Chasing Sunsets

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 89

I’ve often heard people saying to follow your head over your heart.

But is it not your head, that logically gives you the reasons why someone may be right or wrong for you, and is it not your head, that replays the sweet memories over and over again?

The same brain is what causes those images to flash before you, like a high definition lens, when years later, you’re feeling most nostalgic.
The same brain, will be your sponge, and your storage device, as the precious moments of those beautiful sunsets, the romantic moments, and even your entire life passes by without you realising that you were really and truly making the most beautiful memories…

We don’t ever see each moment for what it is, until we’re forced to open our eyes to its beauty.

I switched my gaze from the canvas I was working on by my cottage window, to my husband who walked in the distance, immediately putting my brush down and watching his confident stride, donned in his working gear, out in the glorious sunshine.

I turned back to my painting, glancing at the little cottage I had single-handedly spent the day cleaning.

I bit the end of my paintbrush, trying to decide what colour to use next. It didn’t quite matter though, because whatever I would choose, nothing here was fixed or set in stone. Unlike life, things on a canvas could be easily changed, tweaked or resolved. When things around me didn’t make sense, I knew that on a blank canvas, I could somehow make it make sense.

I sighed, trying to drown out my thoughts that evaded me.

The picture of the beautiful but fiery sunset over an ocean that made jaws drop, was doing nothing for my peace of mind, but it was good to have something to focus on. I wanted to capture the beauty of something beyond now, and to be able to control the end result. I wanted to capture this beautiful sunset.

One that I’d never really seen. One that I wished that I could, one day, witness. I wanted something for my home- our home- that would stand out. Just a little something that captured all the colours blooming in my heart when I remembered how blessed I was, despite the trials that sometimes broke us.

It didn’t matter how basic our home was. How many chips our tea pot had on it. How patched up our curtains were.

Mohsina had wealth saved for a rainy day, a fancy apartment, multiple helpers and every other luxury she wanted at her disposal, but she couldn’t be with the two people she loved most in the world.

Being here with Zubair was the most treasured thing for me and there weren’t many moments I forgot it nowadays.

And I missed my sister too. Seeing Mohsina on Eid day was something that I thought would appease me, but instead, I just felt more confused after. I should have known better. Mohsina never broke, even through the most stringent circumstances.

Now, she seemed, surprisingly, numb. As if she hadn’t just been through the most heartbreaking kind of ordeal that broke her once beautiful home. Nani had plenty to say about why she was the way she was, but I really didn’t want to think about that right then.

It had been a week since I’d seen her and it was as if she had entered an entirely different phase of her life. The tell-tale signs were all there but till then, I chose to ignore it. I had messaged her earlier that day, hoping for some kind of assurance that things weren’t gone completely south as yet… but it had left me at a loss too.

Mosee, I miss you. When are you coming to visit? Hows my Zaidoo? When will I see him? 

I missed Zaid. So, so much. I wanted to wrap him up, hold him tight and keep him forever.

And I knew that between us and Zaid, she would always choose him and his dimpled thighs. I mean, who would blame her?

Since he started taking formula full- time, he was really bulking up. She saw him every day, without fail, and even though I understood… with every day that passed, I really felt that she was slipping away from us too.

Her reply only came now, hours later.

I saw him earlier. He’s teething so was a bit whiny. At the lawyers now to sort out some paperwork. Will chat later x 

I like how she slipped in the lawyer bit there without really raising any suspicions.

I was sure that she was at the office more than I liked and probably more than Hamzah felt comfortable with. I knew that she had things to sort out, but after knowing what Maahira had said about Faadil, I got the feeling that he had lured her there for his own reasons, and not for her best interests. I had a feeling that she was barely even aware of what he was even doing.

I wanted to ask her if her ex-boss was around. If he had helped to drop charges against her. If she really thought that she would pull herself out of this through the help of people alone. Also, if she had finally called her sister-in-law Saaliha who was waiting for her to chat to her.

Saaliha had even messaged me in the week to tell me that something huge had happened with Rabia and Hamzah, but Mohsina hadn’t bothered to even check what it was. I knew that Rabia had been acting suspicious, but it was as if Mos really just didn’t care anymore, and it made me really concerned.

“Hey angel.”

I dropped my phone and looked up, watching him smile big as he entered our humble abode and came toward me, leaning down to peck my cheek while I grinned back at him, my heart doing all the usual backward and forward flip things it still does when my husband entered the vicinity.

But I didn’t forget. The thoughts were always at the back of my mind. I wanted to ask Zubair. I wanted to ask him if he had any more information on Faadil. If he had verified that Faadil was actually looking to cause problems and was after my sister. Basically, if he had proven anything else that would help to get Mohsina and Hamzah back together. If he wanted some help with making it work….

I just couldn’t seem to understand why he had just given up the way he had, after things went sour between Hamzah and Mos.

But I knew that I had to force myself to play it cool as he moved toward the kettle and switched it on. In time, I will bring up the topic, and get him to tell me everything he knows.

“Fast going okay?” He asked as I nodded, looking at the time as he opened the fridge to take out the dates for our iftaar.

He was amazingly sweet and thoughtful. Because we had been keeping Shawwaal fasts intermittently, Z did the iftaar preparation with the Kajoor and water and was never fussy about what I managed to put together for us afterward.

”Jamz,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as his face gave away signs of slight unease. “Can we chat?”

”Everything okay?”

I hid my emotions well as I turned away from the painting, watching him pull on something more comfy before he looked at me.

He nodded. Then shook his head. Then looked at me with resignation and sighed.

”Is it about my sister?” I asked quietly. “Because she’s been acting really, really strange…”

I had completely forgotten about how out of sorts she was behaving after dropping Zaid off. She had mumbled something about feeling unwell, said she would see us later and then never came back. We hadn’t seen her since and Nani did not let it rest. Every day that she avoided us, meant Nani would have something more outrageous to say about my sisters whereabouts.

”No, sweets,” he murmured, almost looking troubled as I said it. “It’s something else.”

“Is it to do with your father?” I asked him, remembering my other mission. Remembering that I was supposed to somehow be saving him from himself, if I couldn’t save my sisters marriage.

“Listen angel,” Zubair said, straightening, and I could already tell from his face that he didn’t want to. “I know you mean well, but no. It’s actually about you and me. I want to take you somewhere. Anywhere. Just get out of here for a bit… have a break. We haven’t been on any getaway and I think its way overdue.”

”Oh,” I said, liking the sound of a honeymoon too because it would mean I could obsess over him more, but also, I was still thinking about all the things he needs to do here, at home. “Where will we go?”

”An old friend has a house on the west coast, and it’s got all the best hits of nature and fun. Beautiful sunsets too.”

He gestured to my painting as I watched him.

”Okay sure,” I said easily, a plan already popping into my head. I was happy wherever. Whether we were here or in Timbuktu, it didn’t make a difference to me. All I needed was my husband and I would be good. “But I just want you to think about meeting your father before we go.”

Zubair sighed, shaking his head.

“You don’t give up, do you?” He said, rubbing his forehead vigorously, almost as if he was stressed out. “You do know my father probably won’t want to see me?”

”That’s not true!” I shot back, crossing my hands over my chest. “How can you say that? He’s the only parent you had. You said that he loved your mother. Of course he would want to see you.”

He smiled as I said it, and I already felt like a child. For some reason, he always seemed so much wiser. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, almost as if he was onto me and my scheming ways.

”You are up to something,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Did Nusaybah put you up to this? Is this what it will take for you to come away with me?”

“No and no,” I shot back, wiping my hands on my apron and walking toward him, probably looking like a canvas myself, as I clasped my hands in front of me. “I just want you to sort things out. You’ve done so much to rectify yourself. You’re a changed man. I’m not up to anything. I just have a feeling that this is the missing piece in your life.”

It was true. He reminded me of the Sahabah, who had seen the light of Islam after being lost in the dark for so long. He had come back with a fervour, knowing he had done so much wrong, and wanted to set it just as right.

It reminded me of the story of Wahshi (RA), and about how he had killed the uncle of Nabi (SAW), Hadhrat Hamzah (RA). The guilt of what he had done had eaten him to such an extent that he knew that just as much bad that he had done before Islam changed his life, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t rectify it all after Islam came to reform him.

Nabi ﷺ had recited the verse, “Say, “O My servants who have wronged their souls, never lose hope of Allah’s mercy. Verily, Allah forgives all sins. Undoubtedly, He is the Most Forgiving, the Most Merciful”” (Qur’an 39:53).

Upon hearing this verse, Wahshi (RA) accepted Islam (recorded in Hayaatus Sahaabah and Tabarani).

After the demise of Nabi ﷺ and in the khilafah of Abu Bakr (RA), a few individuals claimed prophethood. Amongst them was Musaylimah Al-Kaddhab and his wife, Sajah. Abu Bakr (RA) declared war against Musaylimah, which became known as the battle of Yamama. In this battle, Wahshi (RA) killed Musaylimah using the same spear that he killed Hamza (RA) with. He remarked that this is in lieu of that. I had killed a great person and now I have killed the most wretched. I hope Allah will atone that evil deed, through this good deed.

And it was so typical of those great men who had changed their lives for the better. They wanted it to be a permanent change. Something that made an impact. As much evil as they had done wrong, they wanted to rectify it with just as much good.

Ans just like he wanted to help other people, I wanted him to make this right with his fast. I wanted him to be better, to feel better. I just had to use strategy for this case, because he didn’t feel that it was worth his time.

He grinned as I approached him, no regard for the mess I was looking like as he hugged me to his chest, while I tried to give him my doe-eyed face.

“I know you mean well,” he said softly, the green in his one eye a little more prominent today as he looked at me. “But this is not a good idea. There is way too much of history for us to just kiss and make up.”

I pouted, a little more severely this time, evidently not happy with his answer as I pulled away.

“But why?” I asked, my heart feeling pained as he turned away from me too. Like the topic was closed and there was no opening it. “He’s your father. Nusaybah said that he wanted to see you and-“

”Well, I don’t want to see him,” Zubair cut in, his jaw ticking as he walked toward the window and stuffed his hands in his pocket.

I sighed, wondering what his beef was. He refused to tell me, even after over a month of being married, he had barely opened up to me. Okay, I wasn’t being fair. He had told me a lot. But not everything. I was greedy.

I wanted all of Zubair, but what he gave me was just bits and pieces of himself that I was struggling so hard to put together and make whole again.

“Tell me why,” I pressed again. “Why you are so against it?”

“Because,” he said uneasily, still looking out the window.

“Because what?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air, feeling like I was nagging my head on a wall. “What did he even do?!”

“Because,” he said, turning around again, his face looking like a kid. “He was supposed to shelter me and he threw me to the wolves!”

While we had spoken about everything else, about his mother, about the people who would come home after, about his fathers financial crisis, this was the most he had given me about his father’s relationship with him, and though I was grateful, it just wasn’t enough.

”Explain,” I said softly, taking the opportunity to seat myself in the chair behind me, and picking up the paintbrush once again. I just needed something to do with my hands. If I got closer to him, I would end up comforting him, and then I would get no more information. I really needed him to talk. “Please.”

Zubair looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and I could tell that it brought back memories for him. Bad ones.
Ones that he wasn’t so willing to share. If killed me to have to sit there and watch him relive them.

“You ever wondered why I went to work for my uncle so easily?” He asked, his eyes still not meeting mine. “He obviously had earned himself a reputation.”

“Yes,” I breathed, wanting to know more, considering the circumstances. I thought that he needed the money and that was his motivation. His father was in a deep financial fix for a while before Nusaybah got married. That much, he had told me about. About how he would sometimes work doubles shifts. About how Nusaybah tried to earn money before their father said that she needed to look after him.

”We go way back,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to shake off memories. “He has something of mine. Lots of it. When I was seven, my father would send me to him for a month every summer holiday. His wife was my mother’s sister and she never had kids. She used to beg me and Nusaybah to come. I knew that… in her own way, she loved us. The thing was…. She knew that her husband had violent tendencies, but she never thought that he would ever channel it into a kid. She was wrong.”

I swallowed as he moved away from the window, sitting down in front of me, intertwining his fingers together as he did, and I could already feeling my heart contracting at his evident pain.

“Did he hurt you back then?” I asked softly, leaning forward to touch his hand comfortingly. He ran a hand through his hair as his expression changed. “Physically?”

I knew that his uncle had slapped him around when he was working for him, in the earlier years. But after Zubair got older and taller than his uncle, he stood no chance with him.

“My aunty would work,” he said steadily, not answering my question, his unusual eyes focusing on me. “He would starve me and tell her that I ate two meals during that time. When supper time came, he’d find a reason to send me on some errand. I knew what he was doing. He said I would get a meal when I finished my task.”

I bit back a gasp.

“What were the tasks?” I asked, my voice choking my throat as I wondered about how people could be so horrible.

What a terrible thing to do to a little child. What an absolutely helpless feeling to have, as a little soul, wondering who on earth would save you from this treacherous human whose care you were under.

”He wanted me to fight,” Zubair said, squaring his shoulders boldly as he looked up at me. “And win.”

“And so you did,” I said flatly, feeling like all the wind was knocked out of me. It wasn’t rocket science.

The scars were preoccupied enough. The elongated ones that he was always self conscious about. That’s where they were from.

Tears pricked my eyes as I remembered the first time he had tried to stop me from seeing them. How he had covered up as soon as light entered the room. He didn’t want me to know that this was his past. I hated knowing that he had been hurt the way he had, and the man who had done it was still walking around as if he deserved to.

“When you haven’t had a proper meal in days, you’ll do anything for a promised plate of food,” he said, shrugging, his face giving away tell tale signs of the torture. “You learn to appreciate whatever you have.”

That was so true. Zubair was someone who never wasted a single bit on our plate. He would suck every bone dry. Every grain would be eaten off the dastarkaan, even if it meant him scraping it clean. No matter how horrible my cooking was, according to Nani, every morsel to him, was like he was eating food from some divine source.

“Didn’t you ever try and tell your aunty?” I asked, feeling exceptionally hurt by this revelation. “Or your father?”

“When my aunty didn’t believe me about him not feeding me, I gave up on trying to convince her,” he said simply. “She was easily convinced by him. My uncle was someone who would break someone before they could ever think that he was wrong. It was Nusaybah who had noticed how I looked after that summer I turned nine. She was the one who told my father that there was no way that she was letting me go back. My father was going through his own problems. He didn’t know how to deal with me or keep the family afloat. He was also struggling to keep the house. But I still feel he failed me. He could have checked. He could have cared. Years later, when I went back to my uncle, he didn’t stop me either. He just cut me off.”

I breathed out as he told me about how he walked out the house with a backpack after Nusaybah left for London, expecting his father to  stop him, but he didn’t.

“Im so sorry, Z,” I said quietly, tears streaming down my face as I felt my heart breaking for him. “I wish that I could make it all better.”

Not everyone has life easy. We never appreciate the ease we have… the security and comfort our parents so naturally give us.

Zubair shook his head, his hand cupping my face as his thumbs wiped my tears.

“Don’t cry, angel,” he murmured. “Just you, being here, makes me feel like Allah is healing me, inside out. With all your warmth and your purity, you are so much more than I ever imagined. I love you.”

I smiled, my heart melting slightly, but the grief within was almost unbearable at that point.

I felt as if I wanted to wrap that little boy up and keep him safe from the world. While I was being pampered like a princess, playing with my dollhouses, with parents who spoilt me and my sister who sheltered me relentlessly, 8-year-old Zubair was literally fighting battles to put a meal in his tummy.

“Have you ever told anyone about this?”

I wanted to know. I hated to think that after so many years, I was the only one he had ever confided in.

“I’ve never told someone that I loved them before,” he said, a small smile on his face as he nudged me, causing me to offer him a small smile at least.

I blew him a kiss, knowing that he was skirting away from the topic I was drilling him about, but also feeling a heaviness in my heart at his confession. Despite being honoured, and swooning over his words, it was just so sad that he had never experienced the feeling of loving, and being loved back. It was like he always kept an arms length, even from his closest family.

His story… his past.., It wasn’t just some random thing that had happened. It was something that had shaped him and moulded him into who he is.

“It’s been a long journey,” he said after a few seconds, taking a seat next to me, as I glanced at him, and picked up my paintbrush as he mixed some orange with some red. The sunset needed a little bit of tweaking, and though Zubair was no artist, I wanted to see what he would do with it.

“I know,” I said quietly, leaning my head on his shoulder. “But it’s not over yet.”

”I want to take you to see an actual sunset,” he said into my hair. “Far away from everyone else. From everyone here.”

”But I like our home,” I said, meaning it. “The people here. I don’t mind just staying here and being with you.”

”I know,” he said, a slight urgency in his voice. “But I think we need to go.”

I shifted slightly, trying to watch his expression. His jaw was rigid, and his eyes were darkening with worry.

“Is that a warning?” I asked, my heart beating slightly faster as I worried what could be troubling him so much that he needed to leave the farm. “Does your uncle know where we are?”

He said nothing as he continued to paint, and I continued to watch him. I didn’t need him to answer me to get the message.

