in life was to be fed three full meals a day, and he wasn’t exactly self sufficient. The most he could do was boil kettle water and burn toast.

Right now though, I couldn’t even pacify her with evidence of anything worthy.

With the lack of basic privileges we become accustomed to, it sometimes felt as if I lived on an entirely different planet.

And I hadn’t realized it yet, but I ought to have understood by then that gratitude is magic. That electricity, water, WiFi and even petrol or all bounties of Allah Ta’ala and the thing is we have done nothing to earn our bounties, yet, regardless, we’ve been blessed with it.

What we didn’t realise was that sometimes Allah was saving us from other harms, in the process of not having that signal to message and call someone. Perhaps we were getting saved from some gossip, or argument, when that call couldn’t be made. Perhaps we are getting relieved of some Haraam in the fact that WiFi wasn’t always at our disposal. The thing was, all these favours were gifts from Allah Ta’ala that we take for granted.

And as the egg blubbered all happily and so did Zaid, I felt amazingly accomplished as I tossed around, feeling a bit more optimistic about the way things were heading.

I just hoped that the food would be edible and Hamzah would live to tell the tale. Also, well, this was way too early in the morning for me to even start with kitchen shenanigans, but it was just as well that I had already woken up to the sound of the shower water running, and there was barely even a sliver of daylight in the sky.

I had no idea that Hamzah was such an aspiring early bird. His waking up routine was a little bit too much for my own laid-back one, but I knew that marriage was a ball game that I’d have to start playing properly at some time. I wasn’t even sure where he had gone to before the crack of dawn, but he took a while to come back after Fajr and I was glad that I had a little bit of time before making my way down.

The thing was, my in-laws would all be back tomorrow and I knew that I had to at least be competent at some cooking. Hamzah could not survive on cheesecakes and pastries for the rest of our lives.

Also, well, the point of immersing myself in my cooking  task was due to me trying to get my mind off yesterday’s horrifying images as fast as I could. There was so much that had happened in such a short space of time, and I couldn’t hell but feel a little overwhelmed by the events.

Somehow, I just felt more responsible. I wanted to prove more, that I was doing a good job, before anything else stood in our way.

And the thing was, yesterday, we barely had any time to discuss it any of the issues that were lurking.  Hamzah had been rushing for Esha salaah, and I had let him focus on driving because I knew very well how he hated to miss Salaah in Jamaat. The only concern was that the traffic was appearing to intensify as we moved along the main highway.

I wanted to know his real thoughts on the doctors advice but as the traffic doubled up and we moved at a snails pace along the main freeway, my thoughts were halted as sirens from behind us started blaring, and I literally went cold as the scene ahead of us already came into view.

Naturally, all other thoughts were shelved as I looked out now, into the stack of cars that were ahead. Hamzah’s window was slightly open due to the cigarette he had been smoking earlier, and I could already hear people in the next car talking, their phones out their window, trying to capture the graphic scene ahead, as the chaos around us ensued.

And as much as I wanted to block my ears as they started talking, their voices were still as clear as day.

“Ya Allah, there’s a baby in that car,” someone was almost screaming. “Put the phones away, its not right!”

The person had a point. This was someone’s worst nightmare. A horrible tragedy that could be fatal. Capturing it on camera seemed so heartless, but who cares these days?

My heart pounded in my chest, as I closed my eyes, knowing that we were nearly at the scene. It seemed like it had just happened and I couldn’t bear it…

For a minute, as I held my breath, I was almost hesitant to look, for fear of what I would see.

”There’s a small child in the car!” Someone screamed again, and without even casting a sideways glance, Hamzah’s finger pressed down on the button, eager to shut out all the sounds, my mind going into overdrive as I processed what this meant.

I couldn’t even look at him at that point. All I could think of was how Hamzah was still going to move past this devastating collision, the part where two cars were already overturned and the truck was on its side. The part where all I could think of was our dearest friends who had just passed on. I wasn’t sure how we were going to keep ourselves together as we egged on, but all I knew right then was that I couldn’t  bare to cast my gaze anywhere on the road.

And of course, I could barely do anything else beside hastily turned my face away as we got closer, not wanting to even process the condition of the truck on the side of the road and unsightly smashed cars.

I didn’t even realised that I was holding my breath as I kept my eyes shut, hearing Hamzah’s breath quicken and clutching Zaid a little tighter as we by passed the main point of congestion, already aware that Hamzah was purposely going a little faster than the other drivers. While other cars were slowing down to get a good look at the accident scene,  Hamzah sped up, trying his best to move past it all, without having to directly process it, and I knew exactly why.

