When Reality Checks

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 71

The way life works, and peoples hopes are wired, I realised that there are two types of people.

There are the realists, and then, there are the dreamers.

You’d think the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find the realists, but I heard that more often than not, the opposite is true.

A popular saying goes: The dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring too close to the sun. And the realists, well without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground.

And in a weird way, it was true. People needed each other to pull them away from the fire, when it got too close. And those people needed their better halves to guide them out when it became a little too dark…

“Close your eyes.”

I really didn’t want to. I wanted to see every bit of beauty that I had no doubt lay before me.

My senses were awakened. My heart was pounding. Where Hamzah had taken me as a supposed escape for the day, had turned out to be somewhere that I barely expected.

”I’m scared,” I said, holding tightly to his arm as he tried to pry my fingers from it.

“Trust me?” He almost whispered, and I could hear the hope in his voice as he said it.

“Never,” I said automatically, quicker than I intended and there was a gap of silence before I heard a low rumble of laughter from him.

“Mos,” he murmured, and I could hear his smile through his talking. “When will you stop fighting me?“

I grinned with my eyes closed, still walking along, feeling the rustle of leaves beneath my feet and sniffing something slightly unusual as we trudged along.

“I told you I’m an army,” I said with a smile.

Armies are meant to fight. Never back down. And as much as I’d been fighting with Hamzah lately, I kind of figured that at some point we have to stop.

“Are you like this with everyone?” He said, and I could hear him smiling still. “What about Nani? When she asked you to come for the Taaleem?”

I raised my eyebrows. He knows that I could never try it with Nani. That would have real consequences.

“She forced me,” I muttered meekly. I didn’t mention how good it actually was for me.

The second time, she didn’t have to force me at all. Zaid had slept at the beginning and I could actually listen and absorb in peace. It was good for me. For my soul. It made me feel like a different person.

I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget it all. Rabia. The past month. The problems. The blow ups. The unsaid irritations between Hamzah and I.

Especially now that Hashim wanted to meet Zaid tomorrow, we had been even more on edge since we found out. That’s precisely why Hamzah figured that he rather take me away to ease the conflict and build the bridges… before they come along and upset everything else again.

But I was learning to rise above it. After all, I had started attending the Taaleem and its what was keeping me on track. It’s what actually kept me sane with everything going on

That little time spent in the path of Allah was having amazing effects. It made me ponder. Reflect about how I treat people. About forgiveness. Maybe whatever Rabia had done wasn’t worth me fighting over. Life is too short for that kind of negativity.

Both Hashim and Layyanah’s sister Dahlia had been in contact and I knew that she was dying to see her nephew after months. Why I had kept him away so long, I couldn’t explain… but I really just wanted to keep these moments tucked away… for no one to touch.

We had finally finished clearing our Liyaket and Layyanah’s place, and the entire thing had broken us, and then pieced us back together again. I wasn’t even sure how to feel now that if was finally over. Was I relieved that it was? Or was I sad that that there were no more excuses to have to revisit them again ?

“Okay, open your eyes.”

His voice was soft and smiling and as I opened my eyes, I couldn’t help but stagger slightly as I saw where we were.

We were perched at the edge of a deck, near the far end of a lake not far from home, and just below us, the blue waters glimmered and swished against the wooden posts, almost silent and calm.

Unlike the last time we had been to the beach, today was a sunny and beautiful day, and though a thought of a dip in those waters was actually extremely tempting, I knew I was too chicken to risk it.

It was a quiet part of the town and I knew that’s why Hamzah had chosen it. He valued privacy and as his brown eyes twinkled and watched me, in his three quarter shorts and grey t-shirt, I knew that he had chosen this spot on purpose. Probably so that if he threw me into the waters, not a soul was close enough to even notice.

His smirk was enough for me to take a step back, and fix my gaze at the blue skies that met the water in the distance. It was simply enchanting.

“What is it with you and the open waters?” I asked, shaking my head at him.

It was beautiful and all-encompassing, but everything he did or lead me to always came back to the gorgeously serene waters, in any form.

“It’s my thing,” he said with a sly smirk, sitting himself down at the edge of the wooden plane that was built at the edge, almost as if he was planning on chilling out right there for the rest of the afternoon.

I stepped forward to join him, but waited a little while before I did. There was something about him being there, looking out, that gave me a sense of calm. Watching his form, his arms behind him, hair tousled slightly as he watch the peaceful scenery of natural splendour ahead was a soothing in itself.

”Is it just your thing or does it also remind you of Liyaket?”

I had to ask. I realised that there wasn’t too much I asked about Hamzah in the past. He knew a lot about me, yet, not being the type to pry had its downfalls. There was a lot about him that I didn’t know.

”Maybe both,” he said, shrugging as the waves crashed around us. “It’s still my thing.”

”I thought smoking was your thing,” I teased with a smile, seeing the corner of his mouth lifting and a dimple flashing as I said it.

He didn’t have an answer to that, but I could see that nowadays he actually tried not to smoke around me.

Instead, as I moved forward, lowering myself next to him so my takkies dangled off the edge too, he looked at me again.

“Do you have a thing?” He said, switching his gaze to the open water ahead of us once again. The water was a sparkly blue that reminded me of the ocean. “Or did you ever have a thing you used to do before you started baking?”

I took a deep breath in, waiting for him to say something quirky about my Instagram obsession or my usual hobbies. Or lack of them. I mean, I loved to bake, but it became stressful when there were huge orders to fill. I really believed that everyone needed an outlet.

Something fun and interesting to do, that helps them to unburden. Something halaal. I knew that Jameela was obsessed with reading, and she read mostly good stuff. Hamzah swam and Liyaket hiked, and they were both really good at it. I remember Layyanah once saying that she used to enjoy horse-riding as a kid and teenager, until her mother got tired of taking her so far for the lessons.

I knew that having halaal entertainment wasn’t as hard as everyone made it out to be. It was the reason why todays kids resorted to haraam. They didn’t think that there were options out there, places to go to where they could enjoy themselves without actually indulging in sin.

“When I was younger, I used to skate,” I said softly, recalling that there was an ice rink down the road from where we to stayed. “Often, and well. It was something that I loved doing. Like somewhere I could go and just be free.”

”Ice skating,” he said with raising his eyebrows, his expression unreadable as he said it. “Sounds cool. What happened?”

I shrugged.

We got poor.

I didn’t even know that I had said it out loud, but from the way Hamzah flinched, I could tell that I did.

Oops.

”I’m sorry,” he said softly, reaching out for my hand as he said it.

I shook my head, but let him hold my hand anyway.

“The music used to make my mother mad,” I said, breathing in as I spoke. “So Papa used to pay extra for a music-free session, early on a Sunday morning. It was a good solution. I loved it. After stuff went down…”

I trailed off and he watched me, as I recalled the first time I saw people pushing my father around. It had broken my heart.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly, and I shook my head because I realised that I did.

It was the first time I had ever spoken about this. About how I had pushed my own dreams aside to help my family. About how I never looked back to that point where my whole purpose for doing what I did had changed.

Why should I want to make a difference in the world in any other way when my own family needed me? 

”I didn’t want to be an accountant,” I said flatly, breathing out as I said it. It was the first time I had ever said it out aloud. “Because my father as always set on it… he wanted a son first, of course. I had convinced myself that it was my dream. That it was the best career choice for me. After year one, I was still contemplating whether to change my career choice… still thinking about what my dreams were… and then I saw the fear in my father’s eyes once when someone came to threaten him about not meeting payments, and I knew that I couldn’t fail my parents.”

Hamzah was silent, but he squeezed my hand. Almost to edge me on.

”And so I sucked it up,” I said, not meeting his eye. “And that’s why I tried so hard to get to the top. That’s why I managed to stay focused. Get into Hammonds. That’s why I …”

It was time to stop talking now, and I knew that he would understand. It’s why Faadil made sense to me at the time. I never wanted my father to ever be like that again. I didn’t want him to ever feel worthless and kicked around by people who thought they were better than him.

I knew that everyone had their story, but sometimes we just need to see the other side to understand the reasons why people do what they do.

Maybe I had to try and apply the same to how I felt about Rabia. It had been a few weeks and though I greeted, I never made an effort to make more conversation. I was still angry at Hamzah for letting her badger me on instagram, but according to Hamzah, no one’s opinion on instagram is even worth worrying about so there really was no problem.

My breathing was shallow as I stopped, and it was a millisecond of pity in his eyes before he looked at me, the love in his eyes as stark as the sunlight.

“You act so tough and hard, Mos,” he said softly. “Maybe now and then you should let some of that armour down. Does Nani… Jameela … does anyone even know how much you do… you already did… for the family?”

I looked away as he watched me with disbelief as I shrugged. Wondering how I could do all that without even gaining some kind of recognition.

That wasn’t what it was about.

Every sacrifice a person makes paves the way for the next one. Until they come so easily, they no longer consider them sacrifices.

”You’re one of those most beautiful people I know but you don’t let anyone see it,” he said, his voice strangely unfiltered as he said it. It was like he was speaking straight from the heart and I was slightly bowled over.

“I don’t let anyone see it because I’m nothing great,” I said, truly believing that Hamzah really didn’t even know the half of what I was like. He knew nothing about everything I had become in between.

“You can’t say things like that about yourself,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “I will always defend you, you know, even against yourself.”

Psssshht.

He didn’t know that I didn’t deserve defending. I sighed and looked away, trying to ignore his stare burning into my cheek.

“You have regrets,” he stated, and I knew it wasn’t a question.

I shrugged. Who didn’t have regrets? Did I have regrets? I did. But not about what he thought.

“Everything happens for a reason,” I said quietly. “I think everyone has pieces of their life that they wish they could do over. Pieces that we regret. But those pieces are also the pieces that we learn the greatest lessons from. If I didn’t continue with my BCom… if I didn’t work so hard… if I didn’t get into Hammonds…”

The statements hung in the air as we both stayed silent, listening to a bird teetering somewhere beyond the rustling reefs.

”You wouldn’t have become a part of my life,” he finished off for me. “And I wouldn’t have changed my life either. You, me and Zaid were decided a long time ago.”

“Touché,” I said quietly, breathing in as his thumb did circles on my palm. The air was quiet and full of words all at the same time.

Indeed, everything that happened was joined together to give us a piece of thread that connected us to each other.

And it’s true that everyone had regrets. Things they wish they didn’t do.

When you make tawbah, regrets aren’t even valid anymore, because it’s like those things you regret no longer happened.

Ibn ‘Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) said: The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “If anyone constantly seeks pardon (from Allah), Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress and a relief from every anxiety and will provide sustenance for him from where he expects not.” [Abu Dawud, Hadith 1873].

The literal meaning of the Arabic word tawba is “to return” and is repeated in the Qur’an and hadith . In the context, it means to turn or to retreat from past sinful and evil activities, and to firmly resolve to abstain from them in future. And that was the entire point of Tawbah, right?

It made me think of what Hamzah had been telling me about Zubair. He had been giving me snippets of his life in instalments, and it was strangely thrilling, hearing just how someone’s life could change only due to intentions. It was fascinating to hear how he had been someone who he hated… and then became someone who everyone looked at in a completely different light…

After hearing about what Zubair had gone through, about his life and everything he had gone through… well, how can I even compare my regrets?

And yes, it had changed so much about what I had thought of him. It made me think that maybe I had been too fast to judge him, and that maybe he really did have a real reason for being with his uncle… For doing the things he did. Maybe he could actually justify all the bad things that happened to him. Maybe sometimes things aren’t just black and white.

I had thought bad of him but the ironic part was that I knew people thought crappy things about me too.

“I know what people think of me,” I blabbered, still unable to let it go. “Like Rabia feels I’m not good enough for you…”

”Who cares what everyone thinks about you?!”he snapped, sounding angry as he shook his head at me. “You did things no one else should have done at your age. Sometimes we think it’s self-explanatory. That everything should just follow the rules. But bad things happen. People mess up. Get into ugly situations. You did what you could, even if it’s against the norm and maybe you messed up and you got slack for it, but so what?”