“Did he threaten you?” I asked, my voice a little more high pitched than usual. “Zubair, please tell me, if he’s out to get you, we can do what you think is best. Is it to do with Mos and Hamzah? You just have to tell me what’s going on.”

The way that he was so focused on the painting was scaring me.

It took him a few seconds, before he put the brush down, and looked at me.

“You think I’m worried about me?” He said quietly, tipping my chin up slightly as he met my gaze.

I shook my head, then nodded, feeling like I was in a daze as he made me look up at him.

“Jameela, I don’t care what he does to me,” he said, his eyes fixed on me as he spoke. “He can hang me by a butcher hook and chop off all my body parts, for all I care. I won’t put it past him.”

The thought made me sick with disgust. Why did he have to be so bloody graphic?

“Zubair, no, please don’t say those things,” I said, shaking my head.

”I told you it doesn’t matter what he does to me,” Zubair said, his expression dead serious. “But Jameela, he didn’t threaten my life. That’s why we need to pack and leave.”

I looked at my husband, completely confused, and then looked at the painting in front of us, taking in the colours that had been blended so perfectly together, to present the perfect blaze of a bloody sunset.

And that’s when he finally uttered the obvious part, that I had been missing all along.

”Jameela, he wants to get me where it will hurt most,” he murmured, his voice breaking with every word he spoke.

The next sentence was almost a whisper.

“He threatened to kill you.”

---

Mission Sunnah revival: Sunnah of Duaa

Along with our Shawwaal fasts, lets try and keep to the Sunnah of duaa, even after Ramadhan. 🤍

Begin your dua first with praising Allah and then by sending peace and blessings upon His messenger ﷺ.

Then, make dua for yourself, dunya and akhira, for close family and friends, and then the ummah at large. Finish your Duaa by again sending peace and blessings on the Prophet ﷺ and praising and thanking Allah.

The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Du’a (supplication) is worship.”

In all situations, let’s bring in the Sunnah of Duaa every single day this Ramadhaan and after.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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Shattering Secrets

Bismihi Taala

Mohsina

Part 85

Leaving is hard. Losing is harder.

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

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

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

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

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

And it was working. Somehow. It was working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahem. What?

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

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

But no. Hamzah was going for the kill today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wanted to remember the moment that things had shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

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

Hamzah lifted a shoulder up noncommittally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faadil 

---

Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others 

Especially as these blessed months dawn upon us, we make extra effort to think good of others and make excuses for them. It’s easier said than done but we make Duaa that in this way, people will also think well of us.

Nabi Muhammad (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Beware of suspicion, for suspicion is the worst of false tales; and do not look for the others’ faults and do not spy, and do not be jealous of one another, and do not desert (cut your relation with) one another, and do not hate one another; and O Allah’s worshipers! Be brothers (as Allah has ordered you!”) (Bukhari)

To put it briefly, having good opinion of people implies:

• Thinking positive of others
• Avoiding suspicion and wrong assumptions of others
• Giving others the benefit of the doubt

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

Allahumma baarik lana fi Rajaba wa Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

When we Break the Rules

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 83

Buzz.

What are you guys up to today?

It was a message from Jameela and I couldn’t help but smile, despite my caffeine deprivation, as I thought of how happy she was yesterday. If I could describe it in words, I’d say that she was over the moon, topsy turvy, do-cartwheels-in-the-rain kinda ecstatic.

And me.

Up way too early for my liking. You? 

I typed in a reply quickly, not wanting to go into details of how Hamzah literally dragged me out of bed, forced me to dress in a presentable outdoor dress with a floral sheila, and had all Zaid’s bags already packed with a painfully victorious expression on his face.

“Is that a smile I see?” his smooth voice said as he sneaked a look at me from the drivers seat. “Seems like someone’s cheered up already. Can we head straight to our destination then?”

The service station was still a few minutes away and I couldn’t understand how Hamzah could be so alive at this part of the morning, with so little sleep.

Going out early the day after my sisters wedding was the worst idea he ever had. Sometimes I wondered if he did these things specifically to torture me.

”Please no,” I groaned, adjusting my expression and slipping my sunglasses further up my nose as I put my phone on my lap. “I need coffee. Like, stat.”

He grinned as I turned my face back to my phone, and it buzzed again.

”Well actually, maybe we can,” I said, rethinking and wondering what I could score out of this. “If you think that you can let me in on where we’re actually going…”

”No ways,” he cut off, taking the turn for the service station. “You’re not spoiling this for me with your unadventurous vibes. Today is all about adventure, and that’s a threat.”

”Ohmahgosh,” I sighed hopelessly.

He would be the end of me, the way he was carrying on. I was doomed to die of coffee deprivation in some bundu-bashing destination while wild animals scavenged on my dead body.

Hamzah ignored my sulky face, already popping into the garage while I watched him order my fave coffee drink through the glass, the PSL, not because I particularly liked it but because it was also trending, and it reminded me of why I loved this man to the point of wanting to suffocate him.

But of course, I didn’t.

I opted for a tiny smile instead while he handed me the disposable coffee cup and watched me sip my coffee almost like my life depended on it.

Buzz.

Two unread messages.

I’m staring at my husband while he sleeps like an angel. I love being obsessed.

Barf.

You guys going far? 

You’d think that her teenage hormones would calm the hell down once she was married, but reality had proven that Jameela was beyond saving.

It was literally nauseating to have to read all her messages this early, but I didn’t want to be a grump and tell her to zip it so I could keep lasts night’s food within the parameters of my stomach.

I glanced at Hamzah, who gave me a sideways smile as he glimpsed Jameela’s name on my phone, and I typed again.

My tummy was feeling in some weird kind of knots and I assumed it was because I hadn’t really eaten a thing from the morning.

I hope not because I’m hangry asl and wondering what on earth my husband is up to. We may be out of range, so if you can’t contact me, don’t panic. Okay, maybe panic. If I come back in a body bag, rem you’re my fav sister. Love you (more than Zubair ever will!) *smiley with the hugest teeth*

I might as well cover all my bases here. Before she got any weird ideas of falling head over heels in love, she needed to remember that I came first. Even though I didn’t know what my own future held right then, I was still irreplaceable.

And despite my confusion about said future, I had to give it to my husband. He had me on the edge of my seat, desperately trying to guess his next move. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him.

I just didn’t trust my traitor heart to stay strong against his attempts.

We drove in silence for a while, with me trying my hardest to guess where Hamza was taking me, and him shutting me down every time I gave him a stupid option. It was a game of back and forth that we were playing, never treading any deeper than the simple, mundane things that we thought were safest to speak of, without breaking any of the unsaid rules.

And knowing Hamzah and his nature obsessions, I’d assumed it would be some spectacular spot which overwhelmed your senses with the beauty of seeing the outdoors au naturel. I kept firing ideas of hiking and camping spots to him, and after a few minutes, I assumed that he was taking me to his childhood home, until he drove right past the off-ramp that went to it.  I racked my brains to figure it out just as he took another one, and finally pulled up in front of a semi-large face brick house.

And then, I was baffled. I had nothing. No guesses to what Hamza had up his sleeve, but my danger radar told me he definitely had something… something big enough that I forced myself to take a moment and steel my heart to bear the emotional onslaught today was sure to bring.

I stepped out of the car when he did, already missing Zaid, and trying to tune out reality.

How would I bear it when we had to split him between us?
I shut the thought down.

Not today, Mos, I told myself. Today was for blissful ignorance concerning the future.

Today was just for now. Today was a break from all the damage control that I’d been losing my mind doing… a break from thinking way too much.

I trailed behind Hamza, whose impassive face gave away zero clues…. until he approached the locked gate and pulled out a set of keys from his kurta pocket. With a heart racing so fast, I feared a mini heart attack. I frantically considered the possibilities in my head.

Did my nutcase, think-with-his-heart husband buy a house in the hopes that it will dissuade me from going through with the divorce?

“Hamzah!” I said sharply, the panicked edge in my voice clearly evident.

He touch his index fingers to my lips.

”Ssshh. Rules. Number 1. No screeching.”

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he said it, and I automatically scowled as he beckoned for me to follow him. I stared ahead at him in his white kurta, taking in his handsome form as he stepped through the doorway, letting my eyes slowly adjust to the lighting in the room beyond where he stood.

Even my wildest imagination couldn’t prepare me for where he’d brought me. I looked around incredulously, taking in the big empty room, the dark blue carpetting, the little wudhu khana in the corner with three sinks and the stacks of plastic desks on the right side corner…

I was thrown. Completely. I raised my eyes hesitantly to his, to see my husband watching me with an intense look on his face, almost as if he were soaking in every part of my reaction.

When he smiled crookedly and spoke, I was already turned to mush.

“Stop number one. Welcome to my Hifdh Madrassah, Mos. Where getting the stick meant that we couldn’t sit for days.”

He grinned and my heart almost burst with how childlike he looked in that moment. I wanted to twist his ear and hug him all at once, and for once in my life I just stood there, all uncertain and confused, wondering what next to do.

My word.

My heart was beating at a million beats per second. Knowing the Qur’ān had played such a beautiful role in bringing us together, and how much it had meant to us, I knew that Hamzah had planned this with that very intention in mind. He hoped for it to bind us together once again. Forgetting anger for that moment, I was just in awe that he was giving me a glimpse of his past, even with everything that was going down between us, he had that much of faith in me to let me into this part of his world.

“This place is creepy without the crescendo of 100 voices mixing over one another,” he mused, moving further into the room, as I imagined the memories he had of this place.

Constant recital. Maulana screaming. Boys fighting. Jokes flying. It must have had its own atmosphere… and I’m sure it still did.

Everything looked neat and tidy, almost as if it was just ready for the students to come in and start their work once again.

I followed behind him cautiously, watching the back of his head, unable to predict in what direction today was headed… Until I found a desk in front of me, and Hamza holding out to me the pocket Qurʾān he normally kept in the car to do his dhor.

I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

”What are we doing?”

”Here?” He asked with a cock of his head, gesturing for me to sit. “Or generally?”

“What are we doing here?”

I didn’t want to talk about what we were doing generally. I had no answers, and I was scared about what his would be.

“Simple,” he murmured, lowering his legs into a sitting position and placing his hands on his lap. “When in a hifdh class, do as the hifdh students do. Test me, Mos?”

The last part of his request came out tentatively as he locked eyes with mine, and I didn’t blame him.

Be still my beating heart. Be still.

And of course it didn’t listen. I’d heard my husband recite before, especially before he would make Zaid sleep, in his strong but soothing voice. I’d basked in it whenever he did, and although he had tested me tons of times before… he had never requested me to test him.

And I wanted to refuse. To say it was against the rules to swindle my heart this way. To say I wasn’t worthy of this honour, because I knew there was no other word for it, but before I knew it, the silent room wasn’t silent anymore, and there I sat, not knowing anything… not knowing what this full, but unnerving feeling in my heart was, not knowing what to make of the contented expression on his face as Hamzah recited… not knowing what the heck I was doing with my life and how I would survive this separation, even though, up until now, in front of him, I had managed to keep up the pretence that it didn’t bother me too much.

His voice carried throughout the room as he read, and  despite my confused heart, it was as though nothing else beside him and I existed in this time and space, where absolute tranquility seemed to surround us.

And before I knew it, tears etched my eyes and overwhelming emotions had consumed me. I was battling with myself to try and stop overthinking and just appreciate this moment, because this moment, right then, would probably be the first and the last time I’d get to test my husband his dhor.

This moment, right then, when it felt like all those barriers were falling away… was everything.

Then, all of a sudden, his intensely deep voice stopped as he got up and edged closer to me and whispered, “Pick up your hands, Mos.”

I hastily wiped my eyes and lifted them in the air, humouring him even though I couldn’t understand his request, not expecting his chuckle that escaped from his mouth, completely at ease, in a way I hadn’t heard in a few weeks… and hadn’t realised that I’d missed.

A smile ghosted his lips as he lay down on the ground next to me and I understood why he was grinning. I had put my hands all the way up as if I was under arrest, and all my husband wanted to do was lay his head down right in my lap.

For a minute, as the back of his head met my thighs, I froze at his proximity, because we had been so distant the past few days that I couldn’t quite digest this sudden surge of affection.

“You know,” he said, ignoring my awkwardness and twisting his head so it got the perfect kind of cushioning on my lap without it feeling uncomfortable. “Its a Sunnah of Nabī ﷺ that he recited Qurʾān while lying on the lap of Ayesha radiAllahu anha… and I kinda get the feeling that there’s no better time to practise a Sunnah that right now…”

Smooth. Very smooth.

And before I got a word in, he was already reciting again, continuing with the verses of Surah Tawbah, and I couldn’t help letting a tear fall on his cheek, even though he pretended as if he didn’t feel it.

His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t meet the turbulent expression in my eyes as I watched him, but I preferred it that way.

I couldn’t quite digest this. This place. The recital. Him, Hafidh and the man that I’d come to love with so much of my heart, on my lap, in his childhood Hifdh class, his melodious recitation.. my heart felt like it would explode from an intolerable level of emotion.

I wiped the tears away with one hand, running the other through his hair in a way I could tell he lived for by the content expression on his face, and the way his head sought more comfort at my touch. And even as his reciting stopped, thats how we sat, time unknown to us, the serene atmosphere too sacred to disturb and even check how many minutes had passed during our time together, until that little reminder that nothing good should last popped up in my brain again.

I couldn’t. This was all too much. Too close. Too personal. It was getting deeper than I ever thought, breaking all my rules, and I felt as if my heart was deeper in than I knew, as I instinctively pulled my hand away.

“Don’t stop,” he said as he reached up to catch my hand and guide it back into his hair.

His eyes bored into mine as if they wanted to say words he couldn’t voice. I felt like I was watching a TikTok ‘tell me you love me without telling me you love me’ reel. There was no other way to describe his infectious way of spreading his feelings.

”First explain,” I mumbled, as coherently as I could, holding my hand still, like leverage in his hair, as I spoke. “Tell me why here. Else I’ll stop.”

Hamzah shot me a withering look in response before slowly starting to speak.

“I think you agreed that you owe me one,” he said, almost with an entitled look on his face as he wiggled his head on my palm coaxingly. “Your words, my love.”

”I smell BS,” I snorted, ignoring his sweetness as he shot me a disdainful look at my use of abbreviation within the sacred walls. “Tell me.”

He sighed, and I automatically moved my fingers ever so slightly as he spoke again. Despite my brain being traitorous, I actually didn’t want him to actually stop laying there.

“This is what brought us together,” he said softly, his arms spread open now as his one twinkly eye opened and looked at me. “It’s not easy coming back here, especially with memories of Liyaket flooding through my brain. It’s been hard these past few weeks, and without him, I felt it even more when I needed someone to talk to. Any problem I had in the past, he always had a solution. I knew that I had Imraan and Zubair trying to help out, but it kept coming back to him and this place and a few days ago, I couldn’t handle the pressure anymore, and I suddenly remembered him telling me how often he would ask Maulana for advice, even after we finished our Hifdh.”

He fell silent then, as if contemplating his next words, and I waited.

”You went to him?” I asked softly, when he didn’t speak again.

His eyes were closed beneath my gentle motions in his hair as he nodded, and I wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep until I noticed the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly, and the slight tilt of his lips.

“I did,” Hamza continued, his eyes still closed. “And it was the predictable ‘Hafezsaab, chalo, let’s drink tea’ regime. And all I could think was, how do these people think that tea can solve everything?”

I grinned as he opened his one eye and looked at me again, and it felt like all these layers of awkwardness between us were slowly lifting away, and I wasn’t even sure if it was a bad thing or not.

“And he told you to bring me here so you could knock me off my feet with your gorgeous recitation,” I said bluntly, with a slight roll of my eyes.

“No, gorgeous. We drank the tea silently,” he said, but his grin widening at the unintentional compliment. “Maulana is not much of a talker, and… to tell the truth, I still feel scared to ask too many questions. Sometimes, I still feel like I’m ten and I don’t know my sabaq.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“It wasn’t until afterwards, when I leaving the house, that he advised me.. just one line of advice. He said, ‘Hafidh Hamzah, if you want your Duniyaa to be made, recite Qurʾān sincerely. And if you want your Aakhirah to be made, recite the Qur’ān sincerely.’ And it made me think… Here we are running behind lawyers and divorce proceedings, pinning our hopes on all these other things… even Zubair, and then this reminder comes, hitting straight where it’s needed…”

He trailed off and we both just sat there, lost in thought for a while.

“And that’s when I knew I wanted to bring you here. I knew that Madrassah would be closed now. He always closes for a holiday at the end of Rajab… and then makes the boys suffer for it by having classes Sunday to Sunday for the entirety of Sha’bān.”

I gaped at him. “Serious?!”

It explained a recitation where every second word wasn’t a mistake. No wonder his work was so solid. Man, that must have been tough.

Weak student here, sure… but classes Sunday to Sunday. Yoh. Us mere mortals don’t have the strength to bear that.

“Poor Maulana,” I mused, trying to decipher why he did that. “You boys must have made him really angry when you’ll came back those days after, not knowing your work.”

He chuckled so hard at that, that he had to sit up to catch his breath, and I wondered what on earth was so funny.