My heart was already contracting painfully, as I remembered that fateful night.

The baby. There’s a baby. There’s a baby in the car.

The car was a crumpled mess and the words were still echoing in my ears. The emotions that had pulsated through me then were still wrecking havoc within. The whole scenario was something that I could barely, for the life of me, come to terms with.

And it was undeniable that everywhere we turned, there was a reminder about our friends that we just didn’t have the heart to deal with as yet.  I heard that there had been pictures of Liyaket’s car, but I knew that I couldn’t dare to look at them.

This was close. Too close for comfort. Seeing the accident scene was something that had caught us both completely off guard, and as my heart pounded in my chest, nervous about the outcome of what exactly was going to happen here, I couldn’t help but feel myself shudder at the possibilities.

Riveted by what we had just been faced with, even after passing the worst of it, I could sense the obvious trauma and discomfort.

And like it had never happened at all, the car was silent again, except for Zaid’s breathing. Both Hamzah and I were too shaken to even talk. I looked out the window, tears streaming down my face, as I tried to keep it together. Internally, I could tell that Hamzah felt exactly the same way, but he expertly held himself back.

It didn’t take long to get home after he stopped for Salaah at a mosque on the way. We had entered the silent house, walking up to our room, placing Zaid down in the cot Hamzah had bought for him, still reeling from the shock of what we had just witnessed. The house seemed almost lonely without Rabia’s noise there. Rabia had gone to her cousin ten minutes away, on account of us coming home so late.

And of course, a half hour after we had seen it, I could not stop thinking about it. For a while, I wished that I did look. At least then, I would have known what had really happened, instead of tormenting myself and thinking of the worst possible scenario.

And I wanted to ask Hamzah about it… to talk about the accident and to touch base with how we all felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t want to bring it up, to revisit that place, to go back to the place where I was on that fateful night, while I sat in my upmarket Hammond’s apartment up to no good, before my life had changed so suddenly.

For a few minutes, I couldn’t meet his eye.

I kept myself busy, as he hung up his kurta and I took off my abaya. My scarf was unpinned and placed over the chair. My motions were purposely slow as I did it, feeling the intensity of his gaze on me, as I finally met his it…

I hadn’t trusted myself to say anything. The room sounded almost eerily quiet, and there was not even a sound that was coming from outside. For the first time that week, we were completely alone and we could barely even think of words to say to each other.

But I knew I had to, as he came closer, almost as if he didn’t quite understand how to deal with this… we didn’t know how to seek comfort after this.

It felt like just yesterday, when that sting of loss had sunk us to the depths of grief. It felt like hours ago when I had first gotten the call, telling me that my friend had lost her life, much earlier than I would have ever imagined.

Everything was coming at us like never before, and though it had nearly broken us inside, we knew that we had to accept it. We knew that the reminder was just what was needed for us to seek the truth of what we knew.

Allah Ta’ala says in the Holy Qur’an:

”And say to them, Oh Muhammed (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam), the things of this world are few (temporary), the things of the Aakhirah is better for him who fears Allah; you shall not be wronged (even the amount of) a single date fibre. Wherever you are, death will reach you, even if you’re in strong and high towers.” (An Nisah 77-78)

And now, as I stirred the baked beans and heard Hamzah making his way downstairs, I couldn’t help but think of how much Hamzah had matured over these months. All I could think of was that a helluva lot more than what I knew must have happened for him to have become the man he had. One day, I hoped that his experiences and thoughts would be narrated to me, and I could get a glimpse into what was really on his mind…

“Zaidoo!”

I turned to look at him as Hamzah’s voice cut into my thoughts now, as I buttered the toast, placing it on the side plate as he picked Zaid out of the bouncer. I mean, I wouldn’t usually butter someone’s toast but I’d always seen my mother do it for my father and it just seemed like a cute thing for couples to do for each other.

And naturally, as I caught the scent of his familiar oud, whilst I just smelt of onion and oil, the awkwardness was unparalleled. And though I had actually made an effort to look as good as I could early on a Saturday morning, I was still wearing my bunny slippers and I just felt a little ridiculous as I snuck a glance at him, dressed in a fitted sage t-shirt with a white three-quarter pants, all ready for the day. Also, it was super nerve-wrecking because he was looking at the food a little reservedly, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he should tuck into it or not, and I wasn’t even sure whether to invite him to.

