Mohsina Part 64
Life isn’t perfect. It never will be.
Everyone has their own hang ups. Their unsaid fixations and obsessions. Their flaws, and their faults that make them imperfect. Their little scars that have made them bleed and caused others to bleed too.
But with matters of the heart, it doesn’t really matter. People can change you. You can make people change. And as we go through in life, we come to learn that everyone we meet, all we experience in life, has a purpose… and it is we who choose whether to realise that purpose or not.
The thing is, it takes us a while to realise it, but every single thing, every challenge, every experience in our life was only intended for one purpose: to bring us back to our origin. Everything has flaws. We love what we love and reason doesn’t always enter into it. But we need to realise that if somewhere along the way, we’ve given our heart to the world, we have to take back the keys, and we have to reclaim it once again.
And with that…. I was still battling.
I had many hindrances. My past. My career. My sins. Social media was threatening to absorb my time again, and with being home with no Hamzah and only Zaid for company, I found myself turning to my phone more often.
But the heart, when it turns… it changes all that. So this time, I caught myself in time. I knew that I had to do something to stop it.
Diversions. I had to keep myself busy. Occupy my mind. Do whatever it took to keep myself off it.
And though I tended to find myself with feelings caused by neurobiological withdrawal from the sense of being constantly connected… I knew that the only solution was to plunge myself into more productive tasks, like making dozens of mini cheesecake casings and considering doing a full online cakery to keep myself busy.
It was an idea that I was toying with for a while and it was my perfect opportunity to actually carry it through. I just had to have a proper plan.
And with the series of ups and downs in the past few weeks, things between Hamzah and I were actually smooth-sailing, for the first time since I could remember.
”Did he tell her about his new air fryer that he bought himself for his birthday?” Hamzah whispered, as we sat in my mothers kitchen and he stirred his coffee. “And his journal that he keeps a record of everything he eats for the week? I hope she knows what she’s setting herself up for…”
I whacked him lightly on his arm as he said it, trying to stifle my own laughter.
Poor Jameela. It wasn’t in Jameela to complain. She wouldn’t even say anything bad about him, except that he wasn’t really into traditional food. That part was a shocker.
I think the worst part here was telling Nani that Doc was a complete fail (and that he rejected her bajias)… especially when she still carried on as if the sun shone out from his behind…
“Sooooo handsome,” Nani was saying with an excited look, as Hamzah watched her almost running her hands together in glee. “And he is head doctor there, you know? Our Jameela will be the perfect wife for him, I just know it! She knows how to cook, how to bake, she will see to everything. Not like our Mohsina who can’t even fry samoosas properly.”
I narrowed my eyes, but ignored Nani as I saw Hamzah strain himself not to laugh. I was glad at least someone found her funny, because I certainly didn’t.
And okay, I know that I burnt the samoosas slightly when I was helping Nani earlier on, but she was just being a hater.
Papa still really enjoyed them.
Ma was murmuring to herself and I could see my father standing silently in the corner of her room and watching my sister, almost as if he knew her better than anyone else.
And then… There was Jameela, meek as ever, looking out into the meadow as the sun set over the grassy meadows, almost as if she was lost in a world of her own.
She was a such a dreamer that I actually could not even imagine what went through her mind at times. Her head was always in the clouds and her thoughts about life were exceptionally… romantic.
What she wanted from a spouse was probably exactly what I didn’t want. I wasn’t quite sure who would catch her eye, but I also had a feeling that once she fell for anyone… she would probably go all in, with zero defenses.
I caught her eye as I watched her pick up Zaid, fiddling with his little topee as she took it off and placed it on his head again, smiling as if she barely heard what Nani was just saying.
“He looks so cute with this on,” she said, hugging Zaid as he gurgled into his fist. He was sucking as if it was his lifeline and I had a strong feeling that his teeth were going to start cutting at any time. That was going to be fun.
And as much as I didn’t like it, Zaid had just been growing so fast. It was like I had just blinked and suddenly he was this gurgling baby who was already starting to crawl. From the mere roll, he was now crawling along on his body and it was only a matter of days before he would be moving around and probably driving me batty too.
“The topee?” I said, grinning as I turned to my sister again. “Hamzah insisted he wears one out now, so he gets into the habit of it as he gets older. I feel that he’s still a baby, but it can’t do much harm now, can it?”
I smiled as I watched him, feeling sad for a minute as I thought of Liyaket and Layyanah, who would miss every milestone that he would conquer… My heart ached momentarily as I smiled at Hamzah and caught his eye, wondering if his mind was also thinking along the same lines…
“Of course not,” she said quietly with a distant look in her eyes, snapping me out of my own thoughts. “And I know no one is perfect but I love that Hamzah has that… awareness… you know?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly, leaning close to my sister as she hugged Zaid again.
“So it’s a no?” I whispered as I sidled up to her, pretending that I was helping to pack the biscuits away. I could see from her expression that my sister was far from interested. “Doc?”
She had barely even looked at him when they were leaving.
If his mother and sister weren’t so stuck up, I might have actually pushed Jameela to go for it, but I didn’t really want her to marry into a family who was so laa dee daa. All they spoke about was brands and overseas trips, and I could definitely tell that his sister was another version of Rabia, except that she was married with two kids.
Instagram was her absolute lifeline.
“It’s an ‘I don’t know’,” she said with a grim expression. “I want… I mean… I need someone who knows where he comes from. Who knows his Rabb and loves Him. I want someone who I want my kids to take after… someone who I can talk to and listen to me and who sees into my heart, you know? I need someone who knows me here.”
She touched her heart and I smiled, suppressing the urge to tell my sister that those kind of love stories only exist in Utopia.
Nevertheless, I knew what she was saying. She didn’t just want someone who isn’t just good, but someone who doesn’t count all the good things he does. Someone who not only respects you, but someone who who would go the whole mile. Someone who inspires, who sees her for who she was, someone who made her smile…
It sounded idealistic, and that my sister was… but I knew that she had one thing that she found most important.
She was after someone who would stop at nothing to please Allah… who had Him in his heart… someone who showed her what real love was always meant to be like.
How can you ever fall in love with someone if they don’t love Allah first…
The heart matters. It matters a lot. That feeling… the inclination you feel towards someone who moves you in a way that only Allah’s love can inspire, is something completely unique.
The thing is, she was right. You had to have someone who was going to have that ‘awareness’. With Deen. With family. With kids.
If you compromise even on smaller aspects; who is to know the quality of Deen your kids will acquire. If you’re not giving them Deen, you’re giving them nothing at all… They were only the greatest gift if they could benefit your Aakhirah. What use if not for Allahs sake?
When a person passes away, his deeds come to an end, except for three:
1. Continuous charity
2. Such knowledge, from which benefit is derived.
3. A righteous child, who supplicates for him.
A righteous Muslim childs good deeds is the most vaulable gift to be a source of reward for the parents. Parents are encouraged to guide their children, towards righteousness, so that they can gain maximum benefit, when they are most in need of it… and that will be after their passing.
And just like her, I also wanted that. It’s what I had wanted from Hamzah too.. and I saw that in him.
And as I watched him, I could see Hamzah and Nani chatting like two metres away while Zaid had already been taken by mother, who was rocking him off to sleep in a corner of the room.
“Was it that bad?” I asked my sister, not wanting Nani to catch me prying. She won’t approve of me bad-mouthing the perfect catch.
“He was flexing his biceps at me, Mos,” she said with a shake of her head, genuinely in shocked as I watched her recall it.
I wanted to giggle at the image in my mind but supressed it.
”Ah, Jams,” I said, smiling slightly. “You’re so pretty and sweet… I could only imagine that he was trying really hard to impress you. Can you really blame him?”
She looked troubled as she smiled, shaking her head.
“Impress me?!” she asked, her voice still low, but as if she couldn’t believe he would want to impress her. “In the end, he told me he thinks it all went well and I should come see him at the hospital sometimes, and now I feel bad because what if he really proposes… I don’t know…”
With guys, you just never know. Sometimes they play along and act as it they’re so interested and just change their mind at the last minute. I’ve had friends who waited through an insane amount of Samoosa runs to finally find the one who actually proposed. It was a seriously complicated process that I just could not understand…
Jameela was so lovely, sweet and innocent that I could honestly see the anguish on her face as she remembered the guy who she had met, probably thinking about how it would ever work.
And now that I looked at her, Jameela, with her softness and her natural femininity, needed someone who was to bring out the best in her. Her heart was on her sleeve and her head was filled with flowers and fairy tales and I hated the thought of anyone who would burst that illusion she had of life. She was wholly consumed by moments in the open fields, of life on the edge of reason… having this ideology that everything that happens is with true purpose that living for each other was a rule of nature.
My sister was simple enough but she had fairy-tale illusions. I wasn’t exactly sure what she needed but I did know for sure that she didn’t need a self-absorbed guy who treated her like an accessory.
And she would never say it aloud, but I figured that this guy was not exactly the most fitting match for her. I didn’t want my sister to feel uncomfortable or forced and as Hamzah caught my eye, he leaned forward to tell me to be easy on her, seeing the complicated look in her eyes.
I watched my sister as she packed some biscuits back in the container, biting her lip nervously as she did it, almost as if her mind was on something very concerning.
“Jamz,” I said to her softly, moving away from Hamzah as he went over to show Muhammed Husayn something on his phone. “Nani will understand. There’s no such thing as you have to say yes.”
She flashed me a quick smile and nodded.
“I know,” she said quickly, and I could sense her tension ease.
I smiled at Hamzah as he squeezed my shoulder lightly, my heart feeling a surge of gratitude as I looked at him.
“I’m just going out for a smoke,” he said softly as he felt around in his pockets for his cigarettes. “I’ll see you after Asr?”
I nodded, smiling at him as his hand slid over mine lightly, before he headed out again. Nothing was perfect, but I could positively feel that the last week had been good for us. Really good, in fact.
It sounded almost fairy-tale like, even to myself, and I also felt that it probably had to do with the fact that for the first time since we were married.. we had a whole week to ourselves.
I had emailed Faadil with the proof of payment for all the money I had owed him, but what I got from him was a reply saying that he wasn’t sure why I had sent it because he never asked me for the money back. Not wanting to continue contact, I left it at that and didn’t think much of it, knowing that it was settled and feeling so much better now that I didn’t have to keep lying to Hamzah.
With everything on a better footing now, somehow it felt like I was giving more of me, instead of putting up the usual walls that I always built. With Hamzah, love was something that I had just begun to understand. Anyone can love a thing because. But to love a someone despite, is rare and perfect.
That’s what mattered….
And that’s what got me. Despite everything, The thing with Hamzah was that he knew my secrets and he knows my flaws but despite it… he wasn’t holding it against me. He had a good heart. He still made me feel safe. It was a foreign feeling to me, because I had always been the one to protect everyone else.
Whether it was my father, my siblings or my entire family… for the first time in my life, it wasn’t just about financial security. Hamzah made me feel protected, made me belive that that no-one could ever harm me if he was there.
And I knew it sounded stupid, but even that scared me. I was scared to let go. Scared to give it my all. Even during the moments I wasn’t scared, there was still something within me that held me back, made me question, stopped me from just letting go…
And even though we had stumbled a bit, with the rockiness over the past few weeks, for some reason, I felt like things were getting better. We were getting closer, talking more, sharing moments with Zaid and stealing any minute we could find for ourselves, just to be together and give a little bit of each other… to each other.
I knew that Hamzah had been taking his grandmothers advice to heart when she told him to keep Rabia and I apart. Rabia had been shipped off to the farm and boy, was I glad that everyone refused to bring her back, even though she was insisting that she could not cope and needed to see Zaid. And although I felt a little guilty, I also knew that it was for the best.
With Rabia’s interference, there was always a hindrance or moments when our privacy was invaded. Moving into the new place also helped tremendously, and it was all the more reason for her to demand Zaid’s time.
And as the week passed by, busy minding my own business, with Rabia’s messages to both Hamzah and I about when she could come over, she was still in my mind.
The thing was, I was a pretty forgiving person, at most times. I didn’t really hold a grudge against people, especially when they may not know exactly what it was that they had done.
And because I was feeling a teeny bit bad for her, as we sat over supper towards the end of the week, I couldn’t help but ask Hamzah about her… not really expecting my thoughts to drift to her past and her marriage, but curious nonetheless…
At first, he shrugged and looked at me, almost as if he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I wont say anything,” I assured him, holding his gaze as he looked at me. “I just want to understand her better.”
I really did. And as I watched him, I could see him mentally relenting, as he twisted his long fingers.
He looked troubled as he frowned and then sighed, almost as if he was battling with himself over the words to use.
“It was an ugly divorce,” he started slowly, scratching his chin as he said it. “At first, everything seemed good. He seemed normal enough. Rabia… She saw some messages on his phone about five months after they were married.”
“Messages?” I asked curiously, hoping he didn’t mean what I thought he did.
“He had someone else, and his parents knew it… right from the start,” he said with a sigh, and it was obvious that it had hurt him.
Ouch. I physically grimaced as he said it.
“I think she loved him way more than she should have,” he continued, shaking his head. “I’m just glad that there were no kids involved…”
I was silent, digesting what he had told me. He was right about the last part though.
Kids made everything a lot more complicated. Who knew that better than I. Zaid was the reason that everything in my life changed. But that was a good thing…
”So is he married now?” I asked, my eyes widening. “To that other woman?”
Hamzah nodded, and a slight pain flashed in his eyes as he said it.
”I think that’s what gets her more,” he said with a shrug.
I raised my eyebrows, wondering at what point I would have found out if he hadn’t told me. That was hurtful.
“How did she take it?” I asked carefully.
I felt bad for judging her and always getting annoyed with her, but I also understood that her reasons for being the way she was kind of made sense. That must be awful.
“For a long time, all we saw her doing was cry,” he said softly, his honey-brown eyes gazing straight ahead as his grip tightened on the glass that was in front of him. “You couldn’t even talk to her properly. She was completely…”
”Heartbroken?” I finished off, my eyes softening as he nodded, taking a sip of his water and looking at me. The heart was something so fragile and gentle, and sometimes you just can’t contain how much it feels until it’s too late.
“Yeah,” he replied, breathing in shakily, anger flashing in his eyes again. “He was also substance abusing. When you’re on stuff, then it’s just an ongoing spiral downward. So it was like one thing after the other, and Rabia.. well, before marriage… Rabia was actually a really good girl. She didn’t even have a phone. The complete opposite of me… you know.. I was starting my articles, after final year… messing around while she was the epitome of piety, if you can believe it.”
Rabia? I couldn’t. He glanced at me and continued.
“She even wanted to go into Niqab but then he came along… they met through a friend’s brother… and he didn’t want her to and so she just changed her entire role and dream to fit his expectations…”
Oh my word. I never thought I would say it… but poor Rabia.
And how on earth did she even end up with an idiot like that?
And no matter what had happened. How she had provoked me. Even if she really did intend to cause problems between Hamzah and I, I really wanted to be a bit more understanding towards her.
Sometimes I wonder how that’s fair. That she was so good and pure and then her whole life and marriage gets turned upside down. I knew that Allah had His plan for her… but I was so glad that I didn’t take off with her like how I felt like doing.
Silence is golden. Even silence of the thumb, when I felt like lashing out and telling someone off on WhatsApp or social media, but sometimes you have to just hold yourself back. As tempting as it is to have your say… to say your piece…
You never know someone’s story. Maybe they had a bad day or a bad week. Or just a bad patch…
To control what you say was hard at times, but so worth the Sabr in the end.
And although I was feeling bad for Rabia, not having her around was good for us as a couple. We had gotten closer, spoke more, indulged each other a little more than we would have otherwise.
And as Hamzah and I spoke that night, drifting off to sleep a little too late for a week night, I barely even noticed him leave the room in the early parts of the morning. I was still thinking about Rabia and her past, feeling a little depressed about it in general, and as I fell off to sleep again, waking for Fajr, Hamzah was already in the shower.
And I didn’t really expect him to be ready to leave at that time. I still thought that he may leave for Fajr and jump back into bed for another snooze.
Instead, I had barely even heard him get up to take a phone call during the middle of the night. Whatever had happened during the night… I had no idea… but the cool and calm Hamzah that I thought I knew and had gotten to know so well was no longer there.
“Where are you off to so early?” I asked, watching him as he pulled on a jersey, not meeting my eye.
Was he hiding something? It was strange. This sudden change in mood.
I couldn’t tell what was going on. Did Rabia say something to him? Was it me? Was it what we spoke about the previous night?
Was it someone else that he had spoke to or upset him…
“I need to be somewhere,” he said briskly, his voice sounding strained. “It’s urgent.”
“Hamzah,” I said, sitting up and hating that my voice sounded a little too desperate. “Whats going on?”
He turned and looked at me for a second, his expression unreadable as he stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, breathing in deeply as he met my eye.
“We’ll chat later,” he said quickly, planting a quick kiss on Zaids forehead as he touched my cheek, and hastily turned to leave.
Something was going on.
I had no idea what it was about but for some reason… I could barely still the hammering of my persistent heart.
All I knew, as fear gripped me, was a horrible feeling creeping over me that something was very wrong…
Mission Revive a Sunnah: Avoiding Suspicion
Many times, messages, post and videos go viral on social media. It creates a frenzy of discussion and debates and often leads us to jump to untrue conclusions.
Giving people the benefit of the doubt is part of the Sunnah. We should also avoid reposting anything that we don’t know the source of or which we cannot verify.
Abu Hurairah (Radiallaho Anho) reported that Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said something to the effect: “Be aware of suspicion for suspicion is the worst of lies.”
May Allah Ta’ala save us from being suspicious and harbouring ill thoughts of others.
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..💕