”No matter how well we knew our work, he would still end up breaking us all after every holiday,” he finally said, a smile still visible on his face. “It was like routine for him. Once or twice at the end of those heavy days, looking at the expressions on the boys faces, I actually caught him grinning. Poor Maulana indeed.“

It was my turn to grin as I imagined it, and then he put his Qurʾān back into his Kurta top pocket and held out a hand.

“Come,” he said, standing up as he gestured his head toward another door. ”There’s still more I want to show you.”

I would have assumed there’s little to see in a boys hifdh Madrassah, but as Hamzah led me around, his face lit up with a nostalgic grin, for the nth time that day, I was surprised. The sports area, the Tawbah corner – which a laughing Hamza assured me that him and Liyaket had spent his fair amount of time in, the kitchen- essentially just a corner with a microwave and a kettle- until we came to a closed door, and Hamzah whispered dramatically.

“Brace yourself. I left the best for last.”

He pushed the door open, and I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to be assaulted with the smell of.. what was that smell even?

“Can you smell that?” I asked Hamza, sniffing around like a freak. “Theres a distinct weird smell here…”

He sniffed the air and shook his head, assuring me there was no smell here, but I was sure that I saw a glint of something mischievous in his eye.

Then it clicked for me and I turned to face to him, with my hands on my hips.

Euw.

”Toes!” I frowned accusingly, blocking my nose. “This place stinks of toes.”

”Ah,” he said, raising his eyebrows, and moving a chair out the way. “Is that what it is? I always thought it was the salt and vinegar chips.”

”That’s disgusting,” I scoffed, literally feeling my stomach revolt in protest to his description. I couldn’t even. He had officially spoilt salt and vinegar flavour for me for life.

I actually had no appetite at all, despite believing earlier on that I was fiercely hangry.

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching his head. “The boys used to live on salt and vinegar pringles so we could seal it up for the next night. We didn’t have the fancy flavours back then. I didn’t think it could possibly be toes…”

“Yugh. How can you ever confuse the two? You’re more sick than I thought.”

And then we were arguing on whether the place was truly smelly – it honestly reeked – or if my nose was broken (the fudge?) and way too sensitive for scents other than Issey Miyaki (Hamzah was full of compliments). We went back and forth endlessly, until I saw that mischievous glint in his eyes again, and this time it looked almost smug.

And I hated that I knew him well enough to understand why. It had been a while since we did this. I’d pulled back this past month, doing my wifely duties perfectly, but for the most part, disengaging as much as I could.

In the past, we had bickered about mundane things all the time, but not this month. This month it was limited to serious discussions and arguments. I had carefully avoided any level of personal playfulness, even if it was just over something mundane.

He had missed this, I realised, swallowing hard when I thought of how carefree and childish my husband seemed today. He had missed us. For his sake.. to keep him smiling, to save him from going down with me, I had to steel my heart and stop feeding him false hopes.

I took a step back, literally and emotionally, and casually shrugged.

“It’s irrelevant. Just show me whatever it is that so good in here.”

His expression changed too as he flicked a light switch, trying to be nonchalant, and I instantly turned my face to the couches and bean bags now in my midst.

“This is the break room,” he said quietly, not meeting my eye. “No one actually uses it, until it’s raining and we can’t go out. But, what I wanted to show you, well… look there.”

My gaze followed his pointed index finger, to the wall on the far corner, which seemed to be a giant collage of sorts.

As if sensing my confusion, Hamzah continued, “Maulana calls this the Hafidh wall.. every student gets to put up a tribute on the day of the completion. Something to put down as an official achievement.”

I was awed, but I kept silent. There had to be hundreds of laminated squares stuck to the wall. Imagine, just imagine having that many people who you connected to the Qurʾān.. who you walked through the stages of memorisation from day one, till the day they recited اللهم آنس وحشتي in front of a large crowd…

“Lets see if you can find mine,” he challenged with a wink, lightening the mood instantly. “In fact, let’s see how fast you can find it.”

It took me over 15 minutes before I did. And just as I did, my eyes settled on the quote right next to his, and I couldn’t simply look away.

The books of history contain some of his quotes which are worth their weight in gold. And amongst those quotes, I was pretty sure that this one was one of those amazing ones that made your heart shudder at its mere sight.

“It does not behove one who has the Qur’ān in his heart to go to the wealthy and affluent in order for them to fulfil his needs. Instead, his position is such that the entire creation should come to him to fulfil their needs”.

I stood rooted there for a while, just staring at those words, as if something very obvious had intervened to make me see this.

If I didn’t know better, I’d have said Hamzah set this up so I’d see this message. But there was no way that was true, because from this wall full of tributes to the pious scholars of Qurʾān, I had approached this one. I had somehow come to read this one, out of the hundreds.. and subconsciously, I couldn’t help but wonder, did I come to this one, or was I brought to this one?

I jerked backwards as warm hands settled on my shoulders, Hamzah’s voice asking if I was okay.

But I couldn’t say a thing, because I wasn’t.

I couldn’t even process all this anymore. It was getting way too emotional, and I could feel all those walls coming up again, as I took a step away from him. His eyes stayed on mine as he spoke, unaware of the feelings brewing within me.

“It was only after Maulana told me to come here that I remembered his advice to us at our jalsa,” he said softly, stepping forward to stand within my view again, his jaw rigid as he recalled the words. “The Qur’ān will always guide the Hafidh back… be the light through the darkness… the guiding beacon… even when it feels as if there is no end to the tunnel. He would always say that the journey of Hifdh never ends, and I tried my best to make it go on for me. Though I had gone off track once, I made sure that the Qur’ān was part of my life, my go-to, and my answer whenever I didn’t know where the solutions lay…”

I knew that he did. Qur’ān was so much a part of Hamzah’s life that he never left the house without one. His attachment was so intense that I envied it.

“And that’s how I know that whatever happens from here, whichever path we take, I just have a feeling that things are going to come together,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

”I’ll never give up hope, Mohsina. A believer always has hope, and that’s what I’ll cling onto forever.”

My heart literally split at the seams as he said it, and I couldn’t quite help myself as I turned away, knowing that it was time to leave, not leaving Hamzah an option of much else to say.

He followed me silently as we walked out, heart on my sleeve as I let him guide me with a hand on the lower part of my back, not able to comprehend what this all meant.

I couldn’t believe how much he had sacrificed in his journey here, and how much of a sacrifice he had undergone again as he grew and changed his life, and decided to do the right thing for Zaid. We had both made sacrifices, but right now, it felt like he was shining way more than I ever would. To deal with me was an amazing amount of patience and my heart literally ached as I saw the look on his face at times… a look that I couldn’t get off my mind, as I watched him right then, emotions overwhelming me as he guided me out the building.

And as he did it, it felt like I was coming together, and piecing myself back together, even against my better instincts. I felt like the once wounded heart I had sheltered so deeply had bled out way too much for my body to handle. Now, it was as if healing was in place and things were slowly being revived… as if parts of me had come back from the dead… and all I knew right then was how much it felt like an overload on the most vulnerable part of my conscience.

I felt like every rule had been broken, and here we were, back at square one, trying to figure out what the next step was going to really be.

I wanted to challenge him, to ask him why he’d done this. Why we had gone in reverse, when we needed to get into gear and drive away. I wanted to know what this all meant… how he expected today to turn out, once it was all over.

I wanted to know what was Plan B. What did he do when all this didn’t work out the way he planned, or when it did, and he ended up hating me because he lost everything because of me?

It just wasn’t fair. Today was beautiful and touching and oh-so-nostalgic, but what next?

Did he want me to cave and say that I couldn’t picture my life without him? Did he expect me to throw him to the wolves just so that I could have him the way he was?

I breathed out as we stepped out into the fresh air, thinking I’d feel an ounce of relief as we were out of the madrassa, but being away from it made me realise that it wasn’t the place that made me feel this way.

If anything, this amazing  institution had brought me more peace than I’d had in months.

The sinking feeling in my stomach had nothing to do with it. It was me. All me. I was the villain here and I didn’t know how to tell him this. All I knew was that I needed answers.

What did he want from me? Did he want me to admit that this was breaking me? What exactly was I supposed to do from here, in his mind?

“Why?”

I didn’t even realise I’d said it as I stood still in front of his car, my heart beating rapidly as he slowly walked around me, his hair browner now in the sunlight as he stood in front of me.

“Why what?” He asked, his expression as calm as the blue skies, as I glared at him fiercely. I was a storm, that threatened to unsettle every part of his sanity. “Why am I breaking the rules? What are the rules even, Mohsina? That we can’t talk about us ever having a future again?”

“You know the rules!” I accused him, pointing my finger at his chest threateningly, as he stepped closer instead of inching away. “You know what we need to do, how we can’t be certain if anything, but you still doing this to me. Why are you doing this to me? Why, Hamzah? Why?!”

My voice had rose to an embarrassingly high pitch as I watched him stand even taller, not even retreating slightly at my accosting tone.

I wanted to return. Again and again and again. Until we meet Him. Together.

But my body was lit with rage and uncertainty and his stance was as hard as the expression in his eyes. I didn’t even know what I was fighting against.. who I was fighting for.

I just knew that the one who gives up this fight, fails. Only the one who—due to complacency or despair—gives up the fight of constantly bringing the heart back to focus, fails in this life and the next.

But I didn’t want to hear him say it.

“For one thing,” he said simply, his eyes boring into mine as he swiped his tongue over his teeth, the only single gesture that gave away his unease at the entire situation. “I wanted you to know all this because whatever happens, i will always ask Allah for this, and I want you to promise me one thing.”

I looked at him with my eyes narrowed, flashing and holding back the tears, not knowing if I should even do this, but with everything my heart had just undergone, I couldn’t possible do anything else but nod in silent agreement, not knowing what I was promising him as I did.

Not knowing that there were no rules, in this dangerous game we were playing.

“I want you to come back to me.”

---

Just a quick one to say that this post is dedicated to a flower in the Gardens of the Righteous, who helped me to pen most of this post. I deeply appreciate the Naseehah and the extra love of Qur’ān that shone through, which she was solely responsible for inspiring. Please do give feedback on how much it was enjoyed ❤️

May Allah Ta’ala grant her much love, happiness and barakah for her future.

Much Love,

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others 

Especially as these blessed months dawn upon us, we make extra effort to think good of others and make excuses for them. It’s easier said than done but we make Duaa that in this way, people will also think well of us.

Nabi Muhammad (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Beware of suspicion, for suspicion is the worst of false tales; and do not look for the others’ faults and do not spy, and do not be jealous of one another, and do not desert (cut your relation with) one another, and do not hate one another; and O Allah’s worshipers! Be brothers (as Allah has ordered you!”) (Bukhari)

To put it briefly, having good opinion of people implies:

• Thinking positive of others
• Avoiding suspicion and wrong assumptions of others
• Giving others the benefit of the doubt

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

Allahumma baarik lana fi Rajaba wa Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

More than a Heartbreak

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 74

Pain can be beautiful too.

I never quite believed it until it happened to me, but when I realised all the beautiful things that can come out of a broken heart, and all those shattered pieces didn’t seem so devastating any longer.

And as I went on the tedious task of reconstructing my heart, just the way I wanted… I came to realise that on the bad days,  there was nothing quite like drowning your sorrows in nature while the world goes on around you.

And that’s what brought me back to the beauty.

Beauty surrounded us. Nature was filled with treaties that if look beyond and through everything that happens to us, everything we do—or fail to do—and see Allah, then we will have gotten the purpose. When something happens that you hate, or love, be careful not to miss the point.

Remember that nothing happens without a reason.

Purpose.

No event in your life, no sadness, no delight, pain, no pleasure… no heartbreak, was created without a purpose.

And purpose is such that… when we can’t seem to figure it out, we are always looking for signs. We are always asking for our Rabb to ‘speak’ to us. But those signs are all around us. They are in everything. Allah is always ‘speaking’. The question is whether we are listening.

And sometimes it was hard to drown everything else out and just pay attention to what Allah is telling us.

Especially when Nani was competing for my sanity, and in her own weird thinking, she truly believed that my sole purpose was to marry a wealthy man and procreate as soon as I could.

My purpose though, was different. It wasn’t about a man, because I knew now, that I would love Allah above him. That was the purpose of my heartbreak. It was more than just an heartbreak. It was a reason for returning to my merciful Rabb who always welcomes me back with more love than I can ever imagine.

And even though i knew all this, and I knew the purpose of this pain, it didn’t mean that I didn’t second guess myself at the slightest opportunity.

It didn’t help that Nani had been given me the 411 on how ungrateful I was and how nothing I did was right. It was a week of hearing about Doctorsaab and his amazing position that he held at the local hospital. She was clearly trying to show me how much I was missing out on and I wasn’t in the least bit concerned about it.

I wasn’t supposed to be listening as I passed by the kitchen to go out that day, but I had heard. I had been tracking Zubair’s whereabouts to avoid him as best as possible, and I knew that today was a safe day to venture out without him being around. My father had been dropping little hints about how he wanted to have a good talk with Zubair, but I really didn’t want this to become bigger than it was.

I just wanted it to go away.

”How can she be so fussy?”

I knew that she was talking about me.

Nani was talking in a hushed -(well, as hushed as Nani can be)- tone  to my mother as I passed the kitchen.

“So ungrateful,” she muttered to herself as she pulled out her kitaab and retied her dupatta, making sure that every inch of her hair was covered. “Whole family is like this, that’s why. You too, Bhengori. I try so hard and you don’t even try to talk some sense in the girl. If the mother and the sister are like this what else can you expect from the girl.”

I gritted my teeth. Really. Trust Nani to drag my whole family into an issue that had nothing to do with them at all.

And of course, seeing Nani do it made me think of how often we do that too. Instead of thinking the best, like the Sunnah of our Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam), we assumed the worst. And it doesn’t get left at that. Someone does something wrong, and their entire family gets chucked into the mix, extended relations included, with no valid reason whatsoever.

“Mummy, when don’t we listen to you?” my mother was saying, sounding a little angry. “You can’t force her to marry him. Mohsina said that she was upset. Don’t tell her anything please. Just leave her for now. It’s not easy for her. Let her keep the decision in peace so she won’t feel forced to change back.”

”You think she will change her mind?” Nani’s voice was hopeful as she said it, and I felt my own heart sinking, wondering if I could do anything right.

“Mohsina said not to get out hopes up…”

My mother was still talking but Nani wasn’t quite interested.

“What Mohsina Mohsina?” she snapped, her eyes glaring over her glasses. I couldn’t see her expression but I could tell that she meant business from her tone. “Mohsina is the reason for all this. The one that is teaching her all these silly ideas. I thought Jameela was different. Better. But she is just like her sister. At least Mohsina came to her senses by force and married someone suitable. Who knows what Jameela will do. She will end up with one useless fellow who has no job.”

That stung. I could practically hear the resentment in her voice. But to judge a guy based solely on their income bracket and appearance was as shallow as it gets.

It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be like my sister. It was just that I didn’t want to be the villain in this story. I had a good mind of barging in and telling them that I was ready to marry Doctorsaab just to prove them a point but I just couldn’t do it. Also, my father was quite adamant that he wasn’t the one that was right for me, and though I agreed, there was something else I realised.

I was in a major fix because no matter what I did here, someone got hurt.

I sighed as I pondered over my predicament, annoyed that I had let things get this bad. I needed to pull myself out of the hole I had sunk into, and see the rainbow beyond all the rain here.

And as I sat, my thoughts miles away, the beautiful pastures before me as the breeze caressed my cheeks, I couldn’t help but let my mind venture to the obvious here.

Being here, in the wilderness and the centre of ultimate natural beauty, was an awakening that of course, nothing happens without purpose. not fear. Not pain. Not even rejection.

I had been mortified. Absolutely embarrassed and ashamed that I had let things go far.

And then I remembered the little post it note that someone had put in the coffee shop, and I realised what our true purpose was about.

He breaks you to build you. Deprives you to give you. The pain in your heart was created to make you learn less for this life.

And to yearn more for Jannah.

Jannah. The epitome of beauty. The greatest of gardens. The most sublime kind of bliss.

And immediately, my heart felt soothed. With every little ache and pain, it reminded me of the purpose of being here. It awakened me from the slumber I had been in, as I pondered over the words of the Qur’ān.

So instead of giving in, instead of giving up, as I lay under the single weeping willow tree in the furtherest part of the farm, on the little log that lay next to the thickened tree trunk that was no less than a century old, there was  nothing else, other than the words of Allah that soothed me.

And there was no other place in the garden that made me feel so serene, as did this beautiful tree, that seemed to match the morbid mood I had found myself in when I first got here.

The thing with technology was that everything kept bringing you back to the spaces in your life that you wanted to fill. Every hit of dopamine that social media gave, every app that was created to remedy loneliness, was exactly the cause of all the discontentment in the world.

Sitting on my phone, reading a senseless book or wasting time on my browser would always bring me back to the huge voids in my life that I was trying so hard to not think about.

No one ever tells you about these feelings that come in between. No one tells you about the behind the scenes. The inadequacy. The pain. The wishing that you were anywhere else but in your own shoes.