“I’m not a nice person,” I went on, because he had to know that. “I’m edgy and I’m sarcastic and I don’t let people get close to me. Everyone thinks you’re too good for me and don’t pretend that you don’t know it.”

I couldn’t believe that I had actually said that. That I sounded so not-together. Even when I pretended I was.

Hamzah looked positively startled by it.

“Mos,” he said, his tone completely changed now, as he fixed his gaze on me. “Get this. While I was busy messing around, you were being a bloody grown up and working your butt off to support your family. You did it with a good intention. Intentions count. You did it for your family. Not for name and for money and all the things people think you became a CA for. I think that makes a difference. What makes a difference to me is that you gave it all up in the blink of an eye because again, it was the right thing to do and it was what made me happy. It was what made Allah happy.”

”But-“ I wanted to argue that somewhere along the line my intentions changed, but he cut me off.

“Enough,” he said, getting to his feet as he stretched his arms out in front of him. “I won’t hear it. I’m going for a swim.”

Typical male. His realist side was too real for even the realist me. He said it like it was, and that was that.

I sighed and simultaneously widened my eyes as I watched him lower himself into the water, unable to contain my laughter as I watched him flinch at the temperature of it. This was a side of him that ventured into the wild. Craved the excitement. Went completely off the charts with boldness.

And although I knew he was expecting it, I bluntly let him know that there was no way I was getting in there, even as he tried to convince me that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.
It reminded me of the first time we had encountered icy waters, way before we even knew everything would happen the way it did. We were once so misguided and silly, but somehow, through the little guidance we sought, we managed to find a way to the other side…

Somehow, Hamzah had got me into the water after only ten minutes. I actually enjoyed it, and let myself relax a little because time was limited before we would have to head back for Zaid, I knew that the least I could do was give in to his whimsical wishes and enjoy the time on the water.

What I didn’t expect was emerging half an hour later to pull out fresh clothes from the bag, and glimpsing my phone in the process to see twelve missed calls.

Even for Nani, that was a bit extreme. No one else had tried calling. If it was an emergency, someone else might have.

But they didn’t. I still wasn’t sure whether to panic or not.

“It’s Nani,” I said, as Hamzah glanced at me while layering towels onto the seat of the car so we didn’t wet them. “She’s tried calling a few times.”

”You missed Taaleem?”

His voice was filled with humour but I wasn’t smiling. I knew that what Nani would have to say would be on her status or in message form.

I scrolled through my chats, scanning through for Nani’s name, and finally searching it, seeing Jameela’s messages that mentioned Nani. I quickly tapped the chat and opened the 8 messages that were unread.

Jameela was straight to the point and my heart beat a little faster as I skimmed through.

I just couldn’t do it.

I told Nani that and she wasn’t happy.

She said she was going to convince me otherwise.

Mos, I can’t marry the doctor. I just don’t feel right.

He’s not the one for me.

I didn’t read any further, because Nani’s incoming call at that point distracted me.

She was definitely WhatsApp stalking me. She would have also seen me online so there was no way that I could ignore her without causing a ruckus.

Hamzah had jumped in the car now, glanced at me watching my ringing phone like a crazy person, and immediately frowned.

“Babe, you okay?”

I looked at him, still not sure what to do.

“Wish me luck,” I said to Hamzah, just before sliding my finger across the phone to answer.

My gave me a thumbs up, and I knew that I was going to need it. This was going to be one tiresome conversation and I was not looking forward to it. I was only being realistic in my thinking. From everything that Jameela had told me, there was no use hoping that things would actually work out for them.

The realist in me told me so.

The other reality was, I wasn’t even exactly certain that I could play it cool because if Nani ever found out that I was actually in favour of Jameela’s decision… she would never forgive me.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival: 
Sunnah of Noble Character: 

Nabi (SAW) gave attention, spoke and showed love to even the worst person of a nation until the person felt that he is being given special attention.

May Allah make us of those who uphold the Sunnah of character always.

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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