”This looks good,” he said optimistically, giving me a thumbs up. I didn’t want to tell him that looks could be deceiving and he should taste it first, so I just smiled back nervously.

And of course, if he was wary, he hid it well. He had already headed the safe route by taking a toast from the plate and biting into it. I was scrutinising his every move and I knew I was acting crazy but I couldn’t help feel excessively nervous.

And of course, I was extremely relieved that the toast wasn’t burnt, and his hand slowly ventured towards the baked beans spoon, as I simultaneously tried very hard to distract myself and bring some tea cups to the table.

This was very awkward but I knew that I had to act natural. Like I cooked for my new husband every day.

”It’s good, Mos,” Hamzah finally said with a smile, and even if it was forced, I didn’t care.  I did appreciate the compliment, but as I was about to dish out too, Hamzah’s phone from behind me just started ringing and I hastily got up to bring it to him.

And I didn’t even notice Hamzah’s slightly panicked look as he saw me reach for it, and I was hardly the sneakish type, but I couldn’t help but notice the caller ID that had popped up on the screen a few minutes before.

For a minute, I was just stumped. It had jolted me a bit, but not in an entirely bad way, as I processed exactly what it said, and passed it to him, not able to really comprehend what it meant.

Your Jannah is Calling.

Like, my heart was literally endowed with amazement for this man by now.

It was like an awakening for my dormant soul became I could not really process what a unique thing Hamzah had saved his mother as, and how that made me feel right then.

I mean, imagine if I were the reason for someone’s Jannah? Imagine if I appeared in that way on someone’s caller ID. What an honour that was… to be the reason for their Jannah.

As much as I wanted to have my own kids at some point, the fact was, I hadn’t thought about it recently. I had been so consumed by Zaid and then by marriage with Zaid, that my own needs had been completely sidelined.

“Mummy,” Hamzah said instantly as he answered, glancing at me a little weirdly and then turning away. “Wa alaykum Salaam.”

I could hear my mother-in-laws voice on the other side, and as he answered I could see that she was asking after Zaid and how he was feeling.

“Sure, I’ll call you back, Mums,” he said quietly, after he answered the first three questions. “Just having some breakfast. Mohsina went all out this morning.”

I flushed because he couldn’t have been farther than the truth. But shame, it was sweet of him to make me seem like I was being a good wife. Also, he barely even acknowledged his compliment as he cut the call, looking at me, and then frowning slighy as if he was deliberating if he should really say what he wanted to.

“So you’re really going to do it?” He asked finally, looking at me questioningly.

I was a bit confused as I munched on my toast and looked back at him, I hadn’t even realised that I had been fiddling with the bottles that the doctor had prescribed for me the day before.

“Do what?” I asked, and he gestured to the them. And it seemed coincidental and maybe even subconsciously…. because I had just been thinking of that very amazing thing…

”The feeding thing,” he said with a slight smile, sitting back and pouring water into his cup for tea. I could see him looking inside to check if the teabag was there, and of course, if wasn’t.

I passed him one from the counter top, trying hard to keep a straight face. I had no idea that Hamzah was so pampered.

”I don’t know,” I said, to answer him.

Which was true. The feeding thing. I liked what he called it, and it was an awkward topic. And of course, I wanted to have this full on discussion, to weigh the pros and the cons and talk about the doctors advice as a couple doing this but there was one thing that was holding me back.

“I’m still so two-minded,” I said, pulling a slight face. “I don’t know which side of the fence I fall on. I mean, I don’t even know if I would have breastfed my own kids and I’ve been hearing so much about how it can change your body and stuff…”

Oh gosh, now I just sounded shallow and forward too. Hamzah and I hadn’t even discussed having our own kids, but Maahira had been telling me stuff that had been making me hesitant and I couldn’t seem to stop the worry. Hamzah didn’t meet my eye.

“I just feel like I’m stepping over the limit here,” I said quickly, before he got any odd idea, knowing that it was my main reason for holding back.

I was stepping over the limit. But where were the limits even? What Hamzah and I were in… well, I wasn’t even sure.

And I was feeling all flustered because the crux of it was that I almost felt as if I was taking Layyanah’s place. The feeling had been coming at me, from the week before, when I met Layyanahs sister, but it was now as clear as ever, as I wondered what exactly to do.

It took him a few seconds before Hamzah spoke.