Sometimes you had to look at others to truly appreciate everything you have. Sometimes being content with your lot means lowering your gaze from everything that doesn’t belong to you.

And so, as I pieced my broken pieces together, knowing that I couldn’t quite face Nani again right then after escaping outside, I knew that visiting my sister was next on the list. I had realised that I had been a teeny bit selfish the last few days. I had come back and got stuck in a place where no one knew where my mind was at. I had been drowning in my sorrows.

And as my phone buzzed with a message from Maahira, it was obviously divinely sent for me to climb out of the darkened hole I had sunk into.

Hunny, have u seen Mos lately? She says she’s fine but I don’t kno. Is she holding up?

And just with that, I realised that maybe I had become too focused on my own problems, to realise that my sister was going through something much more devastating.

I’ll check. x 

And only when I made up my mind to give her a call, and she took forever to get back to me, did I realise just how much it had missed out on while I was caught up in my own little bubble of chaos.

I barely knew that Mohsina was literally running from pillar to post, trying to sort out custody and legalities and a few unexpected accusations from Hammonds that had just come up.

And of course, I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had called Papa to ask if I could use the car to visit her, and knowing that I had to figure out what was going on, took the 20 minute drive to my sisters new flat, anxious about what she was going to tell me.

Here I was wondering what I would so with my broken heart, when her entire life was breaking apart.

I took deep breaths as I climbed the steps to get block, a little worried for my sister by then. She buzzed me up, and met me at the door, and I was relieved that she looked glad to see me. Maybe even a little relieved that I was at her place, for the first time since she moved, and a week after I was back, and looking like I was all put together.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, scanning my face as I entered her place, feeling quite unsettled about everything she had told me so far. I didn’t know that what she had divulged was only the tip of the iceberg.

Hamzah wasn’t there and her expression was stagnant as I tried to read her. Considering everything she had been through during the past few days, I had no idea how she was keeping it together.

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing off my own feelings as I watched her.

She wanted to ask about Zubair and I didn’t want to talk. To me, he was dead. That was the only way I could heal completely. Plus, I was feeling so much better than I was a week ago.

Mohsina gave a small smile, almost as if she knew, and I watched as she walked to the kitchen, admiring her in a pastel yellow blouse with grey wide leg pants that sat on her hip, and her hair tied back in a bun. Her cheeks were flushed and pretty, almost as if she had been doing some exercise, but I knew she hadn’t. She was just slightly more highly strung than usual and I wanted to hug her as I saw her forehead crease slightly in worry as she pulled herself up onto the bar stool.

“How are you coping?”

She shook her head and shrugged, and I was a little amazed at the patience she was showing in this situation.

I knew that Faadil was responsible for the accusations against her. Maahi had filled in me in on a little, but what I didn’t know was that he was also in some trouble as well.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Faadil and the day I had met him. Something about the way he looked at her, the way he had been so invested in ‘helping’ her… something about his graciousness had rubbed me up the wrong way

Rumour had it through some friends who were still at Hammonds that Faadil had been embezzling money for a while now, and no-one had picked it up. Well, until now. That’s how Mos’s name had come into the mix. If Mohsina was romantically involved with him and they had made purchases together, it was natural that she would also catch the fall for it.

”We’re waiting to meet the lawyers next week,” she said, sounding completely calm for someone who was under scrutiny for fraud. “I think it’s best to try and make a deal with them before this gets out of hand. That will sort out the legal part.”

“Why?” I said, not understanding how it all works. “Why must you make a deal. You’re innocent.”

She sighed, avoiding my gaze.

“Not completely,” she said softly. “I took money from Faadil. He didn’t take my calls but he emailed to say that he never meant to get my name involved. He was adamant that this wasn’t the plan, and he kept saying that what we had wasn’t just about money, and I had to believe him.”

She rolled her eyes and I widened mine. It looked like he was a teeny bit hung up on her.

“Hamzah doesn’t believe him,” she sighed, not meeting my accusing eye. Of course he wouldn’t. “He thinks that there was no way that Faadil had been transparent in those deals because he knows all the loopholes and I was obviously the scapegoat for his dodgy transactions. And it’s more complicated…”

I was trying to still see my sister in the positive light that I had been seeing her the past few months. The amazing friend and woman who had given up everything for such a noble cause.

“What do you mean?”

I was so confused, because all of these things were something completely new to me. I had no idea how accounts and cash flow works in a business.

“I knew,” she said meekly, looking devastated. “It didn’t hit me at the time what it could be but I knew that he was up to something and I never told anyone. They could probably even arrest me for withholding important information.”

She trailed off and I swallowed, remembering the day when she had met Faadil with the Porsche. According to my sister, he had been so gracious. I guess that graciousness had been replaced with greed.

“Can’t you just fight the case,” I said , not liking how this was going. I didn’t know everything but I knew for certain that my sister was innocent. She didn’t take something that didn’t belong to her. She would never.

“It’s not that simple,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Someone is giving them inside information. I’m not sure exactly what they know, they they have proof that I’ve used the money for personal gain. It’s like it’s someone who knows me so well, because there are pictures of personal belongings and receipts of stuff I’ve bought when I was still working. Someone close is conspiring against me and I just cannot place my finger on who it may be.”

She breathed out and looked away, her face contorted with emotion as she said it. Who would want to hurt her so badly?

“How are things between you and Hamzah?” I asked, as she picked up her phone for the umpteenth time, almost as if checking for some update that wasn’t arriving.

I couldn’t imagine what this was doing to her, emotionally. I couldn’t imagine what Hamzah was feeling right then. The past… Mohsina’s tainted past was coming back to haunt them in the most unpleasant way.

She placed her phone down, looked me in the eye, and shrugged.

”His wife is being convicted of fraud, Jamz,” she said blandly, looking like the weight of the world was going to crush her. “It’s a strain. We’ve argued a lot. And then there’s the glaring fact. Can you imagine what this will do to him professionally? Can you imagine the stories that are going to come up here, if this blows up? What will happen to him at work? They may even think he was involved, since we were proposed before it. His job, his reputation, his and his brother’s accreditation, his everything… since he’s a shareholder for his brothers private firm… they could lose everything that they worked so hard for.”

I blinked and watched her, as she paced up and down, now a little flustered, and I could see her staring into space as her brow furrowed again and she visibly breathed in. I just didn’t know how she was keeping it all together.

It was getting more and more complicated. The whole thing was just being blown out of proportion.

“It will be okay,” I said shakily, not quite sure I I believed it myself. “Not everyone can believe what’s in the corporate media, right? There must be ways that we can push this under the rug… ways that you can make people know the truth. Isn’t there anyone you can talk to, to sort this out?”

She shook her head, and I could tell that she had already given up. I just didn’t know how far she had already taken it. She had collapsed into a chair now, and I could see a single tear rolling down her cheek as she looked at me.

I had never, ever seen my sister like this before. So fragile and so in need of saving. I just hoped that Hamzah could be her knight in shining armour, swooping in to save the day.

”It’s not fair to him either way,” she said, shaking her head, throwing her hands up in the air. “Why must he put up with this? We did this for Zaid. He didn’t sign up for this when he married me.”

Who signs up for the ugly stuff when they get married?

People encounter all sorts of hardships. Things they didn’t know or expect. Duniyaa tests us in many different ways, and Allah Ta’ala makes it clear that we will be tested, but we have to remain steadfast. Positive.

It’s not like anyone has foresight. Things happen. We make mistakes. People get hurt.

Mohsina was one of the most selfless people that I had ever met. It wasn’t fair that this was coming back to bite her, when she hadn’t even done what they were accusing her of. I was certain of her innocence.

”Mos,” I said, my heart beating faster as she looked at me, almost taunting me to ask her what she was planning. “What are you going to do next? Is there anything I can do?”

I doubted that there was anything I could do but she looked so helpless that I knew I had to try.

“This will be the end of me,” she said, looking crestfallen. “They will find out everything. I can’t drag everyone into this mess. He’s trying to be positive, but I know that if Hamzah ever finds out that I was actually proposed to Faadil, he would probably want out.”

I sucked in my breath as I looked at her, a little shocked at what she had just revealed. Did she just say that she was proposed to that idiot? What was wrong with her?

My sister had a secret life that not one of us knew about, and I couldn’t believe that she was going to marry Faadil.

“No, Mos,” I breathed, not believing what she had just said, and what she was going to say.

Her eyes were filled with remorse as she watched me standing there, my mouth half agape.

“There’s no other way,” she whispered, shrugging. “Law suits can take forever. I’m doing what’s best for him. And for Zaid. It’s the only way he can keep his job and accreditation. If we stay together we’re both going to go under.”

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t true. I felt like pinching myself, because what was happening felt more than just a little heartbreaking. What Mohsina was about to do was an absolute nightmare for everyone.

She was already shaking her head as I appealed to her. I wanted to shake some sense into her. How could this have gotten so bad, so fast?

“Mohsina, no,” I said firmly, getting up and sitting next to her, my hands on her knees as I sat on the floor where she sat. “You guys are stronger than this, Mos. You’ll can get through this together. You guys are stronger than you think. You’ll love each other!”

She smiled through her tears, and I knew that she didn’t believe a thing that I had said.

”Love doesn’t matter here,” she said softly, her hands firmly on my shoulders as she looked into my eyes. “Jams, I know in your perfect world you think that love can solve everything…. but if you want to talk about love, it’s because I love him that I can’t put him through this. I can’t let him down because of my mistakes.
I can’t ruin the man I love.”

Oh my heart.

It just shattered, right then and there. I wasn’t even sure how much more of this I could take. I didn’t even want to ask her what next.

This was the most devastating news I had heard, after Layyanah’s passing. It was a resonating ache in my gut that felt like it was overtaking my entire body, engulfing my entire being. I was angry and resentful and I wanted to lash out at her for doing this.

“So what are you going to do next?”

The question came out almost as a sordid whisper. I didn’t even know why I was asking, because to to hear the answer was going to be the final blow that would probably dissolve me completely.

All I knew that it was the only thing that would make it real.

And oh yes, her emotionless reply was as real as it got. It was as real as the wrenching feeling in my chest, that felt precariously close to losing a vital limb.

“Next, we sign divorce papers.”

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of Thinking Good about others  

We’re so quick to assume bad things about people, even when we have no idea what’s the real story. Thinking the best about others is part of the Sunnah of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) and is a great way to give us a positive outlook and always be good to others.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When Reality Checks

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 71

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, open your eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged.

We got poor.

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

Oops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t what it was about.

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

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

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

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

Psssshht.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hamzah looked positively startled by it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”You missed Taaleem?”

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

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

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

I just couldn’t do it.

I told Nani that and she wasn’t happy.

She said she was going to convince me otherwise.

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

He’s not the one for me.

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

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

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

“Babe, you okay?”

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

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

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

The realist in me told me so.

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

---

Mission Sunnah Revival: 
Sunnah of Noble Character: 

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

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

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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The Tip of the Iceberg

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 60

Hamzah

At some point, we all have to stop being consumed by moments.

In the understanding that nothing in this temporary world is limitless or perfect, we are somehow able to step outside the moments and see them for what they are. Sometimes what we can see, especially in this world of illusion we have come to live in, is not even the whole picture… but only the tip of the iceberg…

And it just so happened that it was only during that eventful weekend on the coast that the true meaning of contentment unfolded for me. No matter how much you fill your life with the best of this world, if Allah doesn’t feature, you will never feel complete. If Qur’ān, Salaah and Ibadat is lacking, we will never feel fulfilled. As we try filling the void with our virtual applications that take over our lives, we are always left feeling at a loss.

And though I usually looked forward to long drives and the peace it brought within me, while I was able to catch up with my Qur’ān and just chill out while doing dhor, if I heard that word Instagram one more time during the three hour drive down to  the coast, I was seriously thinking of opening the drivers door and just jumping off the moving vehicle.

And okay, I know I’m an idiot, but to tell the truth, I had been just a little preoccupied and I couldn’t help but overlook the fact that perhaps my wife wasn’t exactly thrilled about the sudden change of events either.

”You don’t mind if I give Hamzah company in the front, right Mos?” My sister said sweetly, pinching Zaid’s cheeks as he grabbed her head cover in a fist and then screamed at her bossily when she tried to pull away.

I tried to miss the part where Mohsina raised her eyebrows.

“Or you can give Zaid some company in the back,” Mohsina said in a casual fashion, trying my best to keep a straight face as I saw Mohsina narrow her eyes.

The truth was, I didn’t anticipate the dynamic between the two of them. I didn’t even think of these things because my week was a complete knock out.

On top of the financial concern over my wife and our ex-boss, moving money around from various accounts to make payments after I had forked out a sum for a surprise for Mohsina without knowing, was the worry that had consumed me from this morning. It was the previous night that I had found an e-mail from Hashim’s lawyer, for a hearing that entailed giving them rights to see Zaid, at the precise time that Rabia’s message about joining us had also come through.

The pressure was mounting as I thought of how Hashim had attempted in the past few weeks to threaten me multiple times, but I was barely fazed until the that mornings document came through. The nightmares I thought I had gotten rid of had returned, and as I awoke, I was literally shaking with anger as I gritted my teeth, trying to exceptionally hard to ignore the anger brewing within.

I honestly felt like escaping with Mohsin to wherever he was heading to next, just to get away from it all, but I knew that it wasn’t exactly the most mature thing to do. Besides, I couldn’t leave Mohsina and Zaid now. I didn’t want to.

“Geez, you guys,” Rabia said excitedly, pushing up her sunglasses and adjusting her weird turban cap thing-um with a big knot on the top that she sometimes wore. “I’m so excited to be seeing the beach after ages. Like a real Jo’burg person. Mos, did you see that reel.. the guys going crazy as they saw the beach and doing all these crazy things?!”

Rabia had recovered quickly from having to sit in the back seat, but she was also pushing limits when she started the conversation either way. I had my pods in my ears and barely even caught onto what she was into.

”Mhhmmm,” Mohsina said, and I didn’t even register the note of disinterest in her voice. It was a default tone for her not wanting to fully engage in a conversation and I knew it extremely well.

I had glimpsed my wife’s stony expression in the rear view mirror that day and with Mohsina, it wasn’t all that difficult to tell. Her pretty face would get all flushed when you provoked her and her one talent was the ability to act as if nothing was wrong, when there clearly was something very wrong.

You okay?

The message I had just typed out to send her made a small ping in the back of the car, and as I glanced at my rear-view mirror, I couldn’t help but smirk as I saw the usual and intentional roll of her eyes and toss her phone aside.

Just a moment ago, she had picked it up to check something, but as soon as she saw my message, I already knew that there would be no easy way of dodging her bullets.

Oh yeah. She was annoyed. Though I didn’t entirely understand Instagram dramas and how they work, I knew that she had also been a little down because of some dodgy things that were going on there.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I felt the urge to light a cigarette, knowing that it would only exacerbate things if I did.

I sighed, knowing that although I knew that she was seemingly upset and overreacting a little, the drama that now ensued was a welcome diversion from the the burden on my shoulders that had felt this morning, and as Rabia’s voice broke through my thoughts as I closed my Qur’ān application for a minute, I couldn’t help but find myself listening in on what they were saying once again, as much as I didn’t want to be…

”And oh my word, did you see those amazing places they visited in Dubai? You guys have to go there when you make a honeymoon trip!”

Honeymoon trip? Was it some unwritten rule that we had to go overseas?

“And I don’t know if you saw the other influencer,” she continued. “The one from Cape Town who did those ads for Adidas… she went all out with her trip, recording every little detail of it which was so helpful so you know exactly what to expect at every stop. From the business class lunges to the airports, food and edutainment… It’s makes it so simple when you’re travelling… I wonder if all her hotels were sponsored, gosh… don’t you miss those free trips Mohsina? I’m sure you used to get a helluva lot of freebies…”

I wasn’t sure what Rabia was getting at, and it was a seemingly innocent question, but I was already irritated at Rabia digging up social media dirt. I couldn’t help but hear a tone of accusation in her question, wondering if it was coincidental.

It tuned out at that point, not really wanting to listen, preferring to put my Qur’ān back on. Honestly, it was like Rabia now lived her own life through those moments of the instagram slaves she scrolled through as she spent time on her delusional application, filling some huge void for validation.

I frowned, wondering if this was going into dangerous territory. I could tell that Rabia watched people live seemingly cool and passionate lives online, judging herself against it, thinking it was real.

And I wanted to argue but with Rabia I knew there was no point as I plugged the pods back in my ears and we had just turned onto the coastal road which boasted the most stunning shoreline I had seen in months. All our eyes were already glued to the coastline, and the incredible Qur’ān recital playing in my ears heightened its appeal significantly.

The miracle of the Word of our Rabb was that no matter how many times we listened, we never tired of it…

And being here, with the salty air filling my nostrils as I opened the window, I already felt a huge relief within my chest. To top it off, Mohsina’s  mood no longer mattered because I already knew that once everything was settled and I took her out on the knockout lookout which used to be my favourite spot as a teenager, she would have no choice but to lighten up. I mean, there was no way she would see such beauty and not be moved by it.

