Jameela Part 84
Life is so uncertain.
If nothing else, it was one amazing lesson that I learnt from Zubair… the days when everything felt so new and amazing and I couldn’t imagine how I was so blessed to finally be there with him, that he wouldn’t miss a single chance to show me everything that he needed to, when it came to how he felt for me.
One thing I learnt during those days was that to keep going strong, didn’t always mean big, grand gestures that shifted the world. Girls get carried away by diamonds and perfumes and all the expensive stuff that are meant to prove love, but Zubair showed me that sometimes there was more truth in small, consistent things that made the world of a difference.
Little things like 5am sunrises and 7pm sunsets where you’ll be blown away by. Little things like Sunday morning motor-bike rides and on-a-whim road trips, and the feeling of wind in your open hair. Little things like the high you get off making someone else feel good, and for being the kind of people who make others realise that maybe the world is not such a harsh and cruel place after all…
It was always a tough call to make, but whether it’s a small act of kindness that was shown, or a little deed that is done that may just make your Jannah… living for the little things sometimes will make you realise that its those small things that make you feel alive…
There were tiny, beautiful gestures that he always made a habit. From the Tahajjud wakings, to the breakfasts in bed, and the post it notes that had the most amazing inspiration, Zubair’s character shone through in even through the not so little things he did.
And while I wished that I had a longer honeymoon period where I could just enjoy it and be with him unreservedly, soaking him in, but I knew that reality would intervene sooner than I thought, and his busy life would take over.
And although real life was quick to come into play, what helped was that in between, there were always the moments of fairy-tale like bliss and the cutest Fajr time conversations that made me feel like I was living a Muslim couple goals blog.
It was the little things like that that made me feel like I really was living a world where every problem that existed was so far away from us. When I lay next to him, in the dead of the night, while he would whisper to me incidents of his past, and sweet nothings as I curled up in his arms, it felt as if no one could ever touch us.
I didn’t know that life had a sneaky way of surprising us when we least expected it.
Just when I thought that things would be blissful forever, the next morning; his bed was already half empty, and instead, was the cutest little post it that was stuck on the lamp shade next to our bed, with a perfect sunflower right next to it.
I had no idea where he had found a fresh sunflower right then but reading the note made my heart bloom in more ways than the beautiful flower that was in front of me.
The past is the past. You and I are the future. Sometimes we find happiness in the most unassuming places. So grateful for you and everything you do for me. Alhumdulillah – Z
My heart was already beating crazily as I read it, remembering the conversation we had the night before about his life and how he didn’t expect to get to where he was right then. Though we spent any free moment he had getting to know about each other, me pushing him to tell me about his childhood, his ambitions and everything I didn’t know, it didn’t ease the pain I felt when I heard it.
His life story was long and tragic and just thinking about it made me feel all sorts of emotional for the little boy that was once so lost. Every trial he faced, every time he felt hurt or rejected, and every little encounter that made him feel less than he was, was designed to build him into a better and stronger person. But it didn’t make it any less pitiful.
It explained why he didn’t always share what he did, or give more of himself. He was secretive to the point of exhaustion, and even thought I desperately wanted to know what he was doing for Hamzah, I knew he would never tell me, which made me resort to sneaky methods of finding out.
That day, Zubair had already left for his early morning routine in the gym Papa had once used at the end of the barn, and I knew that this meant that this was Zubair trying to say that it was time for him to get back to his usual routine, because he was a man who thrived in a disciplined kind of lifestyle.
But the little things still remained, as even in terms of my ibaadat, as I started my day with the Qur’ān that I had brought from home because the one Zubair owned was the one that he took everywhere with him. I had learnt that the reason he did that his reason for this was because whenever there came a time that he needed an answer, all he had to do was open the Qur’ān and all answers would come to him without even having to ask. All we had to do was trust our Rabb and everything would sort itself out.
And though I missed Zubair already, I ignored the lovesick puppy vibes and dove into my recitation because I knew that whatever trials today would hold could only be solved through that. All success was from Allah. Through the little time we dedicated to Allahs worship during the mornings, we always make intention that it will build the foundation for a successful day.
And that’s what I was psyching myself up for today.
As I peeped in to the coffee shop, watching him see to customers, I couldn’t resist popping in between to offer him little spurts of affection in intermittent doses, despite his protests that I was distracting him.
My heart had been irrevocably stolen by the stories of who he was once… a young boy who lost his mother far too young, and grew up far too jaded than I’d like to think. I wanted to save him, to win him over, and to fix all those broken pieces of him that he couldn’t seem to fit back together himself. But first, I just wanted my sisters marriage to be okay, as much as Zubair himself wanted it.
That said, there were two things that I learnt about Zubair that I knew were most important for the current situation:
One. Zubair was trying every thing he could to save my sisters marriage.
Two. Zubair had painful secrets from the past that he hid excessively well.
What I learnt about myself was that I would stop at nothing to find out every one of those secrets that weighed him down, only so that I could shift the weight off those shoulders off his once and for all.
I had loitered around the coffee shop for most of the day, technically on my day off, but not able to stay away because of who was on duty.
Yes. I was officially obsessed.
Plus, those little love post-it’s were kind of making me swoon every time I caught a glimpse of them.
My mind was also consumed by everything I knew and even what I didn’t yet know, yet the urge to do something about it all was overwhelming me. I wanted Zubair to so badly make up with his father. It was something that I recognised as a deep desire in his heart, but there was something else that I recognised about them. They were both but from the same cloth, and that meant that neither of them was going to make the first move when it came to making up. His father seemed like he was a decent man who had just been scarred by the past. I refused to believe that he wanted nothing to do with his son.
What irked me more was that when I told Zubair that I wanted him to work things out, he had pinched my cheeks and told me that I was too cute for words. And I wanted to hit him.
Zubair was only three years older than I but he acted as if I was a little child. I would show him that I wasn’t. I would show him that I wasn’t a little girl with idealistic ideas and rose tinted glasses. That somehow, those dreams I had and idealistic thoughts would somehow materialise.
Most of all, I wanted Zubair to be the one who would benefit from it. He was the one who ultimately needed the saving. How do I help him, without actually interfering in his life?
I had retreated to the entrance of the kitchen later that morning, bored and needing to see my parents as a distraction. I sat for a few minutes at the back of the garden, under my favourite jacaranda tree, watching the stillness in the distance as the birds teetered around me, digesting everything before I entered the house again. It was weird to stay on the same property as my parents but Papa loved that I was there. Although Zubair had said that he wanted to give me my own house at some stage, he was worried about safety, and there was nowhere else that he felt safer right then.
A single flick of my scarf had loosened a sticky note that was probably stuck on me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I saw it.
You are my favourite place to be. – Z
I blushed and peeled it off to stick it at the back of my phone, catching the arrival of a new message a few minutes ago, hoping it would be my sister who didn’t reply to me from yesterday, but seeing Maahira’s name instead.
I instantly opened the message because it had been that long since I heard from her, and I really had missed her since I came from London. We’d barely chatted.
Maahira: Jamz. R u done swooning over your new man? Are the pyjamas stil in one piece? *winking emoji*
Where is my friend? I have some big news 2share.
I typed back a quick reply.
Stop. You’re making me blush. Mos is awol. I’m hoping her husband romanced her into oblivion. Tell me instead.
I knew it wasn’t fair but Maahira was making me curious and I really wanted to know her big news.
Maahira: Der have been some developments in the Samoosa run dept. I wanted her opinion.
Me: What about my opinion?
I waited a few seconds for Maahira’s reply.
We love you, Jameela, but you’re way too sweet and unassuming 2 handle this kind of drama.
Should I have been offended? This sweet and innocent perception of me was actually starting to get to me. Literally everyone …. And that means from my parents, to Mos and even Zubair, felt this insane and unfair need to shelter me from the world. It was as if they didn’t believe that I could handle reality.
My phone buzzed again.
Maahira: Let me know when you chat 2 her. N tel her 2 stop ignoring her social media apps. I hav a feelin that Hamzah’s non-existence is rubbing off onto her. She hasn’t been online since yest.
Hamzah hated social media, and everyone knew that. And also, I was beginning to hate everyone treating me like a child.
I typed back quickly. Although she had literally called me an inexperienced infant, I needed to desperately confide in someone. I didn’t have many friends that I could speak to about this, and Mohsina was completely ignoring her phone.
Me: Wait, don’t go.
I typed quickly before she could ignore me. There was so much on my mind and there was no one better to ask right now but Maahi. It was a moment of truth.
I need to ask you about something important. I heard Zubair talking to Faadil on the phone. I wanted to know something.
Maahira’s reply took a while.
Maahira: Mhm. Can’t say I kno awl the answers..
But she may know this one.
Me: I just wanted to know who broke it off between him and Mos. He seemed to think that he was the one who didn’t want it anymore. But I remember otherwise when he came back for her. I feel he’s covering something up and Zubair is telling me nothing so I can’t even clear it up.
Somehow, after knowing that Zubair was onto Faadil, I got this strange feeling that it was really important that I knew the truth. The fear that Faadil was actually sabotaging her relationship, with the help of who-knows-what-else, was haunting me.
Maahira’s reply took a while to come, but when it did, it was a lot to digest.
All I remember was Mos waiting for him at the apartment da one night after he met up with some woman (don’t ask, you’re too young for this talk and it was awkward asl to bring it up with her), and the next morning, she was at da hospital when Layyanah passed away, and she never mentioned him after. If I know Mos, I assumed she would have told the tiger on the prowl to take a hike coz she had too much else on her mind than to worry about him gettin what he wanted elsewhere. The next thing, her and Hamzah were fighting over who would be da better parent to Zaidoo n the rest is history.
I smiled at the last part, ignoring the wrenching in my gut at the mention of Faadil’s constant infidelity. Haraam always comes back to bite you in the behind, and I made a silent Duaa thanking Allah Ta’ala that I hadn’t went with my nafs and got to know Zubair before Nikah. The fact that everything was halaal and untainted was something that brought me immense comfort. I could not imagine the torment that Hamzah and Mohsina sometimes went through. Yes, they had both been wrong and been involved in haraam, but they made it right and I just hoped that they didn’t have to pay for it.
Even though it was history, from what I heard overheard Zubair say on the phone, it seemed like it wasn’t history to Faadil. He seemed to think that it was still unfinished business that desperately needed digging up.
I got up and typed in a quick reply to Maahira, thanking her for telling me and knowing that I would have to dig up more from Zubair if I wanted to help. I just wished that he trusted me more to let me in on everything that he was doing.
I slowly ventured into the house as I tucked my phone in my pocket, feeling a little out of sorts as I thought about everything Maahira had said. Hamzah and Mohsina were perfect for each other. Everything had proven that, and now that Mohsina had changed so much, I knew that if things were to go back to her being alone, she would become that distant and unreachable career woman once again.
Pushing the kitchen door open, I had to blink again before I noticed Nani sitting on the chair in the middle of the kitchen, silently getting on with her task.
“Oh,” Nani said as she heard my greeting, her voice slightly strained as she looked up at me with a toss of her dupatta and she studied me way too briefly for my liking, walking into the kitchen with loose sweat pants and a tee. “So you decide to make appearance now. After two days, it’s like we don’t know who you are anymore.”
I rolled my eyes to myself as I came around to greet her. It was technically one full day. But if Nani saw me with my eyeballs halfway into my head, I would have never heard the end of it.
I peeped over her shoulder as I went to switch the kettle on, watching her rolling something, her fingers folding some new type of Samoosa. Now that the wedding was over, Nani had immediately gone back into Ramadhaan mode and the preparations put a sweet sense of tranquility in the air.
I loved this time of the year, that held so much of hope and opportunity. When the hearts would be cured from worldly obsessions, and the starving souls would be nourished once again.
Ramadhaan was coming and I could feel the sweetness seeping into the pores of my skin, hoping that my body would take the message and start sowing the seeds for the new month that was to come. I had to rid myself of all evil thoughts and throw myself into the parts where I prepared myself for nights of ibaadat and days of soul-cleansing. I could feel the illness in my heart that needed to be cured. I was deeply in need of reformation and I could barely wait for the effect penetrate. I knew that I had to start somehow, and I made intention to start sowing now, so that I could reap the fruits in Ramadhaan.
Trying to shove away all putrid thoughts was step number one and as I tried my best to stop judging Nani’s obsession with savouries, and start to focus on myself. In fact, I was becoming so good at focusing on my own faults for those few minutes, as I rounded the corner of the kitchen isle, that I didn’t even notice how quiet the house was right then.
I hadn’t spoke to my parents from the previous evening and I had been pretty much absorbed in the dramas that Zubair had uncovered about Mohsina and Hamzah’s marriage. It was all still on my mind, that I barely even noticed Nani’s eyes looking slightly puffy and red, as she dabbed it with a tissue.
It took me a few minutes to actually process what was going on, as I watched her, eyes squinted, still not able to fully comprehend the situation. Whatever I thought I was seeing was a very rare occurrence, and were it not for the obvious signs, I would have probably thought I was seeing things, but very clearly noting that Nani was emotional, was an absolute shock to me.
Nani didn’t usually get emotional. Ever. Yes, she did have tantrums and get upset when we didn’t listen to her. She sometimes even manipulated us into doing things we never really wanted to do. But for her to actually express an emotion that spelt some kind of grief, was extremely rare. To see it, in the flesh, was something that literally sent a shiver down my spine.
What on earth was going on?
I had missed out something major while I was busy honeymooning with Zubair, and for the first time, I actually regretted being so obsessed with my roguishly handsome husband.
Perhaps if I’d paid a little attention other members in the household, I would have known exactly what was going on. I looked at Nani, questions swimming in my eyes as she refused to meet my eye, understanding that there was probably a deeper reason for Ma and Papa being absent this morning.
“Nani,” I said, my voice shaky as I watched her almost robotically folding the square Samoosa, her gestures stunted and almost involuntary. I hadn’t noticed when I first entered, but now it was clear as day.
She sniffed and looked up at me, and I could tell without a doubt, that something major had happened.
“Nani, what’s happened?!” I asked, my voice almost frantic as I turned her shoulders to me, desperate for an answer. “Is everything okay? Where’s Papa?!”
Obviously, my first thought went to Papa, because there really was no other reason that could have evoked such a reaction.
”Papa is gone to Mohsina,” she said, her voice steady but feeling like a knife slicing through the air as she said my sister’s name. “To try and talk to her to change Hamzah’s mind.”
The puzzle pieces were slowly fitting into place.
Oh no. They knew about Hamzah and Mohsina. This explained it. It was all falling into place until I remembered what Nani had just said. As far as I knew, Hamzah wasn’t the one who wanted to leave. Why would they change his mind?
“To change Hamzah’s mind?!” I asked, looking at her in confusion. I understood the anger but Nani was just a little bit too bitter for me to digest. “Shouldn’t he be telling Mohsina to reconsider?”
Nani glared at me as I said it, shaking her head and clenching her fist as she said her next words.
”Hamzah was just here,” she whimpered in despair. “He came to greet me, and your parents. For good. He’s taking Zaid to his parents. Too much has happened, Jameela. It’s all Mohsina’s fault. I don’t know why Allah is punishing me like this…”
She broke down as she said it, and my heart contracted painfully as I watched her, holding my Nani as she wept into my shoulder, not even knowing what to say as I glimpsed a shadow at the back door.
“It’s just a test, Nani,” I said softly, not able to control the tears running down my own cheeks. “It’s only a test, and we’ll get through this. It will all be okay…”
Doesnt Allah say that He will test us? Are not all our luxuries just favours Allah has given us out of His mercy?
Indeed, He says that He will test us. With every single thing we own.
And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Sabirun (the patient).
Who, when afflicted with calamity, say: “Truly! To Allah we belong and truly, to Him we shall return.”
They are those on whom are the Salawat (i.e. who are blessed and will be forgiven) from their Lord, and (they are those who) receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided ones.”
(Quran, Surah al-Baqarah, 2:155-157)
“Make Sabr, Nani,” I whispered, trying to coax myself at the same time, not knowing if I could hold it together much longer. Hoping that this was just a little speedbump that would be sorted out when I spoke to Mohsina.
My own voice was shaky and uncertain as Zubair’s face rounded the corner right then, and it shocked me that I already knew him so well just by seeing his expression.
From by the slight slumping of his shoulders, I could already see the defeatist attitude that had overcome him, and that wasn’t something that Zubair often wore. I wasn’t sure how I had missed him, but it was as if the visit of Hamzah had brought so much more than he had ever imagined, and not in a positive way.
I breathed in as I consoled Nani, hoping that my parents could work some miracles, but knowing from the look in my husband’s eyes as he approached us, that this was a dead loss.
“Zubair, tell me it’s not true,” I murmured, swallowing back the emotion that was threatening to overcome me as I let go of Nani, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Tell me that Hamzah hasn’t changed his mind about saving their marriage.”
Zubair merely shook his head, avoiding my gaze as his browner iris lightened as he looked up at Nani’s emotional state, knowing that this wasn’t such a littel thing after all.
“I’m so sorry, Jameela,” he said softly. “I tried to do everything I can, but Hamzah already made up his mind. Something else came up last night. He’s already signed the papers.”
My sincerest apologies about the delayed post. I could just not stay awake last night.
My deepest appreciation for all the readers who love this blog and await the posts and my only hope is that we all go home with the lessons that we learn and try and implement them. Please keep this weak author in your Duaas.
Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others
Especially as these blessed months dawn upon us, we make extra effort to think good of others and make excuses for them. It’s easier said than done but we make Duaa that in this way, people will also think well of us.
Nabi Muhammad (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Beware of suspicion, for suspicion is the worst of false tales; and do not look for the others’ faults and do not spy, and do not be jealous of one another, and do not desert (cut your relation with) one another, and do not hate one another; and O Allah’s worshipers! Be brothers (as Allah has ordered you!”) (Bukhari)
To put it briefly, having good opinion of people implies:
- Thinking positive of others
- Avoiding suspicion and wrong assumptions of others
- Giving others the benefit of the doubt
Sunnah of the month of Rajab
Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:
اَللّٰهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ
Allahumma baarik lana fi Rajaba wa Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan
Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.
(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)
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..💕