Stolen Secrets

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 106

The sweet scent of spring rains fill my nostrils as I opened the front door and stood there, just admiring he grandeur of Allah’s glory as I did.

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

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

Things were looking up. My heart was healing and the pain I had felt just weeks before was almost absent now. Almost.

The amazing thing is that when we begin to appreciate even the little things, it opens up much more than we thought we would ever see. And I know I had felt it before last year at the same time, but so much seemed to happen in this time.

There are always blooms for those who want to see them, even when it’s not the season. There is always beauty, in even the most trying situations. Somehow, there is a secret chest of grandeur waiting to unveil itself at the right moment.

It just takes time. Time is all it takes for us to see it. The commodity that waits for no man… or woman. Time passes. Flies.

From day to day, week to week, season to season… sometimes it feels as if each year is blending into the other and in terms of accountability for time, we are at a complete loss. We are in a race with it until we taste the sand of the grave.

And even though Allah Ta’ala takes an oath by time in the Qur’ān, showing its importance and the great power it has in its life, it’s only a reality that as time passes, the barakah in time decreases.

But even though Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi wa Salam) has prophecised that barakah decreases closer to Qiyaamah, he also advised us about a time of day that has great barakah. There is a way to attain the most out of the little time we seem to have. We harvest barakah by using our time in the early hours of the morning. We tire our minds and waste it on social media and devices that delude us even further.

But there is a solution to infuse barakah in our time. When we make use of those hours to reflect on the Qur’ān, it strengthens our productivity. When we read our morning Duaas, we fill that time with the most goodness that we could, to ensure that the hours that follow are going to give us the best.

The morning hours are promised to be the most bountiful and productive if spent in the right way. The only problem with us is that we lose the essence because we spend it scrolling through social media and wasting time on our devices of delusion. And I knew I shouldn’t be pointing fingers but right in front of me was the example that showed that perfectly.

Rabia was stepping on her phone incessantly while I sat next to the sofa on my musalla, with not a worry on the world about what she should really be doing at this time.

And we know the value of time, yet we still waste it on frivolous pursuits.

”Oh my gawd, she got actually married this weekend,” she squealed, her pony tail shaking from side to side as she narrowed her eyes at her phone. “I didn’t think she would ever find someone but he actually looks kind of decent.”

Ouch, that was low. I wondered who she was talking about.

”That’s nice,” I said blandly, not sure if I even wanted to know.

Talking about people and people of people was never my thing and knowing that I may be stepping into dangerous territory with Rabia was a little worrying.

“Oh please, Sawls,” Rabia said with a sigh. “There’s nothing nice about it at all. Now they will all gloat because their daughter is married to a rich guy even though their first son is a first class moron.”

Oh gosh. I blushed and looked away because I didn’t know where to put my face when Rabia called people out like that. She was just a teeny bit brutal.

“Busy wasting time Rabia?”

Imraan had walked into the lounge with his jacket and phone in his hand as he raised his eyebrows at her.

”I call it being productive,” she said with a glare. “I’m not born in the Stone Age like you. Everything we do is controlled by devices.
Besides that, we have actual virtual entertainment in this generation, bro.”

“Yaw, but not actual relationships,” he quipped back, smirking as he did.

Rabia rolled her eyes and I found myself feeling amused. It was typical sibling banter and I knew that the two of them thrived on it.

With Imraan and Rabia it ended as fast as it started. With Hamzah’s temperament, it usually ended in a fight.

The truth was, social media did take over our actual lives. While people spent time in the past nurturing their friendships and meeting up to maintain kinship, social media and messaging is a sad and inadequate alternative that everyone’s resorted to. It was all about the glamour and the ‘living my best life’ vibes and the hardness of Duniyaa that entered our hearts had turned it into something like rock.

Imraan had stopped next to me to pull on his jacket, giving me a grin as he came forward to peck me on the forehead.

“Oh my gawd, get a room!”

It was Rabia from behind us, and even though it was probably the most passionless display of affection ever, with Rabia, anything that involved touching was taboo.

Imraan, of course, gave two hoots about his sister and slung his arm around my shoulder as we watched the rain fall over the glorious fieldw in silence. It was so beautiful it actually made me want to tear.

“Stop being so dramatic, Rabia,” he said as he looked ahead. “I love my wife and I’m not afraid to show it. You got a problem?”

”Yes, I do, actually,” Rabia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You men are full of nonsense. One moment you guys are all over your wives and the next thing, you’re onto something new. What’s all this nonsense?! It’s ridiculous!”

I knew that Rabia had her hang ups about marriage and so did Imraan, so he shrugged and gave me a side look instead as he dragged me to sit on the couch next to him.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about sis,” Imraan said in a monotone, spreading his hands out. “If someone is bugging you, then just spit it out.”

”Of course someone is bugging me!” She almost shouted. “Have you even noticed how absent Hamzah has been recently? Like, what on earth is he even doing in Jo’burg if Mohsina and him aren’t staying together? Last week I caught him red-handed, sneaking around, chatting some woman up on the phone!”

Uh-oh. Rabias mouth was spewing up nonsense again.

”Rabia,” Imraan warned as he turned to face her, and I could tell that he didn’t believe her. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that. Hamzah’s had a rough few weeks. It’s been hectic for him. I doubt he even has time for any nonsense.”

“How do you know?” She quipped. “You know your brother is a ladies man. The other day he left Zaid with mum and went out for hours. What else could he be doing? That guy is up to something and his wife needs to know the truth about him.”

”Did you ask him?” Imraan asked candidly, turning to look at Rabia. “He probably had a perfectly valid excuse. He’s got a lot he’s dealing with, with Mohsina’s case and Zaid’s custody battle. It really doesn’t make sense; what you’re saying.”

Rabia shrugged and turned away, but I could tell that she wasn’t biting any of it.

“What about a second wife?”

Oh my word, my heart sank as I heard the words, and I found myself sitting down as I thought of why she was mentioning it. Rabia did things to rile people up. I just wished that she didn’t have to target me and my weaknesses.

I had been avoiding that topic purposely in front of Imraan because my crazy sister was back with her weird ideas and was now convinced that her husband needed a second wife again. Okay, maybe her husband did want one- but it didn’t mean that she had do condone it.

Fareeha’s conversation with me last week had set my heart rate on high, and now it was this.

“A second wife?!” Imraan repeated, his hand unconsciously squeezing mine as he frowned at his sister. “Hamzah?”

”What if he’s thinking of getting a second wife now that he’s not with with Mohsina?”

I cringed at the thought. I mean, I knew it wasn’t haraam but Mohsina would freak if she it was true. It wasn’t something that anyone could accept easily.

I had spoke to her after Imraan had asked me to call her, and though she didn’t give me any firm answer- she didn’t exactly respond in a negative way.

For once; I had done more than just watch from the sidelines. She had told me a little about the court case and how things were just simmering down before Rabia had put a huge spanner in the works.

And it wasn’t like I didn’t know what Rabia wanted. She wanted Mohsina to give up and bail on the marriage, so I knew that I couldn’t let her win. It was my duty as a Muslim and as a sister. I didn’t know what was going on but I knew that they had to try and make it work, against all odds.

I had advised Mohsina to try as hard as she could to make it work, if not for her and Hamzah, then for Zaid. I could see that they had the potential to overcome whatever stood in their way, and I knew that with some effort they can get through anything.

And it was a long shot, because I knew that Mohsina and I hadn’t been particularly close but I really wanted to help them both. It must be so hard going through all that on your own. She didn’t mention the pregnancy and I figured that she wanted to keep it a secret for now.

I knew that Mohsina was fiercely independent but I wished that she would ask for help sometimes at least. I just hoped that everything was okay with the new baby.

I was actually secretly really excited about a little bundle. I knew that Allah had a plan for me in His time, but for now, I had to have sabr and wait for it to happen. I took refuge in duaa and sought comfort in Tahajjud, because I knew that Allah would never reject the desperate plea of His servant when he asks.

“Stunned into silence, dear brother?”

Rabia’s accusing voice cut through the air like a knife and I wished someone would tell her to stop talking nonsense.

“Never,” Imraan said adamantly, looking at Rabia with annoyance, even though he may have believed it for a moment there. “It can’t be true. Yea, he’s been a bit busy but he’s got Zaid to consider and a lot on his mind. He married for Zaid and he’s not going to break a marriage because of another woman and risk losing Zaid.”

“You never know with men,” Rabia said evenly, rolling her eyes. “One of my friends sisters- she’s married for like twenty years and her husband decided to take another wife. He just went away one weekend and did it. What an idiot.”

All this talk was making me tense, and I knew it shouldn’t, but I just didn’t want Imraan getting any ideas. As it is, I couldn’t give him another child – now Rabia was putting her weird ideas into his head.

And even though Imraan had assured me that I was enough and that he didn’t have to have another child, I could tell that he felt a void. I didn’t know what Allah had planned for me but I knew that I was not strong enough to withstand a test like that.

“Well, that’s not right,” Imraan said with a shrug. “It’s not easy taking on a second wife and I doubt that Hamzah’s going to either. Stop making accusations.”

I stayed silent as Rabia rolled her eyes at her brother, not really knowing if I should contribute to this conversation or not.

Yes, I knew that the whole second wife thing was becoming very trendy. Many men were taking second wives and it wasn’t haraam. What irked me was the ego boost that they got out of it.

The thing with Fareeha was that she gave her reasons so naturally when I asked her the last time. It was the time when she had walked in on Rabia and Hamzah having their blow out and after that she waved her hands and acted as if it was no big deal.

“These things happen,” she said mildly. “It’s normal family things. Everyone has their issues. I mean, you’d probably be shocked at the kind of thing that sometimes gets blown out of proportion in my house.”

I grinned because I knew that my sister was a tad bit dramatic at times and tends to get a bit excitable.

”Like you and your second wife mission,” I said, shaking my head at her when she grinned. “I can’t believe you were so set on that once upon a time.”

”I still am!” She said emphatically. “I think that if Maulana is happy to, then why should I stop him?”

”You’re crazy,” I said, not believing that my sister could be so  stupid. “Aren’t you even a little jealous or scared?”

She shrugged as I looked at her. So many women went through this and fought it tooth and nail, and here she was, wholeheartedly accepting it.

“Maybe I am,” she said softly. “But if you can’t beat them, join them right? I’d rather choose the right woman for him and make sure it’s someone I approve of then let him find someone who will make me lose him completely. I can’t keep up with Aadil and his demands and I don’t want more kids… so why should I stop him?”

I smiled a little bashfully because these marital things were not really what I spoke about with my sister.

We had some conversations that entailed marital things but we never really spoke about our husbands in great detail.

”But you will have to share everything!” I said disbelievingly. “His time, money, weekends, him… I don’t know Far, it’s not easy.”

I couldn’t imagine sharing Imraan with anyone. It was crazy.

“It doesn’t matter because we love Allah before them,” she said with a smile. “No matter what or how or where. Before we place them on that pedestal, Allah should always come first.”

And she was right. So right. My sister was crazy and a little extra sometimes but she was super pious and had immense Tawakkul.

And that’s what it was about, wasn’t it? When you immerse yourself in Allah, He really becomes your refuge.

For once, Fareeha sounded so mature and sensible, while at most other times, she completely irked me.

For once, I admired her strength and resilience. Maybe she was right. She always seemed so strong and accepting, and I knew that Aadil had suggested it first, but what I never understood why Fareeha never fought it head on. Now that she had explained it, my heart was already so moved by her amazing words.

And though I would never want the same for myself, I knew that I would have to expect the day when Fareeha would tell me that Maulana Aadil had make nikah. I mean, it was a reality, and although she had made peace with it, the whole thing made me so worried for my sister.

I found myself walking away as Rabia and Imraan argued about Hamzah and Mohsina, because in my mind, the entire conversation was futile. Mohsina and Hamzah were clearly a couple that wanted to be with each other, but circumstances had pushed them apart. Although I had spoken to Mohsina and told her to hang in there, I knew that the two of them had way too many issues that anyone could fill comprehend. Even Imraan himself seemed confused as to what was going on between them. He looked like he may even believe Rabia.

After his depression, we hadn’t seen Hamzah in a few weeks and we he did meet him he seemed so preoccupied that I couldn’t make out if things were getting better or not.

And the truth was that after speaking to Mohsina, I knew that the issues between her and Hamzah weren’t the only thing stopping them from being together. Rabia had proven to be a real menace and a cause in keeping them apart. Mohsina had said so I’m not so many words, and I’ll give that much. She didn’t openly blame Rabia or point any fingers – but I knew that despite Rabia always taking about how people were never nice to her, she didn’t make any effort to be nice to Mohsina either.

As women, we sometimes find it hard to say a good word or compliment other women. It’s always some sort of competition or rivalry. Instead of being women who support other women, we are women who deliberately put other women down. It was what I saw time and time again- be it on social media or with the women speaking behind each others backs. There is no ikhlaas in our words, even if we do or say little. Our hearts are filled with envy and malice and all things ugly, and we strive to find a good word to say, even when someone is going through a tough time.

I sighed as I cleared away some dishes from the counter and watered my beautiful orchids that were on the window sill, I couldn’t help but smile as I saw my son and Imraan come inside from washing the cars, while Imraan spoke animatedly on the phone.

Somehow, I knew from his expression when he was speaking to a friend or a family member, or just an acquaintance.

From the way he was grinning and his brown eyes twinkled, there was no doubt that he was talking to Maulana Umar if one of his other very close friends.

He walked toward me with shining eyes and I knew that I should have suspected something before he even got to me. I was so busy with rearranging the kitchen plants that I barely noticed when he hung the phone up and nudged me, before looking over at Rabia to see if she was paying attention to anything else other than her phone and then looking at me again.

“Okay, so I have a solution,” he said quietly, running his hands through his beard as he gave me a small wink. “For the whole second wife problem.”

”What?”

I was honestly so confused. Which second wife, and whose problem did it become?!

”Imraan,” I said, shaking my head. “What are you on about?”

”I know Rabia is talking crap,” he said with certainty. “But I need to prove it to Rabia too. Molvi just had an amazing suggestion. I know that  it may be a long shot but maybe it’s time Hamzah went away. Like for a while. Just for all of this to die off- the court case, the rumours, Rabia- and everything to come together again.”

I breathed in, not really knowing what my husband was really wanting to achieve here. If he sent Hamzah away, Rabia would win. Mohsina and Hamzah would be apart and then what about the baby?

Oh my gosh, I couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s the perfect solution,” he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. “The guy gets to take a nice holiday, refresh his soul, and in the meantime whatever is going down with things here will simmer down.”

”Mhhmm,” I said, non-committedly. “Did you ask him if he wants to go? What if work is really busy-“

”I’ve already spoken to his boss,” he cut in. “He’s got some work he needs him to do but in a week or two he should be able to go. That’s when Molvi is actually planning on leaving anyway and maybe we he comes back he may just decide ti actually fix his marriage for real. It’s perfect!”

Oh no. Imraan had it all planned out and I wasn’t sure if his plan was the best one. I preferred things to just let them take its course.  It was obvious that he didn’t know about the pregnancy but I wasn’t supposed to know about either.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do.. do I tell him how his plan may just be the wrong one and risk exposing the secret that wasn’t mine to keep, or do I just let Imraan go ahead and sort out whatever he thought was the problem?

I knew how much Imraan hated me keeping secrets but this one wasn’t one I could tell without letting the people concerned know.

It was a challenging choice, and I was stuck between wanting to do the right thing and keep the secret, and knowing that Imraan might just risk a lot more than Mohsina’s ability to overcome the challenges that were in her midst without Hamzah around…

And as much as I battled with myself about it, the question still remained: should I speak up or not?

---

Dear Readers

I meant to post yesterday but things have been so busy. Will reply to comments soon InshaAllah.

Much love

A  x

Mission Sunnah Revival: Sunnah of Giving Sadaqah 

Sadaqah is a voluntary act of charity that is given for the sole purpose of pleasing Allah (swt) and without expecting anything in return. In Arabic the word Sadaqah literally means righteousness and stems from the word ‘sidq’, which means sincerity. This suggests that Sadaqah is a righteous behaviour, which shows sincerity of faith. It is also a means of preventing imminent calamity, and we are urged to give it out often to protect ourselves.

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

#RevivetheSunnahofEntertaining guests

An Offer to Refuse

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 20

Mohsina

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where did he pop up from? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were people so invested in my space?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked appalled, and I shook my head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

---

Don’t forget extra Durood this Jumuah. 🤍

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

Much love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival! Sunnah before sleeping.

 

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيمر

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

(Bukhaaree Shareef)

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

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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Future and Fears

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

When Mama first got sick, there were times that I felt myself floating beyond reality… almost as if there was no escape from the clouds that seemed to constantly loom above us.

I would creep away into my own little world, read my little books to my little self… or escape to Khalid’s garden whenever I felt the weight of sullenness start to rain on me.

It was on one particular autumn day that I sat under the great oak tree, just humming to myself and watching the pigeons flock together, when little Khalid plopped himself on the bench next to me.

”Hey Khawlah, are you okay?”

I had been exceptionally quiet that day, and nothing had escaped his notice.

”Yup,” I said, looking away. I didn’t want to talk about it.

He said nothing before he got up and started drawing in the sand as he usually would. I could see him playing a solo game of X and O’s and as I pretended not to watch him, he suddenly turned, tossing the stick away and looked up at me.

It was just Khalid, something was telling me. I could tell him.

His grey eyes were curious as he watched me. Khalid was always so jolly.. except when he was thinking deeply, like right now. I supposed that it was moments like these when he entered my heart…reserving his place there… all that time ago.

“See that tree there, Khawlah? The one with most of it leaves fallen off?”

I nodded carefully as I looked up at him.

His dark floppy hair was all over the place and his expression was slightly pensive as we looked at it carefully. It was almost bare. It’s dry leaves were piled up… abandoned at the bottom..

“A sick person,” he continued softly.  “Their sins fall off them like the leaves fall off the tree… imagine that, Khawlah? Imagine.”

I closed my eyes to imagine. I could almost picture it.

“You know what Papa says?” He said, and I already knew it was going to be something good.  ”Papa says that the believers are payed back for any little pain or inconvenience that they may feel. Get this, Khawlah: even if they’re looking for something in their left pocket, and it’s in the right one… they are rewarded even for that…”

Wow. I sat there, a little speechless.

”Khawlah, it’s going to be okay in the end,” Khalid said, his icy eyes softening as he looked at me. “Ummi says that if it’s not okay… it’s not the end…”

I couldn’t help but smile back at him. I had heard her say that before. Khalid’s smile was contagious as if morphed into a childish giggle as he made a funny face, and I couldn’t help but laugh back.

And it wasn’t like I had poured my heart out to my friend. I was only 6. Because without telling Khalid, there were many things that he already knew. He was exceptionally perceptive. For a kid, we sometimes underestimate their ability to understand… but they do.

And it was no wonder that when Khalid had told me that, all those years ago, somehow, his reassuring words had stuck with me whenever I happened to come across anyone sick… whether it was a menial flu or a fatal disease.

For Mama, for Foi Nani, and now, even for Aadam.. as I looked at him. It was like I could just see Allah’s mercy showering down on them… just like those leaves were falling off that magnificent tree, I could almost picture their sins being shed for them. I would picture their abode being prepared for them. I would fervently pray that I too, by some miracle, be blessed with a tiny bit of what they were receiving… and it was always a comfort.

”Khawlah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

I turned to look at my sister-in-law right then, her eyes still brimming with tears as she looked at us.

”I shouldn’t have done that,” Rubeena said from where she stood at the door. “Aadam should have been the one to say it…”

My mother-in-law stepped back as she came in,  little embarrassed about her open show of emotion, softening as she looked at her daughter. It was the first time I had seen the two of them in this kind of fragile state… so openly affectionate and empathetic… knowing that they were all in this together. I almost couldn’t believe that I was seeing this moment before my eyes. It was extremely emotional.

”It’s all my fault…” Aadam’s mother had whispered to me, just moments before. I shook my head at her… trying to convince her that it could never be.

And even though I knew that her feelings were nothing farther than the truth, if was only a reflection that in those crucial moments, these were the defining feelings that had somehow surfaced.

Guilt. Regret. Remorse.

”I pushed him so hard,” she said, shaking her head. “Always pushed him to be the best, work the hardest he could… and now see! See!”

And I suppose it didn’t even have to do with the apparent. It was just a regret that fills you when you realize that you’ve put so much effort, for so long, into the wrong thing.

”It’s no-one’s fault,” I tried to convince her. “It’s only Allah’s will. You can’t blame it on yourself…”

It was ridiculous. My mother-in-law stopped for a moment and looked at me, wiping her tears eyes as she tried to compose herself.

”Do you think he’s going to die?” She said, desperately seeking an answer as she looked at me.

And honestly, how do you even answer that? I wished I could console her, but the fact was that no-one knew what the future held. We all live in that fear of the unknown…

”Whatever happens,” I said, swallowing the emotion. “It’s going to be okay. You have to believe that. Its in Allah’s hands…”

She looked at me for a moment, slightly taken aback as she processed what I just said. She was actually a beautiful woman who I rarely got to notice, because of the way I had seen her before…

It had been a few minutes that we were in the kitchen, and as I heard shifting and Aadam clearing his throat behind us to signal his arrival, I found myself stepping away as Ruby left and I turned to look at him, still not really believing everything that I had just heard.

I still needed time to process it all. To think about how I felt. To let it all sink in.

”I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” I said, glancing at him and my mother-in-law.

For some reason, I couldn’t meet his eye. It was like my husband was no longer the man that I had known all this time. He was a patient. A cancer patient who was living with a fatal disease. How do you adjust to something like that? How do you change your mindset from thinking that you have the rest of your lives together… to wondering if you probably don’t..?

”Khawlah,” Aadam said softly to me as I passed by, attempting to  console his mother as best as he could. “You don’t have to go…”

”It’s okay,” I said assuringly. It really was.

”Khawlah.”

It was my mother-in-law who spoke now, as she looked at me. I looked back with a small nod.

”Thank you,” she said sincerely.

It was just two simple words, but as they escaped her lips, it felt like every wall that had been built between us all these months was instantly being broken down. And although I barely knew it, it was that very moment that was a moment of revolution that would define our future…

I nodded and walked out slowly, still in a daze. The kids were bustling around and my mind, for once, could not settle into their tedious frame of mind. I needed to be away…

”Can we go?” I asked Aadam, now absolutely exhausted as he came out a few minutes later after assuring his mother he’ll be back to talk about it, . I desperately wanted to talk to my husband on his own.

There were so many things that were going through my mind… like an influx of information and questions that I couldn’t seem to shake…

”I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head at him as he said it. Typical. He was apologizing to me.  It was so unbelievable that Aadam felt indebted, despite him being in the situation that he was. How crazy was that?

”You’re apologizing?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “You have a condition that’s destroying your limbs and organs and you’re apologizing to me? Honestly… Aadam, you really don’t even have to…”

”No,” he said softly, stopping and turning me gently to face him. “You know it’s not that. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way. I wanted to be the one to tell you, Khawlah… to hold you before and console you after and tell you that it’s all going to be okay..”

My heart shattered a little more as he said it…

”Is it going to be okay?” I asked softly, finally looking up at him. ”How bad is it? Is there a stage?”

”Let me just put it this way,” he started casually,  and I could see a hint of humor flicker in his eyes. “I’m not going to drop dead tomorrow..”

”Aadam,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious. This is not a joke and you need to take this seriously too! I need to know!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said meekly, with a tiny smile. “Lets just say that I’ll pretty much be my normal annoying self for at least a few more weeks. The cast is coming off , and then Siraj is pushing me for the radium and chemo treatments but I’ve turned them down… I want to try something else, and those may also have side effects but according to what I’ve read, they’re not as bad. Obviously,  try tell a medical doctor about alternate options and he shoots you down…”

Alternate options? I was also skeptical, as I looked at Aadam. What were the guarantees? But then again… Were there any guarantees in life at all? Right before me was a young guy with his whole life ahead of him… and now he was faced with something that was completely life changing, and not only for him.

He still looked the same. High cheek bones. Dark lashes. Striking features. I wasn’t even sure how something so deadly could be living inside of this guy…

Aadam averted his gaze  as he ran his hand through his beard.

”Khawlah, I’m not going to lie to you,” he said softly. “There are going to be bad days. There’ll be days when I won’t want to get out of bed. Days when I will probably make you angry and days when I will make you cry. Days when we’re probably going to fight like cats and dogs. Days when you will hate me. Days when I might hate me too… and you’ll probably walk out on me on some days, because this is going to test us in ways we never felt before. But I want you to remember that you have to come back, Khawlah… because I promise you, there are going to be good days too. Days that will give us hope and moments within them that will be the ones that you remember forever and remind you about this crazy guy you once loved, and no matter what happens, we still fought through this all in one solid piece…”

”I will never hate you,” I said, swallowing back all the emotion that he had just brought on. “And don’t talk like that. We’re going to get through this. You will fight it.”

”Khawlah, how do you do it?” He asked, looking baffled as he met my eye. “I wished I knew, because it’s like you never need my comforting… time and time again you keep proving to me how much you can bear and I don’t understand  it. Through this all, what I do know is that Allah has given me so many bounties amidst this sickness and one of them is that He brought you into my life to be the one that’s right here to hold it all together exactly when I need it…”

“I’m not what you think, Aadam,” I said, knowing that I wasn’t half as strong as he thought but not really wanting to go into that right now.

I had fears. So many of them, because so much of my own life would change. Our routine, our relationship, our future… And every decision that had to do with it would be revisited with this new and alarming piece of information in mind.

I couldn’t help but think about how we planned everything… to the last tee. How we would be apart for the year and then move in together. How Rubeena wanted to plan the function a week after my finals are over. How we had checked to see if we could make a booking for a getaway in advance… all those plans… now on hold as we waited for this unpredictable stage of our lives to be over.

And then came the plans for the following year, that had featured more often that I had thought it would. As we get older, our dreams get bigger too. I admired my mother for being the committed mother and housewife that she was, but times were different now. Well, that’s what everyone said. Everyone in my class was applying somewhere or the other. It was expected for me to do the same… even though my heart was never in it…

“Listen sweets,” Aadam had said one day a few months before as I sat with my dilemma and googling career options… as he folded his long legs to sit next to me. “You and I are brought up differently. I’ve always been driven by education. Maybe even shoved into it. That was my mother. That’s why I think that having a career is important… but for you, maybe not. Your brothers may think differently, and your father may not like it. But you married me, and if you really want to pursue something  … I can work anywhere … I’ll come with you, yeah? I know the environment is not ideal, so I’ll take you, have lunch with you, be your chaperone… you do what you need to do. I’ll be there.. just name it…”

”Can’t I just do nothing at all?” I finally said, exhausted from all the information I was processing. “I think 12 years of school is enough to put anyone off for life.”

Aadam grinned. Of course I would do something.  I was thinking along a completely different train…

”You don’t need to work, gorgeous,,” he said sweetly. “No pressure. You can sit at home, stuff your face and shop online the whole day and I won’t say a thing. Just don’t let my mother know.”

He smiled as he said it, but I knew there was a deeper meaning to his statement right then. I understood that his mother was extremely ambitious with regard to academic studies and though she might have felt she was motivating him… I knew that the pressure had impacted negatively on Aadam as he grew up.  That maybe she had focused on the wrong things. It was always the most important thing to her. He was always pushing to get to the top… and she loved him to be there. It was when  he got there that he  couldn’t understand what the big deal was anymore…

And yes, it was precisely then when he realized how much more there is to life… and he wished so badly that he had known if earlier.

My thoughts were a jumble as I filled application papers, not really knowing what I was setting myself up for and not really caring much about it either.

It was a back-up plan that would fall in if I ever changed my mind. I had sent them in to a few different campuses and left it at that, forgetting I ever did it. Aadam was still exploring treatment options and gearing himself up for it as the holidays started and it was a rollercoaster of emotions for those few weeks as everyone found out about the battle he was facing. Everything else took a back seat. I just wanted to be there for him before the following term would dawn again.

Of course, when he returned, Ahmed’s Nikah was the last thing on my mind. With the shock of the news… there was just too much else going on.

And in the midst of it all, as I entered the house after one exhausting day trying to convince Aadam otherwise about his treatment options, knowing I was getting nowhere at all.. All I expected to see was Dada sitting on his rocking chair catching his afternoon nap. Instead, as I entered the kitchen to grab a glass of juice, Ahmed was sitting on the bar stool, almost motionless… as he leaned over some documents.

”Assalamualaikum,” I greeted, opening the fridge door while my brother barely mumbled back a reply. I busied myself with choosing the flavor I liked, calmly took of out and just about poured a huge glass of cranberry and apple juice when Ahmed’s voice spoke out.

“Can you explain to me what’s the meaning of this?” He said suddenly, holding up the papers in the air as his penetrating gaze fixed on me. “Since when did you get all these ideas, Khawlah? Speech Therapy? Property Development? Law?”

”What are you talking about?” I asked him, completely confused. It was like he was building himself up, and now it was time to erupt… with no warning at all.

“University letters,” he snapped. “Provisional acceptance. From three different campuses. You really have a hope of that!”

”Woah,” I said, feeling overwhelmed as I took a seat and put my glass down. With so much going on… I even forgot about those. “Am I really accepted?”

”Don’t you dare get any ideas,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Its not becoming of someone in your situation to go and run off to campus. Besides, you still live in this house until you leave. I won’t accept it and Abba won’t allow it either…”

”If doesn’t matter what Abba says,” I said stiffly, the defiant streak in me taking over. “Or you, for that matter. I’m married, remember? I don’t think I have to answer to you…”

How dare he tell me what I can or can’t do? He had no right. He had no idea what it was being in my situation… or what I was dealing with right then.

“Please,” Ahmed scoffed. “You really think Aadam is in the position to be making decisions like that?”

“I think he’s completely capable,” I said stubbornly. I mean, he wasn’t dead. Why was Ahmed acting like an idiot? 

Ahmed’s eyes narrowed at me as I faced him, not relenting with my gaze either. I didn’t know that all this had stemmed from something else that had erupted in his own life, that he failed to tell us about. All I could see was an intensely temperamental Ahmed threatening me with his fierce looks and rigid approach, and I didn’t like it at all.

”Mark my words, Khawlah,” he said angrily, tossing the letters across the table and glancing up to look at me. “This is not Adam’s choice anymore. You better burn those letters and forget about them or I won’t let him hear the end of it.”

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I know everyone is taking it a bit easy this holiday season – please bear with me if next posts are a little delayed 🌷

Keep safe and Much Love, 

A xx

 

Sunnah of Drinking water

Drink water while taking three breathing pauses. It is prohibited to drink water in a single gulp as our beloved Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: “Do not drink water only in one breath, but drink it in two or three breaths.”

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