I ignored Rabia as I caught her opening her phone, trying to focus on my intense relief as I finally reached the driveway of my grandparents place, because it meant that she was probably saved from me completely losing it. Thank goodness she would be getting off now, and I felt my stress levels immediately decline as I thought of it.

And as I drove up the slight incline, already pulling out my cigarettes because I knew that I would be craving after the long and tiresome drive, I couldn’t help but smile as I saw my grandparents coming out the front door, like they always would, ever since I was a kid.

And while many grandkids were close to their maternal grandparents, for me, it just so happened that I was the opposite way. For me, the coast had been my favorite getaway, a home away from home and the one place that I couldn’t cope without seeing for an entire month.

When I had learnt to drive, it was the first long distance trip I took out, and I truly believed that it was for this place being my favourite that my grandparents, even in their older age, never moved away from here, and I was honestly so glad.

And as I helped my wife out, already seeing Dada and Dadi making their way toward the car to receive us, I couldn’t help but feel elated that they could finally see me at this stage of my life, all grown up and together with my family. I knew that I was lucky to have them both with me, and many other guys my age didn’t get this.

And at the risk of sounding a little too emotional, the thing with Dada and Dadi was that there was a host of things that made me really attached to them. Life hadn’t been easy for them. My grandparents were always struggling to make ends meet. My father grew up in a poor home, and Dada had worked many different jobs to come out at the end of the month. It was him and seven other siblings, and even though Dadi had a small home business through which she subsidised their income, somehow it was still difficult. My father started working from a really young age, battling in many different ways before he finally found his feet in business when I was a kid and bought my grandparents this place close to my older uncle’s house, which they loved with all their heart.

And as I watched them, I realized that it had been over a month since I’d seen them and I had barely realized how much I really missed them.

In the bright afternoon sunshine, as they slowly approached us, it seemed like the first time that I’d noticed the little creased lines that became more prominent on their faces. My heart contracted slightly as I gazed at them up close, and as I sling my arm around Dada’s shoulders, I couldn’t help but be grateful that he was actually here to see this part of my life.

“Your Dadi couldn’t wait for you’ll to get here,” he said with a lobsided smile, patting my back affectionately. “She’s been in the kitchen from the minute she heard, making all your favourites.”

I instantly felt my heart swelling with love for her, at the same time as my stomach attempted to growl.

And as I glanced at her, with her hazel-brown eyes that still shone as brightly as they ever did, I knew that a simple greeting wouldn’t do, as I saw her smile at me with the same love she never failed to show since I was a kid, I knew I had no choice but to lean forward for a massive  hug, not expecting her voice to sound so emotional  as she spoke.

“Missed you, Hamzoo,” she said softly, using the nickname she always had as pecked her soft cheek, and I could feel the overwhelming emotion with which she meant her words.

Dadi was a woman of few words, but she was never the type to miss a thing. And as she hastily turned to meet my wife and Zaid, I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to my heart at that point, because I barely realised how important this meeting was for me.

I briefly watched my two favourite people embrace for a minute, feeling a weird sensation in my heart as Dadi looked at me and then Zaid, almost as if she couldn’t believe how far I had come now, a family of my own with all these responsibilities…

I turned away as they spoke softly… intently…. And as Mohsina and Dadi walked along together a little, I already knew that I didn’t have anything to fear about them getting along, especially as I just finished pulling along the suitcases into the house and went back out to check on them, I was already feeling more settled.

“This place is amazing,” Mohsina was saying as I approached them, her mood already lifted as she gazed out to the stunningly blue seas that could be seen from wherever we stood. It was one of those days when the sky was achingly flawless, and the vastness of it simply took our breath away.

We hadn’t even entered the house yet, which boasted some of the most scenic views, and my wife was already completely mesmerized by the charm this amazing place held. Living on the coast was just a completely different experience altogether.

And I knew that I was jumping the gun, but seeing that Rabia had made herself useful and taken Zaid to Dada for a little walk around the yard, and knowing that there was still time for Asr Salaah, I knew that there was no better time that the present to get out there and be a little adventurous. As much as I wanted to tuck into Dadi’s famous cuisines, I really wanted to grab the last bits of sunlight before the day ended.

”Dee,” I said, calling my grandmother by her nickname as I placed my hand on her shoulders, feeling the frailness of her body as I held her, not really believing that my grandmother was already in her seventies.

They were sitting in the bench overlooking the ocean view, but seeing it all from this point wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to get closer already, to submerge myself in the beauty it boasted.

“Would you like to join us for a walk to the lookout?”

Dadi smiled and shook her head.

“Your Dada and I just went this morning,” she said with her usual lazy smile. “It’s such a beautiful day. Take Mohsina. Yesterday we spotted some dolphins, and you may get lucky again…”

I could see Mohsina’s eyes widening as I glanced at her and grinned, trying to figure out if she had forgiven me or not. Either way, at the mention of dolphins, it had the desired effect and I knew she couldn’t refuse joining me. At least I wouldn’t have to spend on hour grovelling and trying to make it up to her. I mean, who doesn’t love dolphins?

And as for me, I was hoping that the beauty and peace it brought would help her to forget all the drama of the past week.

And grabbing her by the wrist, without even giving her a chance to argue in my grandmothers presence, I had already pulled her toward the gate we usually used to get onto the beach path.

“Hey, what about Zaid?” She said seriously, looking back as she watched Dada entertaining him as he let out a few giggles.

He had settled so well in the past few weeks, and I was so glad that he was a friendly kid. Being out in the open now after that trip was all he needed right now.

”He’ll be fine,” I said softly, pulling her along despite her resistance. “He’s in good hands.”

She let out a frustrated sigh as she pulled her hand away from me, but went along with me anyway. I couldn’t help but smile as I glanced up at the skies, pulling on my cap and glancing at her stubborn expression.

And because the path to the beach was exceptionally close and as we walked down silently, falling into step with each other, I couldn’t help but find myself reaching out for her hand again. It had become such a natural thing that I barely even realised it, and as she allowed my fingers to grip hers, I couldn’t help but conceal a smile as I snuck a look at her stormy face. And even though she was annoyed with me, I couldn’t help but think of how gorgeous my wife looked right then, as she refused to meet my eye.

I cracked a smile as she scowled at me as we stopped to take off our shoes, knowing that I wasn’t completely off the hook for my last minute stunt anyway. Taking a step closer to her, I traced my thumb over the outline of her jaw, forcing her to look at me angrily while she lifted her hand to swat mine away.

She was so stubborn sometimes that she made me laugh.

”I didn’t mean to pounce on you,” I said softly, catching her eye as she looked back at me. At that point, her eyes were filled with so much of honesty and sincerity that I didn’t quite have it in me to just ignore her little tantrum.

After that drive and all the social media obsession, I was actually really regretting letting Rabia come along with us.

Mohsina stayed silent as I watched her for a moment, when she was hastily started feeling her pockets, and I knew exactly what she was looking for.

“Oh gosh, I forgot my…”

I smiled as she trailed off, knowing exactly where I had left both our phones, and well aware that I had purposely intended to leave all technology behind today. I just wanted to sit there, under the streaky skies, watching the riders of the sea crashing against the waters, roaring away with every new wave…

And because I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, I turned my gaze to the view of that had already captivated her, watching her eyes fix on the tide that was endlessly ebbing and flowing, as we gazed at it together. The sound of the seaside captured us from every side, echoing off the rocks surrounding us.

For a moment there, the entire world melted away as the rhythmic sound of the ocean overcame my senses, and like an old friend, meeting once again at the shore… being out there had already calmed me and settled me incomparably. The oceans embrace had cleared my mind and already gave me a new perspective on what had been worrying me.

”How vast is this ocean?” Mohsina said softly, and I couldn’t help but swallow emotion as I gazed out at the limitless waters that seemed to go beyond eternity.

How vast is Allah Ta’alas Arsh? How vast was His creation?

Allah’s Messengerﷺ said,

“When Allah completed the creation, He wrote in His Book which is with Him on His Throne, “My Mercy overpowers My Anger.”

(Bukhari)

“Imagine how vast is His mercy,” I whispered as I let my eyes feast on my favorite refuge, unable to withhold my amazement for that minute.

We could barely understand it. What we could see was only the tip of the iceberg. What we understood was only a meagre and minimal part of what really existed. It truly boggles the mind. None can fathom the greatness of Allah, and as I looked out, I could only imagine the beautiful array of marine life and coral that lined the ocean floor like a limitless burst of magic beneath the surface. Who knew what splendour lay beyond those enticing waters?

The thing was that everything becomes a lesson for us, when we are in tune with Allah’s greatness. Every ebb, every ripple, every whiff of salty breeze… every tiny creature or little rustle in the trees behind us… all becomes a means of looking to Allāh’s greatness and magnificence.

And as we stepped over, along the little bridge that served as an entrancing lookout to the open seas, it was no secret that Mohsina was completely captivated by the beauty the was before us. Its infinite beauty just got more and more intense, with every step we took as the seas spread before us in all their glory, and being there again reminded me of how much I loved this place as a teenager.

And as the wind picked up slightly, I pulled off my puffer jacket to put around my wife’s shoulders, while she smiled gratefully and  I saw her then in a completely different light. I realised why I kept bringing her to my favourite places. I realised that I was letting her into more and more of my world, and as I saw her out here, in the open, or out in the wilderness, the affection of nature having its effect on her, it reminded me again if the girl I sometimes saw beyond that determined go-getter.

Beneath it all, there was a softness within her when she let herself give in to nature, when she embraced the free spirit within her, and for a minute, I glimpsed that vulnerability once again. It was the only reason why I kept taking her out to the places I loved. It was the one time I saw her letting go of the shackles that the world and social media had captured her with. It was the only time that I witnessed her as herself.

And while I thought of it, being here with my wife made me excited, and scared, all at the same time. She had come so far… conquered so much, but this past week had been difficult to deal with everything that had happened. She was all cut up about recent events and how that virtual life could suck you back in became a concern for me…

“Can you see that bird on the wave?” I said softly, pointing to a white seagull that was playing around in the choppy waters, my eyes not leaving it for all that time, as it swam on its appointed wave. An amazing thought struck me as I did…

Mohsina’s dark eyes turned to look at the seagull, and a small smile flashed on her face as she did.

She nodded as we both fixed our eyes on it, her hands now tighter around mine as she watched it fluttering around, riding the wave and balancing expertly as it rose and fell once again.

I took a deep breath, hoping to relate what I meant as best I could.

“I once heard an Aalim say that everything in nature has a lesson for us,” I said softly, my eyes not leaving the scene before us, as I spoke. “And I was thinking… You know… Life is so uncertain. Unpredictable. Difficult at times. We all face challenges, get hurt, fall to our knees… But like how the bird stays on its intended spot, not matter what the conditions… on the crest of the wave, battling to keep his momentum but still succeeding… We too should battle through the tests and the turbulence to keep ourselves on track, to always be struggling with our Nafs… no matter what challenges we face…”

It was normal to slip. To fall. To find ourselves flat out on our backs at times. But we keep getting up. Even after we fail, after we sin, after we find ourselves feeling like we’ve lost the battle completely… there’s always getting up again, and until we leave his world, it’s still never the end.

She looked at me, and I didn’t meet her eye as I said it.

The thing was, life was a constant battle. We always face challenges. Shaytaan is always out to trap us. And after the past week, I was scared of losing Mohsina to what she used to be. I was scared that with the influence around her and with so much that was threatening to destroy her, she was going to get lost in that world that she had once been submerged in once again. I was scared that my sister was having a bad influence of her too. I was so scared that she was going to start losing herself, and this time, I wouldn’t be able to save her. How do you save someone from their own self ?

I mean, I knew that the decision to marry her was because I could see something shifting within her. What I didn’t want was being back at that point where I felt like I was fighting a losing battle.

I was scared. And it wasn’t even about losing the battle anymore. I was more scared because from someone who was completely averse to emotion, I could actually feel something for Mohsina that I never felt before.

And I never believed in love, but if you ever had to ask me, this thing that was starting to take over my heart, was probably the closest thing to it that I ever felt.

I pushed away all stray thoughts as I shoved my hand into my pocket as I breathed out, pulling out the box that was in there for the past few days, knowing that I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

I had it with me since the previous week knowing that I was waiting for the right time to give it to her, and right then… well, it just felt right. Also, I knew that it would be a good diversion.

“I’ve got something for you,” I said as I turned toward her, not knowing what else to say, as she finally turned to me, I could tell for a moment as that this was something she didn’t see coming.

She widened her eyes and swallowed silently, stunned as she stared at the diamond stone set in a band of white gold that I had purchased just a week ago. It was something that I knew we hadn’t done when we had gotten married because everything was so sudden and unconventional, and though it was seriously delayed, I always wanted her to wear a band like other married couples do. It was just something I felt passionate about. The whole ring exchange thing hadn’t happened for us, but I really wanted to give her one.

She was still staring for a minute as she looked as me and then at the ring, her eyes glistening as she met me eye. And I had purposely done this very casually and I had no idea what was so emotional for her, but I knew women were strange so I barely even thought much of it as she finally opened her mouth to speak.

And of all the things I had expected her to say, I never expected what she said next.

“Hamzah, no,” she said briefly, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she snapped the box shut. Of all the things, it was the furthest from what I expected.

I couldn’t help but frown as I watched her turn away, trying to figure out what on earth went on in this woman’s mind.

For me, I just felt that we hadn’t exactly done everything the right way around, and of all the things I really wanted.. well, this was one. To be an actual married couple with the formalities and the ornaments, even though it was a little extra, well.. it wasn’t like it was wrong.

“I can’t,” she stammered, her voice shaky and I couldn’t even understand why. “It’s too much, I’m costing you too much, Hamzah. I’m sure you didn’t intend on doing all this…”

The money. She was still worried about the money, when I told her she didn’t have to. It was true that this month had stretched me, but I had a plan for my finances.

And I knew that she still doubted me, but I really and truly believed that we could make this situation a perfect one. I just wished that she could too.

She was still shaking her head, as she turned away and faced the open seas, which seemed to be getting choppier with each passing moment. Their storminess was having an immense effect on my mood and I shoved the box back in my pocket, not knowing what else to do. I was angry and annoyed.

What was it with this woman? Why did she always challenge me? Every time I felt like we were getting one step closer, it seemed like it was two steps back. Here I was, slowly opening up to her more and more, and it seemed like all Mohsina was intent on doing was putting up wall after wall…

It was already a few moments of silence that had passed before I felt her hands snaking around my waist, and before I even knew it, she had already delved into my pocket.

The box was already opened and without another word, she already pulled the ring over her slender finger, gazing at it for a second as I looked at her and raised my eyebrows, wondering what it was that made her tick.

Truly, my wife was one of the most complicated conundrums for me, but as I looked at her, I couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous temperament. At that point, I was more vulnerable in her presence than I had ever been.

I mean, who says no to a diamond ring?

“Right from the first day I met you at Hammonds,” I said, shaking my head and pulling her closer to me, trying to swallow the emotions that she had brought on in the last few minutes. “You annoyed me more than anyone in the world, Mos, but I still want to spend every irritating moment with you.”

It’s true that when I first met her, she was one of the people who I would try to avoid at work. I supposed it was because she was so focused and driven and trying so hard to be at the top. She always went all out for everything, even though I knew that for a woman, it was always much harder to get to where they wanted to be.

Women empowerment was her thing. Her passion. Her reason for pushing herself as far as she had and getting where she did in her career.
And though she kept proving to me, what she didn’t realise was that the minute she had put her own desires aside to tend to Zaid, and bring up our son, her status for me was already on Saint level. Thats all she had to do. I mean, women fought so hard in every avenue, but all Allah Ta’ala asks of them is to please their husband, and their Jannah is made.

Simple and so easy.

And that’s what made her all the more special for me. That’s what made even the things that never made sense to us, finally make sense.

She finally grinned as I watched her stick her tongue out at me, but there was a certain something brewing in her eyes as she did.

“You’re my happily ever after,” I said simply, hoping to make her smile but as I said it, it was as if something in her shifted and all of a sudden, she turned away, almost as if she was shying away from something that I had no idea about.

Did I say something wrong?

“Mohsina,” I said, frowning as I watched her, confusion creeping over me. “Is everything okay?”

”I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hand as she tried to move away from me.

”What?” I asked, frustrated now, my eyes searching hers for answers.

Any answer. Any reason. Just something, dammit.

And unbeknownst to me, the whole trip here was turning out to be a bit more than I bargained for. I didn’t realise that Rabia being with us had brought on a whole lot more than what I anticipated, and that much more was said that I had no idea of.
I wasn’t even aware that what Mohsina was about to say was only the tip of the iceberg, and within the crevices of her pained heart there was much that was still left unsaid.

She stepped back, leaning on the balustrade as she pulled my jacket tighter around her, almost as if she was harnessing some kind of turbulence that was wrecking havoc within.

And then she took a deep breath, and finally met my eye.

“I have something to tell you.”

---

Dearest readers…

A little bit of drama to unfold… but let’s see how Mohsina finds her way out of this one… Any pointers on whether she should reveal it all or not?

