When Spring Comes

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 54

I once heard a beautiful saying that went something like:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was really no need to stress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Have you seen Rabia?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The price of formula has become crazy….”

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

Back to what she was saying…

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

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

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

What is a sign of your happiness?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did she just say bloated? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can never stop Spring from coming once again…

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

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

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

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

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

Aaameen.

Someone asked Ali (RA): “How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

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

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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When Hearts Open

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 51

I remember once hearing a beautiful narration of the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) that went like this:

The heart is between two fingers of power of Rahman (All-Merciful), and He turns it as He wishes.” (Muslim, Qadar 3)

And for me, during that period of my life when I felt myself constantly grappling with the changes, it was only true that my heart itself, was undergoing a whole host of them, that at times it felt like it was bursting.

And along with everything else, as the feelings of ‘love’ entered the mix, I could only claim to be caught completely off guard because I now saw everything with a new eye.

See, the thing is, some people find spirituality without much effort, whilst others keep searching. And sometimes hearts remain sealed and unyielding, not even awakening at the most earth-shattering of jolts, not ever realising that one significant piece that’s missing from their world.

For me, I had been too consumed with the fear of being ‘holy’, to ever open my heart. But as I learnt to rid my heart of its rigidity, and to soften it, I realised that it is only that heart, which allows its Rabb to enter, that will truly ‘love’.

And not just any love, but a love that truly opens … a love that is a purist kind of love that brings about calm—not inner torment. Real love, as Allah intended it, is not a sickness or an addiction.

Real love, the true type… is affection and mercy. It is complete and unwanting. It is open and free.

And that’s where I had got it wrong in the past. With my past self, love had made me a slave to myself. To my own desires. That false love had unleashed my desires, blinded my heart and broke my faith. The love I knew, had taken me away from Allah.

But in this new love that I was learning about, as I struggled with my mushaf recitation, sitting on the carpet in Hamzah’s bedroom in his parents house… I couldn’t help but process at how much closer to Allah this journey was taking me.

All I knew was that I wanted Allah to be happy with me, but somehow, from time to time it felt as if was this huge barrier that was with me as my Nafs, and I was trying so badly to conquer it…

”What’s wrong?”

And of course, he would ask, as he walked into the room from his slightly shortened day at the office, having taken early leave every day just for this week.

And there I was, sitting cross-legged, hands now tucked under my thighs because I couldn’t help but want to fiddle with anything in the vicinity if they weren’t, rocking furiously and looking as frustrated as hell. His room was cleaned spotless as a result of my restlessness, and his clothes were all neatly organized in his cupboard. I had been doing everything else, trying to find ways to escape idle mind that I could not seem to focus properly.

”I can’t do this,” I complained with utter desolation, as I gently closed it. “I feel like I’m failing. Just failing. I can’t even get this one thing right. I’m too old.”

Hamzah’s eyes immediately softened, as he watched me looking utterly distraught, and then glanced over at a stirring Zaid on the bed, before he came toward me, whilst he took off his shoes.

“You’re not too old,” he said softly with a slight smirk, lifting his kurta and sitting next to me, tucking his legs under him. “Unless you’ve forgotten who I am.”

The joke had lost its effect as I scowled at him.

”I feel like it up here,” I said, tapping on my head. Why didn’t I think of doing Hifdh earlier in my life?

“Listen,” he said comfortingly. “You’ve only just started. That’s how it is. Be patient. It takes some time.”

”Yes, but you know how I am,” I whined, getting annoyed even at my own voice. “Everything’s come easily to me in the past. If I can’t get this the first time then I’m just useless.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Open it. I’ll teach you.”

I looked at him, sceptically, raising my eyebrows.

“How will you do that?” I asked suspiciously, and watching as Zaid sucked his dummy a little more vigorously now, hoping he didn’t wake just yet. I still had a few lines left to achieve, and maybe Hamzah’s motivation was just what I needed.

“Can I show you?” he asked suddenly, not even waiting for my answer and already taking my hand with one of his hands, as he opened the Qurān with the other.

His sudden touch felt a little unnerving, but I loosened my hands as he grasped and guided my finger to the place where I had marked.
Top of the third page. It felt like I was doing that part forever.

“You have to point,” he murmured, eyes focused on the page, still talking quietly as he moved my finger along the top line. “Point, look, read aloud… and of course, listen. We used to say that doing that once is like reading it thrice otherwise. It’s one of the most effective Hifdh hacks, if you could even call it that.”

He concealed a smile as I glanced him from the side, also very aware of how his hand over mine was now making me feel strangely aware of his proximity, even though I knew that he wasn’t doing it to make me nervous. Or maybe he was.

Maybe he wanted me to take my work more seriously too.

He looked at the page briefly, watching me now as he pronounced the first ayah with perfect Tajweed and made me repeat after him.

Once, twice. A third time, then the next ayah.

I did it a few times, repeatedly, before I slid my hand out from under his, not sure if the whole lesson was just making me a bit nervous or if his whole husband slash teacher demeanor was a little more intimidating than he knew.

“I think we done for the day,” I said lightly, feeling my brain shutting down and closing the Qurān as he smiled at me. “I’ll go over it before I sleep. 10 times, nuh?”

He nodded and I grinned comically.

Why is it that I could sit for hours in front of a screen but a half hour of Quran made me tired?

Harami was not even the word for people like me.

”I think you need to help me,” I said, only realising now what a huge difference it made, having someone who loved Quran, to help you love it too. Someone who’s in it with you, guiding you along, helping you to be better.

It was like the ultimate kind of couple goals that I had always read about… the type that made you closer to Allah Ta’ala and lifted you to new levels of contentment, because it was only because of Him that you were aspiring so much for this kind of amazement.

“I just did,” he smirked, smiling briefly as i rolled my eyes at him.

He fixed his gaze on me for a minute silently, before talking again.

“You know… my Ustaadh once told me that  the amazing thing with the Qurān is that the more you do it… the more you read, learn and memorise… the more it opens up for you. Like a fragrant flower. Only more beautiful.”

I couldn’t help but marvel at it. The Qurān is an amazing miracle, that promises so much more than just peace and comfort in its words.

”I’m not sure if I can do it,” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed, looking at all the pages I had left: I was only on page 3 of hundreds. “It’s tough. You must have finished pretty young, right? And why did you never mention it before?”

He was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face as he fiddled with my sticky markers.

”I didn’t know that it would have impressed you,” he said, teasing me slightly as I felt myself blush a little. He didn’t know that it had been a game changer and had solely inspired my decision.  “If I knew, I would have pulled it out sooner. Anyway, I had been slacking on my dhor for some time in between. Went through a bad patch… generally. But now… it’s almost on track.”

A bad patch.

Gosh. I had continuous bad patches. More like a bad era. If only Hamzah knew half of the sketchy things I had done. I wanted to ask him more… even though he had told me once about how he didn’t take anything seriously, messed around and just didn’t care about breaking Allah’s laws.

Now may have been a good time to talk about those bad patches, that I’d been avoiding all along.

But no. Not now.

”That’s amazing,” was all I said, swallowing back my emotions and wondering if he was one of those genius people who could read from anywhere in the Qurān and know exactly where he was reading.

”You know what’s amazing?” He said, edging closer, and I looked at him questioningly.

“Me?!” I said hopefully, trying to not let my mind run away with me regarding bad patches. I had to just let it go.

“That too,” he grinned, touching my cheek lightly as he said it. His dimple faded as he continued, looking down and talking softly. “But also… I heard something amazing to the effect that went something like: There are people among you who have memorised the Quran and yet, are not of the people of Qurān.
And yet… there are people among us, who have not memorised, yet are regarded as the people of the Quran. All it is, is a matter of implementation. And the way I see it is, we need to make a choice which people we will be.

Right?”

That was seriously beautiful. And he had hit it right on the head. Even though I wasn’t a Hafidha, I was trying to be that kind of person who actually implemented but sometimes I fell so short of it that it scared me.

I looked at him, immensely impressed by his words, but also, well, quite impressed with him on the whole because he was just being kind of impressive these days and I could barely believe that this was the kind of man that he had been moulded into, after being through so much during these past months.

I was also just about to go against my own rules to let him know that exact fact, in reticent fashion, but just as I caught his intensely penetrating gaze, it was at that very moment that Zaid’s muffled murmur had just started from the bed and Rabia’s voice simultaneously sounded from outside the door, when all other idyllic thoughts were already slashed.

“Hamzah,” Rabia called loudly from the slightly ajar bedroom door. “Can I take Zaid?”

I widened my eyes, obviously not impressed any longer.

”Sorry,” Hamzah whispered, smiling sheepishly as he disengaged and shook his head.

I was wondering how long she was probably standing outside, or listening to our conversation or just snooping around.

“Where does she keep popping up from?” Hamzah muttered, and he took the words right out my mouth. Only, his version was a bit kinder, as he got up to take Zaid.

It seemed like at any given moment, Rabia was around and ready to kill a moment or get right in between us.

When I had asked Hamzah why she was here when we were supposed to have the house to ourselves for the week, he had just shrugged.

“Rabia’s had a bit of a tough time,” he said, biting his lip, looking like he didn’t want to get into it. “We don’t like to make her feel unwelcome. My parents don’t say anything much to her. She takes it a bit personally.”

Gosh, I wasn’t saying chase her out. I was just wondering why she couldn’t give us a few days alone before she decided to come here.

And I knew what it was, but trying to explain to Hamzah would be futile. Men were just daft like that. The classic old women rivalry thing was something they didn’t quite get, even when it stared them in the face. Rabia was competing for most people’s attention most of the time, and seeing me always capturing her brothers was a little more than she could bear.

And it annoyed me but I had just labelled her as the possessive type and made light of the situation. I definitely was not the type to fight for my husbands attention, even though she had tried every thing in her power to keep it from me since she arrived. With her just being in the house, Hamzah seemed to be more on edge than ever too. I supposed it was her remarks that she sometimes made and although I tried to ignore them, when she purposely asked questions about Hammonds or my Instagram profile in front of Hamzah, I couldn’t help but want to ring her neck.

The the thing was, after my marriage announcement, upon Hamzah’s request, I had made a resolution to be better. I had been trying very hard to keep myself out of peoples feeds and direct messages, and not worry about all the futile things they posted. It meant staying off social media and minding my own business, even when everyone else wanted the low-down on my entire life. Maybe Rabia was snooping for info about people, or trying to find faults, but I wasn’t going to give in, and neither was I going to back down and let her get her way at home either.

I mean, I didn’t understand what was her deal with Hamzah anyway. I was his wife. She was his twin sister. We both had our respective places in his life. The woman seemed a little crazy to me.

And now too, as she walked in the room with no invitation. I mean, what if I was completely indecent?

I breathed out heftily, not exactly concealing my annoyance. My patience, at that point, was almost non-existent.

“Okay, but wait a minute,” Hamzah called to her, making her backtrack as he gave her a look that said that she was crossing boundaries by not even knocking.

He had just got up to fetch Zaid from the bed and plant a kiss on his head, when she then knocked on the door.

”Can I come in?” Rabia asked sweetly, and though I rolled my eyes, I made sure that Hamzah didn’t notice it.

I took him easily from Hamzah, nodding briefly at her as she plopped herself on the single couch, grabbing a spare nappy and his half full bottle that lay next to the bed.

Hamzah didn’t do the nappy thing. He did most other things, but nappies was something that he usually steered clear off. And though it annoyed me sometimes, after all Nani’s and my mothers lectures about husbands and wives knowing their role in the house, I kind of gave him a break.

I was almost an expert at changing anyway and he sat quietly for once as I undid his nappy, watching as Hamzah leant over him to distract him, as Zaid looked unhappily back at him, moaning slightly, on the verge of tears. And I should have noticed straight away.

And it was unusual for him not to jump for Hamzah, because he was his ultimate favourite, but it was only as I opened his nappy and felt his body temperature against my fingertips that I realised that something was very wrong.

He was burning hot. All over. The child definitely had a fever and I was so stupid to not realise that the heat I had felt earlier wasn’t just induced from his 45 minute nap.

”Hamzah,” I said, looking at my husband as he sprawled on the bed now with his phone, me picking Zaid up immediately, panicking slightly. “Feel him. He’s got a fever. Right?”

Hamzah had already hopped over and was already touching him on his forehead, and Rabia, who had been sitting and waiting on the couch had already kneeled over to investigate as Zaid suddenly seemed like he couldn’t bear to keep it in any longer, and just let out a full on howl.

Hamzah’s concerned expression already got me worried, and I wanted to cry as I tried to unsuccessfully pacify him too.

Poor Zaidoo was now suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, and my own heart just felt like it was caving in as I watched him.

Oh my word, I was starting to tear too. How do mothers even deal when their kids are in pain? 

“You want to give him something?” Hamzah asked, looking at me worriedly, a lump forming on my throat. “I think there’s Panado in the bag. And I remember Liyaket once saying something about suppositions or whatever.”

Suppositories. They were for fever. Layyanah also told me about them once.

We were first time parents with a first time sick baby. He never had fever before, and the thought of anything happening to him was scaring us both. They way he was bawling made me feel utterly helpless too.

“Let’s take him to a doctor,” I said decidedly, googling on my phone, trying to stay calm. “His paed is not far from here. “

“Maybe we can give him some medication in the interim,” Hamzah suggested, pulling the nappy bag towards us. “And then see what the doctor says.”

“Good idea,” Rabia said, also looking a looking extremely worried as he opened the bag and dug inside.

Layyanah had always kept everything packed carefully and organised, and I tried to keep it that way. Although I had restocked and bought a few new things, her maternal touch was still very present. Sometimes I felt slightly grieved, when I thought of a day when Zaid may not be able to have any evidence of his mother. It was fading so fast.

I was beyond myself at that moment, holding him closer to me as Rabia offered to take him. I didn’t want to let him go but knowing I had to get ready, I handed him over and speedily pulled on an Abaya. Rabia herself looked helpless, even as she held Zaid and we hastily popped some Panado syrup down his throat with the syringe, expecting a small fuss and a host of erratic tears that seemed to evidently be stemmed by some sort of pain.

All I knew was that I was glad to have an extra hand while Hamzah fetched his keys, and it was a whirlwind of craziness as we drove, hoping to make it before the doctor left his rooms, worried, like parents should be, and extremely anxious about what could be wrong with him.

I had dozens of possibilities, of course. My mind was working in overdrive as I wondered if he had maybe gotten a bad virus or infection wondering if maybe it was something a little more serious.

As the tears ceased and he quitened down in the car, Zaids little body was limp and exhausted, as I held him to me, willing myself not to cry due to his very obvious discomfort.

And it took a good 20 minutes or so, but finally, the fever seemed to be subsiding and I could see him looking a little more at peace.

We were glad that because it was toward the end of the day, the doctors room was a little emptier than it usually was. There were two other mothers with their kids there and they smiled at me as we arrived, probably noticing my anxiety, and as the one was called in, I could see Hamzah too, visibly relaxing. He was the more relaxed one of the two of us, and as I held a sleeping Zaid, he quickly took the forms that secretary handed us to update.

The thing was, besides not being prepared for all of this parenting stuff, we weren’t quite prepared for the emotions either. It was obvious that Hamzah was a little jolted as he stared at the forms, Liyaket’s handwriting still on them, and because we had worked together, I too, recognised it immediately.

It was something like a knife being pulled out slowly, the pain gradual yet still present, and my eyes immediately moved to his face as I watched him study it for a few seconds, and then looked up at me, his expression riddled with emotion; still contemplating whether he could actually strike it all off. It just seemed so wrong. Once upon a time, Liyaket had probably filled in those forms, with so much of paternal hope. It felt like we were erasing them from Zaid’s life, bit by bit.

I held back tears and looked away, not able to imagine what he was feeling at that point. All I knew was that here we were, still figuring this whole thing out, and I still wasn’t sure if I was even doing anything right.

And as we pulled ourselves together, we had asked for a new form and filled in new details, placing it on top of Liyaket’s one, just before getting called in. Yes, we had shoved emotion away but I couldn’t help but feel the heaviness that this whole situation had brought.

We hadn’t even been back to their place to sort out their stuff. I had gone briefly with Jameela and Liyaket’s mother to get some clothes and essentials for Zaid, but I had gone straight into Zaid’s room and out again. It felt almost intrusive, to hover around and dissect Layyanah’s things.
I knew that I had to, at some point it would happen… sooner or later… being faced with tangible evidence of Liyaket and Layyanah but being there, right then, just felt like the weight of the world was coming down on us.

For the first time since this happened, the gravity of the situation was almost unbearable. As much as we both loved Zaid, we could not even dream of ever not letting him know how amazing his parents once were, and it was at that moment that I realised that we had really huge shoes to fill and I was barely able to comprehend the thought.

Right then, I just felt responsible and completely consumed by worry about Zaid. My heart had been filled to the brim with this little guy, and I could not bear to see him in pain.

Getting into the doctors room though, minutes later, was a huge relief. It brought a little bit of lightness to the gloomy atmosphere.

The paediatrician was a tall man, with an easy smile. His forehead was edged with salt and pepper hair and his glasses sat at the bridge of his nose. We knew he was probably going to bring Layyanah and Liyaket up. It took him a minute, as he went over the file, flipped through and then fixed his gaze on us, and I immediately recognised that look in his eyes which portrayed that he had just realised who Zaid was.

“Zaid Khan,” he said, his gaze faltering slightly as he looked at Zaid who was now subdued and almost asleep due to the medication we had dosed him with. “I tried to get hold of his guardians, but no information was available. No next of kin either. Both parents passed away in an accident about two months ago.“

It wasn’t a question, of course. Hamzah just nodded and swallowed, before he spoke. I could sense how heartbreaking this was for him.

“The adoption is being finalised,” Hamzah said briefly, concealing his feelings expertly, and the doctor nodded sympathetically.

“How is the little guy?” He asked, a little more sympathetically, glancing at Zaid and getting up, while he signaled for me to bring him to the bed. “And I’m assuming you guys are his relatives?”

“Good friends of his parents,” I said briefly, not really wanting to go into details right then. “He had a fever. He was crying so much…”

I trailed off before I started tearing again, whilst the doctor nodded and first checked his eyes and mouth and ears, and then opened him up briefly, preparing myself for the drama that would ensue when Zaid awoke. He was already stirring as the doctor checked and prodded him, and once he was done almost in record time, looked up at me and said.

“Looks like it’s just an ear infection for now,” he said almost to himself, writing something in his file as he walked back to his desk. His laptop was next to him, and I could see him frowning slightly as he looked from the file to the laptop, and then looked up at us both.

”I know this may sound a bit awkward to you both,” he said, his steely eyes looking at us over his spectacles as he sat down and wrote out the script, and then looked directly at me. “But are you open to attempting breastfeeding?”

I widened my eyes at him momentarily, not actually aware of the shock on my face, until his mouth lifted slightly at the corners.

I mean, I know he was a doctor. A proper paediatrician too. They spoke openly about things like this and how good it was for babies and of course, I knew that breastfeeding was important but I mean, how did he even expect me to think of that?

“Just a suggestion,” he said apologetically, glancing at Hamzah whose head was down and arms were over the chair back as he stared at a spot on the carpet for the last minute or so, looking very uncomfortable indeed. “You guys can discuss it, of course.”

Of course, I wanted to laugh but I knew it would just make me look immature so I stifled a smile and said, a little stiffly:

“I didn’t know that was possible. We actually haven’t even thought about it.”

Which was true, because we hadn’t. There was just so much that was going on that we didn’t even give it a single thought. Come to think of it, the endless formula battles might have been over if I had. How clueless was I about babies?!

”Well then, I think it may be time that you do,” he said, looking at me. “Of course, there are pills or injections you will have to take, some side effects, it may take about two months or even less to get a supply… but I always tell the mums, it’s the sacrifice you make for your child… but also, the best gift you can ever give them.”

Besides the immense benefits of breastfeeding, I didn’t even think that this was the one step that would transform him into the closest thing to my real son. I was still standing, with Zaid in my arms, as I digested this.

If you had asked me this a year or 6 months ago, I would have never agreed to this. I supposed when the hearts open, even the most impossible things can seem entirely likely.

I nodded, the idea growing on me, wanting to ask more questions. My heart was now even more inclined to it, as I realised how much it could benefit him.

What kind of pills? And how do I start? The whole thing was still kind of freaking me out -maybe just as much as it was Hamzah- but as my mind opened to the idea, the doctor wasn’t yet done with what he was saying.

“Also, I just recalled the reason why I was looking for his guardians,” the doctor said, shaking his head, looking at Hamzah now again, almost as if he couldn’t believe he hadn’t followed up the process. “The infection isn’t bad, thankfully. But before we get into that, I need you both to take a seat. There’s something about Zaid you need to know.”

---

Dearest Readers,

Hope everyone enjoyed the extra long post. ❤️

Quick one: any thoughts or experiences with regard to breastfeeding with adoption… I’ve heard of some siblings even feeding each other’s kids, so their kids are mahrams for each other… good to hear personal experiences 💕

Always appreciate the feedback

Much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival

Concealing the faults of others:

Whoever conceals [the faults of] a Muslim, Allah will conceal [his faults] in this life and the Hereafter.”

The matter of concealing the faults of others is mentioned in numerous hadith of the Prophet, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him. In particular, we find the following:

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

 

No Secrets

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

It’s strange how life works, isn’t it?

One day you’re the happiest person in the world, and the next, it feels like the worries of the entire world have settled on your tiny shoulders.

And as we drove back into it, the city air had been doing its thing with me, unsettling me and making me feel all sorts of uneasy, as I entered our old residence. As much as I tried to shove it away, the prickly feeling in my tummy didn’t yet ease.

It had been a few moments of relief, but the calming effects of the view of the contrasting bougainvillea bushes against the lush greenery of the small town we had just visited had already been lost, as we found ourselves entering the suburbs once again.

For a minute there, I found myself immersed in the vision of the intermittent splash of stunning jacaranda trees visible from the highway, abadoning myself to the feeling of winter in the city too.

Breathing in, letting the relatively denser air fill my lungs, the point was to dispel the less favourable emotions that were coming at me once again. It was owed to the fact that it had been, in my opinion, another fruitless month.

Along with the pulling of my legs and aching tummy as I felt the pain subside momentarily, it was no secret that there was not even a possibility of a positive pregnancy test this month.

And as I sighed and slid open my phone, playing the voice note from my sister, my mood worsened substantially.

“Let me know as soon as you guys are in Johannesburg,” Fareeha said bossily. “We’ll come see you.”

“We’ll come to you,” I typed to her quickly, before she made any plans to visit.

This time, I knew that Rabia was here with us and I didn’t want to risk any clashes. Knowing my sister, as soon as she clapped eyes on her, she would probably dive right into it. Perhaps she would even do a live introduction right there, and risk my entire two month mission of keeping them away from each other being sabotaged.

But I hadn’t yet let Fareeha know that I was in town yet and I had good reasoning for it. Never mind I was being slightly obsessive and unreasonable. I wasn’t going to budge because I knew that if I gave her even a little bit of an advantage, Fareeha was going to completely steal the show with her new and sole ambition in life.

I pulled the bunch of lilies I had bought out the boot, almost with a vengeance as I made my way through the interleading garage door after my mother-in-law, barely even reaching the glass table at the front before the wailing of a baby caught me completely off-guard.

And for a minute, I thought it was my warped mind playing tricks on me.

Or perhaps it was a cat. But there was no cat here. And if it wasn’t a cat… well… That noise could only mean one thing.

My heart lifted as I heard it, and as if the sombreness was immediately eliminated, it was as if my entire existence had suddenly found its purpose once again.

All I knew knew was that as my mother-in-law headed over to where Hamzah was sitting on the couch, it was like some magnetic force that was dragging me over as well.

The precious lilies were abandoned on the glass dining table, and I found myself almost tripping over a baby bag, racing before my mother-in-law to scoop the baby in question up, without even a second thought of who, how and why…

And okay, in retrospect, I knew it was just a little bit of a psychotic reflex but I really couldn’t help it. My heart was already endowed with love for any little human that I saw.

”Oh my, Masha Allah!” My mother-in-law said, glancing at him and smiling widely as I placed him onto my shoulder. “Hamzah, why didn’t you tell us Liyaket was leaving his baby?! We would have left our shopping for tomorrow! I can’t believe you!”

Neither could I.

”Mummy,” he said easily. “Can’t you see how capable I am? Just two hours with me and he’s literally on cloud number nine.”

The baby was already silent and sucking on his fingers.

”Yes, I can see that, but we would have loved to help,” she said easily. “You don’t have to act like superman.”

Or be so selfish, I wanted to add, but I didn’t. After all, it wasn’t quite his fault that I was baby-obsessed.

“Does he need a nappy change?” I asked, glancing at my brother-in-law while I felt the fullness of his diaper.

I could see Hamzah rummaging around in the nappy bag for something, and finally emerging with a nappy and two different wet wipe pouches.

One was some brand hygiene wipes and the other was Huggies sensitive baby wipes. I could see that he had no idea what the difference was so I grabbed the appropriate one, dug for the changing pad in the bag and made my way to the next room to lay the cutie out on the top of the bed and change him.

I would have never guessed that changing a wet diaper would have made me so ecstatic, but it did. It had been so many years since I had done this but it felt like it was just the other day. The years flew by so very fast…

“So how was shopping?” I could hear my brother-in-law asking my mother-in-law in the next room. “What did you buy for me?”

It had been a while since I had met such a friendly baby, and his chuckles resounded through the room as I played a silly little game with his little toes, wiping him carefully and then sealing him up again, before re-buttoning his vest and romper. The smile he gave as he looked up at me felt like the sun had risen in the horizon of my heart.

Warmth oozed within me as I held him close, the feeling his heartbeat next to mine as his fingers gripped around my thumb, almost as if, in their rhythm, the two of us shared a little secret that no one else knew.

I wasn’t sure if anyone else could be as in love with babies as I was right then.

”We brought some food,” my mother-in-law was replying, and I could hear her go silent for a while as she unpacked the packets I had rudely left on the table.

Of course, I knew she wouldn’t mind. It was no secret to her that I would abandon anything for even a few moments with a little human being.

Also, there was inarguably another reason for her silence. Although it had been a highly sensitive topic before, things had kind of simmered down now… but I could tell that she was probably debating whether to tell him that we stopped over at Mohsina’s family’s new coffee shop. We weren’t quite sure how he would take to it.

And though it had been on the trending list for a few months, and I had heard about it a few times because my sister had been there at least half a dozen times and could not stop swooning about it… I figured that since we might be passing through the area, it may be worth a try.

And it just so happened that we were literally starving because we couldn’t find many Halaal places around where the factory shop we went to was, and this was slap-bang, in the middle of our detour. Not only was it conveniently located, but it was also a really aesthetically pleasing location that soothed my heart significantly, even if it was for a little while.

And as we drove up the gravel road leading to the familiar property, I had stepped off the car and breathed in the fresh air, taking in the stunning little rose garden in the front as I walked up the two steps that led to the entrance of the shop. Not only was I already in love with the scenery here, but being there felt almost like being completely out of the city, as I felt myself shedding all the worries that had consumed me earlier on, letting myself get absorbed in the beauty of the beautiful bougainvillea bushes in the distance.

I gazed intently at the carefree collusion of creamy whites that turned almost pearl, pretty pinks that transformed to blood reds … and pinky-peaches that somehow morphed into burnt orange. The contrast against the streaky skies made me stop in my tracks for a minute, as I digested the colours that were very much like the horizon that was spread before us, with its silky smooth skybursts of reds and yellows that found its way into the calmness of the latter afternoon.

When nature painted, with Allah as the artist, truly, no filter was needed…

“You think she will be here?” My mother-in-law had asked quietly as we entered, scanning the room as if she expected Mohsina to pop out from the woodwork.

I knew that she was secretly hoping she would see her but I did think that it was highly unlikely. Even though it was a weekend, with qualified professionals, I knew that there wasn’t always weekend time.

We walked in, immediately noticing that the place was simple and very cottage-inspired. There was nothing fancy about its decor or furniture, but it felt so amazingly homely and comfortable.

And as I took it in, I could see that it’s inspiration was a picture frame of a pretty meadow, and I couldn’t help but glance at if a few times, trying to figure out who had painted it, wondering if it was some coincidence that it looked so strikingly familiar to the farm back home …

A younger boy who stood behind the counter, upon seeing us, quickly went to the back, and in his place out came a girl who at first glance could have been Mohsina, but I already knew wasn’t.

It was her younger sister, and even though I had met her once before, her name had slipped my mind completely.

“Assalamualaikum,” she said kindly, her eyes meeting mine as she flashed one of the rarest smiles I’d seen in months. It was just so sincere and welcoming that it  took me aback.

She had obviously not recognised us, I said to myself. If she did, she would have snubbed us completely. After all, Hamzah was the one who called off the Nikah.

The girls head was covered with a floral hijab that was tied tightly and her striking features were slightly sun kissed, as if she probably spent her glorious days out in the garden most times. The mesmerising rose garden in the front had to be the result of someone’s toil…

“How are you?”

My mother-in-law, seeing no males in the vicinity, and generally unconcerned about any dynamics that may have existed, unlike me, lifted her niqab and gave her a genuine smile.

And the thing was, even if you are in niqab, to reveal your identity was always the right thing to do, by whatever means. Personally, I was just a little worried about how she may take us being here after everything that had happened.

”Wa alaykum Salaam,” Mummy said, looking slightly hesitant as the girls expression changed. “I’m not sure if you remember us, Jameela?”

Ah yes. Jameela. That’s what her name was.

I could tell that she did, but she looked down shyly, almost self-consciously and nodded. So far, so good. I mean, she didn’t chase us out, so that was great.

Instead, she passed us a simple menu and then said:

”I’ll be with you in a minute. My mother would love to see you.”

And with that, I was kind of taken aback. For me, the situation was a little awkward but it seemed as if they were surprisingly elated at our being here, and it took a while for me to wrap my head around it because I really didn’t expect it. What I did expect was an acknowledgement and maybe mere politeness, but I really didn’t think it would go further than that.

And that’s when I realised that maybe there was some hope in this world where everything else seemed to be a dead loss.

And that wasn’t the end of it. And as her mother emerged and a surprisingly pleasant reunion took place, Jameela recommended to us the popular specials they had, served us the best coffee I ever tasted, and packed us off with four extra sandwiches to take home.

Homemade and absolutely delicious, might I add.

And after feeling all satisfied and at peace in my new surroundings, as I soaked up the sun in the outdoor area where the view was nothing short of spectacular, when I went up to the counter, Jameela merely shook her head at me.

“My parents say I can’t charge you ladies,” she said with a sweet smile. “Next time, I promise. Then I know you’ll will come back.”

”That’s not right, Jameela,” I insisted, taking out my purse nonetheless.

I never know what to do in situations like this. And this was awkward. The whole situation was.

“We ordered so much. Let me pay for something at least.”

She shook her head again.

“My Papa will lock me up in the barn if I don’t listen,” she half-whispered, but I could tell she was joking. “You came to our home and after everything that happened… well, it’s the least we could do. It’s Hadiyyah.”

When she put it that way I couldn’t refuse. And they were kind of blowing me away, with all this niceness, even when we barely deserved it.

There was nothing more I could do or say, except thank her appreciately, as I looked around me, taking the place in.

Now that I was here again, I understood again that Mohsina had come from a simple home,  and that they had probably just made ends meet every month, without that much ‘extra’. It made me think about life so differently… because when I thought of it, this is what got me, all the time, and what Allah Ta’ala revealed about those who prefer others above themselves:

“They prefer others above themselves, even though poverty become their lot (Holy Qurān, Surah Baqarah.)”

I just couldn’t get it, and although I had a deep desire to be, I wasn’t like that.

How is it that people that have so much, find it so hard to part with that which they own… yet people who don’t, take in so much in their stride? Was it because they have little and are content with it… so giving even of that little doesn’t make a difference? Or was it because they just possessed an immensely amazing gift that allows them to open their heart so unreservedly, that no matter what they lose in the pursuit of winning over someone’s heart, barely makes a difference…

What I didn’t yet realize is that the money earned by a person, if it is not blessed, will never be enough. The more one earns, the more are his needs. Its like continuing to eat without becoming satisfied.

And as I exited, my heart engulfed all sorts of strange emotions, my eyes fell on a selection of potted flowers for sale on a little stand there, and next to it were a few buckets of lilies that took my breath away. So instead, I looked through the selection of pretty lilies in a bucket in the bucket, who Jameela said she was selling for someone else, and bought two unusually coloured bunches.

“Such a lovely girl,” my mother-in-law was murmuring as we made our way out. “Next time we need to bring something for them. If I had another son I would have already sent a proposal for her.”

She chuckled light-heartedly but there was a hint of sadness in her voice, probably for the would have been daughter-in-law she had missed out on all those months back.

I kept silent, thinking what everyone would think in situations like this. Whatever happened. However Hamzah may have messed it up. Whatever Mohsina might have done.

Allah knows best.

“But it is what it is,” she said, almost to herself as we got in the car. “No use thinking about it. And three is a good number, though, right? Lucky my second pregnancy had turned out to be twins.”

Three is an amazing number. Although I’d be happy with two.

Oh, but I’m happy with one too. Am I?
Of course, I’m grateful, but just one more….

I smiled and shook my head to myself, thinking about how my mother-in-law had once mentioned that she never thought she would have any more kids after Imraan. And then bam… along came two at once, almost ten years later.

And I never did ask her more about it. I always assumed that she had fallen pregnant with twins naturally and there were no treatment options at that time. But now as she said it, the desire the ask her was overwhelming.

“Was it a shock?” I said carefully, putting the car into reverse and glancing at her as we left.

”It could have been one, two or three,” she said with a smile, and left it at that.

”Ah,” I said, as if I wasn’t quite sure.

But of course I understood what that meant. It was the option that Imraan didn’t want to consider as yet, but the one I was trying hard for him to at least think about. IVF, under stipulated conditions, was allowed, but to get Imraan to accept it as a viable option was another task altogether.

I sighed as I picked baby Zaid up now, holding him close as I took in that unique newborn scent, and headed back to the sitting room.

I wasn’t sure if my mother-in-law had told him where we’d been but as I heard more voices in the vicinity, I realised that Zaids parents were already back.

With a slightly heavy heart, I dragged myself to the kitchen, seeing Liyaket’s wife perched on a chair there, looking as calm as ever, as I held her baby in my arms.

“Ah there he is,” she said, smiling as she saw her son. “I really hope he didn’t trouble you.”

And if she wasn’t so lovely I might have resented her for having the cutest baby in the world, but of course I couldn’t.

“Not at all,” I smiled, passing him over to her. He was so sweet-natured, as he literally drifted into lala land again with his dummy in his mouth. “You should have left him longer. We hardly had any time with him. Hamzah was keeping him all to himself.”

Layyanah smiled, shaking her head.

”To tell the truth, I didn’t think he would!” she laughed, genuinely humoured. “Liy and I thought he’d phone after an hour with multiple complaints about how difficult babies are, but when he didn’t, we got even more worried!”

She was giggling as she said it and I smiled.

I too, could barely believe that my otherwise spoilt brother-in-law who could not even make a cup of coffee by himself was actually so handy when it came to babies.

”I hope you guys did what you needed to do?” I asked politely, as I switched the kettle on. “Can I offer you tea or coffee?

“I’m fine with tea,” she said gratefully. “But only if you’re making for yourself. It’s been a pretty hectic morning. The queues at the bank were crazy and I had to urgently sort out a problem with my account. Liyaket keeps telling me not to stress but I can’t help it. I worry, and yet he’s the accountant. Financial security… For Zaid, more than me. He keeps saying that it’s all Duniyaa, but you know..”

She trailed off and I smiled, because I knew. The worry was real and although we were supposed to have Tawakkul, we were so weak. Besides, with our kids, does it ever stop?

”We all worry,” I said knowingly. “We are weak, even though Allah tells us over and over to hand it over to Him…”

And because I knew of Layyanah’s family, who I had recently come to find out was one of the wealthiest families in Johannesburg, it was no secret that I had already had it in my mind that she was pretty materialistic so it didn’t surprise me that she was talking about money.

Liyaket, on the other hand,  was a simple guy who had worked exceptionally hard while he was studying, even doing all-nighters to keep up with work and studies, because for them, nothing ever came easy. The two of them had completely contrasting backgrounds.

And although I had formed my assumptions, the next thing she said caught me completely off guard.

“I suppose at some point, we just have to hand it over, don’t we?” She said quietly. “When we look at the type of life the Sahaaba lived, how can we ever say we are of the same Ummah? Like for example.. the other day I was just reading about Hadhrat Faathima (RA), in a book I found in Liy’s mother bookshelf. How simple her life was, how she worked so hard and how her husband adored her because of it… where are we and where were they? Do you ever wonder?”

She shook her head shamefully while I looked at her in awe, barely believing that this was the same girl I had heard about, who was so spoilt that she had never even had to dish out her own food.

And now, as I tried to process how Allah’s plan works, I was listening to her tell me more about the simplicity of Deen..

This girl was making me review my own intentions in life. It was like I had been missing the point all along.

”Sometimes,” I said, feeling overwhelmed for a minute. “It’s amazing how they endured so much, huh?”

Perhaps it was all the hormonal emotions that were taking it’s toll, but her entire demeanour and beautiful outlook was having such an immense effect on me that I literally just wanted to crumple up and sob my heart out.

“Anyway,” she said, barely noticing, shifting around and moving baby Zaid onto her other arm as she finished feeding him and grabbed two more biscuits. I hastily went up to take him, eager for a little more time. “I’m not sure what time Liy is planning on leaving but I’m just going to carry on eating because this feeding makes us so feel like we’re starved, neh?”

I smiled. I remember how I used to eat about seventeen times a day when I was breastfeeding.

The kettle was already halfway boiled as we chatted easily about babies and their erratic feeding schedules, when I could hear Imraan calling me from the other room.

And since he had just probably arrived, I excused myself to see him, and see to Uthman as well. They were probably a little hungry, since Imraan had gone out to meet a client for the day and Uthman had gone for some additional school tutoring.

“Assalamualaikum,” I said with a smile, peeping out the kitchen door. “How are you? Can I send something for you to eat?”

”Sawls,” Imraan said causally. “I’m fine. Where’s your phone? Fareeha is trying to get hold of you.”

When was the last time I had used it? I had gotten so busy with the baby that I had even forgotten

Oh yes.

“It’s in the car,” I said, smacking my hand on my forehead. “Let me go and fetch it.”

”Don’t stress, love,” he said casually. “Maulana Aadil called to say that they were on the road, so I told them to come here.”

”What?!” I said, widening my eyes at him. “No!”

Imraan frowned.

“Why?” He asked innocently. “Don’t you want to see your sister before we go home? Is everything okay?”

He wouldn’t understand. He was also looking at me like I’d lost my marbles.

“It’s just,” I said slowly, carefully retracting. “I thought we would visit them for a change. I didn’t think you’d go and invite them over without telling me first. It’s so sudden. And I really just wanted to go there and chill while Fareeha did all the tea-making..”

I loved entertaining people, and Imraan knew it. I supposed that’s precisely what made him more suspicious.

”Listen,” Imraan said, his phone and the buzzer going off at the same time, and his voice softened as he said the next sentence, and moved to the corner of the lounge where no-one could see us. “You’re acting crazy and completely unlike yourself. Don’t get offended… but it’s not just now, it’s been for a few weeks now. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

I closed my eyes momentarily as Imraan spun around, pressed the button for the top gate, and then turned around again to face me.

”You rather go out and greet them,” I said meekly, as he looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

I could hear my mother-in-law and Layyanah chatting in the next room, feeling like I was missing out on precious moments with the baby.

“They can wait,” he said stubbornly. “You know you can tell me anything. I’m not going until you spill it.”

Breathe, Saaliha, I told myself. Just breathe

It was no big deal. Maybe the two of them wouldn’t clash at all. Perhaps Rabia would be out for a while longer, and Fareeha would be long gone before she even made an appearance.

”Saaliha?”

Imraan only called me by my full name when he was in a no-nonsense mood.

“I can’t,” I finally mumbled. “It’s a secret.”

How would I ever explain this craziness? 

That, I can never mention.

“We never keep secrets,” he said softly, sounding as if I’d knocked the wind out of him, with the words I’d just uttered.

Seconds felt like minutes, as I heard car doors slamming and Fareeha’s voice screaming at her kids as time was running out.

Imraan was inching closer to me, his expression even more disturbed than before.

I swallowed, looking at him, but determined not to breathe a word of my concerns out loud.

“Are you sure absolutely sure?” He said, looking resigned already, as he stepped back, his expression now one of undeniable hurt.

I nodded. I wasn’t thinking further than right then.

“Right,” he said abruptly, turning to leave, and for some reason, there was no other time I remembered that I’d felt more down in the dumps than I did right then.

It didn’t matter though. All I knew was that, come what may, this secret was one that I could never expose…

---

Sunnah of Giving and Receiving gifts. 

In an attempt to create love, especially if they may be rifts or some kind of problem… the Sunnah of giving gifts is always a perfect remedy ❤️

Rasullulah (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “If anyone receives something from his Muslim brother, without asking for it, he should not reject it but he should accept it is his sustenance (rizq) which has been sent by Allah Taála.”

(Fadhaail e Sadaqah)

Du’aa for Rajab 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى رَجَبَ وَ شَعْبَانَ وَ بَلِّغْنَا رَمَضَان

Allaahumma Baa’rik La’naa Fee Rajab(a), Wa Sha’baan(a), Wa Bal’ligh’naa Ramadhaan.

“O Allaah! Make the months of Rajab and Sha’baan blessed for us, and let us reach the month of Ramadhaan.”

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When it feels like Home

Bismihi Ta’ála

Hamzah

Sometimes in life, when the focus has shifted and life’s giving you a bit of uphill, you’re given the grave choice between losing someone, and losing yourself…

And some people may call it selfish, but if you’re the kind of person that I am, you’ll understand what it feels like to wonder what will happen to your loved ones when you’re no longer around. To understand that if you lose yourself, nothing good can ever come out of it.

And if you are anything like me, and you lose yourself to someone, almost as if there’s no going back, your day and night becomes consumed with all sorts of thoughts and possibilities about what can and may happen.

It might sound crazy (and it is), but people like me, are one level above the realists. We are the worriers; the ones who think of every possible outcome for every possible scenario, even before it happens.

And I didn’t know it yet, that, that was exactly how it all started, but here I was, all soaked up and letting myself fall more and more into the sweet surrender of unconditional love, when I had slammed right into the most amazing lesson, that put it all in a nutshell for me.

And it was just as well that I’d heard it the day before, but in a beautiful narration reported by Abdullah ibn Abbas (RA), who was just a boy at the time, Nabi Muhammad (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) advised his young companion to be mindful of Allah.

In the original Arabic of this, he uses the phrase “ihfadh-Allah, yahfadhak,” which literally translates as: “take care of Allah, and Allah will take care of you.”

And I’m pretty ashamed to admit it, but it had only become a recent habit of mine to recite the chapter of the cave with its innumerable benefits, also known as Surah Kahf, every Friday without fail.

And it was just as well, because within the extensive story of Musaa (AS) and Al-Khidr (AS), who was said to have somehow but unintentioanlly drunk from the Fountain of Life, it’s result being eternal life…. Allah teaches us something amazing about those we strive for, give ourselves for, and are consumed by the most…

Umar ibn AbdulAziz once said, “There is not a single righteous believer who dies except that Allah (swt) will protect his children and his children’s children.”

And to come back to that amazing moral… within the story of Musa and Al- Khidr (AS) , as these two men were journeying together, they came to a town where the people were, to say the least, extremely miserly and refused to give them even a morsel to consume.

It was at that place, as they were leaving the city, when Al-Khidr(AS) saw a wall that was crumbling, and promptly repaired it.

Now, imagine, like you and I, after the people’s refusal to assist them in their hour of need, Musaa (AS) was appalled by this seemingly virtuous deed, saying that he should have asked for some payment at least. Al Khidr (AS) then explained the wisdom:

“And as for the wall, it belonged to two orphan boys in the town; and there was under it a treasure belonging to them; and their father was a righteous man, and your Lord intended that they should attain their age of full strength and take out their treasure as a mercy from your Lord. And I did it not of my own accord. That is the interpretation of those (things) over which you could not have patience” (18:82).

And truly, we can never understand the wisdom of Divine knowledge, the extraordinary insight that those pious saints are given and how they are able to execute their tasks with such perfection…

The sublime fact here was that Allah (SWT) sent Al-Khidr to protect the wealth of these orphans without anyone else’s knowledge or invitation for one sublime reason: their father was a righteous man. Their father took care of the commandments of Allah, and Allah Ta’ala, in turn, not only took care of this man, but Allah protected the wealth of the orphans as a favour to their Duniyaa, even after he left this world.

And it was mind-blowing, because if you ask any man today what his greatest worries were, that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?

And as I looked at my friend that day, before he left for his trip to the bank, taking in his full beard, Sunnah attire and reformed ways, I could very clearly see that fatherhood had not only come naturally to him, but also reformed him in so many ways.

And it was so true, because in this case, being so close to my friend, as I witnessed him becoming a father, I couldn’t help but feel the same way.

And maybe it was the fact that for the day, I had been given the immense responsibility of watching over him for a few hours, that got to me, but that too, was not without coincidence.

“Are you implying I can’t take care of a two month old baby?” I asked Liyaket, trying to sound incredulous as I looked at his doubtful expression.

I mean, how hard can it be? All they do is drink and sleep, right?

I wasn’t yet thinking about the poo part. That, I’d pass onto someone else.

”It’s not that,” Liyaket said, biting his lip hesitantly as he held onto his son before he left. “You know this is my kid. My blood. Severe attachment issues going on.”

”Hey,” I said, trying to sound all cool and collected, as if I was the most responsible adult in the room. “I got this.”

“Okay, bru,” he said, stepping back as I heard his wife issuing some last minute commands about before he left, as if he was leaving me stranded in the desert.

And I got it. Because, from my own parents perspective and now that I saw my friend morph into fatherhood…

If you ask any man who they are working so hard for, who is the first person who comes to mind? Their kids.

But there was really no need to worry, because the answer was right there, in that Surah we are supposed to be reciting every week.

We just need to refocus. We need to pry our eyes away from the goal of being “great parents,” and set our sights on becoming “great believers.” (Which will inevitably lead to being a great parent.)

Just be good. Be sincere. Be conscious of Allah, attain piety, and Allah will, undoubtedly, take care of it all.

I held little Zaid close to my chest as his parents left, wondering why I suddenly felt like I had this enormous responsibility on my shoulders, as I watched him drifting off to slumber, almost like we had done this plenty of times before. And then I got it: I supposed that’s how a parent feels. One day you’re just a single being and the next day, you have this tiny little life depending on you for every little thing.

It’s amazing to see, isn’t it? The change that happens sometimes when a child comes into the world, how the focus shifts. Somehow, all you want to do is keep them close, shelter them from the world and keep them away from any harm that could possibly ever come to them.

There were so many things that had happened… so many trials that the world was seeing… and so much   that we had to keep our guard up about, that this parenting thing that Liyaket was already taken so seriously was already rubbing off onto me.

It had barely been three months but it was as if, without any warning even, my heart already held this binding attachment to the little guy. It was like coming home.

I already loved the kid. There we were, sitting for almost an hour, and it felt almost as if we had been best friends for years. I had bared my heart and soul, and it was as if he just got me, no questions asked.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t exactly converse back. All I needed sometimes was someone to hear me out, and share my thoughts with. I mean, why else did you need in a soulmate? 

“Hey, that suits you,” Rabia said as she came down the stairs, smiling widely as she saw him lying in my arms, fingers in his mouth and spitting up a lovely tsunami of saliva while he was at it.

She was dressed in a long, flowy kind of dress, looking like she was ready to go somewhere important, but wasn’t in much of a rush to get going either. Maybe he was the diversion, but as her eyes settled on him, I knew that she was already a goner.

As for Zaid, he was oblivious to his cuteness as he lay there, gurgling away at nothing in particular, while Rabia went all gaga over him, with no reservations.

”Isn’t he just the sweetest little thing!” She exclaimed, bending and beaming at him as he smiled back at her. “And he likes me! What a big smile… oh my.. and he’s got stories for me too… Yeeess… I’m talking about you, little pooky pops...”

Pooky pops? Oh-Kayy.. That was a first.

I sat back and watched Rabia losing the little dignity she had left over a two month old. Seriously, what babies do to women…

“Can I carry him?” She asked, her expression unreadable for a few moments as I watched her eyeing him out.

I shrugged and picked him up easily, passing him over as she watched me in awe.

“You’re an expert, aren’t you? Where’s Liyaket?” She asked with exaggerated disbelief, taking him carefully and cradling him affectionately. “Does he need to burp?”

She eyed the bottle that was on the table, that I had literally just finished feeding him.

Okay, my bad. I did forget about the burping part. That would explain the white stuff that was now trailing down his chin, and his slight discomfort.

I wiped it with a tissue that was lying around. No time to find allocated face towels.

“He does,” I said bluntly, not admitting my mistake, as I put the lid back in the bottle and handed it to her. “You can see if he wants more after. Layyanah needed to go to the bank for a bit to sort out some account. They’ll fetch him after.”

Rabia’s eyes widened. I didn’t tell anyone in my family that he’d be here because I knew that they’d make a big deal over it. Like I was completely incapable.

As it is, Liyaket was supposed to be my best friend, but when he’d phoned ten minutes back, I could hear the humour in his voice as he was obviously calling to check on me, and not on the baby. And yes, when he had told me he would be coming into town and needed a hand with the baby, all I thought to myself was that it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Feed, play, sleep, right? Whatever. I was a little hesitant but as always, I wasn’t one to turn away a challenge.

Plus, soon I’d be leaving for the trip of my lifetime and I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to spend some alone time with the little guy again.

“The thing was, I wanted to be as available as possible. Liyaket didn’t have many people who were there for him and i wanted to be one of the few who were.

“They actually left him here alone with you?” She said, blinking in shock. “Looking after a baby? And you are this calm? Where is my spoilt and selfish brother and what have you done with him?!”

I grinned, despite her insults.

“Seriously, though,” she said, rocking Zaid as his eyes fluttered open again. I threw her his dummy in case he started wailing. “Doesn’t this just make you want another baby in the family?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, not really knowing how to answer that. I for sure, was not planning on it anytime soon.

“Let’s get to the marriage part first,” I said with a raise of my eyebrows, not mentioning Imraan on purpose as she looked away, pulling her face at the marriage part.

My sister may be an outright pest who interfered the ith everyone, but I also knew that she had gone through a pretty rough marriage and didn’t exactly come out with the best of mindsets. To top it off, last weeks Samoosa run with a guy who I had met at work had been an absolute lost cause, and she had made it very clear that she was giving up all hope of ever finding a decent man to marry.

As for my brother, I knew that his wife was kind of desperate for another kid. He had told me to make Duaa this time, when I went out with Molvi, for that specific thing, and I would.

This time, going out was going to be a completely different experience.

A mixture of nerves and excitement overcame me as I thought about how my first trip with Molvi out of the country in would pan out. I just couldn’t seem to contain my excitement.

And despite my contentment, I didn’t think many people could digest how I had just filed for unpaid leave after just a month of work. Audits, taxation and accounting no longer psyched me up like it used to. It’s like I had been completely consumed by another purpose.. a great calling that my heart was fervently yearning for…

Those few weeks with Maulana Umar had altered me, and as much as my heart was being captured now, there was no going back now.

Zaid was looking slightly unsettled as I watched him with Rabia, noticing him sucking on his fingers relentlessly. Hungry or tired? It was the greatest mystery in the land of tiny beings.

“I’m in love,” She declared, cradling baby Zaid close to her as he snuggled in.

I needed to have a chat with him. He was such a comfort creature with the ladies that it was almost embarrassing.This behavior was simply not on. If he continued like this , the ladies were going to have a field day with him. Not that he minded. But still. A little dignity at least.

Zaid’s eyes were now finally closed, and we placed him carefully on his size in a little cushion type thing that was apparently designed just for babies.

“Can’t I just wait for him to grow up?” She said quietly, careful not to stir him. She didn’t know that he slept like a log. “If I have to go through another Samoosa run I’ll just die.”

”Me too,” I said with a grin just messing around with her, sitting back now and placing my legs on the coffee table as I was finally able to relax. “Fed up of samoosas.”

Sheesh. This parenting this was no walk in the park. Now I knew why Liyaket cherished nap time so much.

Rabia gave me an unimpressed look. She obviously didn’t appreciate the humour.

”You don’t even know what a Samoosa run is!” She said bitterly. “Besides, when we went to Mohsina’s house, they didn’t even serve samoosas. They served moons and pies. Really now. Did you guys actually plan it that way?”

She looked at me sceptically and I smiled, not being able to dissolve the memory that it brought back. It was still funny even now, as I thought of it months later.

And because Mohsina’s expertise was to stir up things, the Samoosa saga was her way to get back at her Nani. It was her  idea to go against tradition and I knew that she had done it just because she wanted to annoy her.

And as we had just arrived at the house, after a few minutes  minutes of sitting and listening to general business talk of the men, I kind of decided that I needed a breather.

It may have been the plan, or just pure coincidence that on my way,  I had caught sight of Mohsina, outside the kitchen door, seizing the opportunity to have a quick chat before anyone else saw us.

”Hey,” she said, taking a step back into the kitchen and frowning at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her sister, who was in the room, cautiously made her way out. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

And I smiled guiltily, because I knew she was right. If Nani had to get wind of this, I would probably be in for it.  But I was drawn to her, well, not just because of how pretty she looked that day, but to be honest, because from the kitchen was the smell of something yummy and I hadn’t had time for lunch..

”I know,” I said indignantly, but not making any attempt to leave either. All I wanted was a samoosa. “Just checking what’s on the menu…”

It was just an excuse and she had turned away with a shake of her head, and I kept my distance, because I did still respect the rules we had set.

And as I watched her silently,  I could see her strategically taking some things out into a Tupperware, and placing some more things on a platter, before turning around to face me, with a triumphant expression on her face.

“You want to see something funny,” she had said mischievously with a grin, as we peeked into the room from where we were standing. “Watch Nani’s expression.”

I already knew that Nani was a really traditional character, and that made me like her even more. I had a feeling that she was probably the only one who Mohsina truly, but secretly took seriously.

It was just that I wasn’t quite sure if she would like me, so bringing the flowers that day was my form of a trade off for her approval. The dynamic between her and Mohsina had also intrigued me significantly, and I could see that Mohsina was itching to put some masala in the works that day, and she was very much successful.

I stood behind as we peeked into the room where the food was, from where we were standing, while Mohsina went onto the other side, scanning it for Nani and notably noticing her face change while she looked from one platter to the other, literally searching for samoosas, while I could hear someone asking where Mohsina was.

I could see Nani getting a little worked up, as she was calling for who I presumed was Mohsina’s mother… and that’s when Mohsina quickly straightened her scarf, gave me a warning glare that spelt that I better get out of there without a word of what she had just done, and made her appearance in the room once again, as if she was not just behaving like a unruly child a few minutes before that.

I was chuckling randomly for a good ten minutes after. For some reason, Mohsina got a kick out of living on the edge, and causing a stir. It was just that, living in the edge sometimes led to catastrophic consequences.

I stifled my sigh, looking at Rabia as she got up to put the kettle on. Looked like she wasn’t heading out after all.

And yes, as for Mohsina, maybe I should have known from the very beginning that her nature was a little erratic, but I thought that she would be able to draw boundaries where it mattered.

And now, more than ever, the lessons from the mistakes I had made now stood out greater than ever.

‘Knowing’ someone before you got proposed didn’t change a thing. Knowing someone before , set up expectations that sometimes didn’t materialize. Knowing someone before, having those memories, was something that stuck with you and literally hounded you… even when you were trying your utmost to move past it.

I sought refuge from the wrong I had done, from every sin that I thought was little, from every word I had said that may have been a source of Allah’s wrath raining down on me.

Astaghfirullah.

And now, as I found a new path in life, I knew that I had  found something better. By changing my life, by maintaining my respect… by keeping my honour intact, Allah had granted me not only peace… but a contentment that felt like I was coming home, every time I surrendered to Him.

Now, I knew better. I would do better. I knew that I’d never set myself up for so much of pain and heartache, the way that I had before.. Next time, I would play it safe.

I looked at my sister, who was still waiting for an answer.

”I think we can just blame it all on the samoosas,” I said with a grim smile. “Or lack there of. Next time, please insist- samoosas are obligatory.”

Rabia let out a loud burst of laughter.

And yes, I felt sorry for her, and she had it tough, but although  I wasn’t the biggest fan of her ex-husband, I couldn’t blame anything on him solely. Marriage is two people who are equally choosing to either make it or break it. Or maybe it wasn’t all that simple. I didn’t have all the answers, but I did know that I had plenty of time.

“No more Samoosa for me anytime soon,” she said blandly. “The problem is that everyone else gets the extra rich, cheesey ones and I’m just stuck with the tinfish.”

Tinfish samoosas? I chuckled.

“When I meet that husband of mine,” she continued with a frown. “If he even exists… I’m going to give him one big smack, for taking so bloody long.. howcome everyone has such good luck? … It’s so unfair… I met a girl ones who didn’t even have to go through all of this. Along came one rich, handsome guy from the blue and pitched up to propose. How unfair is that? And then Shabana… remember our second cousin..? she’s so spoilt rotten, can’t cook and doesn’t even greet properly when we meet her, but she got such a nice guy. And people like me end up with the rotten leftover.”

Ah, here we go again, the old ‘howcome’ saga. Howcome they get it all and we don’t? Rabia was a big fan of it and I wasn’t.

I shrugged.

“It’s Allah’s justice system,” I said simply. “You can’t question it. Allah already knows both sides of the story. We are all sinners and have done bad things. Everyone has their tests… look at people who are worse off than you before you start comparing…”

It was the golden rule to combat jealousy. And even if someone is bad to you, indeed, isn’t Allah is in charge of the how, why and where of punishment? If not now, will Allah Taála not even the scales at some point?

In a verse of Holy Qurán Allah says:

“… Indeed, Allah loves those who act justly.” (Holy Quran 60:8)

If we want to take our matters into our own hands, when Allah is the ultimate judge, is this not an injustice?

Rabia shrugged and sighed, looking at the sleeping Zaid and planting a kiss on his forehead, downing her cup of tea before getting up to leave again.

And yes, I understood her point. There are times when I wonder how people who I know or once knew ever got away with things that they did. There were times when I wondered how the scales will be evened, when it seems like nothing in life is fair and will ever be okay again.

But all these feelings… this hostility… the aversion to people… the ill feelings… it all went away when I took a new step in my new journey of life.

I didn’t have to hold onto past grievances because I had full faith that Allah already knew exactly what my heart had been through and had a perfect plan that was just for me.

And yes, for now, I had found a place where my heart was at ease… and I had found home.

I knew that if Allah was in my side, whatever hurt, whatever pain… I knew that my Allah would never abandon me.

Home was where my heart was contented and where I really had no desire to be anywhere else but where I was right then.

And as I got up and left Zaid in his sleepy silence for a good few minutes, I found my mind switching back to the present once again.

It was just two days left, before I would be leaving again, and I could barely wait.

And I supposed it was his luck that as he shifted again and the front door opened, with both my sister-in-law and my mother entering, the huge wail that escaped from his mouth got them both rushing over and swooning over him like they’d never seen a baby before in their lives.

Life, huh? It was weird that way. One way you were a normal person with not much purpose, and the next moment you have this tiny human being who turns everything around and brings a light even in the darkest of times…

Sometimes home wasn’t a place. Sometimes home was a feeling. Sometimes home was two eyes and a beating heart, and sometimes that home was all that mattered.

It was just three weeks, I told myself, feeling amazingly discomforted by the fact that I would be away from Zaid for so long. It felt liek a lifetime and I was beginning to feel like a real parent now.

Feelings of guilt and missing out on important milestones of his life were starting to plague me. This whole parenting this was becoming a little too a serious for me, but I couldn’t stop it. I supposed once it hit you, there was no going back.

My world had already changed, and life was already so different to the one of that free-spirited and carefree guy that I glimpsed in the mirror just a few months ago.

What I didn’t know that coming back home after three weeks would feel like I was coming back to a completely different world…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

In an effort to revive a Sunnah, let’s try and put our family first, instead of friends, followers and anyone else… be the best we can be to those who truly do love us the most ❤️

Sunnah of being best to our family.

Aisha (RA) reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The best of you are the best to their families, and I am the best to my family...”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3895

Du’aa for Rajab 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى رَجَبَ وَ شَعْبَانَ وَ بَلِّغْنَا رَمَضَان

Allaahumma Baa’rik La’naa Fee Rajab(a), Wa Sha’baan(a), Wa Bal’ligh’naa Ramadhaan.

“O Allaah! Make the months of Rajab and Sha’baan blessed for us, and let us reach the month of Ramadhaan.”

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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