“Mos… I think we need to face up to what’s happened,” he said quietly, his gaze not meeting mine, as he put some sugar in his tea.

I nodded, looking at him questioningly, before he started talking again.

“I’ve been living as if I’m waiting for Liyaket to come back and tell me what to do. Im so used to him giving me advice. Asking him where to go from here. Living as if life is on pause, until that happens. I’ve been living as if I can’t live… you know? But that’s not what death is supposed to be. It’s not supposed to be so hard on us, that we lose hope in life.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, feeling like I wanted to cry again. As if yesterday wasn’t enough for us.

I couldn’t think of what to say. I felt like a traitor. Like we were living the life that they were supposed to be living sometimes.

“I went to the graveyard today,” he said softly, glancing at me. “For the first time since Liyaket passed.”

My heart kind of plummeted in my chest as he said it. For the first time?

“I know I’m terrible… and it’s my fault,” Hamzah said quietly, his voice dropping even more. “We need to stop tiptoeing around Liyaket and Layyanah’s life. We need to go back to their home. We need to visit the places we used to meet them. Do the things we used to do with them. We need to show Zaid more of what his parents were.”

I sat there silently, not even touching my food, my heart bursting with emotion, but knowing that he was undeniably right. We were behaving as if they were going to come back and question us, or reclaim what was theirs. We were living our lives in their shadow. Afraid to accept the reality.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice not quite coming out the way I wanted it to, as I glanced at Zaid who was rubbing his eyes now, and looking quite tired. I needed to snap back to reality. Stop waiting for Layyanah. Stop feeling guilty.

“So I’ve been doing some research,” I said, looking at him as I spoke. “About all the things that can happen… the fatwas there are out there and-“

“Listen, Missus Google, let’s forget about all of the virtual stuff,” Hamzah said, winking at me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Can I tell you what I want to do?” He said, stirring his tea as I watched him. “I just want to live. Do you know what that means? To shut off everyone else and just live for now? Stop worrying about the world and statistics and everything else. Just stop, Mos. There’s so much more that life has to offer you, if you just let everything else go.. you’ll see. See the beauty in everything. Stop worrying. Stop assessing. Stop being such a genius at things that don’t matter…”

He was right. He was so right. I had lived in virtual worlds and in parallel universes and none of it was ever real. Everything had been about illusions and filters and most of the time, everything in my life had been channeled toward the next Instagram post and how I was going to make the world swoon.

I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out all thoughts and reservations and knowing that although I had things to say, it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. It just felt so right to be in the moment.

And it was. Hamzah was right.

Sometimes being in the moment was a hundred times more amazing than any virtual experience. And maybe once upon a time, when I was silly and deluded, I didn’t think so. Maybe once before. I had been enamored by the reels and taken in by a filtered world, but now that Hamzah had come into my life, I knew that there had to be a purpose for it.

It wasn’t only about Zaid. It wasn’t about this situation. Right then, it wasn’t just about circumstances.

“I should do it, right?” I said with a cock of my head. “It’s going to be something of an adventure for us all, don’t you think.”

“I’ve got bigger things planned, pookie,” he said, grinning like a nutcase. “Real adventures. Choose adventure.. choose excitement. Stop with the virtuality. Let’s just live, okay?”

Lets just live. He was right. Maybe I analysed things too much. Got too caught up in my virtual worlds.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” I said, leaning forward and looking at him with narrowed eyes, as he gave me his one dimpled smile.

“I know just the place to take you to.”

---

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
الحمد لله رب العالمين

On the Day Of Ashura

The Prophet ﷺ was asked about fasting the day of Ashura and he said, “It will expiate the sins of the past year.”

The hardships we face are paths leading us to ALLAH, to build our reliance on ALLAH alone. The story of Moosa AS is one of perseverance. He knew the situations were from ALLAH and the outcome will come from ALLAH. He showed us a path of gratefulness, by fasting on the day that ALLAH had saved him.
How many oceans has ALLAH opened for us and not caused us to be swallowed into the darkness!
The Rabb of Moosa AS and your Rabb is the same, so let your faith overpower your fear, for your Rabb has not abandoned you nor forsaken you.

May Allah make it easy for us to keep these fasts ❤️

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

With the New Islamic Year already here, and these auspicious days, one of the lessons from the Seerah is how Nabi (SAW) forgave his oppressors, and let go of old whims.

A sublime quality that Nabi (SAW) inculcated into his life on various occasions, and especially on the occasion of Hijrah.