Request for Duaas

Much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of Time Management:

We come into this world with an allocated amount of time. We should, ideally, spend this time to please Allah and strive toward our Aakhirah.

Among the harms of social media are the harms of time wasting.

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to be particular even about our digital time, and save us wasting our time on these frivolous activities.

Oh son of Adam. You are nothing but a number of days. Whenever a day passes, another day has gone. (Fadhaail e Sadaqaat)

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Wistful Waterfalls

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 56

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My word, it was enchanting.

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

Signal! Oh my goodness. It was a miracle!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did not know that I married a complete psychopath.

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

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

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

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

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

”If not now, then when?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled faintly, but continued.

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

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

And why wouldn’t I be?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Al-Kahf 30-31)

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

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

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

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

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

“I think he would have liked that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is when I truly realised the meaning of:

Death is a gift for a believer (Bayhaqi). 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is love.

---

Dearest Readers 

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

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

Please take note of our very important Sunnah reminders. 

much love
A xx

Sunnah of (Digital) Company:

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

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

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

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5534,

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Old Wounds

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 47

We all have things we don’t say. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, somehow, the truth always surfaces, and somehow, old wounds sometimes open up…

“Mos,” Hamzah called, as I speedily made my way down the cobbled pathway ahead of him, hearing his footsteps right behind me.

I didn’t turn back, even as his black trainers came into view, as I kept my head down. I wasn’t exactly angry, but sometimes, I could swear that Hamzah did need a filter on his mouth. And also…. well, it was good to make a guy sweat.

I was still in good spirits, despite it all.

And one of the reasons was that last night’s function had gone off smoothly. Being the first family function after years, it was actually great seeing everyone… even the annoying cousins that I usually didn’t enjoy seeing. On top of that was an influx of family, work friends… even Mickey and Lesley with Muslim guy from HR had pitched up and it was simply so amazing  to have them there on our special day.

Afterward, knowing  that Hamzah was planning to leave the next morning, we had retired to our own homes for a few hours, already exhausted, due to Zaid’s fussiness as he slept for all of four hours, before Hamzah came to fetch us both.

And it was expected that the goodbyes were a little more emotional than usual. My parents had both grown immensely attached to Zaid, and so had Nani and Jameela.

“Mohsina.”

His tone was pleading and he was slightly out of breath, having had to jog to catch up with me, but there was very evidently a speed limit on my performance, due to the baby in my arms.

”At least let me take Zaid so you can sulk in peace?”

I shot him a stony glare, not surprised to see the grin on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Open the door,” I said feistily, holding tighter onto Zaid as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys,

”Only if you forgive me,” he said earnestly, stepping forward to take Zaid from my arms. “Really. I did say I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid your question so I gave you a dumb response…”

Hmmm. Was that even an excuse? Comments like that weren’t completely baseless. That was the part that got me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking up at his face, noticing his suddenly grim expression, as he glanced at me back.

The conversation in the car had happened just a few minutes ago, but the words he had said hit a little deeper than intended.

The drive was pleasant enough, and surprisingly, Hamzah was a quiet driver.  While I chatted, snacked and munched  (mostly on chocolate) Hamzah kept his eye on the road in true dedication, determined to get there to our destination by late morning.

And even as I glanced at him from time to time, it took me a while to figure out that while I wondered if he was being quietly grumpy or if perhaps he wasn’t a morning person, that he was, in fact, actually reciting Qur’ān. As he drove the four hour drive to the local destination, sliding his phone open from time to time, probably checking some error or word he may have missed on his 13 line Quran application, Hamzah’s only purpose was to make sure he did his two para dhor for the day.

It was  after pulling into the most breathtakingly scenic road, seeing the mountains ahead of us, I had already figured that we weren’t exactly heading along  farm route like I assumed, and my first instinct was to ask him exactly what he had planned.

“So can I ask where we’re going?” I said, giving him a sideways glance as we sped along the smaller road, Hamzah’s eyes planted firmly on the road.

“Of course you can,” he said blandly, now glancing at me momentarily. “Doesn’t mean I have to tell you.”

I rolled my eyes at him as he smirked, and then turned serious again as he opened his phone again, and then moved his eyes to the road. Typical Hamzah.

And of course, as he did it, my whole intention was renewed, because even though he could obviously be a reclusive, irritable old grouch at times, I remembered my own attachment to Quran that had inspired me to change my life, and my pursuits and my spirits immediately lifted.

The fact that he was so dedicated and used this time for something worthy was quite admirable. I mean… This was, ideally, how our lives should be.

In the airport or the park, in between rounds or even in the shopping mall … our entire purpose and aim should be Qur’ān.  Qur’ān. Qur’ān. And how beautiful was it that the reading of it never makes one tired or weary… but it’s recital only increases ones love for the beautiful book of Allah. In fact, the heart only grows fonder, as recitation increases, and one finds himself or herself even more immersed in its love.

And if our hearts were pure as they should be we would never tire of reciting it.

And while I sat there watching him with severe FOMO, because I didn’t know enough of Qur’ān to recite without looking (and knowing that the minute I tried opening my phone application , I would immediately feel sick), all I could do was silently wish him to read louder as I put my head back and listened to his barely audible recitation as he continued.

“I had thought we were going to the farm,” I said when he stopped, feeling particularly soothed after three and a half hours in, not being able to take my eyes off the streaky sky that now came into full view, and seemed to stretch to beyond forever and more.

Hamzah didn’t look at me.

“Nah,” he said, as we turned into a dirt road. “Isn’t the farm standard a little… basic… for girls like you?”

Ouch.

Girls like me?

I frowned and I could immediately see the regret on his face as he realised what he had just said, and instantly apologized.

But the damage was done, and it stung. He had just implied that I was only after the big bucks. Again.

Besides, money and finances were a bit of a touchy subject for us … and I really didn’t want to delve into it.

It was just that, even my father didn’t know the full truth about what had happened when Hamzah had called off our Nikah and maybe it was time to see if Hamzah may know a little more than he let on…

But first, well… I had bigger fish to fry. He had just admitted that  there something he was hiding, too, and right then, I was determined to find out what it was.

I clenched my jaws together to stop my teeth from chattering, as we stood outside the door of the chalet where we would be spending that night at. I was literally freezing up.

I looked at his unflinching gaze, trying to read his expression. As always, Hamzah gave nothing away.

”Tell me, then, Mister,” I demanded, still annoyed but wanting to know more about the truth he wasn’t willing to reveal. “What you are avoiding telling me?”

I stepped back and plonked myself down on the cement bench behind me, not anticipating the coldness seep right through to my bone.

Yeech, it was frrreeeziing.

“Okay Missus,” he replied, shivering slightly in the morning cold too, even as he pulled on another puffer jacket over his current lightweight one. “Can we at least go inside first?”

I had one of my warmer coats over my grey modest tracksuit, while Zaid was covered in about four layers. Though the body heat was keeping him pretty comfy for now, I knew that it wasn’t a wise idea to be out in these cooler temperatures. I could also feel the tip of my nose going slightly numb, and I could assume that it would only be a few minutes before it started running unattractively, and I wouldn’t even have a hand to wipe it.

I nodded, a little half-heartedly, as Hamzah fiddled with the bunch of keys. It took a few tries before he got it, but eventually, the old wooden door creaked open and as he pushed it, signalling for me to go in, before he did, and pulled the door behind us.

And as I stepped in, I couldn’t help but feel immediately awakened, somewhere deep within me… a part of me that had been asleep for way too long.

The place was beautiful. Gorgeous, some may say. And if the door was any telltale sign of what lay beyond it, I might have thought that the place was a dump, but in actuality, I was kind of mesmerised by the untainted view before me.

SubhaanAllah. It was simply glorious. It had been a long time since I had appreciated nature like that.

The huge glass windows before me boasted most spectacular scenery, overlooking one of the most amazing canyons. For some reason, I always loved the time of year when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale… for days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless golden red array.. Autumn had always been my favourite season. The air was as crisp as the leaves on the trees, and a sky so blue spread before us, that you could drown in it…

As I stared, for a minute, I forgot that I even had Zaid in my arms.

”Do you like it?”

I withheld my answer until I put Zaid down, glad to see that he didn’t even stir. He had been up early, despite the late night, and it was about time he caught up with all his missing sleep.

”This is stunning,” I said truthfully. “I’m not sure how you even found this place.”

It was tucked away at the end of one of the most bumpy dirt roads, but it was worth getting up at 4am and travelling eternity and beyond for.

It also looked like a woman had a hand in the room preparation.

Rose petals were scattered along the floor, and bottled grape juice was perched on the bed pedestal. I wanted to ask him if Rabia had been involved, but mentioning her would probably immediately dampen my spirits. I didn’t want to stoop down to her level and rat her out, but Rabia had come to take Zaid the night before, it felt like she gave me the complete cold shoulder and I was a little annoyed about it.

Like, what did I ever do to her, except give her tit-for-tat when she really deserved it. She couldn’t really be holding a grudge from so long, could she?

Either way, I had made a firm resolution after Ramadhaan to keep myself out of people’s business and avoid picking out their faults. Even if it meant overlooking my slightly annoying sister-in-law, and acting as if it didn’t affect me, I was at least going to try. At least Saaliha was nice, even though she kept apologising to me for her sister gatecrashing the wedding towards the end.

That was a cute thing though, and when I met her, I found myself instantly taking a liking to Fareeha too.

”I saw it online,” he said easily, pulling off his jacket as he looked around, feeling the air around us ease off, as the under-floor heating warmed it up.  “Imraan knows the people who own it. Strangest thing ever. They have an Instagram page.  It actually looks exactly like the pictures.”

He had that look on his face and I knew he was trying to provoke a reaction and the old squabble we always had about social media, but nowadays, it didn’t bother me much. With all the excitement during the past two weeks, I didn’t quite need the dopamine influx and had kept my Instagram posting to a bare minimum. I had come a long way. I no longer had the urge to show my life to everyone who followed me.

The reality was far more engaging. I just hoped that I didn’t slip into old habits when things calmed down…

”I can see what you’re doing,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him as I pulled off my scarf and cap almost unconsciously. “Trying to distract me so I don’t ask about what you were hiding. Just spill it.”

And as Hamzah opened and closed his mouth, almost as if he was going to say something witty back, but got thrown off, and it only struck me then that it was the first time that he had actually seen me without my hijab, and I kind of wished that I had at least been a bit more dignified about removing it.

Why was I like this? Maybe Nani was right when she called Jameela and I jungalees yesterday.

“Okay, gorgeous,” he said breezily, after a few seconds, walking toward the glass doors that led outdoors, feeling my cheeks reddening slightly at the impromptu compliment.

He had pulled opened the door that led outside slightly, promptly lighting a cigarette as he stood there and turned to me.

“I’ll tell you, alright? I didn’t want to go back there because there are too many memories.”

He placed the cigarette in his mouth and pulled in deeply as we looked at each other, me slightly confused, before I finally asked:

”What memories exactly?” I said carefully, knowing that things may have happened there that I probably had no idea about. I had taken a seat on the ottoman at the end of the bed, facing him.

He didn’t say anything straight away. Instead, he turned his face toward the open door, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke than dawdled in the crisp morning air almost rythmically, before he turned back.

”Memories of our friends,” he said in low tone, after a few seconds of silence. “Liyaket. His wedding. Being there with him almost every holiday before that. Memories of all the good times I want to forget. Those kind of memories. You know?”

I swallowed and nodded, feeling an inevitable wave of grief overcome me as I digested just how lost Hamzah seemed right then.

I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect him to actually have real emotions that affected him and made him into entirely different and softer kind of character, who wasn’t always messing around and chasing the next good thing.

Death. One of the most painful reminders about the inevitability of this life. One of the most resilient kind of forces that pull you right out of your comfort zone.

I wanted to go forward and comfort or hug him, offer him some soothing words, but… well, we weren’t exactly at that kind of comfort level with each other as yet and I couldn’t even think of what to say…

Also, he was puffing away at his menthol cigarettes with such ferocity that I wasn’t sure that he’d even notice me through all that smoke.

As you may have gathered, I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hamzah’s smoking habit and often stayed as far away as possible.

And it was just as well, because Hamzah had already slipped through the opening, onto the balcony, and I didn’t blame him.

It was a most enchanting outlook. Mountains upon mountains, with the sun at its highest point right then, almost unveiling the naturally landscaped glory of nature that mesmerised us so completely.

A wired little bird feeder was situated on the edge of the balcony, and while I watched, tiny, colourful birds made their way in and out through little squares, arguing and teetering in a most adorable fashion as they pecked along at the scattered seeds, almost as if this was their most eventful meeting of the day.  I was sure that Zaid would enjoy watching them when he woke. He was starting to notice things and this would probably have him gurgling in glee.

And as I watched Hamzah, though I wanted to venture out too, I had a feeling that he needed his privacy right then, and I didn’t want to lose myself in the beauty as yet. Actually, I didn’t want to immerse myself in the moments, as much as they were calling out to me…

For some reason, I was still holding back. So much had happened in such a short time, and I felt as if needed to just let myself deal with it in the easiest way possible…

And as I turned away from him, knowing that Zaid would need another bottle shortly, I kind of absorbed myself in my tasks for the time-being.

I quietly folded my scarf with the pin on the counter, pulling my legs up onto the couch, I hastily pulled out laptop to check up on emails, as I tried to think of something to say when he came in next.

I stared at my laptop, a little displaced. I didn’t have anything to officially submit, but it was my new tool to keep me off social media. It wasn’t that I didn’t go on at all. I was just majorly limiting posting and getting carried away with baseless and mindless content.

Also… well, it had become a goal of mine to at least try and be the kind of wife that I wanted to. Maybe it was circumstances. Maybe it was history. Maybe it just needed more time.

I wasn’t there yet, but I knew precisely the kind I wanted to be.

An intelligent woman, a sincere well-wisher, a pious soul, a patient human, a comforting wife, a caring spouse, a loving mother, an expert homemaker… The Ideal Woman and a dream for many…

It was on the famous occasion when Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) stood up trembling, heading home to seek rest and solace in the tender care of none other than Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha).

This great woman, the best friend that she was, calmly comforted Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) giving him the strength he needed.
She addressed him thus, “By Allah! Allah Ta‘ala will never disgrace you! Indeed you join and maintain family ties, you bear the burdens of others, you earn for those who cannot acquire a livelihood, you extend hospitality to your guests and you provide assistance when a calamity or disaster strikes.”

Sayyidah Khadeejah (radhiyallahu ‘anha) spared no effort in consoling Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam) at this greatest moment , which is perhaps the greatest of her deeds.

But this was the best of the best… and I knew that there were no greater examples that the Sahaabiya, and as looked into her life, I could tell that this was who  Sayyidah Khadeejah Al-Kubraa (radhiyallahu ‘anha) was.

And though I was inspired and aspired for something even close to that, I always knew that I would fall short, because of course, my husband wasn’t the greatest human of all time, Nabi Muhammed (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam).

Yes, we all want that perfect kind of love. The beautiful life that you want to live every moment and never share, because you just want to have it all to yourself will it. Everyone wants things cut out for them..

But that was the test, wasn’t it?

Everyone has their battles, and their bridges to cross. This was a unique kind of situation and I knew Hamzah and I still had multiple hurdles to cross. Ill feelings may crop up. Old wounds may open. Encountering speedbumps were inevitable and without delving into the whole bed of roses advice, I already knew that in fully winning my husbands heart, I was going to have to be a little more than just the basics.

And we had gotten this far, and while many people try to please everyone else in gaining their admiration, I knew that there was so much of beauty in the Hadith that stated that when the woman pleases her husband, then immediately, her Jannah is made.

I wondered what I would tell him when he came back. Maybe I would be explain to him that it was how it was all meant to be. Maybe I would tell him that perhaps those who have passed and left have so much better that had been prepared for them.

And as my ears picked up the sound of a cutely disgruntled moan from the bed, my heart immediately lifted because I knew just the thing to be the perfect ice-breaker. Zaid. I knew taking him out, armed with him on my hip would immediately clear the air to say what I wanted to.

Getting to him before the squealing became a full-on howl, I hastily picked Zaid up and checked his nappy, glad to see that it didn’t need a change right then.
I had bundled him all cosily, up in his jacket and beanie as I stepped out the door, all psyched up to conquer the unknown, ready to make the announcement that Zaid the cutest, cutesy was awake.

And as I felt the icy gust of wind hit us as I stepped onto the wooden deck, it was at the very same moment that Hamzah met my eye, as he sat on the wrought iron chair, talking on the phone with his mass amount of stubbed cigarettes next to him.

He turned to me as he saw me, and something about the way he looked at me right then told me that this wasn’t just a regular phone call.

I paused for a minute, wondering if I should maybe go inside, but he raised his hand at me, as if to signal for me to wait.

“Listen, bro,” he was saying, sounding a little hostile as he spoke. “Today is not possible. I don’t know when is. I’m not even in town. I don’t care how urgent she thinks this is-“

There was silence as I assumed the person cut him off, and as Hamzah looked exasperated, he promptly said he’ll call back and cut the call.

Zaid let out a huge, excited gurgle and threw himself forward as he saw Hamzah, noticing that he was there, but Hamzah just smiled half-heartedly and seemed extremely preoccupied.

“Sorry, Mos,” he said, his voice low as he typed something in his phone. “You will never believe who that was.”

And of course, my mind was already in overdrive as it  already concocted all the plausible possibilities… and as I deliberated which one to voice, Hamzah was probably too stressed to even notice the worry in my own eyes.

He had already lit another cigarette, puffing away as he looked outside, almost as if he was trying to draw some serenity from the beautiful view.

“Who was it?” Was all I managed to half-croak, intensely afraid of what the answer may be.

Hamzah’s expression, as always, was unreadable, and my heart thudded incessantly in my chest, as I wondered if our entire day would be spoilt with that one phone call.

And just when I felt I couldn’t take the suspense any more, Hamzah walked up to me, gently lifted Zaid up to his shoulder, whilst pensively meeting my gaze.

“That was Hashim,” he said quietly.

The mention of Hashim’s name already stumped me. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

And like picking the scab of an old wound, the pain my friend had once felt had resurfaced now, for completely different reasons.

“He wants to meet Zaid.”

---

Dearest Readers,

I think I am due for my short break and am hoping I didn’t leave the readers with a huge cliffhanger ❤️
Just a quick one that I’d love to know how readers feel about:
I’ve been deliberating over this, and I’m just wondering if Mos should tell Hamzah the entire truth about her recent corporate past. Just curious as to what the readers think… and what would the correct thing to do be.

Love to hear from the readers ..

Much Love

A x

Don’t forgot our Mission Sunnah Revival

❤️

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

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

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

­

Counting Chickens

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 43

We’re Home.
And then we aren’t.

Sometimes we are lost, and then suddenly, we’re not.

And I’m not going to make this about love or soulmates or all the soppy stuff, because I honestly believe that it’s not about all of that.
What I can say, for sure, is that every one of us has a hole in us. A hole that we try to fill with different, temporary things, in order to gain our peace.

And while we get busy finding careers, holidays, soulmates and having kids, we forget that our happiness and peace cannot depend on them alone. A temporary fix cannot ever, fill a permanent hole.

When there is nothing else that can find that void but Allah, we lose ourselves in chasing the wrong things, to the wrong people, and on the wrong paths, until we finally find the source of it all.

Allah Azza Wa Jal, and His words.

And as much as it guides, protects and frees us…  most importantly, it brings us back to our beautiful purpose.

And as it hit me, almost out of the blue, as the sun met the sky on the horizon once again, and I closed my Mushaf, I could not have ever thought of a better way to comprehend what was unfolding right before me, right then.

My Lord, You have not created all of this without a purpose. Exalted is You.
(Qur’an, 3:191)

Purpose, everything has one. Nothing in the heavens or the earth or inside of me or inside of you is created without a purpose. And as we grow, and we learn, and we put self-absorption, doubt and temporary fixes aside, we come to realize what our true purpose in life is.

And as I crept toward the window, glimpsing the motion of hundreds of dust specks that swirled around in the morning light, as if they were doing a little happy dance of their own… my own heart lifted…

Like a sweet surrender to the sunnier side of life, I couldn’t quite believe that after all that rain, we had been blessed with the most gorgeous of days just when we needed it most.

And breathing in the crisp winter air, i savored the time of day I loved most about the farm we called home, admiring the stretch of glorious green before me. The sweet sight of the sun kissing the mountain tops, and then spreading beyond to highlight the best bits of country-life before me, in their optimum form, made  my spirits instantly soar. After a week of rains, seeing the sun find its way through the clouds to bless us with its warmth once again gave me a very palpable oozing within my chest…

And now, after the slightly stormy season of our life, I had high hopes that the sun was here to stay.

Even at that time of the morning, the house was buzzing with activity. Pots clanged as my mother counted chickens and argued about whether there would be enough, and I could hear my father shouting at Muhammed Husayn to get out of bed and come help him outside.

I could already see a few workers in the yard, clearing the grassy patch where the marquee would go, so that  it wouldn’t be too drenched with the morning dew that seemed so excessive that particular day.

“Mummy, can you just relax?” I could hear my mother saying from where I stood on the landing. “I hope you didn’t invite the whole world. We really won’t need so much of food. And it’s not the first time they have had a wedding in the family…”

”But it’s the first time we are having wedding in my family!” Nani said bossily. “What Will Khairoon and Taahira say if it’s not enough? Aunty Bhen is also waiting to see the menu. As it is she is planning her grandsons wedding from now and he’s not even proposed.”

Nani had more of a social life than me. How was that even fair?

“You shouldn’t have told her so early,” Ma scolded. “Then you wouldn’t have to give the whole itinerary. Plus, simplicity is the Sunnah.”

“What early?” Nani argued, missing the point. “I only told Khairoon two days ago and her kitchri was coming out. Leave it. Next time I won’t tell her till day of wedding. Just now something will go wrong and we will know why. Everything must be perfect.”

And I had chuckled to myself, wondering where Nani picked up stuff like that, but Nani and her eccentrics was really the highlight of every occasion.

She started rattling something in Gujarati that I barely understood, but I could tell that Ma had given up already. Nani was on a roll and no one could stop her.

And of course, despite the emotion, no one could help but be bowled over by Nani’s reaction to the proposal news. It was a mixture of excitement, happiness and tears as she processed them, and her theatrics, when my father had said that Mohsina and Hamzah and were proposed (again) was something that had made a very lasting impression.

And as Muhammed Husayn had cheekily told Nani that Mohsina had finally found a muscle man to marry, Nani had literally paused in the middle of cleaning the dhaniya, with an odd look of her face.

And while she was probably to figure out whether he was for real or not, and my father came in and confirmed it, an array of emotions consumed me too, as she shook her head silently, and then wiped her eyes, which were filling with constant tears.

Then, as if her entire life depended on thing thing, what she did next, was nothing short of amazing.

And I knew it was something completely astounding because as long as I knew Nani, her signature accessory that she had worn since half a century ago, was a simple but obviously expensive gold bracelet, around her left wrist. And it had been there for so long, that if you saw Nani without that, at any time, then you would probably question if it really was Nani at all, because it had literally become an essential part of her identity. And like most of the older people I knew, their gold and jewelry meant the world to them, and was their prized possession.

This particular piece, she had mentioned, was one that she had from before she even got married, so how old it was; I probably couldn’t even calculate.

But that wasn’t the point. Hearing the news, was something that had immediately stirred her, and as if it was an automatic reaction, as a token of gratitude… in the moment of elation, she immediately unclipped the bracelet, gave it to my father, and said:

”Weigh it and give the money away in Sadaqah (charity).”

And of course, like me, my father had looked at her like she had lost her mind.

Like, was she for real? She had just given away an expensive gold bracelet, on hearing one snippet of good news? I could not comprehend. I was, honestly, lost for words.

And of course I didn’t understand, because when I looked at it, I realised that because of Nani’s extreme elation, older and more religious people knew nothing more than to turn to Allah Ta’ala in every situation. Like a built-in reminder, their entire purpose and every circumstance always took them back to Allah.

And that’s when I recalled that several of the Sahabah (radiyallahu’anhum) had also practised this very act, of showing their gratitude to Allah Ta’ala for his favour by donating a portion of their wealth, I was rightfully blown away.

And of course, Muhammed Husayn raised his eyebrows at Nani, and singled Mosee out.

”Mos, see how happy Nani is that you going. She’s giving away all her jewellery.”

Mohsina had narrowed her eyes at him, as he said it, but Nani was still emotional as she looked up at him.

”So long I have waited for my grandchild to give me this news. My Du’aas are all being answered in front of my eyes. Why can’t I part with a little bit of Duniyaa because of it, huh? Don’t be so naa-shukriyaa.”

Mohsina had stuck her tongue out at Muhammed Husayn, but despite their light-heartedness, their was a tone of solemnity that was already imminent.

And what she said wasn’t just some kind of silly tradition. What I didn’t know then was that it was actually a Sunnah to give Sadaqah on hearing of good news.

In Bukhari it’s mentioned that Ka’b ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu), upon receiving the good news of Allah Ta’ala accepting his repentance, gave the clothing he possessed to the person who passed on the message to him.

And as I recalled the Sunnah of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) and his Sahabah when I saw her immediate reaction, I could not quite believe that qualities like this  existed in people of my lifetime.

The feeling of celebration was in the air and everything that came with it was immensely beautiful and uplifting.

I mean, I had always loved Hamzah for Mohsina but after everything that had happened, I really didn’t want to keep my hopes so high.

I mean, in every way, it seemed far-fetched, disastrous and near impossible, but somehow, when it comes together in a most unexpected way, you honestly could not have imagined it any other way.

From what I had gathered from my father and Muhammed Husayn’s snippets (which was not very detailed) and after a hugely emotional and slightly tense exchange, the question was popped and from what she had said previously, Mohsina knew that there was nothing more that she wanted more than to marry him.

And as I stood outside, as they finished talking, I could tell that both had undergone a tremendous amount of change over that past month, and their decision had been a beautiful result of that.

And despite knowing the outcome, later on when I finally asked my sister how it went, her vague answer was:

”All I can say is I was that there were two game changers…” she said mysteriously, with a coy glint in her eyes, as I raised my eyebrows at her questioningly.

“Zaidoo, and the bubbly chocolate,” she said with a smile, and I laughed.

For Mohsina, I knew that chocolate could fix almost any situation, and if Hamzah knew that, I was quite certain that he would be able to handle her pretty well…

Of course, although I lowered my gaze as he exited, I could tell that like Mohsina, Hamzah was very much at peace right then, as they got ready for this huge and crucial step of their lives.

All in all, it wasn’t one of those cliched, I can’t live without you, kind of proposals, and I didn’t expect it to be.

And it was barely the most conventional situation. There was, for starters, a little baby who relied on them, needed them and who they both loved immensely. Also, being in a situation where they had history meant that they had to put weird vibes behind them and move on, with no questions asked.
But while that was true, what I knew for sure was that Mohsina had changed, but how Hamzah had inspired her was something she hadn’t yet told him. I just hoped that one day, everything would come together beautifully, so they could work on all those little holes that needed to be patched up once and for all..

And so, without even giving anything else much thought, after they had made their Isthikhaarah, the week had gone by, as Mohsina went in to the office to round off her work, sort out her life and trying to squish other emotions as she brought her belongings back from the Hammond’s apartment, to start a brand new chapter of life once again.

And of course, I couldn’t help but think to myself how strange life was, in that way. One minute, you’re psyching yourself up for the job of your lifetime, changing addresses and wardrobes, and the next, you’re headed in a completely different direction o, and starting off again, in a almost unprecedented way…

I could sense a change in her as she visited her old life again, but I put it down to her having slight withdrawal, which was completely natural when you left a part of your old life behind. How much she had really endured, I wasn’t even aware. Although Mohsina had put on a brave face, for the first time, there was a reservation in her eyes that I couldn’t quite put my put finger on…

There was so much she had been through. So much her heart had altered. And that very morning, as I assumed Zaidoo was asleep, I knew that I couldn’t rest until I spoke to my sister before I went down and immersed myself in all of the preparations that Ma was already screaming for me to come help with. And as I called down to my mother that I was coming, I found myself pausing for a moment, outside Mohsina’s  room door before I entered, savouring the moment as much as I could, so it would seem to go on forever.

I was weird like that. I took note of the lasts and first of life… finding them strangely sentimental.
And as I breathed in deeply again, I knocked softly at first, hearing tiny whimpers from inside, knowing that Zaid was probably threatening to wake up and Mohsina was desperately trying to keep him asleep.

And as I pushed the door open, just slightly, my suspicions were confirmed as Mohsina put her fingers to her lips with widened eyes. Tapping him more vigorously was in vain because Zaid had already sensed an opportunity to abort sleeping mission and sat up immediately, blinking his eyes comically as he stuffed two fingers in his mouth and looked at me as if he was the luckiest little guy in the entire world.

And of course, I couldn’t resist, and as Mohsina sighed, I couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Oh my word, he just gets cuter by the day,” I sighed, as I dove on the bed, and pinched his chubby cheeks.

And of course, my sister was had no choice but to get up, knowing that today was going to be the big day… and soon her life would changed completely.

”So, how’s the ‘wife-to-be’?” I asked, glancing and winking at my sister, whose nerves seemed to be word very thin over the past few days.

To be fair, Zaid was also being a little bit troublesome and extremely clingy, and I wasn’t sure if that was what was making her a little edgier than usual.

All she had to do now was forget about everything else and focus on Hamzah, Zaid and herself. Yes, I understood that they had a bit to work through… but there was always enough time…. right?

“I’m fine,” she said, flashing me a quick smile before returning to her task of folding Zaid’s clothes and packing them in an open suitcase.

“You want me to keep him tonight? You deserve a better nights sleep you know… before everything changes completely.”

She frowned as she glanced at me.

I knew that Hamzah was going to be renting an apartment closer to his work place where they would be staying, but before the month end, she had mentioned that they may go away for a short break to that amazing farm house that had blown me away.

In my world, basking in the glorious sunshine with birds twittering above them, there was no better place to start a new life. Amidst a stunning backdrop of greenery and tranquility, it would be the perfect setting for the two, or rather, three, of them to bond with no signal towers in sight and make the most of the country air.

Ah yes, I was very clearly a dreamer and my realist sister was quick to remind me of it.

”No,” she said, unnecessarily bluntly. “All hell breaks loose if one of us are not with him. I don’t think it’s possible to leave him.”

”But that’s barely even romantic,” I moaned, with a frown. After all, she wasn’t Shrek’s wife who locked herself up at night.

”Unfortunately, Jams,” she said, turning to me with an odd expression in her eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but this marriage is not about romance.”

I frowned. She was such a bummer.

And she was wrong. I wasn’t sure that Hamzah even knew what she thought that they were setting themselves up for. They could make the most of any situation if they put their heads together. But evidently, they hadn’t.

”Is everything okay?” I asked now, getting a little worried. Her phone, which was on the mantle piece, had buzzed twice and each time she glanced at it, save looked even more edgy. She seemed a little more preoccupied though, as I tried to prove answers out her.

“Is that Hamzah?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her, hoping they weren’t chatting.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, and then, without warning I could see that wall coming down and shutting us off again.

“Mind your own business,” she said quietly, obviously not wanting to disclose what was going on. And of course, I hated it when she did that and I was ready to leave her to her own devices again, but I knew I had to say something more.

I wanted to yell at her and tell her not to let her old life suck get in again. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know how lucky she was to be given a second chance. I wanted to tell her that she can’t be doing this to us all over again. But I didn’t.

”You are sure about this, right?” Was all I said, looking at her questioningly.

I was so sure that this was the right thing for her and Hamzah, but what was going on?

”Im sure,” she said stiffly, and I took it as a cue to leave, thousands of unspoken words still hung in the air.

In my mind’s eye, I had this inspiring idea of telling her that it’s never too late to start again. To let her know its never too late time to pack your life into a suitcase too, and start some place new. I wanted to tell her that there were so many possibilities, and if only she could start over, the pen to write her life is in her hands…

I breathed in, calming down slightly as I realized that maybe it was something small and it would blow over and settle again. I was optimistic like that, counting chickens and all. After all, the Nikah was a few hours away. There was no going back from here, right?

And as I left her upstairs with Zaid and obediently followed my mother’s instructions, making my way out to the front to check if there was an extra bag of flour in the shop for Nani’s rotis, I wasn’t really thinking about much else. Mohsina was most unpredictable.

One day she was the happiest person in the world, and the next, she acted as if the world was coming to an end. It was a strange but definitive pattern that followed, but it seemed that every time Mohsina went back into office mode, something in her altered and her entire demeanor changed.

And as I unlocked and pushed open the empty coffee shop, which we had closed for the wedding week, and spotted the bag of flour in the far corners of the back room, all I could think about was Mohsina.

Yes, she had taken steps in the right direction, to reclaim her heart, and to get those keys back and , but as it happens, sometimes we slip and end up giving in to Duniyaa once again. I could see her faltering, allowing it to break her and bring her down again. She was seeking something from nothing, digging in, but all that would happen here is she would break her fingers in the process. And before that happened, it was up to me to pull her out…

And pulling the bag into an easier position to lift and hoist up, as I placed it securely under my arm, I was barely even aware of my surroundings as I exited the shop through the front door. Turning around to lock up, as we always did, as an extra precaution, I barely even heard the car that had appeared from nowhere., right behind me, until the person had jumped off.

“Salaam,” a voice said, and as I turned around in surprise, a whiff of a expensive perfume filled my nostrils. I was a little take aback by who was in front of me.

“Can I help you?” I asked politely, pulling my scarf over my head a little more securely taking in his suit and pants, with a tightly secured tie. “I’m afraid the shop is closed for the weekend, but if you’re after coffee, I can get someone to make you a cup quickly.”

Business man shook his head, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Zubair pausing and watching us from a distance, probably wondering what he wanted. After all, handling the shop was Zubair’s job, and I had a good mind of calling him over and tell him to serve the gentleman, so I could get on with my task.

What I didn’t realize was that while I failed to recognize him, Zubair had remembered exactly who this stranger was.

”I don’t need coffee,” office man said with a grim but poised smile. He exuded confidence, even though he was completely out of place in this farm-like setting.

And of course, as he introduced himself, and realization dawned, everything about Mohsina’s recent behavior now suddenly made sense.

“It’s Faadil. I came here to speak to Mohsina. I was wondering if you could call her for me?”

I wasn’t sure how much of a setback this would be, but I had a feeling that maybe… just maybe….
Maybe I had been too quick to count my chickens.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

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

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had…

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

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

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

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

A Change of Heart

---

Bismihi  Ta’ala 

 

Jameela 

Part 39

I once heard a beautiful something that went something like this:

 

The heart is like a mirror. If it is not cleaned properly, it will not properly reflect the recognition of it’s Lord.

 

And it may not seem like a game-changer, but you see, everyone thinks they are fine, until they realise that they’re not.

 

And only once I experienced this for myself, did I realise what it truly meant to have a dead heart. A heart that sees nothing beyond what is layered on top of its dust. A heart that is beating, but has no connection to the one who fashioned it. 

 

Because before this, I was alive in body, but my heart was drenched in ignorance. I was experiencing a spiritual drought. I was desperately in need of some showers of mercy. 

 

But every once in a while, there comes a time in life, a period of intense need, when the thirsty hearts of man are aching for a spiritual change of season, but need a little push to get there. 

 

And as Ramadhaan approached that year, I could already feel my heart yearning for its solace. The souls were stifled. Hearts were undoubtedly ill. The buzz in the air was palpable as Mummy did the usual mundanities of bulk grocery shopping and samoosas galore.

 

And don’t get me wrong, okay. I’m not saying that it was Nani’s samoosas …. but what I did know was that the samoosa filling that happened at the onset of every Ramadhaan did play a really vital role in this particular development, as much as Nani tried to deny it, but that, I’ll come back to later.

What I could say for sure was sometimes when you least expect it, life can do a 360 on you. 

 

A change that can change the hearts, like never before. 

And what changed it, you may ask? 

Well, all I can say is that there’s a time in life when you come to realise that there are certain things that can only come from the wealth of Allah Ta’alas treasures. Through dusting of the layers. Through cleansing the hearts. Through starving the Nafs. Through nourishing the souls… through Dhikr, through Salaah… and most of all, with Quran…  

Quran Shareef was the reason that Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was able to cope with his life.

 

I mean, who can claim to have a life worse than him? No matter what our beloved Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) experienced, he was never hopeless, because he had the Quran.

 

And the same can ring true for us too. The cure from the Curer. The Healer of Hearts. With Him, with His sublime message, the storm can never be too fierce, and without him, surely we will get knocked by even the slightest of a breeze. 

 

But sometimes we need a little stumble, to seek our Lord again.

It was still the week before Ramadhaan when it all started, when we should have been preparing spiritually but we obviously hadn’t, as I walked into the room, I had no idea whatsoever about what lay ahead, but what I was seeing before me was already giving me a little clue…

 

“Hey pretty mama,” I whispered to my sister as I walked into the spare room of our double story home, which undoubtedly had the best view of the plot that my father had inherited from our late grandparents. 

 

There she was, my gorgeous sister. Even in her frumpy  clothes, she was still a stunner.

Nevermind, she was lounging in her scruffy grey gown and pink fluffy slippers. It didn’t matter that her hair was dishevelled and make up completely trashed, Mohsina was the step-in mother who was just trying to pull through. 

 

She was rocking Zaid vigorously as she tried to settle his squirming body, which seemed to be particularly restless that day. I honestly did not know she had this in her.

I could see her grape-coloured burka I had gifted her for Eid the previous year placed next to her, over the chair, and the Quran she had used since madrassa days lying next to the crib, on a higher shelf. It had probably been a while since she opened it, but I knew that recently, since we had lost Layyanah, she had made it her daily routine to read a few Juz of Quran, and I could literally see the effect on her heart. 

That was the beauty part of reading for the deceased. There’s no one in the equation who does not benefit, and neither does it remove from the reward of the reciter. In fact, it was probably her salvation from the craziness of this new life…

As for Zaid, Mohsina was really trying everything to keep him settled, but it wasn’t easy. Nani was trying too, putting all her past skills to good use, while she embarked on this great role of alleged great-grand parenthood. 

“Did you try the gripe water mixture Nani made?” I asked, looking at the empty bottle next to the bed, and feeling a teeny bit sorry for her.

 

“Yasss,” she said enthusiastically, plopping down on the rocker while she held him tightly. His eyes were still wide open as he looked at her. “Tell her to make more. And then she can maybe massage him like she did last week. And put him on her knee to sleep. He hasn’t made a poo in two days.”

 

Oh gosh, TMI. Like why do mothers say things like that? 

Zaid was sucking on the pacifier in his mouth, but looking far from contented. 

 

And I knew it was the formula battle that was causing it. It was why Layyanah had been breastfeeding so persistently in the first place. I remember her once saying that she found that he twisted and turned in his sleep when he drank huge amounts of formula. 

 

She stifled a yawn as she tried to place him down as gently as she could, but he immediately gave out a moan, making her scoop him up and cradle him once again, pressing his stomach to keep him from squirming.

 

“Where is Nani, by the way?” Mohsina sighed, frowning slightly. She was looking a tad bit frustrated. 

 

I knew she wanted the help but I wasn’t good with Zaid at all. He always bawled in my arms.

 

“Filling samoosas,” I said with a small smirk. “From before Fajr. We’ll have samoosas coming out of our ears by the end of Ramadhaan.”

Mohsina’s eyes widened.

 

“I hope she is not planning on serving Samoosas today,” she said in a warning tone. “I ordered the woolies cookies and cappuccinos and Ma says she baked, and that’s all I was planning on giving them. Samoosas would just give them the wrong idea…”

Samoosas. Well, Nani’s entire life at the moment revolves around samoosas, and about that, there was nothing much I could say.

 

“Talking about woolies,” I replied with a tiny smile. “Nani wasn’t too thrilled about the nappy purchase from there last week. Or the formula. Said you’re wasting your money. She said next time to give you her list and she’ll get you a pensioners discount from the supermarket down the road.”

 

Mohsina grinned. Nani’s reaction to the whole situation was something that was pretty awesome. It was probably due to the fact that my sister was adopting an entirely new kind of role in her new-found life that was very much like the role Nani had always imagined for her… minus the husband. 

And of course, it was a shocker for me too. For the first time in years, Mohsina’s phone was barely in her hand. Work had taken a backseat. Her entire life had changed and Nani was noticing it too. Most of all, despite the heartbreak in the backdrop, it had almost completely healed their rocky relationship.

 

Almost. Except for the unmentionable things that Mohsina or Nani never mentioned. 

 

“Nani,” Mohsina mumbled lovingly with a shake of her head, and a humoured look in her eyes. “How can we explain to her the value of convenience? It’s the click of a button, and everything is here. Now I understand why new mothers always look like they do. Honestly, Jamz, I will never look at a stay-at-home mother the same way ever again. They are the new royalty.”

 

I never thought I’d hear the day that Mohsina would say that. And I was so, so in awe of her too. 

As for Nani, besides being thrilled about everything else, since she had heard about the new development this morning where Hamzah and family were due to come this afternoon to see the baby and discuss options on how to care for him in the best way, Nani’s entire purpose in life seemed to alter.

 

”Ohhh, he’s coming here?!” She had said disbelievingly as she heard my mother talking.

 

She said ‘he’ as if he was some kind of royalty or A-list celebrity. 

 

Her half-filled Samoosa was in mid-air as she stared at my mother inquiringly.

 

She was all anxious and excited as Ma explained to her that he wanted to spend time with the baby and was coming with a Maulana, and some of his family who wanted to talk about guardianship of the baby. Ma had made it clear that it was meant to be very professional and serious and no funny business was possible, and asked Nani to make special Duaas for them to come to an amicable decision. 

“Duaas are always there,” she said with an interesting glint in her eyes, but said no more as she continued stuffing the samoosas with chicken mince once more.

 

I walked toward the window, almost automatically, as she smiled back at me, glimpsing a kurta-clad figure in the yard and knowing exactly who it was. The kurta was uncharacteristic for a normal morning, and as I watched, not realising just how long I was standing and unashamedly staring, her voice sounded behind me.

 

 “Who you looking at like that?“ 

I blushed, knowing she had caught me red-handed as I quickly turned away.

Ah yes, the hearts were certainly ill and needed some intense healing…  

 

Especially mine. Tarnished and blackened by all the sins.

 

We tried, a lot of the time, not to cross paths… but sometimes it was unavoidable. 

 

Also, the way Mohsina was looking at me was even more unavoidable.

 

And as I looked at her too, I could see this changed woman who was nothing like self-centered one I had thought she was all these months. She had gone from someone that I could barely relate to, to an amazing woman who I looked up to and greatly admired .

 

Now, to add fuel to fire, she was mercilessly scrutinising me, with a sly smile as she raised eyebrows. 

“I know that look,” she said, shaking her head. “You like him, don’t you?”

 

I shook my head and she sighed. 

Well, not exactly. His name was Zubair and it was a few things that had come to my knowledge recently that had made me … understand  him a little better.

How he had gotten into trouble with his uncle. Why he had maybe resorted to what he had done. Why he needed to earn extra money in the first place, because he hadn’t finished school and his options were so limited, he just had to do all the dirty work that had got us into so much of trouble too…

 

“He’s not exactly usyaar, is he?” She said with raised eyebrows. “The complete opposite of you. Nani might have a thing to say about that.”

 

I swallowed and looked up at her.

 

Usyaar. The Gujarati equivalent of innocent and sweet-natured. Exactly what every mother-in-law was looking for in a son or daughter-in-law.

 

I knew that. And that was precisely the reason why I wouldn’t ever think of him as anything more than just an employee.

 

If only I could control my unruly heart.

 

“You got that look on your face,” she said with a cock of her head and warning glance. “Don’t get caught in that trap. Of feeling like you need to sneak around because ‘he’ is not what people expect of you…”

I blushed, even though I wasn’t guilty of being in that kind of trouble. I knew the rules. No furtive glances. No unnecessary chit-chat. No passing each other’s paths, even by ‘mistake’. 

 

My traps were only in my mind, but they were just as dangerous. As dangerous as he was, in fact. 

What I didn’t know was the Mohsina was only trying to ensure that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes that she did.

 

“I haven’t ever spoken to him,” I said, not wanting to entertain any further thoughts about the ‘he’ in question. “He keeps his distance even though he stays here.” 

 

The thing is, when we had first met him, in the coffee shop that day, we didn’t know that his mother was late and his father had kicked him out of the house after he started working for his uncle. His sister was married and in the UK for a few months… so he didn’t have much family here for support either. And that’s how he came to stay in the front house. 

 

”Papa seems to like him,” Mohsina conceded, glancing at me as she said it, rocking baby Zaid a little slower as he seemed to be nodding off. “I’m surprised.”

 

“He was the one who told Papa about his uncle and how he fooled you into paying him so much,” I said quietly, purposely changing the topic to slightly safer avenues. “I’m so sorry that you had to dig into all of your savings …”

 

I knew that Papa had finally spoken to her about it yesterday and it wasn’t until now that I felt confident to talk about it openly to her too. They had a long chat and spoke till almost midnight, before Zaid woke up bawling and Mohsina had to abandon the heart-to-heart because she was the only one who could pacify him.

What exactly they spoke about, I wasn’t sure… but from the way Mohsina seemed today, I could see that a lot of baggage was off her shoulders. She looked so much more serene.

“It’s only money,” she said quietly as she held Zaid closer to her. “And Faadil helped me. A lot. I paid him back most but there’s a little outstanding. I suppose it wasn’t the most ideal solution but one good thing is that it left less money available for all of his dodge extra-curricular activities…”

 

A slightly pained expression flashed over her face as she said it, and then she shook her head, swallowing hard as I looked at her inquiringly. 

“Activities?” I asked questioningly. 

“Just a few things I found out about him,” she said with a shrug. “A while back….”

 

I smiled sadly as she looked away, but not wanting to ask anymore questions for fear of the answers. The fact that he had given her so much of money and saved us from a horrible situation did make even me feel indebted to him too…

 

The entire thing was just messed up and it was his fault.

 

My heart sank because she spoke almost as if she liked him, yet my sister was way too good for that self-obsessed twit. What she even saw in him, I had no idea…

 

Mohsina turned to me, her hands tightly wrapped around baby Zaid as she stopped rocking him, a serene smile on her face as she glanced at me victoriously and finally bent to lay him down. 

 

My heart contracted slightly as I could picture Layyanah doing this umpteen times before, biting back tears as I watched as she placed him down in the little cot she had bought from the baby shop yesterday.

I smiled amidst the grief, a little in awe of how Mohsina herself had done this whole new transition. Something in her had shifted.

 

And though I expected Mohsina to be all possessive and impossible, she was actually being pretty level-headed in her approach… and though I could see that it was stressing her out, she had really taken it in her stride. 

 

Well, until now, when she looked at the time and did a double take. 

“Oh my word, I didn’t realise the time!” she squealed, widening her eyes and looking panicked as she realised that she had half an hour till they were scheduled to come.

It was actually what I had come to tell her before I had seen her in her maternal glory and got completely distracted. 

 

“I still have to get dressed and read my Salaah! Jamz, please stick around here and tap him back if he starts to move. Or just call Nani. At least it will stop her from frying any samoosas…”

 

And with that, in true crazy-mum style, my sister had already zoomed off to shower and I hovered around and watched the little sleeping sweetheart, wondering how such a tiny human could bring about such a huge change in so many people’s lives.

 

Change, huh? I never thought I’d see it. Till that point, to be honest, I had really given up on my sister. Despite knowing that I should never give up on anyone… I had shelved the idea of ever trying to see eye-to-eye with her until now. 

Instead of the superficial and selfish sister I had been accustomed to the past few months, and amazing, selfless and maternal side of her was make its way to the shore and it gave me goosebumps to see the potential she had.

 

I was so, so proud of her, for putting this above everything, and not just fitting it in like I thought she would. 

 

After the strange behavior she had exhibited over the past few months, pushing us away and distancing herself further and further… somehow, it was like something had clicked into place when she had lost Layyanah. The arrogance she had previously displayed was no longer a part of her. Instead, there was a simmered down, completely contented version of herself that had come to the fore once this new situation had become apparent.

 

And I didn’t even think of her last words to me as I got busy with Zaid and my babysitting duty. I wasn’t even sure how time ran away with me, because the next thing I knew, car doors were slamming outside and Mohsina was sprinting out of the bathroom, scrounging around in my cupboards for something decent to put on.

 

I couldn’t imagine how she must have been feeling at that point, if I was stuck in my own kind of frenzy about what the outcome of this entire meeting was going to be.

 

No matter what she said or how tough Mos acted… It was obvious that this was important. What was happening right now meant a lot to her. Not only was she dealing with someone who was once quite important to her, but all over again, for other unprecedented reasons, she had to make a good impression and build their trust once again and this was a meeting that would hold so much of weight.

 

And of course, it was precisely at that time when Zaid decided he was hungry again and started bawling his head off. Mohsina was yelling at me to take him when I pulled open the room door to head downstairs and be my best version of politeness, when I caught the whiff of freshly fried samoosas in the air. From Mohsina’s unimpressed expression, I knew she did too. 

 

I also knew that she was probably going to kill me for letting it happen but the truth was that when Nani was set on something, especially when it came to samoosas, there wasn’t much else anyone could say to stop her. 

What we didn’t know was that this whole Samoosa Saga was probably going to bring about a lot more than anticipated.

 

Sometimes, changes are gradual. Steady, slow and easy, sometimes the changes give us time to be accustomed to them and give us some sort of warning.

 

Sometimes the changes need to be within us, and we have to work on our inner selves. Sometimes the changes start directly from our filthy hearts, so we can finally see Allah Ta’alas magic in everything once again. 

 

And yes, we were all waiting for Ramadhan that year, to bring its peace and comfort, but what we didn’t know was that our entire world was already starting to transform before that.

See once in a while, with the realisation of life and death, when the hearts are altered and our souls have been moved through the beautiful sustenance of worship, it’s like the ground beneath has shifted. You see things with a new eyes. It’s like your whole world has changed, and things will never be the same again 

 

See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people can surprise you.

 

And once and a while, the ones you least expect, they may even take your breath away…

 

 

---

Assalamualaikum 

 

Dearest Readers 

 

I sincerely hope that everyone had a beautiful Ramadhaan. May Allah accept all our efforts, and grant us istiqaamat. It’s quite a transition, getting back to the old routine.

Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said: “The most beloved of deeds are those that are performed consistently even though they may be little.”

 

May Allah guide us to maintain our efforts. 

May it be a means of change, not only for now, but also a means of us continuously improving.

One sign of acceptance is to be able to maintain our efforts and do more. InshaAllah. 

Mission Sunnah Revival will continue- let’s try and bring all the past ones back into practise InshaAllah, especially trying to stay off social media and guard our gazes…

 

Please do remember me in your duaas

Much love 

 

A x

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah