Shattering Secrets

Bismihi Taala

Mohsina

Part 85

Leaving is hard. Losing is harder.

I once heard someone say that the very same worldly attribute that causes us pain is also what gives us relief: Nothing here lasts.

And while I found myself at war with my heart, I knew that I couldn’t give in, just because it said so. Just like the feeling of being hopelessly in love didn’t last, so too, the feeling of pain and agony also won’t last.

The thing is, we all make mistakes. Yes, we all  need to restart, sometimes over and over again, only to lose ourselves once again. Yes, there are days when we feel consumed by the world and it weighs heavy on our shoulders. There are times when we forget that this life is temporary and fleeting and insignificant in comparison to the next life. Yes, there are days when we feel so distant from Allah. Days when we don’t raise our hands to Him, days when we are ungrateful and thankless and days when we are an embarrassingly bad version of us, that even we can’t quite come to terms with…

But for all those times that we are heedless and complacent and broken by the world, by Allah, we are never forgotten, and Allah always has our back; in whatever means or form He provides.

For me…. there was Hamzah… who was my personal spiritual booster, who was trying his utmost to pull me out of the hole I had crept into and keep me floating.

And it was working. Somehow. It was working.

After Hamzah’s little stint, I couldn’t help but feel all my barriers collapse with no resolve. It was like his sincerity had crept right into the midst of my soul, but yet, when I agreed to his request, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being a little too hopeful that after all this, Hamzah would still want me back.

Though my stance was still neutral and distant, I had a feeling that brick by brick, the wall was coming down, and I didn’t even want to hold it up anymore.

The truth was, I loved this guy. I didn’t want to lose him, and when he dished out words that made me feel so much more, I couldn’t help but cave.

We drove in semi-silence after I had dissolved in his arms, and then quickly recovered, vowing to keep up the facade that I felt nothing for him anymore. The way Hamzah drove, as if he knew what exactly where he was going, made me a feel a little nervous. I didn’t want to get all flustered and overwhelmed by emotion again. I had calmed down, but Hamzah’s request to me still hung over my head like a cloud above my head.

His free hand rested in the middle of us, waiting for me to tangle my fingers with his in a silent truce. But I couldn’t do it.

I knew what he was silently saying. It was time to let this be. To love him unreservedly. To stop holding back just on the off-chance that everything was meant to be perfect.

And though I would never admit it, it felt like my heart had been shifted. I wasn’t even sure what had happened after being at Hamzah’s Madrassa but I knew that Qur’ān had amazing effects. I had once heard that Qur’ān is the cure to any problem and will do miracles to hearts. I honestly felt like my heart had undergone some kind of miracle. I felt like it had been deep cleansed and flushed out, and now all I saw was positivity and everything good that could be.

“Are you ready for our next stop?” Hamzah said quietly, his gaze not leaving the road as he spoke.

I avoided his eyes too as he pulled off the main road, onto a smaller road that took us another minute of driving, the blue skies even more glorious as we got closer to the coast.

The car served slightly to the right as the shoreline came into view, and catching sight of the deepest blue waters contrasting against the light blue of the sky, the beauty of it made me gasp in absolute wonder.

Now, I know that I hadn’t exactly been to Maldives yet, but I knew for sure that there weren’t many places in the world that had such amazingly blue waters. I watched in awe as Hamzah drive along the coastal route, amazed that there was such a stunning view from where we were. The sea seemed so vast and glorious as I watched it, waves crashing along with such ferocity that it made you wonder about the Creator of that kind of power. There was just something about having an ocean view that gave you a soothing within your soul.

The scene was a picture perfect kind. Mountains in the distance. Driving into the horizon, or breaking into the jaw-dropping sunsets. No visible limits to where the oceans ended.

I knew Hamzah had a special affinity to this place where the land met the seas, and this was where he found his base, got his focus and explored his true ambition.

My eyes were fixated on the beauty before me until we pullled off the road and Hamzah killed the engine, and I couldn’t help but feel myself flush under his intense gaze. While I watched the amazing view, Hamzah was gauging my reaction with a certain interest that made me shift under his scrutiny.

“Stop,” I said, shifting uncomfortably as I glanced at him again. “You’re making me nervous.”

He had this disturbing smile on his face, as if he knew was more than he let on, and how his stance remained so positive and unnerving was beyond me. I wished that I could somehow distract him, but before I could think of something, he had pushed open the door and stepped out into the openness, pulling off his kurta as he did so, almost as if he was getting ready for a swim.

I honestly wondered if he was going to take a dip in the waters, and while I was contemplating on whether to reprimand him for his crazy behaviour or not, before I knew it, the passenger door was open and Hamzah was next to me, with an expectant smile on his face.

”You don’t expect to sit in the car with such a beautiful view ahead of you, do you?”

Before I could even begin to argue, he had already extended his arm to lift me out the car, and I could feel my resolve weakening each moment as he did so. And I was already bought by this place that Hamzah loved. The salty air. The view of limitless beauty. The feel of the wind through my scarf was simply gorgeous.

I trudged forward as he pulled me along, not giving me any choice but to enjoy his proximity and the feeling of my hand in his as he edged me along silently.

Hamzah just had a way to snap me out of my stupor, and I knew that I had no chance when it came to him. I never quite admitted if before, but now, I understood how Allah Ta’ala compliments people through their other halves. For me, he was the type of personality who balanced all my inadequacies. While I lay low, Hamzah coaxed my inner adventurer. While I usually preferred isolation, Hamzah pushed me to interact. He was the icing on my cupcake. He brought out the best of me, and when I recalled Layy once saying that he filled in all my blanks, I now understood exactly what she meant.

Hamzah was like a uncontained proton. With him around, life just felt so… charged.

We paused as he stopped to pull off his shoes and socks, me hoping that he wouldn’t pull any drastic moves or throw me in, quickly acceding to his request for me to pull out my own shoes as I stepped onto the sandy part of the beach, enjoying the peace and quiet that existed there. It was very much deserted, but still a sight to behold, as we stood there, hands together, just taking in this moment as the splendour of sky meeting the seas spread before us. It was like it was lit up in some kind of brightly kindled fire as the day was coming to a close, and the sight literally took my breath away.

”Are you reading more Qur’ān for me?” I breathed, my voice hopeful as it cut through the air, and Hamzah turned to look at me.

Him reciting to me was something that made me ache for more. It had brought a sense of tranquility and clarity… a state of mind that I hadn’t had in way too long, but ached to attain once again. Not only had he recited, but the deep knowledge of the Qur’ān he had, about the verses where Allah tells us we will be tested, and our ability to be patient is something that is inherent. Somehow, Allah puts that patience in our hearts and enables us through understanding.

And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient, (Surah 2:155)

It had given me an insight, and a small hope that was at the back of my mind, waiting to be rekindled.

”That’s for special occasions,” he murmured with a slight grin before pulling out a tasbeeh counter from his pocket and handing it to me.

“But when we say SubhanAllah, and that can sometimes feel like we are the kings of the world,” he continued with a one dimpled smile, while I took his counter.

It was one of those larger new ones, black with a pretty pattern, and I kept it in my forefinger as I took his advice and mouthed the words, praising Allah for everything He had so graciously blessed me with.

Just being there, knowing that Hamzah had faith in me… in us… gave me a most amazing sense of renewed hope… and reciting SubhaanAllah made me feel like I was touching base again.

Connecting with my surroundings. Acknowledging that all glory before me, from the bluest waters to the foamy seas, and everything that my eyes feasted on, was only due to the One who Created.

We had moved along to the edge of the seas now, stopping just before the colours of the sand got darker with moistureit, and I couldn’t help but halt to immediately plop myself down on the sand, digging my toes in, thinking about when the last time was that I had enjoyed sitting on the open beach like this.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, his hand holding the top of my knee while he stopped my foot from wriggling. “You’re hiding your toes.”

I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks heat up, although I barely got frazzled, remembering the first time we had been at a beach together, and recalling how toe obsessed I was. For some reason, right then, the picture gamer, instagram obsessed version of me felt so far away.

It was all purely coincidental that we had ended up being each others company that morning, and even though we were wrong to be so freely mixing, it made me appreciate that we knew so much better now.

“Do you remember the time we were at a beach in the days of Jahelia?” His voice broke out, almost reading my thoughts as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket, and sat down next to me.

I grinned and nodded regretfully at his reference to those days when work took preference over everything and Liyaket and Layyanah were still in their romancing phase.

“Do you know how I loathed you?” I said with narrowed eyes, remembering how he used to annoy me about my social media apps.

“Ditto,” he said quietly with a wink. “But after that, something changed. And I felt like irritating you even more. Every day. Till forever.”

I shook my head at him. He was such a kid. Like the old boy likes girl and makes fun at her story.  He acted as if we were in primary school.

“I think I was in denial,” he said softly, and I looked at him with my eyebrows raised.

Ahem. What?

”But why,” I said, not understanding why he would even like the instagram obsessed @mostlymohsina who barely gave time of day to anyone else but her feed.

He grinned as I looked at him, his brown eyes avoiding mine as I wondered if he was going to backtrack on his words.

But no. Hamzah was going for the kill today.

“You were the only girl who had game,” he said with a shrug, as if it was obvious. “And you know why? Girls think that being open and approachable makes them a better catch. But you… Mos, you were hard on yourself in ways you didn’t know. Ways that made you stand out.  You didn’t give a crap about what anyone thought about your hijab. You didn’t entertain the guys or any of the mundane chit chat. Even on the trips… You were always careful about what you ate and how you behaved. You know what I was like. Liyaket would call me out for my ways all the time.”

I snorted, remembering how he was once in a disciplinary hearing for something that had happened with some office girl in the archives room.

I could see the embarrassment on his face as I almost laughed at the recollection.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said cheekily. “I know I was a rotter. And you were like one of those girls who were out of my league and unattainable… until I spoke to you and realised that maybe you were exactly what I needed to keep me grounded. And then, next I knew, there was Liyaket to tell me that he was certain that you were the right girl for me, and I knew I was a goner.”

I shook my head, thinking that hilarious because I had gone so haraami and off track afterwards with all my that he should probably take those words back. And it was so ironic because I felt that he was the one who had gone all Maulana-type and became out of reach for me.

Anyhoo, then the unmentioned stuff happened and we were both stuck in a space where none of us could understand what the other was even thinking…

If only we had known all the things that we hid so well from each other, because we felt too vulnerable to say, but I knew it didn’t matter now because Allah knew where our paths would take us, and I knew now for sure that there was a reason for this.

Even right now, everything that’s happened.. I knew that there was no way that I could deny that some goodness was going to come out of it. I just knew that I had to stick this out and hope that it would come through sooner rather than later.

But in the meantime, I couldn’t help but feel that hole in my gut as I looked at my husband, the mention of the past now bringing hope in his eyes, as I took a deep breath and turned my gaze away to the spectacular seas.

Today, they were steady and relaxed, and my heart immediately felt contented as I watched the ebb and flow of the tide, the sound of swishing waters soothing my soul beautifully.

But all this soothing was making me relax too much, when I shouldn’t be.

“What if you’re making a mistake,” I said to him suddenly, my mind on our conversation back at the madrassa, turning my face to watch his expression change, knowing that he was going to regret putting so much effort into this when it was already doomed to fail. “By having so much of faith in me. You’ve got way too much of hope. It’s not fair on you.”

“It’s not fair on either of us,” he said, his fingers twiddling with each other as I watched him, sitting with his knees up. “And it’s not silly or naive either. It’s because even in the darkness, I see that my Rabb is greater than everything else. Watching this… the sky and the earth holding hands on the horizon… well… doesn’t it fill you with hope?”

The sight ahead felt like stab of love, a blaze of color – oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples spread before us, almost like the blended colors of love. I was mesmerised for a second, not realising how quickly the sky had morphed into such glory, taking in every fiery red, bold orange and carnivorous yellow as we watched horizon spread out before us from the sea sand. As I did so, I couldn’t help but feel my soul lighten. My heart was opening in a way it hadn’t before. The sight of that, contrasting with the blissfully blue waters that calmed my soul, was what gifted me with something that I hadn’t realised was creeping up on me, and that’s when I understood what Hamzah had said.

Hope. We find it even in the most unexpected places, and I hadn’t felt it more than I felt it right then, and I wanted to take that moment and pocket it so I could keep it close to my heart forever.

I wanted to remember the moment that things had shifted.

I didn’t need to ask him why anymore. I knew why he had brought me here. It was the beauty of Allahs creation- scenic and gorgeous and I wished that we could stay there, in our happy bubble forever, although I knew that reality was only a road trip away.

And when he said it, I knew exactly what he meant.

“Hope, my love,” he whispered softly, his face next to mine as he spoke close to my ear. “Is never a mistake.”

My tummy flipped as he said it, making me wonder how he still did that to me, even after all this time and the fact that this was supposed to be some kind of farewell journey.

And it made my heart ache. This has been so hard. And I was spent. I had sobbed and cried, I had prayed and tried to come to terms with how I felt, but it felt like I was still where I began…. Still hurting. Still nursing the heart aches. Still trying to pull myself out of the hole of misery I had sunk into.

I was tired of fighting. Tired of having nothing to hold onto… and I couldn’t help but wonder… what if?

So what if I said I’ll come back to him? So what if I put my own fears aside, and let myself believe that this man wanted me more than all my flaws? So what if I gave in and stopped steeling my heart, so that to I could actually feel something for once? So what.

All this had done was reinforce to me that everything he meant was for real and I knew that sooner or later, I’d have no more excuses.

I sighed as he took my hand in his, and wordlessly, he looked up at me, and then at the skies, almost as if he was still awaiting that answer, and the sight before us was just what he needed to get it.

I didn’t want to read what was in his eyes as we got up and started walking back to the car, but his eyes held the message that I couldn’t deny.

If the sun and the sky can meet on the horizon, then so can we.

Of course we could. No matter how long it took. No matter how much was lost in between. At some stage, I would return to him and I know that I would still have as much love as I had for him right then.

”I’ll come back to you,” I said softly, after a few steps, my voice barely audible as I said it, feeling as if my heart would burst from the emotion it brought.

I could already feel the shift in the air as he processed it, and without even a seconds warning, strong arms literally lifted me off the ground and twirled me around, and the only thing I could do was hold onto Hamzah and giggle as his head nuzzled against my neck and he put me down, his breathing emphatic from all that weight lifting he had done a few seconds before.

“I love you, Mos,” he said into my ear, his voice sounding like he couldn’t quite believe what I’d just told him, assuring me that whatever was in store, it will always be me. And just like that, every barrier was broken down as we walked, hand in hand to the car, feeling emotionally exhausted with everything that had happened that day.

Salaah was glorious, under the open skies, with the sound of crashing waves, and I revelled in the feeling before crawling back into the car and smiling sleepily at Hamzah as he started his car.

I knew that I had plenty of messages, from Sawleha and Maahira in particular, but I barely had a chance to catch up with them before my eyelids felt heavy, and with the soothing feel of the car and of everything between us finally settled, sleep overcame me sooner than I thought.

We knew that we would reach late but I was still hoping that we would make it back home to fetch Zaid for the night.

And I barely expected to be so tired, to fall into such a deep sleep, but the next thing I knew,  Hamzah was stroking my arm lightly in an effort to wake me as we entered our apartment block. I felt drained. Almost as if I had been out hiking the entire day, when in actuality, we’d done no real physical activity. I yawned as I looked at my husband, concentrating as he reversed into his parking; remembering that we hadn’t fetched Zaid.

“Where’s my baby?” I asked softly, stifling another yawn.

”Imraan said he will bring him,” he said, switching off the car power. “I think he’s giving Saaliha a hard time to sleep and she wasn’t feeling too great either?”

I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

“What happened?” I asked, already concerned for her wellbeing. “Is she okay?”

Hamzah lifted a shoulder up noncommittally.

“Don’t know,” he said, but I didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his eyes. “He didn’t say. But he’s already left.”

I nodded and opened the car door, stepping out tentatively as I grabbed my bag and the stuff Hamzah had packed to keep us nourished. I was actually starving, and I wondered if I had enough cheese in the fridge to whip up a cheese and tomato sandwich. I usually didn’t enjoy tomatoes in cheese but for some reason, I was completely bought today.

Hamzah had already got into the lift, and I stood next to him as he smiled at me, enjoying the calmness of that moment, where we both understood what it was that we needed to do from here. Even though things may not be perfect, the understanding that we had was something that I knew was only possible because of Hamzah’s insistence to spend this day together.

I couldn’t help but think of how lucky I was to have him, rooting for us the way he did. We had already reached our floor, and as he gestured for me to walk, I fell into step with him as we went toward our home together, talking softly as we passed the neighbours flat, enjoying the ease that we could deal with each other right then.

And I wished I hadn’t done what I did. I wished I hadn’t stopped so that he could walk with me. I wished that I’d gone first, so that when I reached the end of the passage where our door was, I would have been the one to see the box that sat on our step, so I could take it and keep it away, as far as I ever could. I wished that I had been the one to open it and scrutinise its contents before it came to rock our world.

But of course, it didn’t happen that way.

“Hey,” Hamzah smiled, a comical expression on his face as he spotted it. “Someone left us a gift. Bit late for housewarming though.”

My eyes zoned onto the parcel, realising that it was a gift of some sort, but not quite processing the name of the shop that was on the bag. Some jewellery shop in Sandton. People get fancy sometimes.

“Oh,” I said half-heartedly, watching him put down the cooler bag he had with him and picking up the packet. “That’s nice of them.”

It took a few seconds before he opened the packet and took out a box, and I couldn’t help but feel an icky sensation creep over me as I realised that it looked nothing like how a housewarming gift should look. I was a small, long box, with a ribbon around it, and as he pulled it out, and opened it, a little note stuck out of it, that he promptly caught just before his eyes widened at the contents of the actual box.

It took him a few seconds before there was any reaction. It felt like time was frozen for a few seconds as I watched him switch gazes from the now opened note, to the contents of the box, and as I realised exactly what was in the box, my heart did this thing where it felt like it was going to shatter into millions of tiny pieces, just glimpsing the haunted expression on his face.

It was the necklace. The eternal flame necklace, with its one carat diamond, in all its loathsome glory, staring up at me in traitorous glee as I gathered the wits to look up at him once again.

His enraged expression was all it took for me to notice the note still in his hand, and immediately, as I took it from him and read it, I knew that there was something disturbingly coincidental about the way this had all panned out, right then.

I also knew that this was something that I would need an immense amount of intervention to fix, if I ever could.

Hot tears welled up in my eyes as I read it, once again, knowing that there was no way I could ever explain my way out of this one.

I meant to return this to you when I saw you the day of your wedding. It will always belong with you. 

Faadil 

---

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)

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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Moments of Vulnerability

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zubair

Part 80

The world at large, but more specifically our menial lives, revolve around an information overload where the accounts and stories of awe-inspiring bravery have ceased to feature.

Whilst we get off on dopamine hits induced by arrays of pointless pictures on our Instagram feeds, we are starved of the splendour that once filled the pages of history.

The desire and restlessness that once raged within the hearts of the Sahabah have become text book incidents to us. We are foreign to a concept that entails extinguishing personal desire for lighting a longing for everlasting pleasure.

Martyrdom has, and always will be, the masterpiece of all man’s greatness. Their agonising and heartbreaking stories are a light amidst the darkness of this world. Meeting Hamzah for me, brought this alive. His spirit brought out something in me that stemmed from a selfless courage… something that I had forgotten about over the past few months.

And whilst every martyr attains unmeasurable closeness to Allah Ta’ala, the honourable title of Sayyidus Shuhadaa (RA) was awarded by Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) only to the highest and most honoured of all of them… Sayyidina Hamzah (RA). There was something about meeting my real life Hamzah, that kindled a flame within me once again… a flame that would serve to rage on, to face everything head on, fearlessly, like the men I’d read about and always admired.

Despite the monster I had once been, I knew and lived the rule that nothing is as more important but the pleasure of Allah… and now, I was done with being scared, slinking away and hiding from the past.

I pulled out the dagger I kept with the saying that filled me with vigour and determination, placing it on the bed next to me to remind me that like the blessed heart of Nabi (sallahu alaihi wa Sallam) was uneasy with a desire and craving for martyrdom, so too should mine. Nothing should scare me.

It was a risky step I was scared to take before this, because if my uncle had to get wind of it, it could be dangerous. Yes, I felt scared and vulnerable right then but I needed to overcome it.

How long was I going to continue being scared for? Taking this step with my future wife, going all out to embrace what would be half my Deen, should never make me feel more fearful. In fact, it gave me that much more strength to do the right thing.

“Joe,” I said roughly into the phone, pulling on my best jeans and watching myself in my sisters room mirror cynically as I got ready. I looked so unlike the man I felt like inside. I could practically feel my heart pounding as I thought of what today would hold. “I need your help and you can’t say no.”

I had been at my sisters apartment from the morning because she insisted, and I couldn’t say no when she asked. She wanted to spend my final moments before marriage with me, but she was so busy fussing over wedding things that she was barely present.

”Your uncle says you’re not with him anymore.”

It was a simple sentence from the guy at the end of the line, but just hearing it from him made me angry.

So angry, despite knowing that I would hear that and trying to kill that very anger that would come up every time I heard of of my uncle meddling in my life.

What right did my uncle have to interfere in my relationships? Yes, we used Joe often for his contacts and to sort out paperwork we would need to figure out who the rats in our networks were, but I was the one who introduced Joe to him to do that for us. Joe and I were school friends before we did business together. We go way back.

It wasn’t that I admired my past, but it was what it was and every person I had met along the way had helped shape me into the person I was.

”Does it matter?” I muttered, plopping on the bed as I put the phone on speaker and pulled on the new pair of spotty socks Nusaybah bought me to wear with my new Kurta.

”I’ll call you back,” he said after a few seconds, and I wanted to give him a mouthful about shoving me off, but I knew I shouldn’t.

“You’d better,” I threatened mildly, knowing that Joe didn’t say things that he didn’t usually mean.

And it was just as well that I was in good mood that day, because I might have taken the half hour drive to his place to shake him up instead.

But today… I had more important things to do… and I couldn’t believe that this day had come.

That I was actually marrying her. The girl that I had been trying so hard not to freak out by ogling her as she would be sitting at the garden bench reading, or tending to her new plants, or working diligently in the coffee shop kitchen as if he life actually depended on it. I had spent months pretending to be ignoring her, when all I wanted to do was go up to her and ask her if their was ever a possibility of this day ever coming.

And here it was. I had told her that I was striving to be better, but I was having to dig up pieces of my past to do so.

I breathed in, knowing that I had to be forceful in my tactics now, even when I hated it. I hated this side of me that was all hard and rigid and rooting for a fight, but I hated the other side more. I hated knowing that now, I would have more than just myself at risk. Knowing that I couldn’t always control things and other people close to me made me feel vulnerable like never before.

I splashed the water in my face and made my whudhu, hoping to calm my fiery spirits with it. It went without saying that I was a little edgy. I needed to resort to my Lord… to sit on that Musalla and pray to Him, the Most High, because come what may, He was the only One who held a solution. This was a big step but it was what I wanted.

I prayed with an aching fervency because I wanted this to all be okay. I wanted to tame the wild beast in me, to calm my spirits to someone who could actually be worthy of this new role that I was going to take in life. I wanted the people who were going to become my family to always stay safe and protected form what haunted me.

I wanted to change my old ways, and turn a new page in my life. I wanted to be worthy of a husband. Of a father, hopefully, someday too. A resolution that was way more than I ever imagined, but the aching need in me was persistent.

I wanted to be a sterling example, like Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was and forever will be. I wanted to be such that even when I face my uncle who had done unmentionable things to me, I wanted to be so good to him that he would be moved by my character alone. This was the journey that I was willing to take for my own betterment.

This family had inspired me. Jameela had made me want to change. She made me want to be better. It was by her acceptance of me that made me want to strive for even more now.

Character. It was the only thing that would define me now, and that’s what had been the trump card in her eyes.

My phone rang at that point, snapping me out of my thoughts and bringing me back to the present.

I needed to leave for the Nikah- my Nikah- in ten minutes, but I knew that every minute was precious.

Hamzah was trying not to disturb me this week but I knew that if I didn’t confirm that final thread of information that had just occurred to me that morning, all that I’ve been helping him with would be futile.

None of it seemed worth it if by the end of this, Hamzah and his wife didn’t work things out. There was no way that I could rest if I knew that there was something I could do to save their marriage, and didn’t.

I breathed our with relief as Joe agreed to my favour, and I tried convincing him that what I was onto was going to change someone’s life. Judging from the first time I saw Faadil, all those months back outside his apartment building, I could tell that he was up to something. The way my uncle spoke to Faadil, made me realise that that Porsche that caused the incident to erupt out of control was going to lead to much more than that.

And despite knowing that Faadil and my uncle had been in contact over the few months, I never really knew what the relationship was. I knew that my uncle worked with him to uncover money. When I cut myself off of him, I didn’t want to find out. But now, from everything I had found out, I had an idea that Faadil had framed himself to get back at Mohsina, and I just needed the final thread to prove it.

“I’ve tried asking around,” I said in a level tone, thinking of the conversation I had with Nusaybah’s best friends brother. “Ahmed can’t help. He would if he could but he doesn’t do this anymore because of his family commitments. I know it’s risky but you’re my last hope, Joe. I need to know how the evidence came to the knowledge of the company. I want to know if Faadil framed himself.”

If was the only thing that made sense. Yes, Faadils reputation would be at stake if he framed himself but if he dragged Mohsina’s name in it with him, it may be a completely different motive. If may either mean that he would try to shove all blame on to her, or it could be that they’ll go down together, which would help him to earn her trust and then rebound again.

The latter seemed more plausible right then and I knew that I had to tell Hamzah but there was barely any time left and I was going to be late for my own Nikah if I didn’t hurry the hell up.

I told Joe that Hamzah would pay anything for clearance of his wife’s name, and money wasn’t an issue. It seemed to do the trick.

We settled on a price and that’s how I found myself walking out to my brother-in-law Faheem’s car, after Nusaybah clung to me for at least 2 entire minutes for dear life, my mind trying to focus on what exactly was going down that day. She finally let me go with tears swimming in her dark eyes, and my niece tugging restlessly on her cloak.

”Smelling good,” Faheem commented in his swanky British accent as I finally entered the car. “You ready?”

Faheems voice was light but clear, almost jolting me out of my train of thought as he watched me from the corner of his eye. Him and my sister being here was more than I could ever ask for. I knew that my father wouldn’t come but I still hoped. I really wanted him to make an appearance. I had stopped by his place in the week and left an invite in the postbox. I knew he got it because I waited behind the next house wall to how long after he would come and take the mail I left every day.

I nodded as I watched him drive on, not really wanting to talk yet. After the Nikah, things would feel more relaxed. It was a low key affair. I asked for it to be as private as possible, because of how many enemies I had made along the way. My uncle had been trying to get hold of me and I knew that he had more work for me with promising financial incentives, but I was refusing to relent.

I wanted to leave that life completely, and start afresh with a purer intent in mind.

More than anything, I wanted this to stay out of my uncles knowledge, so I wouldn’t have to worry about protecting Jameela before we got married.

After marriage, I was sure to do anything to keep her safe from my history.

I breathed in as I looked ahead, drumming my fingers together as I tried to control my nerves. Faheem wasn’t much of a talker, which made sense, because my sister spoke enough for the both of them. I looked out the window, watching the cars pulling up for Asr salaah, feeling a pit in the bottom of my stomach, but not because of what lay ahead. I was worried. Scared that something may go wrong.

“Stop looking so aggro.”

Aggro. It was Nusaybah’s word that I never quite understood the meaning of.

I glanced at Faheem as he turned off the ignition, closing my eyes briefly as I tried to recollect my thoughts. There was so much going on in my mind. I needed to switch it off.

“I’m not,” I said, pushing the door open and meeting my brother-in-laws eye. “I’m just worried that things may not all go that smoothly. I have a reputation for inviting trouble. You know that.”

We were walking toward the mosque, and even with a handgun strapped to my ankle, I knew that I was always at risk.

And don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that I was afraid of dying. Not in the way most people were.

I had faced it head on, seen it way too many times to be afraid that way. What I was scared of was what would come after. I was scared of how my Lord would deal with me, after everything I had done. I was scared that my repentance wasn’t good enough, or sincere enough. But in the same breath, I lived with the blossoming hope that in death, it was the only place that I would find complete freedom from the life I had lived in this deranged world.

“They’re just people, you know,” Faheem said quietly, his accent a little less pronounced as he lowered his voice. “People who have power in this world maybe, but don’t forget that Allah is in control of everything else and He sees you. He sees you, bro. He sees that you’ve changed and you’re trying to be better. You think he’s not going to take care of you when you’re taking one of the biggest steps to make it all right?”

I glanced at him as we entered the building, emotion welling up in my eyes as I shook my head, my heart now beating a little more steadily as I approached the place where I would read Salaah. I didn’t want to believe that I was worthy of anything good. I didn’t want to let myself believe that it would all be okay. For me, I rather expect the worst and then get surprised at the best…

And oh yes, I wished for the best. In every way, and my heart was filled with anticipation for what lay ahead as the Salaah commenced.

The Nikah was scheduled to be after Asr and as crowds came in for the prayer, and then left again, giving me a clear sight of Maulana Khalid as he spoke to someone ahead, I knew that the time for me to pull up my socks and get to the front was right then. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. People were mulling out steadily, and as I gazed at my shaky hands, I felt as if time had stood still.

And though I knew Maulana from when I was younger, he was well aware of my past and where it had led me, and now, he accepted me wholeheartedly without any judgement.

I could see Muhammed Husayn around the outskirts, and Jameela’s father approaching the front with two other men. Eyes were on me as I slowly walked up to the small crowd, knowing that this was going to be one of the most defining moments of my life.

I breathed in as I offered a greeting to them all, staying silent as Maulana Khalid introduced himself and then looked at me as if to check if I was ready.

And it was one of those moments when I seriously felt like throwing in the towel and running out of there, not because of what lay ahead for me, but because it only then when reality came crashing down on me like never before.

There was no one who deserved this less than I. My father wasn’t there, although I had hoped he would be. It was just a reminder that I would never be good enough. The truth was glaring at me as I watched Maulana hug my brother-in-law, who was also his cousin-in-law, and then turn to my future father-in-law with praises for me.

I couldn’t quite believe that I was hearing all these complimentary things coming from his mouth, where he spoke as if I was someone great. Hamzah was grinning stupidly as he said it, but I believed none of it when he pulled me to him, telling me that I was such an amazing kind of human for changing my life around the way I had.

All I knew was that this was all just for now, and when they found out what I was really like, they would quickly learn the truth about me. I didn’t know that they would look at me, as the Nikah started, with all this joy and expectation, and the only thing that kept me rooted to the spot was the thought of having a wife like Jameela who would somehow make this all make sense once again.

I wasn’t even sure how I got through the proceedings. I mean, I remembered the shivery nerves and the Maulana asking all the relevant questions. I had agreed, and I had said the binding words with a certainty that would define my life, but it didn’t change the fact that throughout it all, I still felt like I was floating.

I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket as the small crowd came forward to greet me. I forgot about everything else for that time, living in the moment as everyone hugged and congratulated me as if this great achievement was all due to my own doing. The gratitude in my heart at that moment was insurmountable.

All I knew was that Allah Ta’ala had come through for us in a way that I never imagined. I was filled to the brim with amazement and my heart was literally bursting with pride as I found myself being guided out by my new brother-in-law, who was having a field day with Faheem at my expense.

”He’s ours now, bru,” Hamzah said with a smile as he slung his hand over my shoulder. I couldnt help but wonder how he was still smiling, despite knowing what would be the result of his own marriage very soon. “We’ll take over from here.”

Faheem grinned back, slapped my back and nodded his head.

”My wife says you’re welcome to him,” he said with a wink, looking at his phone. “No returns or exchanges.”

I knew they were joking but the tightness in my chest was still very evident. What if Jameela regretted this? What if the family realised that letting me into their little unit was the worst mistake of their lives?

The banter continued as we drove the short distance to the farm, me trying to keep my nerves at bay as we entered the farm driveway that had become home to me.

There were a few cars parked in the driveway, but knowing that this was going to be a small, private affair, I didn’t think too much of it. Winning Jameela’s Nani over was going to be a challenge, but I was going to do what it took. I could already see her from where we parked, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of uncertainty overcome me as my father in law, Hamzah and Muhammad Husayn hopped off the car, and waited for  me to join. I already felt like part of the family and I didn’t deserve it.

I shook my head as I tried to dispel all negative emotions, doing the usual meeting and greeting with a few other family men who had just come in from the mosque.

Guided by Hamzah, I could feel his hand on my back as we waded through the people, making our way to Jameela’s family for a quick greeting, before Mohsina appeared from the passage behind the kitchen. I could barely remember who I saw, because I could think of nothing else besides the woman who I had been waiting for months to be alone with.

I wasn’t the type to get all flustered and tongue-tied. I’d seen way too much in life to let myself be swayed by such elementary thoughts.

After so long, it felt like my resolve was finally going to be diminished, and I was quite sure that once I saw her, all noble intentions of easing her into this new relationship would be dissolved.

Mohsina had already gestured to us to meet them down the passage, and as Hamzah gave me the go-ahead to pass through, it felt as if my legs were transporting me all by themselves. Somehow, being here, closer to Jameela, was giving me a courage I never knew I had. Without even realising how, I found myself in front of a room door, hearing about three female voices behind it, and knowing that I would probably have to wait a few minutes before they were entirely ready.

I knew women and their obsession with everything being perfect. After all, I had Nusaybah as a sister and semi-mother. I smiled as I heard a few hushed words and then a sudden screech, before muffled voices came closer to the door.

They were still dilly-dallying around the entrance of the room, and as I remembered my phone in my pocket, and the call I had made just before I went to the masjid.

The last thing I wanted right now in this moment was to be worrying, but Hamzah had done so much for me, and I couldn’t let him down. I knew that I had to be less selfish. I’d have to speak to him properly, to let him know about the latest developments, but as I slid my phone out of my pocket, all thoughts about Hamzah were already sidelined.

The messages were just a few, and besides Nusaybah’s emotional words that took me a full thirty seconds to scroll through, and a few other uneventful updates from Joe, my eyes immediately fell on the message from the unknown number.

I didn’t even have to slide it open to see it, and I could already feel my heart rate escalating. It was short, but it had the desired effect.

Congratulations son. 

I always hated when my uncle called me son. I wasn’t his son, and I would never be.
He never treated me like one, and this time, I needed to show him that I wasn’t that young boy that he used to lock up and control, to make himself feel strong.

It was at the point of my increasing fury that the door opened, and light immediately streamed into the passage my senses as I glanced up at the two females with Mohsina who were making their way out, stepping back and looking down again so they could pass.

I slid my phone back into my pocket, in anticipation for who I would be seeing next, but my consumed mind was still on the remainder of the unsettling message that I had glimpsed just moments before.

It was evident that it was a threat.

Heard that you are a married man now.
Enjoy it while it lasts.

---

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)

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

Secret Weapons

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 65

”How’s my baby doing?” Imraan whispered in my ear as he snuck up behind me, hands lightly resting on my tummy and I could already hear the excitement in his voice as he spoke.

It hadn’t changed. From the moment I told him, it hadn’t changed. He was still obsessed with the baby in my tummy and fixated on every little detail, even if there really wasn’t much to say.

Symptoms were minimal. Even morning sickness wasn’t that bad. I could still eat breakfast without puking at least, and that was a bit different from the pregnancy with Uthman.

Actually, way different. I even felt different this time around, and I knew that it could also be because I was that much older too. A whole 8 years does a lot to your body.

My body felt so very different to what I had felt when I was younger.

”Have you told your sisters yet?”

I knew why he was asking and I tut-tutted as I shook my head at him, giving him a warning in just a glance.

He was itching to tell his sister and I could see that the restraint of keeping the secret was killing him. Imraan never was one to keep things to himself. He was more the type to open his mouth when it was least appropriate and I just hoped that he could hold himself back for a week or two more, so I felt safer in the knowledge that the first trimester would be fully over.

“I’ll tell them in two weeks when I meet them at Fareeha’s,” I said conclusively, turning around and meeting his gaze. “It will just be a better time. I don’t want to let them know too early, and it will just make my mother way too excited…”

While my mother would be over the moon, Mehnaaz was always on her own buzz. She was very busy with her new admin job at the local pharmacy. It was probably my fault too that I saw her when I saw her and that wasn’t very often.

As for Fareeha, she had already invited me for her official very fancy ‘housewarming’ lunch that she was having. I wasn’t sure how Maulana Aadil felt about that but I did know that he pretty much let her do whatever she wanted to (hence the second wife planning that seemed to be on pause for now).

Even though… The thing was… I was extremely elated that she had been too preoccupied to think of it.

Come to think if it… After coming from Hajj she had been so busy with moving house and seeing to her kids that I barely even heard from her. And I completely understood her silence because after having them with me for over a week, I knew for sure that they were all consuming.

She was also very busy with her preparations because she was inviting our entire family, plus my cousins that I hadn’t seen in years, and I was actually quite looking forward to it.

During the past few years I had purposely stayed away from family gatherings because the questions from family members would always derail my emotions. People weren’t always sensitive. The questions about when the next baby was coming, and whether I felt motherhood was too hard, so I didn’t have a second one, always caught me off-guard. Maybe I was too sensitive. But it just made me feel inadequate.

Also, the fact that my cousin Shazia was a fertility specialist that every family member always referred me to made me feel insanely uncomfortable. I knew that she meant well too but I just didn’t have it in me to ask her for any advice.

Although I bore no grudges against her or Bilal, the situation was just strange for me. Now that I was expecting again, my mind was so much more at ease to see them and talk normally.

”Has it started moving?” Imraan asked, and I could hear the humour in his voice as he watched my tummy, almost as if he was as expecting it to start twitching under his watch.

He was being way too ambitious and he knew it.

”Imraan,” I whispered back. I didn’t even know why I was whispering. I just didn’t want anyone to know yet, “It’s too early. Can you let it grow a little at least?”

He grinned and stepped back as a sound behind us alerted us that we weren’t alone, and I sprang backward.

“Euwww,” Rabia squealed as she walked into the kitchen, her face flushed from her run and all scrunched up as if she had been eating something sour. “Can you guys stop?! Just. Euww.”

Imraan grinned and brushing my cheek lightly with his lips as he turned to face her.

“Assalamualaikum to you too Rabia,” he said cheerfully, not bothered in the slightest. “Did you have a good run?”

I shook my head as Imraan turned to her, getting on with my task and careful not to create any suspicion as I watched Rabia climb up onto the stool.
She was dressed in a sports tracksuit with a cap and running takkies. I noticed her face looking flawlessly made up, and I just knew that I was probably going to see a full documentary of her morning run later on that day on social media.

If wasn’t that I judged Rabia for her constant need to capture and document everything. It was just that when I watched her, I couldn’t help but think that it was such a waste of time.

“It was way better than being in here and seeing such immoral scenes,” she crowed with a disgusted face. “Luckily, I’m going back today. So glad that I’ll have Zaid back in my arms by tonight, all gurgling and cooing. I’m sure he’s missed me just as much as I missed him.”

She sighed and smiled dreamily as she pulled out a bowl from the cupboard, turning her back to us both for a moment.

“Wait,” Imraan said as I silently cut a slice of farmstyle bread loaf, looking confused. “How will you go back? Aren’t you only supposed to be going next week?”

Rabia’s smile was disconcerting.

”Dear brother,” she said sarcastically, pouring her muesli into the bowl, and settling into a stool. “Haven’t you spoken to Hamzah? He’s on his way here. I’ve been messaging them every day since the weekend.”

Oh shame. My poor brother-in-law.

”I don’t know where’s my phone,” Imraan said, rubbing his temples and immediately looking stressed as he went to retrieve it from the lounge.

Rabia was sitting with her phone in her hand and scrolling through what I assumed was TikTok while she ate her muesli with yoghurt.

I watched her with curiosity, wondering what had inspired her sudden change in diet. Rabia was never really overweight, but she had suddenly become very healthy recently.
Even though she was only here for the week, she had filled the fridge up with a host of vegetables and protein drinks and stuff that I wasn’t even sure she as actually going to eat.

The thing was, I knew that it was all Instagram-inspired. We are social animals that are wired to mimic and emulate others. The social-contagion effect has been used to shape society for hundreds of years, from fashion trends to smoking cigarettes.

And when I looked at Rabia posing and lapping up all the attention she was probably getting for her early-morning selfie, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of despair as I watched her.

It was so sad… The need to look good and feel good was a trendy thing and although I got it, I didn’t understand why everything had to be done to meet the standards of people who mean nothing to you… and when I thought about it, what it really was, was more and more attachment to superficiality and worldly ambitions. If only we truly understood how insignificant this world was. How little it is, and how big the rest of creation is compared to everything we attest to.

Jābir (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Messenger of Allah (may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him) passed through the market with people around him. He came across a dead goat with its ears cut off.

He held it by (the remaining part of) one ear and said: “Who of you would like to have this for one dirham?” They said: “We do not like to have it for anything whatsoever. What shall we do with it?” Then he said: “Would you like to have it anyway?” They said: “By Allah, had it been alive, it would be of little value because of its cut ears. How could it be worth anything when it is dead?”

Thereupon he said: “This world is more contemptible in the sight of Allah Ta’ala and of far less value than this dead kid to his master. If the world was equal in vale to a gnats wing in the estimation of Allah Ta’ala, He would not give a non-believer draught of water out of it’s resources.”

SubhaanAllah. It was certainly a wake up call.

“So Mohsina’s starting her cheesecake making again,” Rabia piped up, cutting through my thoughts and putting a spoon of muesli into her mouth, still looking at her phone with interest. “Two months of marriage and she’s already changing her profession. Doesn’t she know that she shouldn’t make all her plans revolve around a man?”

I had seen an advert that Mohsina had put up and I was already volunteering to do some baking orders if she had any queries from my side of the world. It was such an exciting concept and I could see that Mohsina had a real passion for it. I was also absolutely in love with her stuff. As for Rabia…

Well, I couldn’t say the same.

”Rabia,” I sighed, feeling a twinge of sadness for her. “You know your brother isn’t like that…”

She raised her eyebrows and placed her phone down as she met my eye. I could see Imraan pacing around our the patio on his phone, looking quite serious about something as he spoke.

”Hamzah?” She said with a tilt of her head and a condescending smirk. “Sawls, do you live under a rock?! Do you know how many girlfriends he’s had… if you could even call them that. He went through them so fast that there were more like just flashes of whatever he got out of them.”

I cringed as she said it, not liking how she was painting her brother.

Yes, my brother-in-law did have a bit of a rough patch and he wasn’t a saint but it didn’t mean she had to be bitter about it.

“But he changed,” I said pointedly.

He did. I know he did.

”Hah,” she scoffed, looking amused as she scooped out more  yoghurt into the bowl. “How do you know that for sure? Can a man really change? I thought they could but I don’t know anymore. Everyone says he’s in love but what is love anyway, but just another emotion?”

I sighed, knowing that she was talking from experience and I really didn’t want to argue with her.

”Anyway, it doesn’t matter… Whatever Mostly Mos finds out, it’s far worse what she’s done so there’s no way she can ever make it an issue.”

Rabia’s words rolled off her tongue so easily as she looked back at her phone, that the sheer indifference of her statement immediately made something in my chest catch.

Wait, what? It scared me, the way she said these things.

Now, I wasnt exactly clued up on how Rabia’s mind worked but I did know that she never just made statements like that with no basis.

”What?” I said, a prickly feeling at the back of the neck.

When were we talking about anyone finding anything out. That was barely even the topic. Bringing up the past and what happened… well, it was all completely missing the point.

I looked at her, hoping she was just being cynical and careless in here statements.

”Just saying,” she said flippantly, as if she don’t just make a ground-breaking statement.

“You know what I think?” I said, knowing that I wouldn’t get an answer from her and thinking of a way to remedy her thoughts as I frowned at her.

It takes skill to weave your words in a way that hit right where you needed them to. It wasn’t an easy task to do, especially with Rabia, who seldom listened to anyone but herself. I didn’t exactly have the skill that some people had of tricking people to think that my ideas were their own, but I knew that I had to try at least.

“What?” she said, glancing at her as she licked her spoon and placed it back in the bowl.

“I think love does exist,” I said simply, pulling a chair to sit opposite her, hoping to grab her full attention.

I didn’t want to forget her earlier statement. It was dangerously taunting.

“But there’s something else that’s more important,” I said, hoping it would make her see the bigger picture here.

After all, there was always a bigger picture.

“What’s that?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Taqwa,” I said simply, shrugging my shoulders. “The truth is… there will always be temptation… there will always be something that seems better or greener… but Taqwa is the only thing that stops you from doing something that will ruin you.”

I was hoping that it would stop her from opening her mouth and blabbering about everything and anything she heard. Taqwa was the only thing that pulls your dignity through at the end of the day. When you remember that Allah is always watching you, and that nothing is worth the pain sin will bring, you will automatically reroute.

“What if you’re already ruined?” she said with an evil smirk, as if nothing mattered to her anymore, but the pain in her eyes was evident.

“No one is beyond repair,” I said firmly, holding her gaze for a minute before she looked away. “Everyone is just chasing a feeling after all. But I think it helps to remember that whatever you’re chasing… it can never more beautiful than Allah… and whatever sin you want to do can never be worth risking your relationship with Allah… so you just have to keep asking yourself… is it worth risking everything just for a few moments of pleasure?”

She looked at me again as I said the last part, almost as if what I said to her was some kind of epiphany.

The thing is, Shaytaan will try anything and everything to avert us from the right track. After all, that is his sole promise… and what he vowed to do. Taqwa was the only weapon that can assist. When you are conscious of Allah and  you aim to please Him, then He will protect you even from that.

“Find me a man with Taqwa and I’ll marry him today,” she said, a smirk on her face and not missing a beat.

“But then, you have to be a woman of Taqwa,” Imraan’s voice said, before I could even respond as he came in, and I glanced up at him as Rabia narrowed her eyes.

Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure if that was the best thing to say to his sister. Especially right then.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked as her expression darkened.

“Nothing,” Imraan said, his tone light but the frown on his forehead giving away something about his state of mind.

Shooh. That was a close one.

Something was worrying him, and I was sure that it had to do with the phonecall he had receieved.

“It better be nothing!” Rabia scoffed as she pushed her chair back, huffing away as she grabbed her phone and left the room, obviously far from impressed with her brothers words.

I could tell she was annoyed and Imraan sometimes lacked a filter.

Also, he didn’t quite care about her tantrums. I was just glad he didn’t pursue the conversation else I know that there would have been problems.

I turned to look at my husband, but he barely even noticed Rabia leaving, and neither did he feel it was an issue. He was absorbed in his phone and as he typed, I could tell that he was consumed by whatever was at hand.

Perhaps the fact that Hamzah was coming today, when it was supposed to be a working day, was a teeny problem…

“Is Hamzah really on his way?” I asked, as Imraan looked up at me and then realised Rabia was gone.

His eyes met mine worriedly as he sat down. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, looking troubled.

“He’s coming here to try and settle a custody agreement,” he said simply, but I could hear the worry in his voice. “Hashim is meeting us and they want me to mediate. It’s a complicated matter. Hashim is a client. Hamzah is my brother. It’s going to be a tough one to keep peace. Obviously Hamzah comes first, he’s my brother after all… but Hashim trusts me and he’s not the easiest guy to deal with either…”

He looked so troubled that I couldn’t help but go forward and squeeze his hand, hoping that it would ease his mind.

“Just do the right thing,” I said softly, hoping that it would settle his mind. “Mohsina will come with?”

Imraan looked at me, and shook his head.

“He’s coming alone,” he said quietly, almost as if it was self-explanatory, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort about that. The thought was already sinking in before I realised what it meant.

Mohsina still had no idea.

”You mean he didn’t tell her,” I said angrily as I looked at him, shaking my head disappointedly.

Imraan was still sitting there, and I could see that was the last of his concerns.

“Imraan, you need to talk to him,” I pressed, not liking that they both had secrets they kept from each other. “Tell him that he needs to speak to her. How does he explain what’s going on?”

“I can’t get involved in their marriage,” he said simply. “Hamzah needs to make that decision and speak to her. Their secrets have nothing to do with me.”

I looked at him with narrowed eyes, not liking the way that he said. As if he knew more than he was letting on. As if Mohsina also kept secrets from Hamzah and Imraan knew it.

I knew that the brothers spoke often every day, and I had no doubt that Hamzah probably confided in Imraan about his marriage too.

And of course I was curious. But I didn’t want to pry. It was just that spouses were supposed to share each other, and protect each other. They were meant to be a covering for each other, like is mentioned in the Qur’ān.

There was nothing more complicated than keeping secrets when there were lives and people at stake. Those very secrets can turn out to be the most dangerous of weapons.

I sighed as he got up again, knowing that even if I had to tell him anything further, it probably wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

And I know I shouldn’t interfere. After all, it wasn’t my business. It wasn’t my child. But the love that I felt in my heart for the little guy was so intense, that I couldn’t bear the thought of Hamzah having to fight this battle about him alone. With Mohsina by his side, wouldn’t he be stronger? Wouldn’t they fare better, together against the odds that were slamming up against them?

And as Imraan went upstairs to shower and get ready, ignoring my sullen mood, my mind just wouldn’t rest.

Uthman had woken up and waltzed chirpily into the kitchen with a big salaam, happy it was his day off tutoring, saying something about astronauts and planets and for the life of me, I could barely even listen to what my son was trying to tell me right then.

“Hmmmm,” I said absentmindedly as I put some milk onto boil for his Milo, my mind barely on what I was doing. I was packing away the leftover boiled eggs while Imraan rushed down, getting ready to open the gate, and I turned away from the window on purpose as the car came into view, not wanting to increase my already heightened anxiety levels.

I was still annoyed about the meeting. Should I message Mohsina? Should I say something? I was so confused about what the right thing to do was.

Uthman, however, his tousled hair standing up in all directions, was already over at the window, his bowl in his hand while he stood chomping on his cereal, and I could already feel myself become agitated.

“Uthman, sit and eat!” I scolded him, wondering at what age kids learn that it’s not okay to wander around and eat like an animal. I knew I was super stressed but my son really did test my patience.

“Mummy I think-“

”No stories,” I said firmly, flashing my eyes at him, wanting to deal with my brewing thoughts in silence. I knew it wasn’t his fault but my moods this pregnancy had been a little severe.

He hastily went to the kitchen chair, plopping himself down, and immediately opened his cereal-filled mouth again.

Honestly, all I needed right then was to think in silence…

“Mummy-“

I turned to him with a frown, already ready to scold him for talking with his mouth full.

”Swallow your food before you talk,” I said sharply, shaking my head as I watched him, his eyes wider than normal as he looked at me, when I realised that something was wrong.

“You okay?” I said, my voice soft as I watched him look at me, almost as if he was unsure of how to say what he wanted to say.

And though he had no idea if what the impact of his next words would be, as he said it, it felt a bit like a rug being pulled out from under me.

”Mummy, did daddy call those guys over to shoot?” He said with a little concern, as my heart hammered within my rib cage.

I knew why he was asking and the next words he said as he sat up a bit straighter just confirmed my worst fears.

“Because all of them had guns.”

---

 

Mission Sunnah Revival: 

Being able to view the lives of others as if they are our own in the main building block to social media life.

It is only human to begin to think that the lives of strangers appear to be so perfect, as opposed to reality. Little do we notice that their content is carefully crafted to do this very thing, making us discontent with our lives.

To combat this, we should look to those inferior to us, so we do not become envious and begin to realise the bounty Allah Ta’ala has gifted us with.

Keep in mind:

Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Wealth is not in having many possessions. Rather, true wealth is the richness of the soul.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 6446, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 1051

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

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When the Game’s not Over

Bismihi Ta’ala 

Part 44

Mohsina

Buzz. Buzz!

Maahira: No!

Are you serious?

Me: you heard me. He’s here. Right now.

Maahira: Did u even tell Hamzah???

Me:  .

Maahira: boy, you’re in trouble.

Me: Not my fault. Didn’t have a chance to talk again. Tonight.

Maahira: Talk. tonight? Watch me while I die laughing.

Me: *rolling eyes*

Maahira was being super immature.

And as I thought about what to reply amidst my anxiety, it was precisely at that moment when Jameela started pounding on the door, in complete fishwife style.

It was the first time that my usually dazed and dreamy sister was actually sounding more panicked and out of control than me.

“Mos, are you in there?!” She called, sounding like she was losing her marbles. “Mos, you won’t believe it! Your boss… ex boss… is here ! He’s waiting outside. It’s a bit early for the function but from what he told me, I doubt he’s here for that…”

“Just keep him outside,” I said hastily, pulling on my drabbiest cloak and a black scarf. Last thing I needed was Nani spotting the ‘business mens’ and going outside with a rolling pin. “I’m coming out.”

”Dont worry,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t want to come in. He’s at the shop.”

I sighed, relieved, as I checked in the mirror and picked up my phone again. I cannot look good. I cannot make an effort for him. I cannot.

Buzz again. 

Maahira: listen. Tell him 2 respect ur wishes and leave. He can’t even be there at d function. Plz listen 2 me this time. U can’t risk it.

Gosh. She wanted me to chase him out. I might as well send Nani.

Me: What if he pulls out all the lines?

Maahira: don’t be fickle. You cannot fall for it.

Me: Faadil is smoother than chocolate ice cream. You know me and chocolate.

Maahira: then go on a damn diet, girl. It’s time to divorce chocolate! Chocolate is bad for your health!

Me: *sad face*

Maahira: are u crazy? What are you even thinking about. This is Hamzah. He wants to make this work.

Me: :>

Maahira:  That’s my girl. Allah will put Barakah in the right thing when you do it the right way. Faadil is never going to be the right way.

She was right. Faadil wanted a long engagement and huge, flashy wedding with all his high flying associates. Hamzah’s requirements were so much simpler.

Simple wedding. Simple home. Simple life.

It was a simple equation.

Simple everything = More Barakah. No questions.

Me: I know. I need to be strong.

Maahira: U are. C u later now. Still recovering  from Samoosa run #2. Burying all hopes of happily ever after in my pillow. Scarred 4 life. xx

I smiled, despite my sombreness at the current predicament I found myself in. I couldn’t wait to hear Part Two of Maahiras Samoosa Run Escapades, because they were always filled with the most dramatic and hilarious scenarios.

And after convincing myself that chocolate is really bad, I was all psyched up to handle Faadil’s smoothness, and knock it right out my system.

Besides, after the week that I’d had, I was hoping that no obstacles would be chucked in to throw me off course. But such was my luck… everything that had happened seemed like it was meant to throw me off track and the tests that were happening entailed me grappling to stay on the right path, no matter what it took.

And I know that you are wondering where it all started so let me dive straight into it and spare you the grief, because all I knew was that I was way in over my head.

But that’s the thing with Tawakkul, isn’t it? Even when you are over you head, somehow, things still come through for you, when you have faith that Allah will see it through. The thing with Tawakkul is not only to pray and believe that not only will you be able to believe that nothing can harm you with Allah by your side, but to fully understand that you have the strength to fight anything because your strength comes only from Allah Azza Wa Jal.

And at that point, right after Ramadhan, when spirits were still flying high and my heart was endowed with faith of higher degrees, I had some kind of hope in my heart that what I wanted would somehow be granted.

In fact, even at the beginning, I remember already feeling exhausted, as I had complained to Jameela. If only I knew what the rest of the week entailed, I would have been far less dramatic.

”I can’t breathe,” I had remembered saying to her as she walked into the room, with me scrounging around for a decent abaya to wear, as Muhammed Husayn told me that Hamzah and Papa were waiting downstairs to speak to me.

“I had a feeling that outfit was a bit of a clingy one, especially around the upper area…”

I glared at her as she grinned at me quite obnoxiously, quite peeved that she was making light of a potentially serious situation.

“Listen,” she said, pulling off the pretty baby pink abaya she was wearing, with a cream trimming. “Wear this, but stop acting like you are having an anxiety attack. He only wants to speak about Zaid. Your outfits not going to make a difference.”

I glared at her.

“Or maybe it will,” she said mischievously and I narrowed my eyes, but I was, honestly, quite relieved and very intent on being modest.

I mean, modesty was our trait. What defined us as Muslims. Besides, what else could come out of strutting myself, except Nani having anxiety attacks too and we really didn’t need more kuku people in the house at the moment…

After being quite certain that looking decent and unexposed would have a far greater impact than being revealing, I calmed my nerves and made my way down the stairs, surprisingly keeping myself together. My frame of mind had altered significantly, and strangely enough, those things that impressed me before, seemed almost inappropriate. Where a basic slack suit would have been fine before, going on front of non-mahrams with anything slightly fitted made me cringe. I can’t believe how I actually wore topas above my bum before.

And making my way down to the lounge very self-consciously, with my father in the passage and the rest of my family seated just outside the house for Eid supper, I didn’t even process that the house was unusually quiet inside. By some miracle, Nani hadn’t gotten wind of Hamzah here yet, being so busy with the evening meal, and the silence felt a little strange. I actually half-wished that Nani had been let in on it but then then again, if everything didn’t go as she expected, the dramatics would have been inconsolable, so I instantly held the thought back.

And as I halted outside the lounge door, I could hear Muhammed Husayn talking to Hamzah, and as I entered, I was quite shocked that my otherwise unconscious brother was actually offering Hamzah something to eat. The fact that he had some manners was a great surprise…

“Thanks bru,” I could hear Hamzah’s voice say politely. “It’s been a busy Eid. I cannot eat a single thing more. Maybe just some water.”

And if I wasn’t bordering on palpitations, I would have probably greeted as I entered, but as I entered, my heart was literally in my throat as I realised that not only was my family not present at all, but Hamzah’s entire family was missing too.

In fact, it kind of caught me off-guard, because it  meant that while Muhammed Husayn went off to fetch the water, all I was faced with in a painfully appealing blue-grey kurta, his legs folded underneath him, Sunnah style, as he sat with a gurgling Zaid, was Hamzah himself.

And with Zaid already on the carpet, and in his element, I had arrived just in time to see the royal roll-over from tummy to back, and it always made me laugh when my little guy had that look of amazement on his face, as soon as he accomplished his goal.

I smiled as I saw it again, watching Hamzah excitedly pick him up and throw him in the air, while Zaid broke into a fit of giggles, just before they both caught site of me.

I had just entered the room, clearing my throat noisily, not able to conceal the major trauma that it had brought on, because according to me, that stuff was just damn dangerous…

”Sorry,” Hamzah said sheepishly, glancing at me briefly I stood there, probably looking as formidable as ever, before he quickly turned his gaze away.

“Assalamualaikum.”

”Wa alaykum Salaam,” I mumbled, relaxing a bit because I knew I shouldn’t be so possessive, so I added . “It’s okay. He loved it.”

And I wished I could just chill but being there, right now, was making me all sorts of unsettled, because honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to make it through this meeting.

Muhammed Husayn had re-entered, watching us almost anxiously, as if we were some kind of ping-pong match. I wasn’t quite sure what he expected. To tell the truth, I wasn’t quite sure what I expected either…

”I’m sorry if I disturbed your Eid supper,” Hamzah said, his back to me as I made my way to the couch behind him, and my father hovered outside. Sitting within this view was awkward, and I wasn’t quite sure why I felt that way.

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t even with my family and that some of my cousins annoyed me anyway, but I didn’t.

There was so much on my mind. I had heard, through the grapevine, that he had decided to go to Al-Aqsa as a last minute I’thikaaf plan, and it was something that I wanted to desperately ask him about. I wanted to ask him what had inspired him in the spur of the moment. I wanted to know how he felt now, after such an overwhelming trip.

I wanted to ask how his Tarawēeh had gone. How he felt first Ramadhaan after losing his bestest friend. I wanted to know if his heart had been healed with the word of Allah. I wanted to ask him if Ramadhaan had gone as it planned, and if Allah had made apparent His love for him through the recital of Qur’ān that had become his beautiful refuge. I wanted to ask him about his journey from then until now… about how he had undergone the significant change that I’d glimpsed a few months back, before everything went so terribly wrong.

I wanted to ask him too, if he felt the navigation of Qur’ānic guidance that had brought him back to his route, when circumstances had swayed him off-track, and love and loss had broken him inside. I wanted to ask him if he had felt the weight of Allah’s word that had intervened between his heart and his whims and if his purpose in life had changed as much as mine did….

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say al the words I needed to. I couldn’t even say one.

And at first I didn’t understand it. it’s not like I hadn’t spoken with men before. I wasn’t that green. As an external auditor, my entire career had been meetings and clashes with the opposite sex, and it was barely appropriate or ideal. I did it because I didn’t have any motivation not to. I didn’t have the kind of conscience that halted me.

Now, though, as I stood there, with only Hamzah in view, even though I was properly dressed, I could honestly say that I never felt so awkward in my life. Something major had altered within me and I literally felt like hiding behind a curtain.

I knew, on this journey I was taking, there was a little room for deviation. As much as I wanted to ask him… I knew that there was a way to speak, to be modest and aware and keep myself from appearing anything less than dignified.

”My father said you wanted to speak to me,” was what I said quietly, careful not to be speak too openly.

And as he nodded, without looking at me, and the whole situation was oddly surreal.

And as if a reminder was vital, in the back of my mind was the story of Musaa (AS), which stood out for me as having some of the most important lessons. Attraction to the opposite gender is not taboo; it’s like hunger in Ramadan, and it’s completely natural. But, as a lesson, in this story, Allah shows us how to control them:

Allah Ta’ala says: Then there came to him one of them, (daughter of Shu’aib (AS)) walking shyly, as it was narrated from the Commander of the Faithful, ʿUmar ibn Al-Khaṭṭâb:

“She was covering herself with the folds of her garment.” Ibn Abî Ḥâtim recorded that ʿAmr ibn Maymûn said: “ʿUmar said: ‘She came walking shyly, putting her garment over her face. She was not one of those audacious women who come and go as they please.’”

The âyah goes on: She said: “Verily, my father calls you that he may reward you for having watered (our flocks) for us.”

And those words… well, it was a beautiful example of good manners and modesty: she did not invite him directly lest he have some suspicious thoughts about her. Rather she said: My father is inviting you so that he may reward you for watering our sheep.

How simple and beautiful were the ways of our pious Ambiyaa, who showed us a most virtuous way of life…

I breathed in as I awaited his response.

”Yes,” he said blandly. “I spoke to your father. He said to speak with you. Its been a long two weeks, and I can’t describe how much I missed this guy. With going back to work I thought it’s best to work out some kind of proper arrangement so we can both have the best of him.”

I took a deep breath, knowing what I had to tell him first, before we figured out a better arrangement.

“We can…. but, I resigned,” I said flatly, looking at a spot on the carpet near him, and swallowing hard. “Two weeks ago. From Hammonds.”

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

He was the one person I was waiting to break the news to, since it had happened, because I knew that this would be my one shot of redemption. It would be my one shot to prove that I was taking this seriously. It was my one chance to prove that maybe… just maybe… I was more worthy than he had thought… but the news had a less than desired effect..

He glanced at me briefly, before looking down again. It didn’t seem to be news to him. I couldn’t seem to meet his eye either.

“I see,” he said quietly, gently lifting Zaid up onto his lap, and shifting onto the couch, so he could face me, without meeting my gaze. “Did you get a new offer somewhere in else?”

He was waiting for my answer and his tone was neutral as he asked, but I knew that there was a note of inquisition there.

“I’m thinking about doing something different,” I ventured carefully, purposely wanting to knock him for a six. “I wanted to study Qur’an.”

I could tell from the way his gaze suddenly faltered, that this was something he didn’t quite expect.

Good, I thought to myself. I liked to catch people off guard. I was, after all, anything but predictable.

And I expected more of a reaction, but all he did was tickle Zaid’s tummy, almost as if he was avoiding a response.

Zaid, however, was making up for it completely.  And as we both sat in silence, listening to Zaid giggling gurgling away, both Hamzah and I were on completely different wavelengths.

“That a massive change,” he said softly after a minute… so softly that I barely heard him. “I didn’t know how much had happened while I was gone.”

I kept silent, simply because I could not formulate the words to say what I needed to. There was still so much to let him know, about Hammonds, about the job, about everything that had happened in between that had upset our entire future…

But how could I even begin? 

How could I explain to him that those vile men had taken me and broken my spirit to such unworthiness? How could I explain to him the humiliation of having to beg for my fathers safety, with money I didn’t even have? How could I tell him the feeling of having to literally sell my happiness into the safety that Faadil had promised me?

But it was over now, right? It didn’t matter. We just had to work on Zaid and giving him the best we could.

I couldn’t look at him. The moment I tried, everything came flooding back, and I didn’t want to remember that, as the basis that formed us. I didn’t want to remember the hurt and the ugliness and the general feeling of hostility caused by wealth and status that existed between us.

This was too much.

I hadn’t even said what I needed to say. I hadn’t even gathered my thoughts enough to string them into the kind of thread that would patch up all those shredded pieces. I hadn’t told him that I had prayed, in the early hours of the morning, and that I had asked Allah to illuminate a way. I didn’t tell him how he had inspired my change… How he made me want to be better… and I hadn’t even told him all the things that I so desperately needed to say way back when I never got to say them….

Instead, I just looked down again. So that was it. That’s all he really wanted to speak about. Alright then.

I shifted in my seat, now intensely aware of the silence and not sure if it was my cue to leave. After all, there was no need for me to be sitting here with a strange man, if we had nothing more to discuss.

Hamzah’s focus had now been shifted to Zaid, who was now suddenly a little more unsettled, as he let us know in his own way that it was probably time for bed. Knowing that his tummy was starting up again, my first instinct was only his comfort.

“I think Zaidoo needs to la-la,” I said cheerfully, swallowing back all emotion that may have surfaced, knowing that it was time to call it a day. “I’ll take him up.”

If not anything else, maybe this will be the beginning of a more civilised relationship between us, that we both would be more accepting of.

It would be the initiation of more understanding and compromise. That sounded like a good plan.

“Relax,” Hamzah said to me, instantly scooping Zaid up and cradling him in his arms expertly now, as he popped a dummy into his mouth.

I turned my face because it was doing strange things to my insides because I had no idea that Hamzah actually had it in him to do human things like rock babies to sleep.

“I’ll do it. I missed this guy way too much to part with him…”

I was instantly on edge now, feeling a little threatened that he was getting so cozy with my little guy. I knew it was silly of me but i couldn’t help the possessiveness.

”But you’ll have to,” I said firmly, not wanting to raise an argument about who was keeping him tonight. We had discussed this a while ago. “Part with him, I mean.”

“I know,” Hamzah said, but I could hear an edge to his voice. “But I may change my mind.”

I narrowed my eyes. Now he was making me anxious again. One minute I was sure that he was a saint, and the next I wanted to strangle him.

“You can’t,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Not allowed.”

”I’m not allowed to change my mind?” He asked incredulously, and I shook my head vehemently, no longer feeling so aware of myself.

When I got ready for an argument, unfortunately, I was all about tit-for-tat. As much as I knew that I needed to work on it, I just couldn’t swallow my anger.

”Its not fair on me,” I said bluntly. What will I do without Zaid here? He was my safety net. “You can’t just swop and change as you please.”

”But what if I want to?” he insisted, looking at Muhammed Husayn now, almost as if he was talking to him. “I like change. It’s more exciting when it’s not expected. What if Zaid wants to?”

”Not in this case,” I insisted, revving myslef up for a proper motive to argue. How could he pin this on a baby? “Zaid doesn’t know any better!”

I couldn’t believe he was pursuing this.
Muhammed Husayn was looking at us both now, opening his mouth to try and stop us.

“Okay okay,” my brother said, glancing at me as if I was embarrassing him, “Can’t you’ll just come to some agreement…”

Zaid had conveniently abandoned the sleeping mission and was bobbing over Hamzah’s shoulder, flashing me a scampish grin.

It was almost as if they were all ganging up on me and I loathed the betrayal.

Frankly, even if Zaid started blowing me kisses right then, I wasn’t gonna sway.

“Maybe we can do a trade off?” Hamzah said furtively, and I knew he was aiming for a compromise. I wasn’t.

“I’m not interested,” I snapped, getting up and walking a few steps toward the exit to show I was serious,  but not wanting to go without Zaid. “I don’t compromise on my deals and that’s final. Muhammed Husayn, please bring Zaid up to me. Now.”

I shot my brother a warning glance and Hamzah had the cheek to look amused. He actually found it funny.

“Okay okay,” Hamzah laughed, putting his hands up in surrender, as I halted, waiting for him to hand over Zaid. “I’m sorry, I’m just joking. Just open this, and I’ll stop being a pest.”

Ugh. He was being ten times worse than a pest.

He had apologised and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry. This was the worst part about Hamzah. He was always up to some stupid prank. I thought that he would have grown up from back in the day, but he obviously hadn’t got the memo. That was, clearly why, no-one intelligent ever trusted him enough to get involved with him. Except me. Clever me.

I was glaring at him now like he was the bane of my life.

Also, what was with this audacity to look so alluringly proud of himself and it made me even more agitated. Even as he handed a silver paper packet over, I was still fuming, feeling like I had compromised way more than my sanity to accommodate him. If this was another prank, he had to leave…

But because he sounded so sincere as he handed over the package that I had barely noticed was next to him all this time, I kind of crumbled a little, letting him pass it to me through my brother, whilst studying it silently, with a no-nonsense look on my face.

“I brought you something,” he said quietly, as I opened the packet. Actually, more like ripped it apart, due to my state of mind, which almost immediately dissipated as it opened. “It’s kind of an apology.”

And as he said it, the thing was, if I had a weak spot for anything, they weren’t many people who didn’t know what it was. Coffee and Cadbury chocolate were my favs, and just catching a glimpse of that purple-blue wrapper always made my heart sing, and as I pulled it out, the huge slab of Bubbly chocolate was basically a soothing to my eyes.

On it though, I hadn’t even processed, stuck with a fancy piece of washi tape was a little handwritten note:

‘Another chocolate, another chance?’

And my mind was so clouded with emotion that I couldn’t quite understand. And of course, I felt a little conned into forgiving him but if didn’t quite answer what exactly Hamzah was saying until he looked up at me, and then spoke.

“In case you are wondering,” he said with a grin, his eyes meeting mine for the first time that evening. “Muhammed Husayn did tell me that he ate your chocolate.”

Muhammed Husayn was looking only slightly apologetic, as I glanced at him.

“Also… I’ve been doing my fair share of thinking,” he said quietly, sounding extremely apprehensive. I figured this wasn’t easy for him to say. Who would have thought Hamzah actually lost his pluck? “And well…. after Maulana gave me a good talking to about being mature and stuff…. I spoke to your father and asked his advice…”

I actually had no idea that my father spoke to him , and as I looked toward where my father stood, he smiled at me, almost reassuringly.

”What did my father say?” I asked, a little calmer now, as I wondered what the two of them really spoke about and if he was really just talking about my father’s concerns… or someone else’s.

“He said he worried about you and Zaid,” he said steadily, glancing up at me, his eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze for a minute. “I did too. So I asked Allah to show me a sign about what I needed to do and when you told me just now that you had quit Hammond’s and wanted to start classes… Well, I suppose that was it.”

Wait. A sign?!

“Listen,” he said softly, obviously noticing my alarmed expression. “I know that we are all just figuring things out. What I do believe is that everything happens for a reason and all I can see is Allah piecing this whole thing together in a better way. And maybe it wasn’t meant to be before, and the timing was off, but I do firmly believe that Allah is showing us that sometimes these things can’t be planned or chosen, and maybe we lost so much and people we love but is it maybe possible that through this all, Allah is choosing us to be together in a most unconventional way..?”

Woah.

Us? Did he just say us? Together?

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat, biting back emotion as he said it while I spotted my father lingering by the doorway, with a strange look on his face.

Oh gosh. Tears were filling my eyes and I wasn’t even sure if I had was understanding right. I missed Layyanah so much right then.

But Hamzah wasn’t finished.

“I love Zaid too, and I know know you can do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have to. All I know is that I don’t want to have to miss another Eid day with him ever again.”

“…..”

That was me. It was just snot and tears and I couldn’t quite believe I was already starting to bawl my eyes out. Every damn thing just made me want to ugly cry. And I wasn’t certain but I thought I heard Hamzah just say that he might want me in his life.

And I’d like to say that I was bowled over by this very impromptu proposal, but I’m afraid that there weren’t many words to describe how I felt right then. It was a bitter – sweet occasion that brought back so many memories of Liyaket and Layyanah and I couldn’t help but think of how they would have felt right then.

And sometimes we look for these situations as if they can be found, but the thing is, sometimes it comes suddenly, overwhelming you, like a hot summer storm. Sometimes these things can’t be planned and chosen. Sometimes Allah intervenes directly, and the entire thing just becomes a new part of you that you’ve reached, and there’s no going back without soaking it all in.

And the rest as history, of course, because I already knew what I wanted. There was no way I could even hold Hamzah’s annoying tendencies against him because I knew that there was no better way to work this out, and despite my worries and concerns, Allah had come through for me in so many more ways that I had ever imagined

And of course, I had been on cloud nine till Monday morning, basking in congratulations and well- wishes and being extremely grateful to Allah for inspiring Hamzah’s decision, because I knew that none of it was possible without my Rabb who was forever looking out and keeping watch for me. Besides that, we knew that it was the best thing for Zaid, but it didn’t mean that it was only about him. We had both given our final answers two days after making isthikhaarah, and everything felt so right, that I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

But as always, reality had to intervene at some point, and I suppose it was a way of getting back at me as I found myself slightly anxious- making my way back to the office, facing real life once again.

Hands down, that last day at Hammond’s was the hardest and the huge set back for me. Seeing everyone again, going through the motions… was extremely overwhelming. Most of all, meeting Faadil, this time, making sure we stayed an arms length away from each other, with no emotional attachment at all, was most difficult.

And it was emotionally taxing and he had tried to convince me otherwise, but on that day we had both agreed that we were going to be mature about our break up, and wish each other well for the future. That’s what closure meant. The meeting had ended off on a slightly nostalgic tone, but the relief I felt after, hoping that he was no longer holding onto a future together helped me to shoved the thoughts out of my mind as I tried to push myself into the week ahead.

It was just that, even at that time I had made it clear, I got a feeling that the conversation wasn’t completely over. He had been cool about it, but from past rumours, I knew that Faadil was always the one to call things off, and he had tried to make it sound like he was, but my news had kind of knocked him off course.

Nonetheless, I shoved any stray thoughts out of my head, because at long last, I had made it to the Nikah day and my heart was in my throat as I thought of what  it would all entail. Over the past few months, I had imagined different and varying scenarios in my mind, but none could really compare to how it really felt that day, right up until Faadil phoned to say he was outside my parents home.

He hadn’t come inside. I remembered telling him once that my family was pretty traditional and I was glad he respected it. It was just that now, after trying to call and message multiple times, he had now let me know that he had taken a small road trip to see me without knowing that today was my big day. There he was, standing in the open, with grassy fields as a backdrop, familiar scent of Montale Oud that I had become to accustomed to was way too familiar for comfort.

And I know. I know what you’re thinking. Another man calling me and wanting to see me while I was supposed to be getting married on that day, was probably the lowest I could go. I was stupid. Really stupid. I felt crap about it too. But this time, it wasn’t like all those months ago, when Faadil had caught me at my weakest resolve.

It wasn’t about making the most of my unmarried status. I had grown up. I knew where my loyalties lay. I had made a commitment to Hamzah, and it meant much more than anything that had ever happened with Faadil. What I did know was that rejection was barely his cup of tea, and this was his last attempt at closure, or perhaps a last attempt to change my mind…

Perhaps he expected to win in the end, like he always made sure he did. But this time, I had to just take one look at him before I knew that this wasn’t just Faadil the great, coming to blow his own horn.

What started with sin, must end in ruin. Right?

“Mos,” he started weakly, as soon as he spotted me. The relief on his face as he saw me was undeniable. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

I looked down, knowing that I owed it to Hamzah to at least be a little conservative. Maybe he thought that instead of calling, if he placed himself in front of me, it would change my mind. What Faadil didn’t know was that my attraction for him was based only on the temporary things that now meant nothing to me….

”Just hear me out,” he almost begged. “I know this is a little late, and I heard you’re getting married today. Mos, I can’t lose you…”

---

Dearest readers

Extra long bonus post. It was the other POV I had written so I tied it up… so will try and post again soon InshaAllah, since l I’m due for a short break after Mosee’s drama is over .. ❤️

Much love

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

“How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I it’s recommended to set a certain amount of Quran to read every day, to purify the rusted hearts.

Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “Stick to the reading of the Quran, as it is Noor for you in this li free and treasure in the Aakhirah.”

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aan

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

­

An Offer to Refuse

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 20

Mohsina

Everyone’s journey is different. Every soul is shaped differently. Some people just take longer to touch base… some people just need a little more time to find their mettle.

But the goal to take that step… to make that change… to take the plunge… well, as time passes, it’s become something that’s increasingly difficult to achieve. With the dust that comes with social media, with the mindless scrolling and tainted illusion that sucks you in… in a new era, there are many new things that had evolved and occurred and sometimes we are at a loss for words because we cannot understand exactly how science and technology and the information overload that comes with it has taken over our minds and this world.

It’s not difficult to see how it’s effect has thrown us completely off base. In the effort to connect with everyone around us, we often forsake the connection that we should be aspiring for – we forget the One Who controls it all.. we forget what should be the most important. And with the device of delusion that’s continuously stuck to our hand, though it’s connected people to the entire world, it has disconnected a great number from Allah Ta‘ala… as well as from those closest to them.

And it scared me sometimes. Many things did. I was scared of changing, of not changing. Of being over the top, and of not being enough. I’m scared of finally taking that step, only to find out that it wasn’t in the right direction. I’m scared of knowing what I want, but not having the courage to finally reach for it. I was scared of the unknown, and at that stage of my life when I felt like I was on the fence, I was desperately scrounging around for scraps of inspiration, and I just wasn’t getting it.

“Hey Mos,” Lesley called from the other side of the office. “Can you figure this audit? I’ve sent you the evidence docs and I’ve checked and rechecked but I can’t see what Faadil is saying I need to see. By the way, I love your outfit today. And you are looking awesome. Your hijab style is goals.”

I looked as Lesley, as she walked towards me. She was wearing a pretty pink blouse and a grey skirt, which kind of matched with my charcoal coloured modest suit that I had bought online last week. Inside I had work a mustard cami and my matching hijab was slightly more draped than it usually was and I barely thought she’d notice. How Lesley even knew about Hijab style was beyond me.

As for me, I was just starting to revamp my wardrobe when I realized that I may not be working in an office next year, and the thought was making me slightly depressed. I knew that it was shallow but I was really looking forward to that part of my career. The part where I busted money on cute outfits and then regretted it.

I sighed and clicked on my inbox icon, opening the document and scanning through the bottom figures, cross checking them with the evidence she sent.

“It’s going to take a while,” I said, rubbing my temples. My head was pounding. I had already sat through two meetings and was currently working on a review for next week’s audit and my brain was cooked.  “Have you ticked all the boxes. Maybe there’s no real issue with this one?”

”Faadil says there is,” she said sulkily. “He’s so bloody sticky when it comes to these things and he won’t even go easy on me even though I’ve been to him twenty times – heyyyy, Hamzah. Auditing master. Just the guy I need.”

Where did he pop up from? 

Hamzah was walking past and I could only assume that he was coming from a rooftop smoke break because that was usually when he silently passed this way.

We did try to avoid each other as much as possible. It was awkward but being around other people when we couldn’t be transparent was also strange.

Of course, the situation wasn’t ideal but it kept us away from sin and that was important for me on this new journey I was trying to take. I just wasn’t sure on how far I was getting with it. Every day was one step forward, and then two steps back, as I got caught up in something or the other. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be even remotely pious?

Lesley grinned and stood up, purposely showing off a little bit more leg than necessary as she walked around to the front of my table and leaned over to open the otter documents. Since my desk was right in front I supposed it was easier to just use my computer, never mind that they were disturbing my peace.

I shook my head and pushed my chair backwards begrudgingly, giving her enough space to manoeuvre without cramping my style. Some things didn’t change.  At least her skirts were getting a teeny bit longer though. I wasn’t sure if she was actually getting modest or if it was the whole modest fashion thing that was just catching onto her. Either way, there had been some good changes. It was trending nowadays anyway.

“Hey Les,” Hamzah said as he came closer, and I glanced at him. Today he looked like Hamzah from the office. Not Hamzah that I saw on Sunday and made my family go gaga over him.

“Salaam, howsit?” It was a general greeting aimed at me that seemed pretty neutral. I hadn’t seen him today and I nodded back, pushing myself further back because I really didn’t need Lesley catching onto any vibes.

I was perfectly fine with steering clear of office rumours (even if they may be true) and so was Hamzah.

He glanced at me but said nothing more as he moved around to the front of my desk to look at what Lesley was talking about.

She was explaining something about the financial recording and then what Faadil said about how she couldn’t solve this to save her life or her job. Faadil did run a tight ship, but sometimes he was just mean.

“It may be something small that slipped through the cracks,” he said  scanning through the documents that were on my MacBook for two minutes. “Oh yes, there we go.”

He clicked a few times and then finally typed in something and stood up again. He loosened his tie and I looked away and I could see him expertly placing himself close enough to get his point across but far enough not to have to invade personal space or look at her directly. He sent the documents back to her before he quickly explained what the issue was and then went off, back to his side of the offices.

And of course, I breathed a huge sigh of relief as he left but for some reason, I was a little unsettled.

It was the obvious change and no-one could miss it. I knew it. I’m sure Lesley noticed but she was so grateful that it didn’t faze her. The thing was, he didn’t make small talk or chit chat. With anyone. Not like he used to, where he would humour or even drop a line here or there. No side glances. He didn’t even look at Lesley for goodness sake.

It was just pure business and nothing else. No hidden agenda. And of course, I couldn’t believe it, but the evidence was all there. Hamzah was actually a changed guy and to tell the truth, it was leaving me feeling a little bit at a loss.

I sighed as I watched him walk through the electronic doors, unsure of what to feel.

And I know. I know what you thinking. I was acting harami-like. Of course I should have been happy. I mean, this was huge. Life-changing. Amazing. I was so happy for him.

But my fear, as always, was: where did that leave me? Here he was, this great maulana-like personality with so much of modesty and shame all of a sudden, and there I was, miles from there, not even sure when my journey was going to start.

“You okay?” Lesley said, and I only realised then that she was still at my desk. Still tapping away, using my laptop, even though Hamzah had sent her the files she needed so she could go back to her own desk and sort her stuff out. He obviously saw the peeved look on my face. He knew the things that annoyed me.

“I’m fine,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I just like my space.”

Why were people so invested in my space?

”Ooh,” Lesley said. “A little edgy this morning, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes. I really missed Layyanah some days. Lesley was a bit draining and best preferred in small doses. Plus I couldn’t chat about Hamzah to her. She didn’t know a thing yet.

“I need to finish this review,” I said, feeling a little bad and knowing I wouldn’t have many other coffee-companions if Lesley abandoned me. “We’ll meet later for coffee?”

Lesley was asking some questions earlier in the week about some Muslim guy who worked in HR and I was hoping to tell her to steer clear before she gets carried away as usual. She was even talking about reverting, which I knew wasn’t a bad thing… but if it was only for some guy, I had to do my bit and talk to her properly. Plus I just needed her off my back for now, so I could think in peace.

This mornings meeting had taken more out of me then I thought. Everyone was finalising their posts for next year. Deciding what they would be doing. Making ‘long-term’ plans. Telling Faadil that I wasn’t intending on staying on at Hammond’s next year was actually way harder than I had thought.

“You kidding me, right?” He asked, looking at me like I was crazy. “You plan on staying home next year? That’s a joke.”

He looked appalled, and I shook my head.

“Actually, I’m hoping to start my own business,” I said quietly, trying to avoid eye contact with this allegedly handsome man that Lesley kept going gaga over.

”You opening your own firm?” He said, raising his eyebrows. Of course, that was a bit drastic.

“Not exactly,” I said, carefully. “I’m not planning on doing auditing next year.”

What exactly was I supposed to tell him? That I planned on becoming a pastry chef? He would probably laugh himself sick.

Judging from my fathers reaction, I wasn’t going to test the waters. But if I wasn’t feeling the numbers, I wasn’t feeling them. Maybe some creativity was all I needed. Even if it was just for a little while.

He was silent for a few seconds, and then got up and looked out the window which overlooked the view of Jo’burg CBD and always got me in the mood for the corporate feels. Honestly, Faadil’s office was absolutely goals. It wasn’t only huge, but it also was on the top floor which meant that he got the most stunning view, especially during the early mornings and late evening hours, when he often worked. I mean, Jo’burg was my thing. It was just pumping with life and opportunity. In fact, gazing out right now was kind of getting under my skin, and I had to check myself again.

Maybe I could live with this. The glamour of a corporate life. That’s what it was all about, right?

“I’m going to offer you something that you can’t refuse,” he finally said, pacing the office now and turning to look at me. “A senior external auditor. The offer that everyone is after. But I’ll up the incentive, by 50k. Are you in? Do we have you here at Hammond’s next year?”

I looked up at him, slightly shocked at this crazy offer. Any sane person could not possibly refuse it. Like. Who on earth even studies for so long and realises that she hates her job? The question was, I wasn’t even sure what my mental state was at that moment. How badly did he want a demented person on his payroll?

Why did I always feel like I was on the fence?

“I’m not asking for an answer now,” he said, noting my silence which was partly stemmed by shock. “Think about it. Sleep over it. By next week Friday, give me your answer.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood with confidence as he watched me trying to figure out what to say to him. Like, was he for real?

But it was a dream offer, but as sense kicked in again, I knew that I couldn’t accept. External auditors also went out of town regularly. My mother would probably freak if I left my husband and went out to work. Imagine Nani’s reaction. She would very possibly have my head.

I was already certain that I was going to refuse it but I left the room with my answer still pending.

My heart just couldn’t give it all up at once. The journey that was undergoing wasn’t an easy one. There were so many changes taking place… so much that I had to think about and wonder if this was the best thing for me.

And then there was Hamzah and his own journey, that was at a crucial point right now. In some ways, I felt like we were on completely different wavelengths, but in other ways, I expected him to be the one that would understand me the most.

All he had to do is find a job to suit his needs and settle in. With me, there were so many emotions, negotiations, compromises… which probably attested to the fact that I probably wasn’t cut out for this stuff in the first place. Why couldn’t I just figure this out? I couldn’t even figure myself out.

The thing was, everything for him was pretty clear cut. It was easier for men.

Were men just more inclined to perfection that us? I remembered a Hadith that spoke about the spiritual perfection, but there was obviously a lot of wisdom in what was mentioned.

The Messenger of Allah, Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam, said:

كَمَلَ مِنْ الرِّجَالِ كَثِيرٌ وَلَمْ يَكْمُلْ مِنْ النِّسَاءِ إِلَّا آسِيَةُ امْرَأَةُ فِرْعَوْنَ وَمَرْيَمُ بِنْتُ عِمْرَانَ

There were many men who achieved (spiritual) perfection and none were perfect among women except Asiyah, the wife of Pharaoh, and Mary, the daughter of ‘Imran.

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī

I mean, I knew about the great women of the world. About the wife of Firaun, Tyrant of all tyrants, who had such firm faith that she had endured the most brutal punishment for believing in a God other than her husband, who was convinced that he was the Almighty himself. So unshakable was her faith that Allah set her soul free before her actual murder… and rewarded her when she was being tortured in such a way that a huge boulder was dropped on her while her body was reported to be literally nailed to the ground.

And then there was Maryam (AS), mother Of Isaa (Jesus) (AS) who was the epitome of faith and chastity, and whom Allah Ta’ala had Himself sent out of season fruits for her consumption, because of her extreme piety and Tawakkul. Such were the women of the world who were our examples, who displayed beautiful patience and modesty, and yet I was still questioning what my role in life was to be…

But yes… Yes, it was harder for women, especially when we went against the natural laws of what Allah had set for us, our space in the household, against what nature intended… but was it impossible?

The thing was, who did I want to aspire to be like? Was it the women of the world that were my role models, or the women of the Aakhirah that I wanted to be with?

I didn’t even know that soul searching was still an option, I was lost in a frenzy of work and goals and aspiring to be something that the world wanted me to be but I wasn’t sure of myself.

And because it was a Thursday evening, I was taking it easy with finishing off for the day, my mind was pretty occupied as I tried to finish off the last bits of intense work before Friday came. I always liked to leave the lighter, less brain-consuming stuff for Fridays. Plus, it gave me more time to read my Qur’an and to get back into the Jumuah zone. It was Nani’s insistence that all our reading had to be finished on a Thursday night and as I grew up, I kept to that tradition and tried never to break away from it. It was just that, during the week, I was slipping.

I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet, but my spirituality was very erratic, especially if Jameela was busy and not on my back. There were too many days that I felt like I was merely existing, and not really worshiping  the way I was supposed to, praying like how I was supposed to.

And that was probably why seeing Hamzah like this, knowing that the Mosque had become his regular refuge, seeing his life changing… well, that’s why it scared me. I was all kinds of panicked, wondering what would happen if I never had to reach that stage.. if I never had to meet him where he was? Would we drift apart? Would he lose interest if I didn’t meet him on the bridge? Would he just give up on me, if I couldn’t come through?

My thoughts were a maze of infinitely overwhelming possibilities, and although I wanted to think the best, the horrid scenarios were coming at me like never before. And I barely heard my phone buzzing as I trashed a folder on my computer, realizing that it was last years audit and it was already on the cloud, so I wouldn’t need it. And as I turned to glance at Jameela’s name on my iPhone screen, which was strange because it was a normal call and not even FaceTime, I didn’t even think that there may be a deeper reason for it.

But as I picked up and I heard her panicked voice, all calm and reason flew out the window.

“Mohsina, you have to come home right now,” she said shakily, her voice sounding panicked.

I froze on the chair I was sitting on, shock waves pulsating through my body. It was like everything was crumbling around me all at once, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“There’s been a huge incident .. We’re on our way to the hospital… Papa’s had a severe heart attack. “

 

---

Don’t forget extra Durood this Jumuah. 🤍

Just a quick one – any thoughts on Mohsina, her choices, her confusion? I feel like I’m hitting home for myself a lot- but is anyone else understanding the struggle?!

Much love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival! Sunnah before sleeping.

 

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيمر

Hazrat Baraa Ibne ‘Aazib
(حضرت براء ابن عازب)
رضى الله تعالى عنه
narrates:
When رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم would retire to his bed, he would lie down on his right side, thereafter he supplicated:
اللهم اسلمت نفسى اليك
O الله! I submit myself to You
ووجهت وجهى اليك
And I turned my face to You
وفوضت امرى اليك
And I entrusted all my affairs to You
والجات ظهرى اليك
And I placed my back (body) in Your protection
رغبة و رهبة اليك
In anticipation of Your reward and due to fear of Your punishment
لا ملجا و لا منجا منك إلا اليك
There is no escape, nor salvation from You, except with You
آمنت بكتابك الذى أنزلت
I believe in Your book, which You revealed
و نبيك الذى أرسلت
And (I believe) Your Prophet, whom You sent.

(Bukhaaree Shareef)

Supplicating the above, is actually a renewal of belief.
Sleeping on the right side, is beneficial from various perspectives and a Sunnah.
A person can get up early, without difficulty
It reminds of the grave, because we are buried in that position.

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When we Grow Up

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 19

Jameela

Growing up, I often saw my sister as the pillar of strength of our family. Unflinching. Unchanging. Always there, constantly protecting, going on, headstrong, even though she may be heading into a battlefield herself. A warrior in spirit, her head was always high, her resolve always unwavering.

And there’s something about the beginning of a story that sets the tone for a very long time to come.  The beginning is usually the time when our hearts are said to have perfect vision. That first moment. First look. First impression. The first feeling that we become accustomed to, is almost a forever one.  I often wonder about that theory of love that promises that people see each other clearer as we get to know each other… but in my opinion, it’s probable that the opposite may be very much more truer.

And even after all that… whichever way it all happens, when the dust settles and it all works out… One day you wake up in this place where everything feels right. Your soul is lit. Your heart is calm. Everything seems to be going according to plan.

But life has a funny way of shaking you up, when you may be slipping. Sometimes when we feel like we’re gliding through, spiritually we may just be sliding away. You see, sometimes we pin all our hopes on people. On conditions. On creation. And life has a way of bringing you back to your base, no matter how your journey may be going.

Sometimes we just become complacent, and need to be brought back. For us, during that time, it all started with an unwelcome message.

Plz tel ur sister that I’m really sorry.

The message came at 11.30 that Sunday evening and even though Maahira was the last person that I wanted to hear from after how she treated my sister, I was a little inclined to indulge her at that hour, when sleep was horribly evading me.

I lay on my bed, silently praying, hoping for the best, still digesting the events of the evening, trying to figure out how everything was changing and why it was all moving so fast. My gap year was nearly over. My sister was getting married. Life was changing and it was time to start growing up. My mind was running away with me and I couldn’t seem to stop it.

Buzz again.

I kno I was wrong, I shudnt hav dun what I did. 

I was trying to get into sum1s good books and now I kno that I was doing it all wrong.

I had a response but I wasn’t going to respond.

I had heard Layyanah and Mohsina talking. I wasn’t sure that I was going to believe the excuses but I wasn’t going to judge her either.

Buzz.

Plz jus tel her to reply.

What about those two months she spent waiting for her reply?

The evening had been eventful enough and maybe it was time to just give in. And what better to reply with than something that would burn her. Just a little.

My sister is busy. She’s proposed.

I pressed the send button, and her reply came almost immediately.

Oh Emm Gee!!!!!!! *dancing girl emoji*

Who is the lucky guy?

I smiled. I was absolutely ecstatic for my sister.

His name is Hamzah.

There was an elated feeling as I typed it. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement for her.

There wasn’t too much of a chance of Maahira knowing him because we were from the plaas part of Gauteng and Hamzah wasn’t.

Wats his sname?

I knew exactly why she was asking. And I knew exactly what to tell her.

He doesn’t have Instagram.

I typed. Mohsina warned me about that.

Or Facebook.

That was my next message.

Or Snapchat.

I knew she was probably googling him on her browser while we chatted.

?????????!!!

She obviously did not know what else to say, and she was entitled to say it.

What the ….?!
How the hel is this going to work, even? The guy doesn’t even exist.

I knew what she meant. Someone I couldn’t find on Google was more or less non-existent.

But he was who he was and we were pretty in awe of it.

He may just surprise us.

And I left it at that as I crept down the hall that moonlit night and tapped at her door, opening it slightly as I watched my sister, her face illuminated as she either scrolled through her Instagram feed or watched a Netflix series on her phone. Her eyes shifted to me as I pushed the door open, and a small smile crept on her face as she realised that it was one of those nights that we were both a little too stimulated to catch even a wink of sleep before midnight.

I sat next to her as I tapped on my phone, scrolling through some of my own Instagram feed posts, wondering what kick my sister got out of it. I often deleted the darn thing, only to download it again, just because I was getting FOMO because all my friends were on it. Till this day, I still didn’t get the whole hype. Influencer feeds and bloggers… well, they just didn’t interest me. Mohsina, however, understood everyone on there and made excuses for them, saying it was their space to express themselves so they could sit on it for hours. For me, it was hogwash.

”Do you even know what you’re liking?” I asked, as I saw her double tapping a few times, and scrolling, almost unconsciously.

She shrugged.

“I need some mindless entertainment,” she murmured, finally putting her phone down and looking at me. “I abandoned Netflix last month and I can’t sleep.”

”Thinking of Hamzah?” I teased, as she rolled her eyes at me.

“No,” she said, sitting up in bed as letting her hair fall over her face. It wasn’t often that I saw my sister let her hair down. Literally. She was actually quite serenely beautiful and at peace when she relaxed and just took it easy. It’s not that she wasn’t usually. She just always appeared to be so occupied and fiercely independent. Everyone saw this stunning but busy working girl, but for me, well, now I saw Mohsina as a woman who was so much more.

”Just thinking,” she said softly, putting her phone down and looking at me.

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I had an idea that she had a lot on her mind. I mean, who wouldn’t?

“Maahira messaged me,” I said quietly. “To tell me to apologize to you.”

She sighed.

”I’m not sure how to tell her that I don’t feel like talking to her,” she said bluntly. “I’m just a bit disgusted.”

“I think she already knows that. I think she regrets it.”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t know quite how to get back there with Maahira. To that comfortable place.”

That was understandable. Betrayal was hard to stomach.

“I told her you’re proposed.”

She looked at me and frowned.

”Really?” She said. “But it’s not like, official and you know Maahira…”

Well, we didn’t do the final asking and saying yes thing, but I was sure that it was all going to go smoothly. And Maahira could tell who she wants. I was so happy for my sister.

”Everyone likes him,” I said quietly. “Even Nani. Are you shocked?”

”Not really,” she admitted. “Hamzah is a born charmer. He has dodge ways.”

I grinned. Trust Mohsina to put it that way.

”At least Nani will like one of you then,” I said and she smiled back.

Nani’s reaction though, was priceless. But truth be told, I didn’t expect it. And to be honest, I just found it so cute because the seal of the deal came when Nani came in with her look of extreme scrutiny, trying to suss him out, and Hamzah, being Hamzah, was barely even fazed. Maybe he was used to it, but it helped that he wasn’t shy, because all he had to do was take the bull by the horns and shamelessly get up, introduce himself and sit next to Nani after, with not a worry in the world.

It was the most unexpected yet admirable interaction of ever seen Nani have.

Despite her hounding her about how Mohsina knew Hamzah and everything else, meeting him today, Nani was literally blown away by Hamzah. And even though I coundn’t believe it myself, we could not have been more ecstatic.

“Did you tell him to bring the flowers for her?” I asked, shaking my head as I remembered how thrilled she was at the allocated bunch of lilies that was just for her. It was one of her favourite, white ones too.

”No ways,” she said. “The most I would have done was tell him to bring flowers for me. I got chocolates, but hey, I’m not complaining. I have to hand it to him- He thought of that all himself.”

She grinned and then shook her head. And it wasn’t easy to do but Hamzah knew just the right moves and in what doses to do them to impress her.

I climbed into her bed now, pulling the covers up and plopping my head down on the spare pillow next to her. It smelt of Mohsina – Chanel perfume and Dove body wash. My sister had her own distinct smell that I always loved.

And although we weren’t always sharing every second of our lives, I knew my sister pretty well. I hung onto every thread of information she gave me or I heard her talk about. I knew how her mind worked.

At any normal time, she didn’t have much tolerance for drama and she often had fought with Nani over things that didn’t make sense to her, but today – well, today, she had displayed forbearance like I had never seen before and that’s how I knew how much she wanted this to work. And yes, I knew Mohsina and I was very aware that to many people she could appear be very self-absorbed and indulgent at times, but today, she was a completely different person.

The truth was, Nani was a handful at times. And there were many unsolicited things that Nani complained about but to tell the truth, there were deeper secrets in our family that were worth fighting about. Mohsina was a lot of amazing things that no-one spoke about and if she even knew the half of it, I knew Nani would have been silenced.

And as I watched my sister for a few quiet  moments as I thought about it, I almost missed it and thought that I was mistaken, but as she sniffed I glimpsed the glimmer of a single tear rolling down her cheek and I found myself feeling all kinds of emotional too.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, sitting up slightly and reaching for her hand and grasping it lightly. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded silently, not yet able to talk. And it was so unlike Mohsina because I barely saw her emotional, but … well, a lot had happened and I was sure that it was all settling because maybe because she needed to work this out in her head.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, her voice strained due to the emotion.

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

“I’m supposed to be happy,” she said, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. “It had all turned out okay, but somehow, when people are all excited, I always get the feeling that I’m going to let them down. Like really badly.”

“Aw Mosee, dont say that,” I said softly, not understanding the pressure she was feeling. I didn’t know what it was to be her.

She barely showed it, but Mohsina’s heart was pretty incomparable. She was considerate. She was fair. She usually didn’t care about people’s perceptions or what they thought. Her focus wasn’t on those superficial things. But this, what she was feeling now- it was her sense of belonging and protectiveness that was overtaking her, more than ever.

And it was one of the unmentionable things in our household, but to be in her place now as I grew up, I think I was finally beginning to understand her feelings. The thing is, no one ever said it, but Mohsina had had immense pressure to start work, while she was still busy with a degree. Before she started working, for a smaller company before Hammond’s that she was working for part-time, we pretended not to notice, but things were getting pretty difficult, financially. The shop was quiet, I would see mummy filling samoosas for orders late at night. Often, she would take on more than she could manage. Muhammed Husayn had to change schools. Things weren’t looking good.

It was only when my sister started at Hammond’s, did things ease off. She saw to the house needs, took care of my brothers new wardrobe, gave my mother spending money, and even bought groceries regularly. Never once did she mention it, even to Nani, but I was in awe of her because she was so selfless to so many degrees. Being the eldest, I knew she felt responsible when Papa’s shop wasn’t doing well, when he couldn’t meet payments and she silently checked his books and helped out without even as much as a thank you. Almost like another parent, that was just the Mohsina that I knew and had grown up with over these few years.

She had held so much of responsibility…. she couldn’t help but feel her leaving us so much deeper than anyone else. We just didn’t know yet how much it would affect us.

“Okay, and I’m not one for soppiness,” she said, smiling through her tears. “To be quite frank, I’m the most un-soppy person you can ever find. But when Hamzah came today, it was like alarm bells were ringing… and just like that, it felt like one of those strings that were holding my heart so rigidly in place just snapped. And I supposed it was because I saw a side to him that I never saw before, but there was something else that just made me realise how much my family means to me.”

I blinked. This was a mouthful of emotion from my sister.

”What do you mean?” I asked carefully.

“I mean,” she went on, comfortable in the dark because it was way past midnight now and late at night.. well, secrets are best shared at this moonlit hour.

“It’s not like I know him so well… but I know a bit about him. A significant bit. But today- when I watched him with people who I love the most, I already knew that I don’t want to let anyone down. Neither does he.”

She sighed audibly.

“I’m just so scared, Jamz. I’m just so scared that I’m going to hurt him, or hurt Papa, or just mess this whole thing up…”

My heart contracted momentarily.

I knew what she was saying and it was the one thing I didn’t tell Mohsina. I just didn’t feel it fair to her, but she may have even noticed herself.

I mean, I knew that she had taken them by surprise, but out of everyone, there was something that just didn’t feel right and I could tell that Papa’s behaviour was most worrying.

And though I had asked him countless times if he was okay, all he did was nod, smile, and then a minute or two later, look worried again. He was beginning to make me worried, because the thing was, I really wanted this to work out for Mohsina. I just hoped that there wasn’t any major problem that he wasn’t telling us about and we weren’t going to be caught in the dark at the most unexpected time.

And okay, besides the one family connection of his that had freaked me out at Layyanah’s wedding, what I did know was that Hamzah was so good for Mohsina. Decent. Easy-going. Independent. The best for her in every way even though he seemed so different from her in other ways, it was how I could also see why the two of them just gelled. Of course, there were changes I noticed from both of them- good changes-  now that time had progressed, but everyone’s journey is different, and people change as they realize whats most important but through this… and I only hoped that they would both help each other to be better, to find each other and most of all, to find Allah.

The thing was, I wasn’t sure that Mohsina was being honest with Hamzah. I wasn’t sure if he even knew the half of what she did to keep us afloat.

It was just that I felt that right now, more than ever, I really needed to step in. I just couldn’t let my sister carry this burden any longer. But how did I make her feel better without letting her know exactly what I intended to do?

Ah. I knew just the thing.

”Mosee, have trust in Allah,” I said quietly. “I know you’re scared and it’s a big step to take, but you have to have Tawakkul that it will all work out for the best. I know it’s late and you have work in the morning, but you know that this is the perfect time to ask of Allah? When Allah Taála waits for us to ask of Him? Right now.. at this hour… when everyone is asleep in their comfortable beds… To pour out our worries and hopes, to ask for whatever you want… to trust your decisions, make Duaa and then take the plunge…”

Your Lord has proclaimed, “Call upon Me, I will respond to you. Surely those who are too proud to worship Me will enter Hell, fully humbled.” (Holy Qurán, Surah Ghafir, Verse 60)

There was a few seconds of silence.

“That’s my girl,” Mohsina finally spoke with conviction, sounding like she was so immensely proud. Of me. She was proud of me?

I didn’t know what to say. I wish I had accomplished half of what she did.

“You’re my very own spiritual warrior, Jamz,” she conceded, turning to face me. “No jokes. You always know where to shove those worries and concerns and make them all go away. How you just know what to say, I have no idea. I love you so much right now.”

I smiled into the dark. I wasn’t what she said I was but it was just something that I tried to do myself. I also knew that talking wasn’t always the best thing. Yes, I had many ambitions for myself, but I was still so confused. I did know that I didn’t want to study, but I also knew that marriage wasn’t an option right now. I just needed some time. Between my dream of going into business, doing an Aalimah course and studying a BEd, I was the most confused teenager in the world.

It’s just that I had an idea that could work. I had so many plans. Papa could sell the shop and be managing it. Ma could use her baking and cooking expertise. Muhammed Husayn could help out in weekends. I had the most amazing of ideas and I knew that our small plot of land with the barn in front would be the perfect place for it. No-one would listen but I was going to make it work, regardless.

I wasn’t scared of working hard. My parents had both worked hard to put us through school and bring us up. I had business in my blood and I knew that I could make it good for us without taking too many risks.

Tomorrow was a new day and a new week and I knew that I would do some serious things if I put my mind to it. I just needed that push and this was it. This was what I needed.

Yes, there are many uncertainties, but life has a funny way of shaking you up, when you may be slipping. Sometimes when we feel like we’re gliding through, spiritually we may just be sliding away. You see, sometimes we pin all our hopes on people. On conditions. On creation. Sometimes we get so sucked in by this Duniyaa, that we are completely distanced from Allah, even when we are blatantly ignoring the fact that he is taking care of everything so beautifully for us.

You see, there’s a special kind of journey for those who choose Allah above everything. Above wealth. Above comfort. Above love, even, the love of this world. When we choose to submit, through difficulty or ease. When you choose Allah and His way of life, things are not always promised to be easy.

But when you remember that there’s a way to resurface, to overcome, to revert from any dip that we may have taken… it’s pretty simple to come back. Yes, to be strong is great but there are times when we have to come undone. To be vulnerable. Let the weight of your emotions flow. When we let it all go.

I looked at my sister now as she got out of bed to make a fresh ablution. For all these years, her life had been solely focused on getting our family through the tough times. Her small but grand gestures would never be anything I could compare to, but I knew that even a little perseverance could go a long way. And even when I watched my sister, one thing I realized now was that growing up doesn’t just simply end. It’s not a once-off journey.

We are always growing, always changing. We keep trying new things. We keep coming back to where we left off.

Change isn’t always smooth-sailing. Growing up isn’t always the easiest thing. But sometimes it’s the only way to progress, to be selfless, to care about something other than yourself.. and to reach greater heights.

From time to time, even when the scars on your soul start to ache, remember that you made it through that rough time and once again, as you grow, it will get you through again.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival! Sunnah before sleeping. 

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيمر

Hazrat Baraa Ibne ‘Aazib
(حضرت براء ابن عازب)
رضى الله تعالى عنه
narrates:
When رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم would retire to his bed, he would lie down on his right side, thereafter he supplicated:
اللهم اسلمت نفسى اليك
O الله! I submit myself to You
ووجهت وجهى اليك
And I turned my face to You
وفوضت امرى اليك
And I entrusted all my affairs to You
والجات ظهرى اليك
And I placed my back (body) in Your protection
رغبة و رهبة اليك
In anticipation of Your reward and due to fear of Your punishment
لا ملجا و لا منجا منك إلا اليك
There is no escape, nor salvation from You, except with You
آمنت بكتابك الذى أنزلت
I believe in Your book, which You revealed
و نبيك الذى أرسلت
And (I believe) Your Prophet, whom You sent.

(Bukhaaree Shareef)

Supplicating the above, is actually a renewal of belief.
Sleeping on the right side, is beneficial from various perspectives and a Sunnah.
A person can get up early, without difficulty
It reminds of the grave, because we are buried in that position.

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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