May Allah Almighty give us all the ability to forgive others for the wrong they do to us and make us more productive Muslims through this and may Allah forgive us all for our sins, ameen.

O Allah, purify our hearts from grudges, envy, and cheating. O Allah, amend our relations with our relatives. O Allah, amend our relations with our loved ones. O Allah, make life an increase for us in every good and make death a relief for us from every evil with Your mercy, O Most Merciful of the Merciful.

Aaameen.

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

The Battle Within

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 52

Hamzah

The buzzing of my iPhone in the early parts of the morning had already awoken me in a cold sweat, as my breathing quickened.

And there I lay, so far from that nightmarish reality I had just witnessed, in the stillness of the night, I could still feel the wetness of my t-shirt clinging to my back. I turned slightly, feeling the slight weight of my wife’s slender fingers on my shoulder, sliding them away as gently as I could, and shifting toward the edge.

I was almost holding my breath as I shifted toward the edge, with one eye open. I had already glimpsed the caller ID and my heart immediately sank, even lower than I had thought possible at that moment.

Hashim (3)

Layyanah’s brother, the new bane to my life, was at it again, and this time, I could see his relentless pursuit of Zaid’s credentials and custody preferences.

The message came a few seconds later.

Call me back or ul be sorry

Why he couldn’t and wouldn’t let this go, was still beyond me.

It was late. Too late for the crap. Almost 2AM, and I rubbed my eyes, closing them momentarily as I pictured it again the scene that played before me. This time, it was a little earlier than my habitual waking, that I had been doing consistenly since Ramadhaan. The last third of the night. The Barakah of praying then had always brought so much more to my day.  Coming back from Al-Aqsa that Ramadhaan had stemmed a whole lot of vigour in me, but  the haunting dream I had just endured was also due to it.

Spitting on my left side, I tried to desperately suppress the emotions, as raw as the first time I had seen the little girl in them, her blue-grey eyes large and almost translucent, brimming with tears flowing continuously…

“Please don’t shoot,” she was crying, speaking in Arabic, and I had gazed her in the dream, not even understanding how a tiny and pristine creature like that could be abandoned, with not a single soul one to even account for her.

Soldiers had been streaming into the scene at that point, an open road all around Al-Aqsa, running to her, as if she was an enemy out to get them. I was helpless, unarmed and wondering how I could ever assist… 

I had only been able to shake my head, trying to decipher how anyone could ever even think of hurting such an angelic and defenseless child.

“Baba, where are you?!” She cried, searching around her, her eyes filled with terror, sobbing then, as she calls out for her mother.
And as the dream goes on, I attempt to find who she is looking for, but as I turned to look around, I glimpse the blotches of blood splattered on the floor, and without even processing what I was seeing… I already knew that there was no one left… her family’s gone… only a brother, whose barely 5 years in age, lingers around.

And as she wanders, through to the street, I wondered how anyone could be so heartless to hate a child so innocent. I wondered how a child so small, could ever deserve this? How could pointing a gun at a baby, who screams, “please, don’t shoot”, ever be justified?

And as I follow her, thinking how absolutely afraid, yet self-sufficient she looked, she turned to look up at me, her eyes conveying a message of deep determination that I can’t even begin to understand…  just before the muzzle of the gun is felt in my neck as fear shoots through me, and then everything just went black.

It was something close to terrifying, that last part, but it had been a while since the dream had played out again… almost 10 days since the last, but it felt more real than ever this time. I couldn’t understand why it haunted me, but my subconscious was obviously a lot stronger than I knew.

And I knew I shouldn’t have been as terrified because for a believer, martyrdom was the purpose. Not the wealth or booty of this world, we had become so obsessed with, but the feeling of victory that came with the name of Islam flying high once again, was absolutely untouchable.

And of course, I could only have a glimpse of how much they had to endure, from my 10 day experience there. The persistence of the Palestinians, even in the face of death was something that made me fully comprehend the strength and vehemence of even the littlest of children. Their fervor. Their courage. Their utmost perseverance and Tawakkul, even in the face of imminent danger, was unbelievable. And the thought of what they are subjected to made me shiver with terror, I couldn’t seem to stop try mind from replaying the scene over and over again.

I opened my eyes again now, staring into the darkness as my eyes adjusted to the room light. It was the first time since my Nikah that I had had the dream, and I was aware that the events of yesterday that were still fresh in my mind had probably brought it on. I recalled the accident scene we had witnessed on the way back from the doctors room… the raw emotions that came with it and everything that had been gained and lost through it all.

There was a mixture of aching relief that came with the realization. I was one of the lucky ones. The ones who lived in peace, with no fear of war in my midst. The ones who were still alive, despite everything that had transpired. I was the guy who had seen so much, yet couldn’t make it to even voice my inner most thoughts.

I sighed, as my gaze fell on the two people who I now cared about more than I could describe. The reason for my resistance. The point of my patience. The motivation for the heartfelt emotions that were travelling through my veins. The battle within me was one that I didn’t realise yet that I was fighting.

I turned my head back again, with the light peeping through the gap in the curtain, to reassure myself that I wasn’t imagining the blessing I had been endowed with.

I couldn’t quite believe that here I was, next to my wife as Zaid slept soundly on her chest, just a week after my Nikah. And that when I got it… what Liyaket meant when I had watched him all those months back, and I didn’t even know how it had happened.

Somewhere, in between the sins and the thoughts that haunted my mind, in between winging parenting and tip-toeing around each other’s feelings, we had reached this comfortable place. A place where things were good. Hopeful. A place where I felt like I could finally breathe and fill my lungs with a good dose of gratitude  and awe at the great favour of Allah on me.

Unconditional love.

There was a reason that I once told Liyaket that I would be happy alone. It was somewhere in between my breaking things off with Mohsina and his passing and finding Allah had just been the most satiating thing for me.
Also, having felt the way I had felt before, I knew that falling apart over a girl once again, was something like having a huge hole that needs to be endlessly filled. I had battled with every urge, every temptation and every prospective vice before I made it through. It wasn’t that I really thought I’d be happy alone forever. What I was scared of was, was feeling broken to the point of never finding Allah again.

What if I found that I needed the love of someone and then depended on it? What if I actually ended up with the feeling, and actually liked it?

But there I was. I know life can be pretty messy, And as I sat, my heart somewhere precariously close to being on my sleeve, I felt alive in a way that I had never quite felt before.

So let me be honest and just say that I wasn’t ever completely convinced that this was the right thing. That coming back to this place with Mohsina would be the best idea.

But circumstances had happened and we had been somewhat forced to cross paths again. Seeing her, having to interact with her… well, it was different from the image I had conjured up in my mind. The pieces weren’t quite fitting together. Instead of being the money-obsessed Instagram girl, I had seen a new person.

But this was the thing with Duaas, and I remembered Liyakets one with absolute clarity, as I tried to avoid every technique he was using to get me settled.

I never quite knew the meaning of love, of what Liyaket had always wanted for me, until I met Zaid.

And although I had, on many occasions, joked and mocked him about it, when I first held him in my arms as he looked at me like I was the only hero that he would ever know, I couldn’t hold my heart back.

”So this is what you talk about,” I said to him, still looking down at the little human he called his son, not entirely sure if I believed that this child actually belonged to him. “Unconditional love.”

”You got it, bro,” he said, his smile all sentimental and cynical at the same time. “Doesn’t it make you want this too?”

I looked at him and narrowed my eyes, lying through my teeth.

“You think I’m crazy?” I asked, fighting the feeling, as I handed him back over a little sooner than I wanted to. “My life is way too easy without worrying about women and poo nappies.”

He grinned, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter.

”One day,” he said, putting Zaid over his shoulder and smirking. “Someone’s going to make you change your mind and you will eat your words. And that’s going to be my Duaa.”

“No man,” I squealed, still not believing his audacity. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

”Exactly,” he said knowingly, a glint in his eye. “And I know what’s best for you, but Allah knows better. I just have a feeling that it’s going to happen in a way you least expect.”

And he was right. Maybe not the way he expected either, but a Du’aa was a Du’aa.

And I knew things weren’t perfect. It had taken a week to get to this point, anyway. The point where all barriers had been crossed, and something very close to love had completely taken over. The point of no return, well, at least for me.

And it had been brought on by a number of things… after the scene of the accident we saw on the way from the doctor had evoked all kinds of emotions. The crumpled mess on the side of the road had made it seem like we were reliving Liyaket and Layyanahs death all over again. We had entered the silent house, walking up to our room, placing Zaid down in the cot I had brought for him from Liyaket’s place, still reeling from the shock of what we had just witnessed.

For once, I wished for noise of a busy household. For people around, to tune out the turbulence in my mind. The house seemed almost lonely without Rabia, who had made a trip to our cousin ten minutes away, on account of us coming home so late.

And of course,I could not stop thinking about what we had seen. For a while, I wished that I did look. At least then, I would have known what had really happened, instead of tormenting myself and thinking of the worst possible scenario.

I had no jokes, pranks or witty remarks to even soften the blow for Mohsina, as she hung up her Abaya and avoided eye contact at all costs.

”You okay?” I had asked, my voice sounding coarse and even peculiar to myself, as I looked at her, full of emotions.

It had been a helluva lot for one day. The advices from the doctor. The fact that Zaid may have an immune deficiency that needed to be confirmed with bloods. She was so strong, for taking this all on… for wanting to go ahead with feeding him, and as I watched her,  her hair tied back in a ponytail, I couldn’t help at look at her in admiration, because it just struck me right then how amazing she was and had been all this time.

And yes… I knew that a lot of this was about Zaid and even though she was still silent, I yearned for something… anything… to prove to me that she wasn’t in this just for him.

And as she approached me, and her arms enveloped me one of the most fiercest of hugs, all we did, for a few minutes, was stand there, in silence, knowing exactly how the other felt, seeking some kind of comfort, fully comprehending how painful the entire experience had been.

It felt like just yesterday, when that sting of loss had sunk us to the depths of grief.

It felt like hours ago when I had first gotten the messages, confirming for me that my lifelong friend had lost his life, much earlier than I would have ever imagined. All I needed right then, for the first time ever, was to let myself sink into the consolation that this degree of closeness had brought, and draw every bit of solace that I could.

“Liyaket was part of my life for almost two decades,” I whispered, and I could feel her breathing quicken as I spoke. “I feel like I’ve lost a major part of me, a portion of my heart and my sight. I can’t erase those chunks of my life, and go on like it never happened.”

She nodded, pausing before she spoke.

“I know,” she said softly. “Two decades… Why would you want to erase it?”

I shrugged.

Because it hurt too much to remember.

Two whole decades of the best friend someone could ever have, guiding and advising me, loving me explicitly, always having the most diplomatic and amazing way to look at things. I loved the guy with a helluva part of my heart. I felt incredibly lost without Liyaket.

”I feel like we are losing more and more of them, every day,” I said softly, breathing in her familiar scent. “I want to hold on…”

“I feel like we’re trying to take over their roles,” she said, so softly that I barely heard her.

I nodded, feeling the same way. Were we unintentionally trying to fill their shoes?

“What if we hadn’t lost them?” she asked softly, and I could hear something that I never heard from Mohsina before, in her voice. It was almost like fear… like an uneasiness that had consumed her, as she said it.

“It was Allah’s will,” I murmured into her hair, knowing that was my only consolation… thinking that’s what she wanted to hear, my voice finally steady. “You can’t question-“

”It’s not that,” she said firmly, pulling back and looking up at at me, her eyebrows slightly furrowed and her brown eyes glistening with tears. “All these questions are going through my mind and I can’t help but wonder. Where would I have been then? Where would you have been? If all this hadn’t happened, would I have changed? Would you have even come back…?”

I knew all these questions. I had asked myself the same ones over and over. I had so many more too. What if things didn’t work out? What if she changed her mind? What if she woke up one day and decided that even though I loved Zaid with everything I had, I wasn’t the right guy for her?

But I knew the answers already. For me, things were either black or white.  I had decided one thing, before I decided to marry her, and that was what I had to stick to. I had never asked her, but from the day I had seen her in Bossman’s car, I figured that he had some sinister intention and though she denied it at the time… I assumed something had happened between them. And though it had plagued me… Right then, though… well, right then, he was the last person I wanted to talk about.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head, my eyes holding her gaze. “What I thought or what I wanted… What happened or who featured… Can we just stop thinking?”

And it was true.

Because she had apologized. I had apologized.

And at times it happens that we apologize, but the trust is still shattered. You forgive them but to look at them the same way, is something that you are tested with every day.

And I had felt that. I felt that deeper than I ever thought I would feel anything, but thats where Maulana Umar got me, when he explained it to me.  Allah Azza Wa Jal, in His infinite mercy, not only forgives, but even wipes away the sin completely, as if it never happens. Allah Azza wa Jal, in his astounding love, even commands the writing angels to erase those sins, as if they never happened.

Ar-Rahman forgives those who ask forgiveness with repentance. In the noble Qur’an Allah Almighty says:

“. . . and let them pardon and overlook. Would you not like that Allah should forgive you? And Allah is Forgiving and Merciful.”

Forgiveness. Only Allah knew how much it had taken out of me… how much it hurt me not to ask… but it was that verse that pushed me to overlook. I had made that promise to myself, because of what Maulana Umar had told me.

She had changed. Whatever had happened, we had to both let go.
And it was no coincidence. This is not something that happens by chance. This was not something that you decide to do on a whim. A desire to turn towards Allah… towards Deen, towards goodness, is only from Him. Only a favour that those who are blessed and truly loved can ever be privileged enough to encompass.

It was nothing short of Taqdeer, and destiny had a funny way of making everything fall into place.

It all seemed surreal for a while, coming home with so much of devastation and loss… as we grew together, as a family, but what I didn’t anticipate was feeling the way I did. It had been the most emotionally taxing day, but somehow, as our hearts took over, I had silenced the concerns that had been in both our minds, broken down the barriers Mohsina had put up and found solace in the comfort that only a wife could offer. The love, that was slowly creeping over my heart and overtaking it… well, it took me by surprise.

And though our road had been rocky, the way it had panned out, it felt almost as if Allah had made it happen in such a way, that the entire journey I had been through was leading up to what was playing out in front of me.

From Yemen ; back home, and then to Palestine, and then coming home again, with the intention of such great responsibility, I thought that through everything I had been through and seen, I was ready to go all into this.

A new era was approaching, and my resolution was to put everything else behind me, and head in, with a clear motive.

Like at the time of Hijrat, when the Lion of Allah, Hadhrat Hamzah (RadiAllahu Anho) entered the borders of Madinah, he knew that there was much opportunity for the Muslims. Within his breast was Imaan so strong and steady, that the first flag in Islam was handed to him. Within them all, was forgiveness, and hope, and a hope for a new tomorrow.

It was just that, as I walked out the room with my phone in hand, in the early hours of the morning, I now felt more on edge than ever.
Within me, I was fighting a bigger battle. I felt on edge. Threatened, and unwavering. My resolve to protect Zaid from Hashim was even stronger now, than ever. That lion within me… the one that sometimes made its way to forefront in the most trying situations… was bearing its teeth again.

I wasn’t one to back down. I picked up my phone, wondering if I should call him back right then. Let him know that I won’t stand for anything. Be the man I felt myself become, over these past few months.

But as much as I wanted to, something within me held me back, and I stopped myself. Maybe it was Imraan’s words, that had told me not to ask for trouble with him. Maybe it was the thought of starting something that I didn’t yet have the power to finish. All I knew was this Jihaad was something I would fight with my heart and soul.

And for me… as I kept this in mind… I knew that if I had to challenge Hashim from that point on, life would never be the same again. Putting up a fight could harm more people than I wanted. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t help but stop myself, because I knew that nothing good could come out of it.

I knew people like Hashim and I knew how they worked.

But now, as I looked at the caller ID glaring at me again, a wave of ferocity washed over me as I renewed my intent. No matter what. No matter how. I knew that I would stand by my word.

No matter what happened or who came in the way, I was going to protect them from every bit of it, with every ounce of me, but I was also fully aware that I couldn’t ever let Mohsina get an inkling of this.

And in doing that, as I fought my inner battles, what I didn’t know was that I was risking losing everything else in the process…

---

Authors note: I was aiming for a bit of a change up with perspective. Will try and post sooner this week InshaAllah … x

Abu Qatada reported Allah’s Messenger (may peace be upon him) as saying: A good vision is from Allah and a bad dream (hulm) is from the satan; so if one of you sees anything (in a dream which he dislikes, he should spit on his left side thrice and seek refuge with Allah from its evil, and then it will never harm him.

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

With the New Islamic Year already here, and these auspicious days, one of the lessons gfrom the Seearh is how Nabi (SAW) forgave his oppressors, and let go of old whims.

A sublime quality that Nabi (SAW) inculcated into his life on various occasions, and especially on the occasion of Hijrah.

May Allah Almighty give us all the ability to forgive others for the wrong they do to us and make us more productive Muslims through this and may Allah forgive us all for our sins, ameen.

O Allah, purify our hearts from grudges, envy, and cheating. O Allah, amend our relations with our relatives. O Allah, amend our relations with our loved ones. O Allah, make life an increase for us in every good and make death a relief for us from every evil with Your mercy, O Most Merciful of the Merciful.

Aaameen.

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..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah