From Heartbreak to Hope

Bismihi Ta’ala

Hamzah

Part 86

I had never felt more like a warrior than the moment I realised my marriage was becoming a war zone.

Theres something about having a raging fire set alight inside you that made you feel like you were literally in the midst of a fire. And for me, it was even more so, because although it took extreme measures to get me to that point, I knew that once I got there, it took a lot for me to calm myself down.

And as I thought of it, the man I’d become during the past few months, the doting husband, the more I realised how much Mohsina had changed me.

I’d never been the kind of guy who was a pushover.

For me, I had always been the one to own it, to lead the pack, to call the shots.

Then I married Mohsina, and everything changed. She was one of a kind, and she preferred to be in charge. I had left that to her… let her take the reins for most decisions, except the adventurous ones, and in some ways, relied on her way too much.

And now, it was time for me to take back the reins. As uncomfortable as it was, it had to be done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Imraan’s brown eyes were slightly narrowed as I nodded my head, and his frown deepened.

”Like really, absolutely sure?”

His question was posed with a permanent frown and for a minute, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

And then, like a stab wound, I recalled the pain that I had felt the previous night and almost everything became clear again.

The pain was like hole in my gut. Constant and unflinching.

And just like before, that fierce protectiveness that I felt for Zaid had overcome me again.

“I need to do what I know Liyaket would expect from me,” I said bluntly.

”You really think Mohsina doesn’t deserve a proper say in this?” He questioned, is eyebrows raised. “She’s the only mother he knows.”

“The evidence is stacked against her,” I said softly, feeling horrible about considering what I was.

Feeling terrible for having to separate Zaid from her, even if it was for a short while. I just couldn’t stand the thought of Zaid being away from me.

“But didn’t you hear what Zubair said earlier?” Imraan said, frowning. “And I’m sorry bru, but as a mediator here, I can’t let you just throw your marriage away too. If Saaliha was here and she knew what happened, she would say the same. Premature decisions are never wise ones.”

Immense guilt overcame me as I processed the reality.

But Saaliha wasn’t here. She wasn’t here because she had been admitted to hospital last night.

I didn’t realised that she was already 14 weeks. She lost the baby at 14 weeks, and Imraan shouldn’t be here, with me, while I was going through this crap.

He should be there with her, while she was probably grieving the loss of the baby they had waited so long for.

“Bro, I’m so sorry,” I said, meeting his gaze as I watched him shrug nonchalantly. He almost had me fooled. “You should get back to the hospital.”

“No need,” he said firmly, looking tired. “Everything’s already done. She’s resting now, and I’ll fetch her later. You, my man, need to sort out your head. My sincerest advice would be that you don’t give her a Talaaq. Think of what you’re doing. You can do that at any time if you need to, once you’re sure. It’s too early. Let me speak to Zubair properly. Let’s just gather information first and you can make a decision on what to do from there.”

I honestly hadn’t met anyone like him before. He took every test and challenge in his stride. I knew how badly he wanted this baby, and yet, he had surrendered to Allah Ta’alas will, with no questions asked. I wished that I could have that kind of tawakkul.

Although I hated to admit it, he was still talking sense and he was right about my marriage.

I didn’t want to speak to her, and she probably didn’t want to speak to me either. We were pretty messed up as a couple, and more so as parents. We needed proper arbitration and the ayah in the Qur’ān was clear on that.

If you anticipate a split between them, appoint a mediator from his family and another from hers. If they desire reconciliation, Allah will restore harmony between them. Surely Allah is All-Knowing, All-Aware. (Surah An Nisaa) 

I shook my head in disbelief, my mind still on the events of he previous night.

I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know what hit me until it all became a reality.

The reality that Mohsina had lied to me, over and over again, and never cared to mention to me a most important fact, was a punch in the most painful of places.

And at first I thought it may have been some kind of plot for them to sway me. I had been angry, but more so, confused.

My first reaction to seeing the necklace was absolute shock.

I could feel Mohsina looking at me, her gaze watching my every movement as I turned away from her, pushed the key in our lock and turned it, hearing the catch releasing.

The door opened soundlessly. Mohsina’s voice was the loudest noise in the room.

“Hamzah, it’s not what you think it is.”

I took a deep breath, not realising how much I wanted to yell right then, but holding myself because I hated what was happening to me.

Why him? I wanted to ask her. Out of every man on the planet she could have had a past with, it had to be Faadil.

Now here he was, in the middle of us, causing me to lose control and I knew that there was nothing I could do about it. It was only a matter of time.

I took a step inside, grinding my teeth, pulling the cooler bag along with me as I did, wondering why the day that had passed us seemed so far away.

“I’m so sorry,” Mohsina whispered again, close behind me now, and there was something in her voice that I never heard before.

Regret. Remorse.

Resolve.

“Say something, Hamzah,” she murmured, and i knew that there was nothing I could do to hold back that lion that had been unleashed within me a few seconds ago.

It was raging within, as I spun around in the middle of our living area and faced her tear-stained face.

“You saw him on the day of our Nikah?!”

My voice was cutting, and escalating with every syllable. I didn’t intend for it to be any other way.

Right then, all I could see in her was betrayal, and I hated it.

As she swallowed and looked up at me, the stupid necklace and note in her one hand as she stood there, almost as if she wasn’t sure what to say.

”Tell me the truth, dammit,” I breathed, edging closer to her, even though I felt repulsed by her.

I was overwhelmed by emotions. Frustration and anger and a whole lot more that I didn’t understand …

“Tell me,” I spat, bitterness creeping in as I watched her eyes avert and tear up again. “Was he your back-up plan?! Was he planning to whisk you away with promises of the best kind of life, with a glorious penthouse apartment and that damn Porsche that I could never give you?!”

She was shaking her head as I was speaking, tears falling freely as she did, her hand trembling as she raised it up to cup her mouth.

I’d never seen her cry like that. Actually, I’d never seen her cry before.

Period.

But it did nothing to me. I was unmoved. All I saw was my own pain.

Her greed. Her betrayal. The hurt that she caused. The suffering that our families and Zaid would have to endure because of everything that had happened.

”Tell me I’ve got it wrong,” I begged finally, my hands clenched in front of me, my voice dropping to a whisper as I watched her, her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, eyelashes threaded with tears. “Tell me that he didn’t have anything to do with you. That he was just a guy who was aiming for more than he could get.”

The words hung in the air for three seconds before she dropped her hand, and opened her mouth to speak.

“We were proposed.”

My heart felt like it had dropped fifty feet as she said it. They were proposed?

I literally staggered backward, unable to focus on anything. Breathing was difficult, for those few seconds. I just could not process it.

Yes, I knew there was something, but not that she was going to marry him?! Him?

Red, hot anger rose within me as she came into focus, and I turned toward the bedroom.

”It wasn’t public knowledge,” she said louder, following behind me as I opened my cupboard to pull out a bag.

That hit me even harder.

It meant that it was going on behind the scenes, which was what Faadil lived for. It gave him the opportunity to do whatever else he pleased without getting slack for it. It gave him the chance to be the guy I knew he was all the time, to strategise most conveniently to his own advantage. He had known that we were proposed before that, and that was evidently his intention. He wanted to get back at me because I didn’t take his lousy job offer.

With Faadil, there was always an agenda. Love, for him, whether it existed or not, was never the agenda.

“I broke it off when I quit. I didn’t know he got that chain for me…”

”I don’t care about the damn chain!” I snapped, gaining my composure again as I watched her, and she realised what she had said. “You still saw him. You saw him and who knows what else happened. The day we made Nikah. Was I just some test? Did I mean nothing to you at all?!”

He had bought the chain for her? It was the one I had given her. The exact same, one carat chain that I had given her at our proposal. Almost as if he was trying to replace what we had.

That chain… the stupid material piece of metal… was a symbol of something we had. Whatever it was.

And she had ruined that. Or he had. Whatever.

Screw it. I didn’t care. I tossed half my drawers into an open suitcase and moved to another cupboard.

”Hamzah,” she said, her voice escalating as she watched me shove more clothes and cosmetics into the bag. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” I said simply, pausing to look her in the eye. “Didn’t you want that all along? Weren’t you waiting for me to go?!”

“Not like this!” She whimpered, her eyes filled with tears, as she focused on me again, edging closer as I backed away. “Hamzah. You mean so much to me.”

My phone was ringing now. Imraan, signalling he was downstairs. I glared at it, and then glared back at her.

“I don’t understand,” Mohsina cried, blinking furiously as she watched me packing. “None of this makes sense. Yes, he came to see me, but I didn’t see him the way you think I did that day. There’s more to this. Hamzah, please. Just listen. I didn’t want you to know that he came because I didn’t think it mattered. You were the one who mattered. It was always you. Please don’t give up on us.”

I wanted to laugh. Ironic, wasn’t it? She was the one who wanted me to give up.

And now I did.

I shook my head at her, sending Imraan a message to say I would be down in five, heading to the bathroom to grab my shaving machine. There was no way I was staying there tonight. Or ever.

“Hamzah, this is all too convenient. The way this happened, after everything that we’ve conquered so far, you can’t let this ruin it. Listen to me. We have hope, right? Did you speak to Rabia recently? She knows Faadil and she-”

“Rabia has nothing to do with this!” I barked, sounding foreign, even to myself.

Mohsina shuddered as I said it, her expression actually a little fearful as she watched me move, as fast as I could, with whatever I could gather.

“And so you keep saying,” she said, glaring at me now, as I felt something shifting in the room. “You take her part every time, despite everything she’s done so far, and despite knowing that she hates me.”

”Stop making this about her,” I said evenly, not wanting to hear any of her excuses. “How she feels about you is irrelevant. You did something wrong. You messed up. And now you’re blaming her. And now, you want hope.”

Hope. She had the audacity to speak about hope now. After taking my heart and butchering it to pieces, she wanted hope.

”I know I did something wrong,” she admitted, suddenly sounding desperate. Desperation was a foreign concept to her, and it didn’t suit her. “I’m so sorry, Hamzah. I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes. I’ll tell you everything. But Rabia… she keeps interfering in our marriage and if you just listen to-“

”What marriage?!” I retorted, not able to control my thoughts or words anymore, thinking of how Liyaket left me, and Layyanah left her, and all of this came almost as a done deal. “None of us even wanted this. It came by chance. We barely had time to breathe or mourn. Without even thinking about what I really wanted, I made this decision, hoping it would fix everything, and I never thought it could ever turn out like this.”

“Don’t, Hamzah,” she gasped, her face looking pained and her voice thin, as she grasped my arm. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true. I wanted this. You can’t take back what you say.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh, realising that I may have gone too far but not bothering to retract a thing, as I shrugged her off. “And you can’t take back what you did. Leave. Me. Alone. I need to go.”

She stepped back, looking visibly stunned at my blunt words. She didn’t put up a fight, because she knew.

She had gone too far. I had said too much.
Hurt her the way she had hurt me.

Things were at a point where we were irreparable.

I didn’t even try looking back at her as I rolled my bag out the door, acceding to her request of having Zaid for the night, and letting her know in as few words as possible that I’d fetch him first thing in the morning.

I knew that I wanted him to be with me, now, more than ever, and the fact that she had a court case pending and all her lies escalating, was enough leverage against her to win her submission before we even got to a custody battle.

She didn’t even argue when I told her I’ll keep him with us at my parents and she can visit when I’m at work. She didn’t even argue when I told her that she shouldn’t try fighting for custody. She didn’t even say a word, when I told her that we’ll have to speak through our lawyers.

I was broken, yet I couldn’t even feel it. All I could feel was numbness, creeping in, overtaking my every sense.

Still, the next few days were unbearable.

Zubair and Imraan had convinced me that signing the papers formally was enough for now. It would leave Mohsina unsettled and not knowing where she stood. I put my phone off for a few days, knowing that if I entertained her, my heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. I would find myself confused and angry. Upset and frustrated, all over again.

It took every ounce of me to drag myself to work every day, till the weekend.

Zaid was edgy and tearful without Mohsina during the evenings. I wanted to give in, to let her keep him, but the thought of her and Faadil made me sick and I couldn’t take my mind off what had happened when he saw her that day. I couldn’t even think what the situation would be if she was really involved in the fraud.

If it wasn’t really anything, why would she even see him? And if she saw him then, who knew how many other times she may have seen him?

I couldn’t even process how messed up this situation was.

I wanted to bury myself in my bed for days like I did when our proposal broke off, but Zaid needed me. To put him through that killed me, and I hated Mohsina for what she was doing to him. The fact that she barely fought for him made it clear that she wasn’t concerned.

As long as I knew her, with Mohsina, I knew that I could never know what she was thinking or what went through her head. We avoided each other expertly. She came to see Zaid when I wasn’t there, and made sure I never had to clash with her.

It was two days later when Zubair told me that he confirmed something about Faadil that was a breakthrough. He had gotten enough evidence that Faadil had framed himself at Hammonds. Outed himself for the money that was being taken over the past year. Zubair’s uncle had also played a part in cashing in. It was an anonymous tip-off that was traced back to him, and Zubair’s conclusion was that there was a greater reason he did it, and the only thing he could think of was because he wanted Mohsina back in his life.

And of course, that made me sway.

Imraan had gone back home, because Saaliha went to her mother, and I was left to my own delusions, trying to figure out what to do with the information Zubair had provided. Rabia, despite me thinking that she would have tons to say about the situation, said very little. I kept remembering the words Mohsina had said about her. I kept thinking that she would never say something that wasn’t true. But then again, she hadn’t told me she was going to marry an idiot, so I had no idea what else to think about, and no one to talk to about it.

My parents didn’t say much. I didn’t tell them about the chain. It would have hurt them to know that Mohsina’s ex-fiancé had done something to interfere. They were expecting a separation, and the fact that Zaid was now with us didn’t seem to be strange to them either. They accepted it as part of what Mohsina and I decided to ensure his safety and meddled very little in my life.

And so, with Imraan and Saaliha back home, Rabia and my parents tiptoeing around me, all I had was the Qur’ān for company.

And honestly, it was all I needed. When it seemed too much to bear, all I had to do was open the Qur’ān and feel the weight shedding away. And it helped, without me even realising it. It was the only thing that kept me from going completely insane.

And as I sat with Zaid one night, reading Qur’ān to him until he slept, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days, it was a few moments of peaceful relief when my entire life seemed so much clearer.

For the first time since the entire thing happened, I realised that even though things may not be perfect, I’ll be okay. That I could do this. I could picture us, as Zaid grew up, being a decent little guy. I could picture Zaid, with Liyaket’s body build and Layyanah’s eyes, looking up at me and actually admiring me for who I was. I could picture him, in the future, maybe even amicable with each other, not feeling like we had failed him as parents.

I held him tighter as we slept that night, placing his bottle next to us, for the first time since I left, he was calm and contented, as he slept in my arms.

I awoke at the early parts of the next morning, a buzzing next to me, as multiple messages came through. I had blocked Mohsina, but I knew that she wouldn’t message me anyway. She was in contact with my mother about Zaid and I preferred it that way.

I pulled my phone to me as I shifted, seeing Zubair’s name on the screen, and then Imraans missed call too.

Zubair: Did you see it? The article

There was one more from a guy at work, who knew that I was married to Mohsina. The next message was from Imraan.

Boss. You signed just in time. Your name is nowhere there.

I opened the messages and finally found the link to the news article they were referring to, feeling my heart beating incessantly, because I knew that this would happen, sooner or later.

It was a business news article on a well-known site, but it spared no details. The article spoke about Faadil as the CFO, the accusations that were pinned against him and what Hammonds is doing to upscale the law suit. I read carefully, pausing at the part where Mohsina’s name appeared, taking a deep breath as I read it

… an ex-employee, who seemed to have a connection with the transactions, has been questioned. All allegations were denied. Further investigations prove that there may have been some foul play, and Hammonds is awaiting the trial to go to court before pressing further charges against her.

Crap. It was bad. For her.

Not as bad as it could be, but bad enough for people to do some digging and find out that her so called ex-husband was also an employee at Hammonds. For a few seconds, I felt my heart contract painfully, feeling genuinely horrified for everything she had to go through on her own. I had tried not to think about feelings, but it was because of how deeply I felt for her, that I hated to see this happening.

I breathed out as I tapped a stirring Zaid off again, shifting off the bed, wondering if I should message her, just to see if she was okay.

I trashed the thought, remembering her betrayal, and moved toward the bathroom instead.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced at it as I saw Imraans message.

Make Shukar. Allah saved you at the right time. Sawls and I are making duaa that it all comes together again. 

I scoffed and shook my head.

Imraan and Zubair were the only ones who knew about the chain, and yet they still both rooted for us. I didn’t want anyone else to know what pushed me over the edge.

And despite the conflicting feelings that I felt right then, despite the hurt and the confusion of the past week, despite everything that seemed so hopeless right then… the fact that I had been saved from something that could have tarnished my reputation too, was nothing short of a miracle.

Make shukar. Yes, I had lost something, but perhaps all that I lost was the only way I had been saved. He was right.

I just felt like the scum that I was sitting there, unscathed, when my wife was probably broken by the events that were happening in her life.

I made whudhu and sat on the musalla that night, until the light from the sky became visible, because the little relief I felt, was constantly tainted by a sense of loss. I missed Mohsina like a hole in my head.

It was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel until that night. Whether she felt the same about me, was a wonder.

And I knew that there was probably so much going on in her life, that she barely had time to think of me, but I hated that it had come to this. I hated that there was no way we could be, that would appease us both. That I couldn’t even speak to her, to ask her how she was holding up. I hated that she wanted to cut me off as much as I wanted to cut her off. I hated that I hated her.

I had honestly thought that she’d be grovelling by now. In honesty, right then, it was I who felt like grovelling at her feet, but I knew that there was no way that I could, without remembering the pain that I’d felt just the week before. Without remembering that she wanted me out in the first place.

Besides, we were now the eye of the storm, when everything was hitting the fan in a most stinking way, and I knew that there was no better time to let this be than right now. The good and the bad were now blending into one experience that was drawing me to Allah, and that’s when clarity was never more stark than it was right then.

Suhayb ibn Sinān Ar-Rūmi (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam)said: “How wonderful the affair of the believer is! Indeed, all of his affairs are good for him. This is for no one but the believer. If something good happens to him, he is grateful to Allah, which is good for him. And if something bad happens to him, he has patience, which is good for him.”

I had somehow found that patience within me. I had always said that I needed something to fight for, something worthy. For me, I knew that Allah Ta’ala was showing me what that could be, through this very unconventional part of my life.

I had to keep fighting, to keep having a cause. To keep having hope. To keep being grateful. To be the best father and believer I could be. Ramadhaan was approaching, and with every day that passed, I could feel my heart aching for it.

All I had was the hope that I had to keep aspiring to be more than I was.

All was not yet lost, I realised, as I drove back from Fajr Salaah that morning, watching the contrasting colours of daybreak, ignoring the messages that were coming in from colleagues and people who knew Mohsina.

Mohsina. Seeing the sky once more only brought her to mind. The darkness had turned to light, and there was only one thing that I could think of, when I saw it.

Hope. Though it ached to think of it, I could still remember me telling her that hope was never a mistake. To return to hope after heartbreak, though… to the beginning… to the start line, was the ultimate act of courage.

Even after the storm, there is always a hope that calmness will reign once again.

Even though everything felt like it was falling apart, like the little light in the sky that peeped out and then spread its wings across the earth, even after the darkest of nights, time was going to heal it all.

---

Hope. SubhaanAllah.

I know it may not have been the ending we wanted before Ramadhaan but it definitely gives me a little hope. Hope that Allah is always looking out for us. Hope that He is saving us from sin. Hope that everything is always under His watchful gaze, and He would never break us without us needing to turn back to Him for fixing.

May we always turn to our Rabb, through every trial, in every circumstance, through every heartbreak… may it still bring us hope. 

May Allah grant us strength and resolution this Ramadhaan, to be the best Muslims we can be. I’m not sure if I’ll manage another post.. do you guys want one? It may just leave more unanswered questions so rather not.

Please remember this weak and sinful author in your precious Duaas.

Much Love Always,

Witg lots of sabr and shukar this Ramadhaan.

A x

Suhayb ibn Sinān Ar-Rūmi (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him)said: “How wonderful the affair of the believer is! Indeed, all of his affairs are good for him. This is for no one but the believer. If something good happens to him, he is grateful to Allah, which is good for him. And if something bad happens to him, he has patience, which is good for him.”

Sunnah of Duaa

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.

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

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

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

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

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

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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Suspicious Encounters

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 77

It was the Instagram post that first got me suspicious about Rabia.

And okay. Maybe I had been in a particularly suspicious kind of mood since the entire thing went down, and even the slightest thing made me feel said emotion, but I called it a hunch.

I mean, even Hamzah’s whole open love confession at the minute I was ready to throw in the towel made me a teeny bit out of sorts and thinking that something may be off with his brain alignment.

Like, what on earth was with his whole love declaration that felt like it set my entire heart on fire? I didn’t even understand how someone could even have words like that and not belong in some kind of romcom kind of screenplay that made you weak in the knees.

Hamzah knew that he had to go, if he wanted what was good for him. He had agreed with me that he couldn’t lose his job. But now, emotions were coming into play and he was confused, and that’s all. I just needed to keep steering him that direction. The one that would be best for him.

And then there was going back to work for the meeting with Hammonds, when I glimpsed the new woman who had taken my place as external auditor, and the suspicion started again. The good news was that seeing Faadil made me realise how truly over him I really was.

All I felt when I looked at it, was annoyance. The bad news was that the new girl was skinny and semi-attractive, and what got to me was the way that she looked at me as Faadil walked up to join me in the meeting room that day.

There was an outright scowl in my direction,  she seemed highly invested in him who was seemingly oblivious, and I couldn’t help but be quite certain that she had also fallen under the Faadil spell. My suspicion was kind of confirmed everytime she battered her eyelashes at him, and it kind of made me want to puke.

And all that aside, I couldn’t help the prickly kind of feeling that overcame me as I lay awake in bed two days after I had caved and decided to let Hamzah stay a bit longer in our home and my life, as I scrolled through my instagram feed and snuck disbelieving looks at him. Maybe it was just a hunch.

The star husband was laying next to me, one arm slung over me as he slept as if there was no evil that existed in this world, and on the other side of me was Zaid, arms and legs splayed out in the summers heat, with blankets all kicked off.

I wanted to log this onto my memory, never to be erased, so I could keep coming back and revisiting the moment. I didn’t know how many of these mornings I would have. I didn’t want to think about it.

And as much as I tried to get Hamzah to keep his distance, all it took was his swoon-worthy words and I had already melted like ghee on a thawa, and I wanted to kick myself for it. And yes, we were in Nikah and even though Hamzah had made it clear that even if he did sign, no papers would change that… the fact was that, sooner or later, I knew that Hamzah had to go. If not, it would be scandalous.

There was no way I was going to let him risk everything he had worked so hard for once this case goes to court. Though he promised that he would stand by me with fierce loyalty, our marriage would make him a complete target for every kind of treacherous assumption. A divorce on paper and distance between us would be the only solution. For now, it was the only way.

I sighed as I gently edged away from him, lifting his arm so I could move off the bed. So much for distance. All aspirations were out the window.

And I knew that Instagram was not exactly the wisest thing to be scrolling through mindlessly at 7am but sometimes, my overwhelming nafs got the better off me, especially when it came to escapism. I knew that I should at least put the phone down, engage in some dhikr at least, and my entire day would take a turn because of it.

And I did. I wanted to make it a habit of remembering Allah when I first woke up, and not see someone’s pouty, fake-lashed filtered face instead. I had to try and at least rid myself of the dust that had collected over the past few weeks. I had been so absorbed in the allegations and everything it had brought, even my Hifdh had taken a back seat for a while.

But the amazing thing with Hamzah was that since things had erupted, he was the one who had made sure that the Qur’ān was the one constant, even during the days we were at loggerheads with each other. He kept solemnly to his promise of helping me memorise parts of the Qur’ān. It had been doing its thing… cleaning and polishing my soil from all the dirt that had overcome it. Maybe it was a hope he had that Qur’ān would bring us together, like it had before, and whatever he intended, such was the miracle of Qur’ān… that I could most certainly feel the affect on my heart.

The heart was being polished. The grime was being removed. The dust was definitely being wiped off.

And there was nothing more I needed, because the phone had taken over our lives to such an extent that we slept with it and woke up with it, and before even remembering the purpose of our creation, our limbs would stretch out for the gadget that ruled and ruined lives, without even thinking.

The thing was, I always loved social media. Always have. It was an amazing tool for marketing and networking, but a not so amazing too for making me feel great about myself.

Social media is designed to curate and promote highlights. We post the best snapshots of our days, the best meals we eat, and the best places we visit. When you have a stretch of a tough few days, it can be easy to feel like everyone else has it easy and
Dnly you are dealing with this type of difficulty.
It creates a type of insecurity. A person starts to wonder why they cannot get things together when it appears to be so easy.

Although I knew how horrible it was and that it would only feed my silly insecurities, I still couldn’t seem to wean myself off it or delete it completely. Like a drug, it would draw me back to it, craving just one more hit of juiciness until I felt a little satiated.

In fact, everything I opened the app, Instagram just made me feel crappy.

That morning, after my dhikr counter had reached 500, I squinted my eyes slightly in the darkened room, trying to figure out how Rabias social life had suddenly gotten so … quirky.

There it was. The post that made me suspicious. That would raise all the questions in my mind. A picture of the favourite ice cream place that I had been obsessed with just months ago, and a picture of three cones, two sugar and one normal, in three different flavours, snapped together.

And okay, I knew that it was a very popular place at the sometimes trendy Melrose Arch but the guava and mint flavour ice cream that had been snapped in the picture made my heart kind of contract momentarily.

And I knew that I had no damn right to feel even the slightest bit nostalgic, having this gorgeous and amazing man next to me, and the cutest baby in the world snoring like an adorable little steam engine, but the emotion came without warning.

That was Faadil’s favourite flavour. His favourite flavour, always in a normal wafer cone (never sugared, he just had this weird-so weird- thing from childhood that made him hate sugar cones). A most odd flavour, I always thought one of the least popular, and although I didn’t want to go back to that space mentally, it was the place we frequented at least three times during those few months I was with him.

It was also the place where he always said that it dawned on him that he apparently didn’t want to just be friends.

And I had no idea he allegedly felt that way of course, but it was the day he had lent me the Porsche and before that had treated us all to ice creams, before some of the less demure girls jumped into the car with him.

It had flattered me of course. How much of it was real, I still didn’t know. The tune after was that the reason he had let those girls take a ride in his car was that he was waiting for me to be the one to get in, and when I didn’t, he had to find a way to get my attention somehow.

I never did the throwing myself at guys thing, no matter what car they drove. Personally, I feel the elusive, hard-to-get factor was probably what made the chase more exciting for him.

Whatever it was, for him that’s when everything kind of kicked off in his head, and despite me regretting every bit of it months after, I couldn’t help but feel the rising suspicion as I closed the app.

How could Rabia know who Faadil was? Could the instagram snapshots that incriminated me been her doing?

No ways. She couldn’t have been acquainted with him. How could she know who she is?

I shook my head as I put my phone down, sneaking a guilty look at Hamzah because I was suspecting his sister of such lowly things.

Just glimpsing him momentarily, while he slept so peacefully, made my heart burst with all sorts of overwhelming emotion as I shoved the thought out of my mind.

I shook my head. No.

Maybe I was being a little paranoid.

Just to be sure, I would try and suss her out later when I saw her. Ask her a thing or two about the gram. Or ice cream. After all, guilty people usually act a little nice than they’re supposed to. After the whole fall out with her, I had barely seen her, but with Saaliha around in Joburg for this weekend l, I knew that Rabia was bound to be around when they give everyone their amazing pregnancy news.

I had been so excited for them that I yelped crazily when Hamzah had told me the previous night, especially since I was well aware that Saaliha couldn’t fall pregnant for years. Allah was so merciful. Rabia was definitely bound to be there, even if it was only to suck the joy out of the occasion.

I sighed as I tried to think happy thoughts that morning, and although the morning had started off on a little bit of a questionable note, Hamzah shifting around as he woke up immediately lifted my spirits.

I had made him a special breakfast (well, as special as it gets with me, who allegedly can’t really cook) and I was trying to be as nice as I could be considering the awkward circumstances. We were at this very weird stage in our relationship where we were avoiding each other but trying to spend time together at the same time. Hamzah was doing his best to respect my wishes, but he was still holding onto hope that I would change my mind and I was so close to throwing in the towel on my plans, but I knew, for his own sake that I couldn’t just abort mission.

All I knew was that no matter how hard I had tried to push him away, he always found a way to rebound, and proved himself over and over again.

And since we usually ended up in my parents area on Saturdays because of dropping Zaid with Liyaket’s mother, I knew that there was no better time to pop in at my parents and Jameela, before the big day for her tomorrow. I had been so absorbed in my life, but seeing Hamzah was a bigger gossip than I was, and after Nani’s call the other day, he desperately wanted to find out what was going on from Zubair myself. I knew that my parents were preparing for Jameela but what I didn’t know was the Nani also had her own preparations going on.

And after she had huffed and puffed about it like the big bad wolf, I really didn’t expect her to be there as yet.

And so, if course, you could understand my utmost shock when I glimpsed Nani standing at the counter in all dedication, mixing something vigorously, considering that she had so much to say about the upcoming events, the delicious smell coming from the stove made me completely suspicious.

I mean, what on earth was she up to, when she had clearly said that she was completely against that ‘aloo’ coming to see Jameela. I mean, I couldn’t believe that she was calling him a potato. Her entire reaction was enough for me to understand that there were no samoosas coming from her this time, and my parents weren’t in the least surprised. I was just glad that my parents weren’t adopting the same stance, and were actually giving Jameela scores about actually wanting to meet Zubair.

“Hey Naans,” Hamzah said sweetly, his one-dimpled smile genuine as he saw her. I had to look away when I saw the pure affection in his gaze because knowing that he would become off-limits to me soon made me feel completely out of sorts. “We’ve missed you.”

Nani immediately looked up as she saw him, and her star grandson-in-law planted a kiss on her cheek as she continued with her exaggerated gestures and gorgeous smelling treats. He was so good with swindling her that it made me jealous.

”Mos,” Hamzah said, turning to me and raising his eyebrows, holding a squiggly orange thing in his hand.

I met his eye hesitantly as he watched me. He knew what he was doing. Making this entire thing harder for me was apparently his sole objective.

“How could you not tell me that Nani makes Jalebi? This stuff is a winner.”

I rolled my eyes at him, concealing my true emotions, but I couldn’t help but smile, watching Hamzah devouring the jalebi as if it was the most delectable treat in the world.

His brown eyes twinkled as he munched, and I could see from his face that he wasn’t just throwing Nani up.

“To what do we owe the honour?”

My humoured question lost its effect as soon as Nani heard it.

“Nadeema asked me to make it,” Nani said proudly, as if my dear cousins requests were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Nadeema was still one of Nani’s favourites, despite what she did to me. Of course, I couldn’t expect Nani to understand. In her eyes, I was the married one so I wasn’t worthy of pity, and Nadeema wasn’t… so she deserved sympathy plus a kilo of jalebi for extra effect.

Jameela had entered the kitchen at that point and was standing at the door, waiting to catch my attention, but Nani had already caught it. Now, I needed to know more, and I wouldn’t let this rest.

If Nadeema wanted to Jalebi, why on earth was it here?

”So is this all going to her?” I asked with a raise eyebrow, gesturing to the pile of orangey sweet stuff that was on the counter next to the stove. The thought made me want to smash it all up so Nani could serve her jalebi syrup.

Crushed. Orange. Jalebi. Syrup.

It’s not that I hated Nadeema. It’s just that, after the incident where she literally broke off my proposal, I wasn’t exactly obliged to like her. The thought that Nani would make her stuff in our home, with our cooking oil, made me want to cry. Oil was expensive, okay. And Nadeema was not worth it.

I could see Jameela trying to gesture to me, and whilst Hamzah saw her and tried to signal me too, but I was far too vested in this conversation to pay attention.

Since Nani mentioned Nadeema, all I saw was red.

”Of course no, Mohsina,” Nani said nonchalantly, sounding oh-so-reasonable. “This is extra batter. Nadeema’s jalebi is at her house, ready for the boy who is coming to see her tomorrow.”

It took me a few seconds to process that one. Wait. Jameela’s proposal was also tomorrow. With Zubair. His sister and brother-in-law will also be there. She knew this. She had told me. Did that mean Nani won’t be here for it?

Jameela’s gestures were becoming a little more vigorous, and with it were tiny little hisses that accompanied it, solely intended to draw my attention that was refusing to be diverted from Nani.

And who could blame me?

“She’s also getting a proposal tomorrow?” I asked incredulously.

I mean, what were the odds. I wonder who was the (un)lucky guy.

My poor baby sister was now jumping up and down with pure purpose, but now that I was onto something, I averted my eyes and wouldn’t back down. Jameela knew that I was never the type to turn down a challenge. Nani was about to show her displeasure about the situation by being there for Nadeema, and acting as if Jameela’s proposal wasn’t happening.

What I didn’t know was that she had gone one step further.

“Muneer will see her tomorrow,” Nani said, her face turning slightly so I could see her beam. “After Jameela broke poor boys heart I knew that I had to try and fix it.”

”Wha-“ I was cut off as she turned back to her frying and at the point that the rage in me was threatening to boil over, Hamzah had literally steered  me out of the room, whilst Jameela grabbed my arm to pull me away.

I was so angry, I could not believe it. Nani had completely lost her mind. She was doing the exact same thing to Jameela as happened to me.

“Just leave it,” Jameela warned through gritted teeth.

I didn’t want to. I wanted to scream at Nani for being so superficial, and claw at Nadeema’s face for being such a spoilt brat, but Hamzah had wisely blocked me off so I couldn’t go back to the kitchen. The look in his eyes told me that he knew me way too well, and what I was thinking was a really bad idea.

He had called to Nani that he would be back in fifteen minutes, sending me off with Jameela to safety and was already headed to the door for his ritual smoke break, grinning at us as he grabbed his lighter near the door.

”You didn’t tell her anything?” I hissed to my sister as I was shoved up the stairs.

”I figured that some things are not worth fighting over,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.”If Nani doesn’t want to be here, so be it. She doesn’t invalidate the Nikah and it’s not like I’m being a disrespectful grandchild by marrying someone below her expected income bracket. All that aside, it’s great seeing you and Hamzah together. Do you know how much of Duaa I am making for this to be okay. And it’s so amazing because I can see it being accepted right before me. You guys are so strong.”

If only she knew we were just stringing ourselves and everyone else along. She didn’t know that by us staying together we were risking so much. It had to be temporary.

”We’re trying to be amicable,” I said simply, not wanting to explain the whole arrangement we had. “When the court case goes public he will move out. I offered but Hamzah said he won’t let me leave. So…”

She looked at me suspiciously, and then raised her eyebrows.

”So you’re basically waiting for everything to head south before you kick him out?” She asked incredulously. “Mos, are we even related? How are you this horrible?!”

I frowned at her, wondering since when my sister gave me these intensely judgemental looks that made me feel worse than what’s under her shoe.

”Jams,” I said, trying to justify myself. “He will lose everything he worked so hard for if I don’t. Then, I’ll be really mean.”

Jameela’s eyes flared at me as I said it.

”Yes, yes, you said all that, but do you really think he cares?!” She scoffs as she glares at me.

“He has to care!” I said incredulously. “How can he not? This is his entire life. His degree, career, his repuation… Everything he worked so hard for! And he agreed to go.”

“Haven’t you realised that all that stuff is barely important to him?” She was pointing a finger at me accusingly as she said it.

I sighed. But she doesn’t get it.

“It is important,” I retorted obviously.

“Says who? Has the world taken over your heart Mohsina?” she said quietly. “Is that the only thing thats important right now? Status and position and how much money you’re worth. Because if it has, you have to let the Duniyaa go. You have to claim it back and give your heart to its rightful owner.”

My heart was slowly cracking at its seams anyway. It was a searing pain that penetrated right through because I realised that I was going back to that place that I had been at months ago.

”But how?” I said to her breathlessly. “How do I even get there? I’m so weak and hopeless… and now Hamzah’s going through so much because of me and he has to leave so what hope is there for me?”

I didn’t even know what I was saying anymore. I was just getting so emotional thinking of it all.

Somewhere along the way my bond that I had worked so hard at with Allah Ta’ala had been compromised. Maybe I hadn’t tried hard enough. Maybe I wasn’t sincere enough. Maybe I didn’t make enough istighfaar.

All I knew was that I wanted to make this right again, but I didn’t know how to.

“The only reason he’s going is because you threatening to leave him if he doesn’t go himself,” Jameela said to me resentfully. “He won’t be able to bear you being back to that point where you have to ask anyone for anything. Where you have to rely on someone. Even when you’re putting him through so much of pain, his only concern is for you. He only wants you to be happy, Mos. Even if he has to go and make himself miserable in the process.”

“What?” I said, narrowing my eyes at her as she looked back at me, now avoiding eye contact as  if she said something she was never meant to disclose.

“How do you know all that?”

My voice was low and disbelieving. It sounded too close to the truth that I didn’t yet know. All this talk was making me suspicious. But then again, I was being a tad bit too intense on those very emotions that week.

“I don’t,” she said, her gaze immediately faltering and I knew that she was lying.

I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering what she would be hiding.

“Spit it out, Jams!” I barked at her, swallowing back my emotion. I could see her face turning a shade of whatever she turned when she was flustered.

“Okay, fine,” she said softly, still avoiding my stare. “Zubair said so.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. Zubair said so?! Is that all she had? She’s dropped a bomb and then stopped. How on earth could I just leave it at that?

“You spoke to him?” I asked, completely gobsmacked that my usually shy and evasive sister would actually talk to a guy. And not just a guy. The guy. Handsome stranger who she’s been going gaga over for way longer than she cared to admit.

Was she talking to him now? Like talking talking?!

“You and Zubair?”I asked, widening my eyes. “Are you guys….”

Wait.

“Papa was there,” she explained hastily, her bashfulness very evident. “He wanted to see Papa and Papa thought it would be good if I was there as well. We chatted. A little. We didn’t have long but. I know certain people look down on him because they think that he’s poor but it doesn’t matter to me. Why do people think that wealth makes you someone? Sometimes people get swayed by the charms of the world as if it’s everything that ever mattered and will matter. We think we can find constancy in all these things but what we hold onto is inconstant and perishing. Money and status and everything the world presents is just a mirage….”

“You make it sound so easy Jams,” I said softly, wondering how my sister had become so wise. She was so…. pious.

On the day of Qiyaamah, Allah Ta’ala will apologise to the poor in the same was as a person does to another person in this life, by saying, “I swear by My Honour and Greatness that I did not keep away the worldly wealth from you because you were disgraced in My eyes, I did so for the sake of bestowing on you the great honours of this day; you go and look into the rows of Jahannamis for those who fed you or clothed you for My sake, they are all yours.

When the poor approach such persons they will all be drowned in their own sweat and the poor people will pull them out and lead them to Jannah. (Rodh-ar-Rayahim)

We look at wealth as if it’s the be all and end all of life. As if someone without money is not worth anything. Little do we know that there are people in this world who not a soul knows, but in the heavens, there is not an angel who does not know that blessed slaves name.

”He really likes Hamzah,” she said softly, looking all dreamy-eyed. “Thinks he’s one of the few people he can actually trust. We don’t want to lose him…”

Oh my word, they were a ‘we’ now. What. Wait. Did I miss so much? They discussed Hamzah and I as if we were something that was so important to ‘them’.

I narrowed my eyes and she looked away again and I knew that she was done for.

My word. My little sister hopelessly besotted was doing things to my insides

”I want to know everything,” I pressed, my eyes narrowing even more at her. “About what he said. About what Hamzah told him. And about what on earth you guys were chatting about. Was he pushing for this? Are we having a Nikah at the same time.. just tell me what’s going on?!”

I was completely in shock. While caught up in my own world I had completely sidelined the spicy masala moments that may have been happening at home. I was now an obsessed women, hanging onto every thread of information. And Jameela was looking frightfully suspicious when I mentioned the word Nikah.

My heart felt like it was about to explode with emotion, despite the looming clouds above.

“Relax,” she said steadily, a smile creeping on her face. “Zubair is a good guy and he’s not forcing me into anything. It’s me who wants to do this fast. Like, really fast. Make it halaal. And yes, Papa did agree that we can have the Nikah this week. It’s taken so long to get to this point and we’ve both felt this way for a while so….”

If I knew how to do a double take, I probably would. What?!

They both felt what way for so long?!

Oh my word, I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” I breathed, still partly in shock.

Jameela and her bloody romancing. It was just too utopian-like.

She honestly could not wait to get married and I knew it wasn’t about the glitzy parts of the whole event for her. Jameela was too obsessed with Zubair to see beyond that.

She nodded eagerly, and I felt like somehow, this was always supposed to happen. But there was still a niggling feeling of hesitation as she said it, and I knew that there was still early days.

Nani still wasn’t okay with this. Zubair still had an awkwardly unmentionable history. Hamzah and I were still buying time.

All this time, this kind of ending for her was merely an idea but now that things were wrapping up, I couldn’t help but feel that something was completely amiss…

---

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

Skeletons

Bismihi Ta’ala 

Rubeena

For as long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted a sister. I’m sure you’ve heard that from only daughters before, but it has to be a girls’ thing, right..? To have your very own BFF and confidant that’s just like a meter or two away at any given time must be amazing.

And to tie in with that thought, way back when I was an exceedingly difficult (according to my mother) nine-year-old who was told that I would be getting the long-awaited sibling, I made it very vocal to everyone who mentioned it that it better be a girl. I wasn’t kidding. I was just that kind of vocal personality. For some reason, I just couldn’t imagine having a brother. The thought was way too morbid.

And I know it sounds terrible, but I think it was the first time in my life that I had actually prayed for something. My modern mother wasn’t exactly the type who would encourage me to seek my spiritual side, but it was Ma who had given me the idea. She said to ask for a normal and healthy baby. I took it one step further and asked for a normal and healthy girl baby.

I didn’t see the big deal. I even bargained with Allah, hoping that would work (probably the manipulative genes I inherited from my mother). I truly believed that it was the way to achieve things. Of course…. I still had a lot to learn.

And of course, when Ma came home from the hospital the day my mother went in for her scheduled c-section and told me that it was a boy who they were naming Adam, I was absolutely devastated. I couldn’t believe that my Duaa wasn’t answered the way I wanted. I couldn’t understand why I’d been short-changed.

In my ignorance, what I didn’t realize was that someone else’s Duaa was being answered. That maybe someone else had wanted something more than I did. Maybe we all needed something from this little boy that we didn’t yet see. That years down the line, this little boy would grow up to be an amazing guy who would change someone’s world. What you don’t see in any disappointment is that maybe there was a greater and more intricate plan at work…

And it was like when the mother of Maryam (AS) had her baby girl. Her heart was sorrowful because she wanted a boy. She wanted a boy so badly, because she prayed he would be a prophet. She wanted something so badly but Allah had a better plan. A greater plan was in place… that would reveal so much more than she could imagine. A plan that would make her daughter not just a great woman, but one of the greatest of the world. A plan that would honor her to such an amazing extent that an entire chapter of the Noble Qur’an was named after her. A plan that would make her the mother of one of the greatest human beings, and esteemed Ambiyaa, Isaa (AS).

And sometimes I had to touch base with that. That when things don’t go our way, sometimes we have to tune our minds to that possibility. That despite the joy of getting exactly what you want… sometimes not getting what we want at that moment can bring so much more in the future..

And of course, looking back at the years that he had grown up as more than just a little brother to me, I supposed that I never thought I’d end up loving my brother the way I did. Like the excessively noble qualities of Maryam (AS), my brother too far exceeded my expectations of him. He had become a friend, playmate and confidant. He had become the one person I could rely on, call as my plan B and finally, the inspiration behind me taking the great step towards changing my life that I had never thought I would. Sometimes Allah takes away something important to give you something so much more…

“Okay so first the good news or bad news?”

I looked at my uncle as he said it, peering over at us over his glasses as he flipped pages on the clipboard he was holding. I hated when he got into his doctor mode. All the professionalism just made me feel awkward.

”Do you have to give any news?”

It was Adam who spoke up from the hospital bed, raising his one eyebrow and peering at him cynically. I smiled, despite the dreary atmosphere that was in the room, glad that my brother had finally come to after his half-day coma. The minute Ahmed had told me about his unconsciousness the day before, I really thought he was a goner.

It had been a hysterical fit of drama and screaming road rage as we rushed to get to him, praying with every ounce of me that he would be okay. Begging Allah to give us more time. The fact that he wasn’t responding to Khawlah was something that was freaking us all out, and those few hours before he actually came to were agony. Exhaustion had gotten to him like never before and it seemed like he had exerted himself a little too much to get to that point.

“What’s the bad news, doc?”

It was Shabeer that suddenly spoke from where he was sitting and yes, I didn’t expect him to open his mouth in front of my uncle that day. After the last episode, I would have been too embarrassed to show my face here, but Shabeer was not exactly the type to feel ashamed.

To tell then truth, I didn’t even know why he was there. I hated to bring up skeletons from the closet, but the thing was, he couldn’t even show up for me when I had needed him to do the ABC’s in our marriage, but here he was acting like the concerned and doting brother-in-law who truly cared about extra-curricula responsibilities.

When he had pitched up this morning, instead of doing what I asked him to and seeing to the boys, instead he dropped them at his mothers place and came to the hospital. His excuse was that I needed support. Yes, bring my neurotic self…  I did need support, but the only problem was that it wasn’t his support the I wanted.

“They’ve found something in the scan they did this morning,” Siraj said non-commitedly. “A growth on the spinal cord. We’re waiting for the results of the biopsy and I don’t know why they didn’t pick it up earlier, but of course, it’s all in the plan of the Greater Power and we have to just try and move forward..”

It was like my heart had ceased there for a moment. They found something that could exacerbate his illness and my uncle was surprisingly calm about it.

I looked at my uncle with slightly narrow eyes, wondering what if was that was different about him today. Besides the visible facial hair that made him look almost exactly like my brother now, he seemed worlds away from what he was. Not as highly strung. Cooler. More relaxed. It was like the magic of Tawakkul had been breathed into him. I’d never heard him speak of Allah’s power and relate it to his work. For him, religion had always been a separate entity, and I never thought I’d see the day when he’d merge the two and understand how Allah plays a role in everything that occurs.

Without us realizing it, through spending time with Adam and treating him through this time… there was a unexpected transformation in my uncle that had taken us all by surprise.

“Okay, so what’s next,” Adam said quietly, while I watched them both. Khawlah looked like she was in shock. Of course another complication would change everything for their future. For us all.

I could feel myself started to hyperventilate as I watched the calmness around me. I felt like Adam had known this all along. Like they had this conversation a million times in their heads before, rehearsing if multiple times in order to get it perfectly calm and drama-free. Call me crazy but I seriously felt like banging their heads together. I hated when everyone acted like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

My mother was sitting in the corner of the room, surprisingly quiet. I felt almost nervous as I watched her, half waiting for her to erupt like she sometimes would, when we would least expect it. Only, it was like an inwardly bubbling volcano… even that wasn’t happening…

”I think it’s time to discuss treatment options,” Siraj said steadily.  “On a serious note now. Just so we’re prepared…”

Now he was talking. I tried to breathe in deeply as I watched them.

Relax, I commanded myself. It will all be okay.

I felt like there was a part of my brain saying, “Yeah, right,” but gave it two smacks, blocked it out and focused on the present.

Adam narrowed his eyes and shook his head, a streak of stubbornness filling his eyes as he looked back at Siraj.

”I don’t want to know the treatment options,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not doing any systematic chemo or radium and I told you this before!”

I felt my heart drop. Where there was no will… there was no way…

“Adam,” Siraj said firmly. “This may be the last option. Stop being so damn stubborn. Chemo and radium have had high success rates. You even get the tablets. If it is what I think it is, why don’t we just try to treat the cancer and try and eliminate those cells.’-“

“It destroys the cancer cells but it destroys everything else with it,” Adam retorted. “I don’t want to be stuck not being able to have kids for the rest of my life… however long that may be!”

I could see Siraj visibly wince as he said it, and Adam immediately realized his mistake. My uncle looked like he had been stung, but being use to controlling his emotions, he recovered quickly, clenching his jaw as he looked at my brother.

Of course it was a sensitive topic for him. Both the topics…. but not having kids… well, he knew the reality of what it felt like and didn’t want that for my brother either. I’m sure he wouldn’t suggest that unless it was necessary.

”Aadam.”

It was Khawlah who spoke softly, and all eyes were on her as she walked slowly up to my brother’s side. I could see her reaching for his hand while she tried to compose herself. Of course this wasn’t easy. Of course it was taking a lot out of her, but the maturity of my brothers teenage wife just astounded me over and over again. When I looked at her, even I felt like a little kid who had no control over my emotions at all.

“I know you’re worried and scared and a little overwhelmed,” I heard her say. “But I want to hear them. I want to know our options. Can we just listen? For me?”

I could see my brother instantly soften as he looked at her, visibly soothed just by her presence as he nodded. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked at him, and I could see him squeeze her hand back as they looked at Siraj expectantly. It was so emotional that I wanted to bawl my eyes out right there and then.

It was the first time I had witnessed this kind of emotional intensity… and as they spoke seriously in low tones, my heart was thudding methodically as I watched their heartfelt fears unfold on their faces with bated breath.

My mind was abuzz with information. Adam was expressionless as Siraj. My parents were looking alarmed. I could just imagine what I looked like as I kept blowing my nose noisily, because I felt like my heart was breaking apart, bit by bit, solely due to this new discovery.

And of course, since I was an expert at getting caught up in awkward moments, it was at that very moment when I glanced at the door and saw a considerable figure hovering there, causing my heart to accelerate as I realized who it was. He was looking inquiringly at Adam with relief on his face. Relief and absolute joy that made me want to smile despite my own tears. Of course he was ecstatic that Adam was looking normal. Awake. Alive.

I looked away as he came in, moving back to the outskirts of the room, feeling a thudding in my chest as I thought about our last conversation. I tried to appear all normal and together by doing the noble lowering my gaze thing, but my heart was a stubborn vessel that refused to co-operate with my mind. It was already beating away, way out of control…

”We both know that this is not what we planned,” Ahmed had said almost in a rush as the call came and just before the drama all unfolded the day before. “But if we both know what we want then I really don’t see a reason to delay this any longer…”

He trailed off as his hazel eyes met mine, and I could tell that this was a mouthful for him. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard the guy speak more than ten words in one sitting and that day he had exceeded way more than twenty. For once in my babbling life I was a little gobsmacked, but if I had to really introspect, I think that it was one of the things I had felt myself liking about him. When I found myself short of words, anyone knew that I was impressed.

He was so different. Despite the fact that he clearly had all the Deeni aspects that I had been looking for, I loved that he wasn’t a charmer. Never looking to impress anyone or care what they thought. Unlike Shabeer, he wasn’t a talker. He said few words that meant business and that was what had got me. I wasn’t sure what it was about this guy who was so much younger than me, but seemed like he knew so much more. Maybe age was just a number. Despite it all, his eyes spoke more about the world than I had seen in my entire thirty years.

I had already given my consent, but there was just one problem amidst it all that I didn’t exactly anticipate. Shabeer pitching up early that morning, looking all sparkly and sober was something that was quite baffling. Whether he had got wind of what was going on, I wasn’t sure, but as I stood there, I could see Ahmed glance from me to Shabeer warily, and the two of them locked eyes for a minute before I intentionally turned around to leave the room, my heart hammering in my chest for fear of what may come out of this.

Goodness. This was probably going to cause a stir. If Shabeer knew about the proposal, this could be trouble. If Ahmed mentioned anything, it would bring a helluva lots of havoc too. Besides the two of them, my mother would probably hound me relentlessly and Khawlah would come to know the truth before I got the chance to explain it all…

I tightened my grip on my handbag as I got made my way to the door, knowing that Shabeer already had his guard up. I knew that Ahmed made him sweat and the thought gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. It was just that right then, I couldn’t bare to watch any possible drama unfold, because my nerves had already taken a helluva load in the last twenty-four hours.

In my mind, there was only one solution. Coffee. I needed some coffee. To see it all clearer and put everything into perspective. I felt selfish. Like I was worried about my own future and security when my brother was basically withering away. I wish that there was someone I could confide in.. to ask… to truly know what the right thing to do was right then.

Think good thoughts, I tried to coax it. Happy thoughts.

And just as I calmed myself down and the lady handed me my double caffeinated triple-sugared lifesaver, it was just on cue that my mothers kitten heels could already be heard amidst the regular hustle and bustle of the reception, coming from the direction of the elevator. I held my breath as I turned and looked, hoping against every hope that it wasn’t hers and maybe just someone who sounded like her. But as my luck always had it, fate was never really on my side and I could see my mother fix her gaze on me as I tactically chose a spot far away from any strangers ears, knowing that my mother already meant business.

I held my breath as I watched her, slowly and torturously leading up to what I knew would be some sort of explosion, by now expertly recognizing the familiar body language and absolutely dreading what would be happening in the next few moments. She was now directly in front of me, and it was obvious that I could avoid eye contact no more. I looked up reluctantly, giving her a shaky smile as I told her to take a seat, well aware that she wouldn’t anyway.

There was no way to postpone the impending doom any longer. I was already wishing that she would just explode already, because the anticipation was way more nerve-wrecking.

“I can’t believe it!” She muttered through gritted teeth, careful about not causing a huge scene from the beginning. This was how it always started, and she was getting better at the build-up. Soft and almost embarrassed… before it morphed into something loud and appallingly embarrassing…

”Ma, I can explain-“

”Explain?!” She said, her eyes widening as she looked at me. “I don’t understand how people think sometimes. Acting all innocent and then coming to a hospital at such a crucial time and turning everything completely upside down!”

I cringed. I supposed she was right. I knew exactly what she meant but I really didn’t mean to. I knew that my mother was in love with my ex-husband (mainly because of his amazing genes and light hair) but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t look for happiness elsewhere since he had made me feel like a disposed diaper so many times. What I didn’t know was how to explain to her that I really didn’t mean to be selfish at this crucial time…

”It’s just uncalled for!” She said, her voice expectedly rising now. “Unheard of. Makes me so suspicious, you know!  All this time and now suddenly she pitches up here all concerned about what’s going on in my family -“

”Wait, Ma,” I said suddenly, not really understanding who the ‘she’ was in the conversation. What was she going on about?

My mother looked at me stonily, obviously peeved that I had interrupted her onslaught.

“Who is the she?” I asked, obviously confused. Was there a female intruder that I should be worried about? Just when I thought I had enough of them during my marriage to Shabeer, along comes another…

I really had such amazing luck.

”Didn’t you see her talking to me?” My mother asked incredulously, her eyes narrowing as she stared ahead and half gestured her eyebrows towards someone sitting a few tables away. “That woman!”

I turned my face, half expecting to see a young woman who would be my sworn rival to be looking back at me. Maybe she was one of Shabeers ex-wives? Someone who wanted to cause a stir? Worse still, what if it was Ahmed’s ex-fiancé looking to cause trouble?! I swallowed nervously as I thought of the possibilities, wondering if that’s how my mother had heard the recent  news. Maybe there was a huge confrontation in the ward and I had missed if because I had been too chicken to face my own music.

Ah, the embarrassment that might have ensued. Sometimes I really wanted to kick myself.

But thankfully, the worry was in vain because as I looked up, what I saw instead was a middle-aged woman of medium complexion,  donned in a purple maxi dress and flaunting her recently dyed mahogany straightened hair. By now, of course, I was completely confused.

”That’s her!” My mother muttered with a scrunched up face. “The woman I was talking about. She just came out of nowhere, mocked at my genuine caesarstone counters and stole my recipe and then said it was hers. Can you believe her?! Why is it that everytime there’s a problem I spot her face, Rubeena?!”

I shrugged as I looked at my mother, knowing that craziness doesn’t go much further than this. I sincerely hoped that the kuku genes were not hereditary.

I frowned at my mother, knowing that I would probably never understand her, as long as I tried.

“Mum,” I said calmly, a mixture of relief and annoyance flooding through me. So she didn’t know about Ahmed. That was a relief. I could just imagine the spectacle it would cause when she did find out, but for now I dwelled on the bliss. “It’s only a recipe-“

”But this just it, Rubeena!” My mother almost shouted, flinging her hands up in the air. “It’s never just a recipe! See how she’s looking at us! Your divorce, Adam’s sickness and everything that’s happened… This is much more than just a recipe, Rubeena, and you know it!”

She looked at me and I stared back at her in amusement. She was really cracking me up.

”Im serious, Rubeena,” she said, her voice dropping as I looked at the lady with her cynically narrowed eyes. I felt like she would bore a hole through her head with the way she was glaring.

Besides, I didn’t really buy Mum’s theory. I mean, she looked slightly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why…

It was all a bit of a concocted mystery, but what I didn’t know at that point was that despite my mother’s seemingly ridiculous speculations, there was a reason that this woman always seemed to be around her… a reason that my mother had noticed her and a noted blast from someone’s past that was here to dig up some skeletons that were long locked away…

---

Don’t forget our Sunnah Revival!

Favorite foods of the Prophet (SAW): Pumpkin and Barley. All we have to do is make an intention for Sunnah and we’ll get multiple rewards! 

Anas RA said: “I went along with the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) barley bread and soup containing pumpkin and dried sliced meat. And I saw the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) going after the pumpkin round the dish, so I have always liked pumpkins since that day.” (Abu Dawud 3782)

A forgotten Sunnah. Eaten fallen particles… Sometimes we forget the Barakah that can be in even a grain of food. To eat what has fallen on the cloth or even the floor… SubhaanAllah.
Anas ibn Maalik narrated that when the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) ate, he would lick his three fingers. Anas said: “And he said, ‘If any one of you drops a piece of food, let him remove any dirt from it and eat it, and not leave it for the Shaytaan.’ And he commanded us to clean the plate, and said, ‘For you do not know where in your food the blessing is.’” (Narrated by Muslim, 2034). 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

When Little Secrets open Big Doors…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

 

We all have things that we don’t talk about. Things we’re too scared to say out loud. We protect others. We protect ourselves. Sometimes, no matter how much we’re aching to come clean, we hold onto those little secrets because we don’t want to face what comes after.

And the thing is, in this day of social media, where everyone’s life is on show, sometimes it’s hard to adjust to the meaning of living a private life. Of living a life that’s not for everyone to see. Whether you say it or not, people are hanging onto every thread of information. Even the Aunty at the fruit shop wants to know the darkest details about your failed marriage that you’ve never even told your mother. No matter how much you try to avoid it, privacy was slowly becoming a concept of the past.

And during my life, I’ve had many things happen that would have shook anyone to the core. They were just that unbelievable, yet I kept the deep and dark secrets to myself because revealing them would have revealed way too much.

Then there are times when the secrets sometimes out themselves.. sometimes, things happen to reveal everything for what it is. Allah makes it happen at the right time… to relieve you. To unburden you. Like He promises, for us there is never intended any difficulty.

And when that happens… it’s like a world of opportunity suddenly opens for you. You can do things you never thought you could. See things the way you should have all this time. When that finally happens, you see a part of life that your little secrets were hiding away all along…

”So what does your mother say about your daily dramas?” Siraj asked, glancing at me with amusement in his eyes.

I was glad that he thought it was funny, but I couldn’t have been more embarrassed. All I was doing that evening whilst I waited for my uncle to fetch us was trying to juggle my crazy life, plus give my kids a dose of the good stuff at the same time by sitting down for some reading… And then of course, we were interrupted by the terrible sound of Shabeer’s voice which was bellowing from outside…

My cheeks flushed again as I remembered my husband making an utter fool of himself. He honestly took the tea when it came to crazy drunken people. It wasn’t the only time it had happened… but it was the first time any of my family members had actually witnessed the untainted reality of my ex-husband… and boy, was it a sore sight to see.

”You know my mother,” I sighed, pulling the seatbelt to click it in as I glanced at my uncle, glad that he had pitched up and sent Shabeer away with his tail between his legs.

“She’ll find any  reason to prove what a failure I am in my life. If she knows, I’ll never hear the end of it. She just loves Shabeer. Only Allah knows why. There really is nothing to love about that man.”

Siraj shook his head. I had a good mind of calling Shabeer in as a service to my poor neighborhood, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle that terrible sound inside my house.

Thank goodness the boys just thought it was amusing. They didn’t know that their father had a genuine problem that was probably going to cause a lot of issues in the future. I shuddered at the reality.

He really needed help. I still could not believe that he had pitched up at home in that state….

”Does he drink often?” Siraj asked, looking slightly concerned as he drive. “He seemed convinced that you are his dream girl…”

I rolled my eyes. He was obviously too drunk to remember how caged he felt in our marriage.

”He does,” I said.

And yes, I was all up for giving people credit for their good qualities, but with Shabeer, there was absolutely none due.

“Ever since I remember…”

Siraj raised his eyebrows.

”I didn’t know….” he said, shooting me a sympathetic look. “Looks like the guy put you through hell. Rubeena, do you ever think you’ll recover?”

I smiled, slightly touched by his concern.

I supposed he couldn’t fathom it. Siraj was, after all, a good guy. I could tell that his wanting to pick me up before we headed to Adam was because  he wanted to make amends, but he didn’t know how to. The two of them had been at each other’s throats since the diagnosis and Siraj was obviously feeling guilty. After all, you can’t stay angry with a sick person, right?

I sighed, thinking about Shabeer again, how misguided he was, and whether he would ever change. The truth was, it actually wasn’t funny at all. When Shabeer was my husband, I had hidden all his faults. Every single dirty one of them.

Now that he wasn’t, strangely, I still felt a need to protect him… but Siraj had seen something that I didn’t anticipate. He had unintentionally seen the truth of what I had dealt with for all these years… and it wasn’t very pretty.

”I might need a helluva guy to knock me off my feet if I ever do,” I said in jest, knowing that I didn’t intend on it. Right now, guys were the last thing on my mind.

And the thing was, it wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it at all. There were moments when I was lost and confused, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would end up growing old and lonely with no one  at all. And then of course, I had ambitions for the hereafter as well.

I knew that I hadn’t been a perfect wife either. I was far from a saint in my marriage. But when I eventually did make that move, I wanted to do it over. I wanted to do it right.

I wanted to have the kind of marriage that really did give me everlasting beniefits.

A believing woman who prays her salaah, fasts in Ramadaan, guards her chastity and pleases her husband will be told to enter Jannat from a whichever door she wishes. (Mishkaat)

Those were real goals. I wanted that. And it really wasn’t so hard, because  all we had to do was refrain from sin and do our duty… and we get such an amazing guarantee.

”Don’t let your mother pressure you into marrying an idiot,” Siraj said as he turned into Adam’s road. “Find someone who’s willing to accept your kids and love you with no reservations. Someone who has your interests right now…”

”I know,” I said, glad that Siraj had more common sense than my mother. “I need someone whose serious about being a better Muslim too. I always admired the bond that you and Na’ilah had. She’s got a lot of faith. You’ll are so solid…”

My uncle said nothing for a while, as he listened to the boys in the back seat talking about some soccer club in the area that Adam took them to once.

”I’m actually not sure what’s going on with Na’ilah,” he said, his voice dropping. I could see his expression change as he glanced at me. “Sometimes I don’t understand her. She’s lost interest in everything. No matter how much I tell her that it doesn’t matter… she still gets cut up about not having kids. It’s tearing us apart.”

I looked at my uncle in surprise. I had no idea. Not having kids was completely out of anyone’s control and I’m sure she knew that. I supposed that it was easier said than done, but with pure conviction, and knowing that Allah will only test you as much as you could bear… I knew that it was a challenge that could be conquered.

”Did you guys ever think of adoption?” I asked, thinking it seemed obvious.

“Plenty of times,” he said, shrugging and pulling into the parking space. “But she always comes back to the point that what I’d want my own kids. I would love to adopt. Really. She wants me to take another wife. You know what my life is like. Besides the fact that I’ll need time that I don’t have to find one… Tell me, Ruby, which woman in her right mind will actually suggest that and be okay with it?”

I smiled as he said it. It was crazy, but as soon as he saw my expression he immediately looked apologetic.

”You’re looking right at her,” I said drily.

“Hell, Ruby,” he breathed, as he got off and helped me take the rowdy boys out the car. “Is there anything that man didn’t put you through?”

”Haha,” I said. “I’d have to think really hard about that one. I can ask him for some tips for you if you’re really serious about finding another wife. He seemed to have mastered the technique.”

Siraj chuckled as we walked into the building, me behind him as we stepped into the lift.

And yes, the shenanigans that Shabeer had been up to we’re far from easy at the time… but looking back now , I was glad that I could smile and say that I had made it through. It definitely meant that I had made progress and was on the way to recovery.

Ans of course, I was in the best of spirits as I entered my brothers flat because I knew that my mother wasn’t there. It wasn’t that I avoided her completely. I just felt it better got my general well-being if I spent as least time as possible with her. The more we steered clear of each other, the less chances of any explosions in the vicinity.

Khawlah greeted as I entered, giving me a quick hug as I followed my boys in, and quickly escaped  to the kitchen as she saw my uncle behind us. Khawlah just had this amazing quality of modesty in every situation that I always admired.

“How’s Adam doing?” I asked as I followed her, wanting to know what to expect before I went in.

She smiled as she glanced at me, knowing my habit of having random emotional outbursts when I saw my brother. By nature, I was not the most emotionally stable of people, and seeing Adam in the state he had been in a week ago set me off like a never before… snorts and all. I was a tad bit embarrassed.

“He’s fine,” Khawlah assured with a smile. “I think he’s just glad it’s the weekend.”

I widened my eyes comically. I knew the reason why.

My mother had been staying here in the week and basically micro-managing everything from his visitors to his diet. I could imagine that Adam must be quite relieved about her temporary absence. All I knew was that my father was particularly excited about the turn of events. When I spoke to him yesterday, he sounded like a man who had been let loose after a century of captivity.

“Shame,” Khawlah was saying sweetly. “I think she just wants to take really good care of him. She’s made four different lists of things that he needs to do. I didn’t know that she was so… particular.”

More like annoyingly controlling. It was quite typical that my mother would turn this into something so selfish. Making up for lost time was well and good, but I always felt sorry for Adam as a kid when my mother wouldn’t be around when he’d come home on the weekends. I supposed that’s what made us closer. We never spoke about it, but I’m sure Adam knew exactly what she was doing.

I glanced at the list of weird cultures and juices that he was meant to stuff down his throat daily. Low GI. Gluten free. Fresh vegetables. Weird concoctions. Yoghurts that I’ve never heard of before. Poor Adam had to probably just sit put and bear it all.

The kids were already all over Adam as I stepped into the room to see him on the bed, sprawled out now as they jumped around like four crazy monkeys. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them, wondering how my uncle and Adam were actually having a conversation amidst the madness that was very evidently going on.

And yes, I was slightly surprised at how quickly Adam and Siraj just shifted back into comfortable companionship gear, thinking how strange men were. Men were just unassuming like that. No fuss. No grudges.

And as I stood there, I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat as I thought about the reality. I knew that I was getting to that crazy and emotional state of mind that would bring on the ugly tears, but despite the obvious downfalls of Adam being sick… I couldn’t help but think of how amazingly it had brought our family together.

For Ma and Mum… for Adam and Siraj… for me and the boys and the rest of our family. Sometimes Allah has really strange ways of working. Sometimes there’s more good that comes out of a less than favorable situation than we ever anticipate…

”I think we need to take them to the park later,” Adam finally said as he shook his head and tackled Zia who was literally diving head-first off the bed. “These guys have way too much energy for my humble apartment.”

And of course, as I tried to simmer them all down, I couldn’t help but think how on earth Adam would manage with the boys in his state… but then again… why not?

Why shouldn’t he enjoy his nephews before there came a stage when he couldn’t anymore? Maybe Adam needed to be out and about. Get some fresh air. Feel more alive.

I plopped myself on the single chair as Siraj left for the hospital and Khawlah came in, luring the boys with some awesome pasta dish that they were obsessed with and giving me some peace to spend some much needed time with my brother. She was so amazing with them and I didn’t even know how she did it.

And as she smiled at Adam, I could clearly see that it was her who Adam drew his immense strength from. She was so unwaveringly ‘together’. I wasn’t sure how she did it it, but my brother was already looking so much stronger, now that she was here. A little more optimistic.

Today was a good day, and I was glad that I was here to see it.

“Are you coping?” I asked him, watching him stretch out his legs as he sat back in the rocking chair he kept in his room.

He looked at peace. Content.

”I’m fine as long as you’re not feeding me weird stuff that makes me want to cringe,” he said steadily. “Mums been on quite a mission. You think she’d mind if I tell her to that she can stay home?”

I stifled a grin, wondering how long this would really last. Adam’s bound to say something critical at some point, which would probably send my mother off on a tantrum about how her children don’t appreciate her. Besides the diet, I could just imagine my mother coming into the room every few seconds, checking to see if he was still breathing. My mother got seriously suffocating at the worst of times.

”I think I may have a solution,”  I said, with a smirk. “It involves some cotton wool and cello tape…”

Adam grinned back at me. I knew I was being mean but the thought of my mother not being able to say the random and overbearing things that she was accustomed  to gave me a weird sense of satisfaction.

”Seriously, though,” I said, dropping my tone. “Have you spoken to Khawlah?”

Adam looked at me questioningly.

”About what?”

I wasn’t sure how to say it without seeming intrusive. I just wasn’t sure if my brother had thought that far ahead… But I mean, come on. It wasnt really on the list of things we usually spoke about… but which normal guy doesn’t think about these things?

”About her staying here,” I said carefully. “Don’t you think it’s time you guys make the big move?”

I could see Adam looking slightly pensive, as he glanced at me.

”I’m not sure what you guys are waiting for,” I added, raising my eyebrows at my brother and crossing my arms over my chest. “I know what you guys planned, and everything that’s supposed to happen.. but right now you’ll have no idea what the future holds. Haven’t you heard the saying… ‘time waits for no man’?! Come on, Adam… I think it’s time for a change of plans.”

“Ruby…” Adam said, looking a tad bit uncomfortable. “I can’t just tell her to put everything on hold in her life and save the day… although I would love to have her here… it’s not fair…”

”Why not?” I pressed urgently. “What if you’re not being fair?! What if she wants to? What if she’s waiting for you to say it? Do you doubt her love, Adam?”

“Not even for a moment,” he said without missing a beat. He wore a tired expression on his face as he continued. “But it’s not what you think. I’m no longer that guy who she married. Right now I’m okay, but there are times when I don’t want her to see me… when I’m in such an appalling state. I don’t want her to have to deal with all of that. With the drowsiness and the irritation and the rest of my annoying habits. If I opt for chemo then she’ll have to deal with that too. I’m certain that Allah is going to bring us through this and it’s going to be exactly what she expected when this is over and we take that big step…”

”And what if it never happens?” I asked, my voice rising as I looked at him. I didn’t want to say it but someone had to. “You can’t wait that long. You’re missing the point, Adam!”

He shrugged, almost as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“What if you never get better?!” I continued, internally shuddering at the thought. “What if you guys live in this dream world where everything is going to come together again and it never happens?!”

Adam blinked and watched me unemotionally as I stared at him, waiting for an answer. As far as I knew, there was a 50-50 chance. This could go either way.

What if? What if?! There were so many uncertainties in this life. He remained silent for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“You’re scared,” he said softly.

I swallowed and looked at him. Of course I was scared. Of course.

I didn’t want to lose my brother. But more than that, I didn’t want Khawlah to feel like my brother didn’t love her enough to show her who he was, despite what was happening to him. Because that’s what love was about. No matter what or why or how, to give to each other and receive and be absolutely unconditional in every way. That was love. That was what I wanted them to see.

And even if I never got to experience that kind of amazing love, I knew that with him and Khawlah, being there for each other would raise them to completely new heights.

”I’m not scared,” he said quietly, lifting his gaze to look at me.

I looked up at him as he said it, frowning as I realized that he was actually serious. He wasn’t?

His face was pensive again, and I knew that with Adam, no matter what, there was always something cooking in his active mind.

”I’m not scared for me, Rubes,” he said, in almost a whisper. “But I’m scared for you. Maybe for Khawlah. But more for you. I’m scared that you’ll crumble. I’m scared that if things have to take a turn for the worse… you might come crashing down. Just like how you want me to think about my future… I want you to consider yours too.”

”What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “What future?”

”Your future,” he said obviously, with a glint of humor in his eye. “Love. Marriage. Maybe more kids, yeah…”

He grinned as he said it, while I widened my eyes at him.

More kids? Clearly that Cannabis oil was having other kind of effects on his brain.

”Adam,” I said, shaking my head at him. “It’s too soon. You can’t expect that from me.”

“Okay I’m kidding about the last part,” he said with a smile. “But it was worth a try. How’s about a deal, yeah? I’ll go ahead with my big move and I’ll help you to make yours?”

“What kind of deal?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously. I was half anticipating, yet half dreading his next words.

”Well, it’s kind of a secret,” he whispered mysteriously. “And you have to promise me that it will stay that way…”

I nodded silently as he opened the drawer next to his bed,  pulling out a pen and a notepad, and tossing it to me.

What I didn’t know was that there was a lot more to this little secret than he had let on. This little secret was going to be one that would open huge doors.

“My muscles are too tired to do any of this,” he said, looking at me with his eyes shining with excitement. “So I need you to start writing…”

---

Dearest Readers, 

A little bit of suspense but I’m trying to keep it as light-hearted as possible.

Hope everyone is having a good break and remembering that throughout our fun and holiday entertainment, we are Muslims first. ❤️

Safe Travels for those who aren’t around .

Much Love, 

A xx

Don’t forget our Sunnah this holiday! 

Umar ibn Abi Salamah said: I was a young boy in the care of the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), and my hand used to wander all over the platter (of food). The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said to me, “O young boy, say Bismillaah, eat with your right hand, and eat from what is directly in front of you.” 

(Narrated by al-Bukhaari, 5376; Muslim, 2022).

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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#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

 

When things get Complicated…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

I never thought that I’d be the one to say this, but one thing I learnt in the past few months is that patience is hard. It’s really hard. And I promise you, I’m not one of those impatient people who can’t wait for things (except for food when I’m hungry, of course). I am one of the most patient people you will ever meet. As long as I know that it’s happening, I’ll sit back and relax and wait (patiently) for it all to unfold. But man, patience under some circumstances is like trying to push a nail through a metal wall. It’s practically unattainable.

And yes, I had tried my utmost to bear the tests. There were times when I was tearing my hair out with frustration, wondering if I had really done the right thing. I couldn’t help that creepy feeling that overcame me in the middle of the night and shook me awake, asking me if I was crazy. I couldn’t wait to se if it was all really going to turn out okay.

And then there were times when I sat with my kids, and for the first time in years, just enjoyed their chatter and company while they engaged themselves in some activity involving mud that would usually make me scream my head off, but barely phased me then. Those were the times when I was completely and utterly convinced that I had done the right thing. That the patience would pay off. That nothing in the world could ever beat the peace and contentment that I felt right then.

And at the end of the day, it was all about patience. Sabr. And it’s no wonder that the Saabireen are promised the greatest of rewards in the hereafter. They have been promised a reward that is unlike any other… where mercy will be raining on them in the hereafter. And surely they will never get left out because Allah knows exactly what every soul bears..

“Do you think that you will enter Paradise without Allaah knowing who struggled (in His Cause) and who has been of the As-Saabiroon (the patient)?”

[Aal ‘Imraan 3:142] 

Patience. It’s a really tough thing. To have the faith to continue to believe that your Allah does have a plan for you… that everything will fall into place, even when things get complicated… that no matter what you’re going through right now, it all will pass… this too shall pass.

Well, that’s something like a superpower.

”So do you ever wonder what the future holds for you? If you think you’ll ever venture down that road again?”

“You mean… find someone else and going through all the hassle of having to make a man happy all over again?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

I could practically see her smiling through the receiver.

”You make it sound so amazing,” she laughed.

I sighed, contemplating for a moment what she was saying.

”It’s not that easy,” I said. “Not when you have four kids. Men don’t want baggage like that. Lots of women think I’m crazy for doing this… but Zahira, what was I supposed to do? We think we’re keeping the peace by staying together but all we’re doing is causing more damage to kids when we put them through the pain of conflict… Sometimes we think it’s better because we’re keeping our family together. We may be doing that one thing but we’re breaking them apart in so many other ways…..”

“You’re so right,” she said convincingly. “I know how it is. I know after Saffia got divorced, it was a rollercoaster for her and Hassaanah for two years. I feel for you, doll… Being four hours away is hard when my friend is going through such a tough time. Listen, please don’t lose hope. You know you’re going to be okay, right?”

And at the end of the day, all I needed at times was someone to tell me that I had done the right thing. That it was going to be okay. She was really one of those rare kinds that made a difference just with her reassurance. And no, I didn’t expect the world to stop just because I was going through a tough time… but with everyone being busy with their lives, and me where I was right then, I couldn’t help but feel lonely at times.

The thought never crossed my mind before, but being in Iddat after a divorce could get exceptionally lonely. It wasn’t like when you lose a husband. Then there were streams of visitors coming to offer sympathy and somehow, family of friends were around to fill that gap. Adam had his own life. My mother was busy with hers. I couldn’t even dare to keep imposing on my father.

Chatting to someone who I could relate to and knew where I was coming from was so much easier. Even though Zahira was happily married with two kids, she always held fast to the fact that even happy marriages were a helluva lot of work. One day maybe, I might know what that feels like…

“Oh yes before you go,” she said, sounding excited. “I just spoke to Saffia this morning. There’s a guy who came to see her a week back, and he’s phoned again. He’s a bit younger but she really seems to like him. So looks like we’re going to have a Nikah in the family… and you know what’s the best part?”

”That’s great news!” I said, so excited for my friend’s sister. I didn’t know her well but she was an amazing girl who went through a tough time with her rubbish of a husband. He wasn’t as bad as Shabeer, but it had turned out that he was seeing someone else throughout their marriage and she never suspected a thing. “I’m so happy for her. She deserves a good guy. Where’s he from?”

”That’s the part I’m coming to!” She laughed. “He’s from somewhere on your side of the world, so we’ll probably be coming down and I’m going to make sure that I see you. How many weeks left till I can take you out for a cup of coffee?”

”Three weeks,” I sighed, not really anticipating it. I was getting so comfortable in my little hide-out that the thought of leaving it was now making me anxious. “Or you can come have coffee with me in my hole. I make an excellent cuppa.”

She laughed as Danyaal’s voice called out for me from upstairs. We quickly made plans to speak the following week, and I expressed my heartfelt appreciation to her being there for me throughout everything I had been going through. Her constant presence, support and reminders that Allah had a better plan for me was just what I needed to get through this. 

And as I made my way down the passage, I couldn’t help but think to myself that  another great thing about being home now was the amount of time I suddenly had on my hands. Like, I really didn’t know that there could be so many hours in a day. Right now, I felt like if I focused enough, I could give my kids all the attention that they needed. I felt like the terrible mother less and less every day, and more like a mother who was just trying to do the best.

And yes, it was normal because I still slipped at times.. when I got tired and frustrated and didn’t know what else to do with them except dump them in front of iPads and sit with my phone, but the thing with not having Shabeer around now was that it wasn’t much different from when we were married. There was no adjustment phase because the amazing thing was… he never was around anyway. 

Being a Friday night, it was generally our time to chill with some books, indulge in  some much-craved junk and just cruise around in the lounge. As I got the bowls and cups out for the night ahead, and read my maghrib Salaah, the buzzing of the intercom caught me a little unawares that night.

Of course, I wondered who it could be as I made my way downstairs again, checking through the window as I saw a familiar car. And of course, upon seeing it, my heart lifted because although I hadn’t seen him in ages, his visits were always exceptionally welcomed. I pulled the door open in semi- excitement, glad to see the huge and familiar smile as he pulled me and Zaydaan into a warm embrace.

”It’s been ages!” I said as I pulled away, looking up at my uncle as he took Zaydaan from me. Although Zaydaan didn’t know Siraj as well as the bigger two boys, there was something about my uncle that all kids liked. I suppose that he had a pleasant demeanor, and the fact that he and their favorite uncle looked alike was also very much in his favour.

“How’s my amazing niece doing?” he said, smiling sympathetically. “I know you’re sick of my excuses. I keep meaning to visit and every time I come to town I get stuck at the hospital and it’s impossible. Today I put my foot down and made an excuse. Aren’t you proud of me?! And guess who I’ve brought with me..?”

I glanced out as he said it, wondering who the surprise guest was.

”Na’ilah?” I asked, looking for my uncles estranged wife.

Na’ilah was a pretty lady who my uncle was married to, and though they were married for over ten years now, they had yet to have any kids. Siraj was just three years older than me, and even though he was my uncle, because we were so close in age, I really felt it for them as time went by, especially since my kid to adult ratio was increasing at an alarming rate and there’s was still stagnant. Siraj seemed to take it in his stride, but for Na’ilah.. it had hit her quite hard. I supposed aunties at family gatherings weren’t exactly the most considerate and would ask really insensitive questions that she didn’t like. Eventually, as the years went by, we stopped seeing her altogether…

”Na’ilah’s busy with work,” he said indifferently. “But I’ve brought another special lady…”

And of course, he didn’t have to say anymore because as she made her way up the three steps and I saw her one-dimpled smiled, my heart was already bursting.

”Ma!” I breathed, almost not believing my eyes.  “You came to my house! I can’t believe this…”

I swallowed hard as I looked at my Ma, now so much older yet still looking as young and beautiful as ever. The memories of being a free and boisterous little kid while Ma entertained us were amazing. I had sorely missed out on that bond for these few years. Of course, I had seen her in between but it had never been like this. When I was married to Shabeer she would never dare to come to my house…

And I wished that I could find the words to tell her how sorry I was that we hadn’t been as close these past years. I wished that I could tell her how much I had missed her quirky humor and ever-present wisdom. It was just a pity that we had drifted apart after I got married.

”I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered as she held on to me, and I couldn’t contain my emotion anymore.

It was like all the hurt and pain and difficulties of these few months had been accumulating deep within, and now, through this channel that had finally arrived… it was the ultimate release. She came like a breath of fresh air and a breeze of unlimited hope. Ma’s presence in my home that day was like a magic I never felt before.

Since I was married,  something had changed with us and losing that bond I had with her was something I often thought of and regretted. Now that she was here… I was absolutely certain that with her Duaas… everything would be okay.

Whilst Siraj took the smaller two boys to play, the bigger boys watched us silently, obviously confused about the drama as we chatted tearfully. And just as I took a seat at the entrance hall couch with Ma, hoping to stabilize my erratic emotions, I immediately heard a squeal of delight from them as their eyes locked on the open door.

Somehow we had missed the sound of his car arriving, and before I even turned to see who it was, the ‘clickety-click’ of my younger brothers crutches were already an indication that our all-time favorite person was here.

”Hey, Salaam Ma,” Adams voice said as he stepped in. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Ma turned and gave him a smile as he came forward to greet her, with Khawlah in close pursuit. I watched the pair of them come in with an ecstatic reception from the boys who were obviously excited that their bed-time would get delayed. It was one of the main highlights of their day.

”We came to see you,” Ma said to Adam with a smile. “But Siraj says that you had other plans.”

”I did,” Adam said, pulling a face. “But the function was so boring, Ma. All those people talk about is money, houses, cars…. oh, and guess what else? More money. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to find the escape route.”

I could see Khawlah shaking her head at him as she glanced at me. It was the first time that I had seen my sister-in-law so stunningly dressed up, and though she looked amazing, I could see that she was obviously not impressed that she had made all that effort for practically twenty-five minutes of short-lived excitement, unfamiliar company and not even a catered five-course meal to show for it. It really is a bummer.

”He called as soon as I found a seat,” she was complaining to me and Ma. “He didn’t even wait for his award. I think his boss might kill him. Personally, I don’t think he liked all the attention he was getting so he made a run for it.”

Adam grinned as he took a seat, resting his crutches next to him as Dayyaan dragged Khawlah off to see his new LEGO creation. Danyaal, who knew Ma a little better than the others, grabbed her hand to check out his extensive book collection. The two of them had a more than a few things in common and my heart instantly warmed to see them getting along so well…

And as I looked at my brother, I kind of knew that he would be back early when I heard about the fancy work function he was forced to attend that night. Adam wasn’t cut out for the corporate part of his job and for him, despite being so well-known, he hated all the glamour that went with it. That was just my simple brother and I loved that about him. Well, it was what everyone loved about him.

”Hey, it’s the man of the hour,” Siraj said as he walked into the room with Zaydaan still on his hip. “Too busy to even take his uncle’s calls.”

Of course, as soon as Zaydaan spotted my brother, he wiggled down and immediately and ran to climb onto Adams uninjured leg. Adam planted a huge affectionate kiss on his cheek before looking up at our uncle.

”Howzit, Uncle Siraj?” He said, giving him a wink. “I see you’ve finally tracked me down. Sorry man, it’s been a hectic week.”

”Hectic week or you been avoiding my calls?” My uncle said, narrowing his eyes at Adam. “You could have called me back at least once.”

”Don’t give me a hard time, yeah?” Adam said, his expression changing. “I was giving you a chance to catch up with your work. I knew I’d see you sometime…”

Siraj was looking at Adam sceptically as the two of them bickered on. The weird thing was that they weren’t usually like this. Usually it was me who was getting into fights and Adam who got along with most people perfectly fine. I could most definitely sense the annoyance, but as Zia came up to ask for a chocolate and I tried to convince him that it really wasn’t a wise idea to have it right then, since it was past his bed time, I kind of lost the plot of what they were saying until I heard my uncles voice rise…

Then of course, I hastily stuffed the entire Bar-One into Zia’s mouth and sent him along, hoping it really wouldn’t give him a twenty-five hour day… now already on high alert as Siraj bellowed on about something slightly concerning that I had absolutely no idea about…

“It’s not a bloody joke, Adam!” He was almost yelling. Adam winced and simultaneously blocked Zaydaan’s ears as Siraj went on. His one eyebrow was raised in dismay. “You have no consideration for your health whatsoever! You can’t even make a decision! I sent you all the options for treatment and you’re dragging your feet! What about everyone else? Don’t you think they want to see you get better? How can you just go on like this… it’s just damn selfish man. Does your wife even know?!”

Of course, I was already half frozen in my tracks as I watched them, my eyes darting from him to Adam and back. I could see my uncles chest heaving dramatically as he looked at Adam, demanding an answer. He was unquestionably all worked up and red in the face and Adam was… well…  just stagnant. Completely and utterly unemotional. Something was definitely not right.

”Errrr,” I said, swallowing hard as I tried to ascertain what the problem was. Once again, the performance wasn’t centred around me and I was kind of glad. Only, I felt bad for my brother because it looked like he was drama’s new scapegoat. “Can you guys tell me what on earth is going on?!”

Siraj’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me, and then shook his head at Adam again.

”You telling me that you didn’t even tell your sister?” He said incredulously. Siraj was still on a roll.

”Tell me what?!” I said, really feeling like banging both of their heads together. ”Is there something I’m missing here?”

Adam said nothing as he looked at us both. He just sat there and looked on, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to. And I knew that there was definitely something to say.

“Adam should’ve be the one to tell you,” Siraj said, looking a bit calmer now. “But he’s dragged this on for too long now. He’s not in the best of health.”

I frowned slightly as I processed what he said. So that was what all the fuss is about. My brother being stubborn and probably refusing to take his meds or something. I mean, really. Why couldn’t Adam just listen and do what he was supposed to do?

”Okay,” I said calmly. “So what’s the big deal? Can you guys stop behaving worse than my kids? We’ll work on it together and come to a solution. It’s not like he has cancer or something.”

The minute I said it, the regret of the last three words I had just uttered immediately gripped me.

And yes, I could barely believe it but the  expression on both their faces already gave it away.

And as my heart literally shattered in my chest, I knew that amongst many other things… life as we knew it was about to get very much more complicated…

---

P.S. I’m sorry…

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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When the Tables Turn…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

Everyone loves a good speciality. Trust me. I know.

I’m sure by now, you’ve at least figured that I’m not one of those sickly skinny girls who are obsessed with my diet. I do not spend my precious moments before tucking into my regular double-decker cheese burgers (with a fizzy drink) counting carbs and watching sugar intake. I don’t even understand people who guilt themselves about essential edibles.

And as the daughter of the locally sought-after culinary expert, I’m pretty well acquainted with the drill. And no, the skill is not hereditary, so please don’t ask me to cook for you. My food is passable and that’s that. It doesn’t mean that I’m the next Nigella or whoever the Indian equivalent is, but I do know that a pure butter pastry (margarine what?) tops the charts and that freshly ground garlic is the best thing you’ll ever waste your time making. I’ve learnt even though you can barely taste spices like turmeric, you cannot possibly make a good curry without it. I know that ready-fried onions makes my mother turn up her nose and rotis made with pure ghee are completely unrelated to those flattish pieces of dough that I sometimes buy from the shop down the road (when I’ve run out of my mother’s weekly supply).

My father can tell the difference just by looking at it, and if that isn’t skill, I don’t know what is.

The thing is, everything has its speciality, and I’m a big fan of the foodie version. There’s always a highlight of the lot. The exception to the usual. And we all strive to find that speciality, whether it be in a dish, a side or even just a extra thing we make for fun. We like specialities. We like to have ‘unique’ things. Everyone wants to be different.

I guess what I’m trying to say, is that there’s a little underrated thing that comes for free, that sets us aside from everyone else. It’s an inherent quality, and having it makes us unique. It makes us the speciality. Me. You. Anyone who has it.

Its called sincerity. It’s called beautiful intentions. When someone comes to you with a pure heart and goodness overflowing from them, there’s just something special about them that draws you to them and makes you love them. And wouldn’t you want to be the speciality of the human race, as we know it? And I’m not saying that everyone is out there to con you, but when people are truly sincere in what they do, Allah sees the truth in what you are presenting, whether it be the tiniest form of a charitable smile or the hugest trip of  lifetime ‘Fee Sabillilah’.

And then of course, comes the beautiful reality, because with sincerity comes a very special type of status. A status of exemption. The status of love. The Hadith of Jibraeel (AS) being summoned by Allah makes my hair stand on end every time I hear it.

Abu Huraira (may Allah be pleased with him) narrated that the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) said: ‘if Allah loves a person, He calls Jibrael saying,

’Allah loves so and so; O Jibrael love him… 

And make an announcement amongst the inhabitants of the heaven:

“Allah loves so and so therefore you should love him also.

 And so, all the inhabitants of the heaven would love him, and then he is granted the pleasures of the people on the earth.”

[Al- Bukhari and Muslim].

SubhaanAllah…

And no matter how often I hear this spectacular narration, I can never tire of it’s amazement. I mean, can you possibly even imagine Allah taking your name and mentioning it, not just to any angel, but the most noble of all angels that exist? The one who was given the honor of sending Wahee to the prophets and the likes. Can you imagine being so honored, that not only does your name leave their lips, but gets engraved with them so they are so much inclined to you, that they actually begin to love you?

The awe of it all just nearly sends my heart into cardiac arrest.

So, back to the point before I go completely off track here… Whilst on my pursuit to find the best form of sincerity in every action I did, like I had been learning in the Taaleem I’d been briefly attending before my Iddat, I had truly attained so much. Really. In hoping to be sincere in all that I did, I was making every attempt to move past my delusional past. I was hoping to find peace, contentment and to just keep my stomach full enough to stay away from sins and not put on exorbitant amounts of weight that will send my mother into fits of rage. 

The only problem was that it seemed like Shabeer was living in some kind of ‘stupid zone’ during this whole advent. While I was trying to ‘find myself’,  yet again, as I embarked on a mission to attempt to shake myself off of him and make future plans for the benefit of my kids and I, his constant calls and visits would come to throw everything off track again.

“Salaam babe,” his smooth voice came as I  raced down the stairs with my abaya, hearing the front door open.

Crap. He was early. And crap again. I really needed to remember to take his keys away.

Shabeer didn’t understand boundaries. He was like one of those irritating mosquitos that relentlessly stuck around no matter how hard you tried to slap the life out of him.

”Don’t babe me,” I said through gritted teeth. Honestly, was this man dense or just delusional?

“What are you up to? Getting bored yet?” He asked, ignoring my statement.

He said it with a hint of cynical humor, and I clenched my fist in preparation for a mental punch. Maybe a few.

I tried to picture him with a blue eye. It definitely made me feel so much better.

”You’re not supposed to be here alone,” I said, tightening my scarf around my head and glaring at him. “Why can’t you just ring the doorbell like a normal person?”

“I can come when I want. What is all this nonsense?” Shabeer said in a low tone, looking me up and down with an ugly frown. “ You look like one of those burka aunties from Fordsburg. Come on Ruby, we were married for 11 years. Now you acting like some untouchable hijaabi.”

”Shabeer,” I said, as if I was talking to a kid. “Don’t. you. get. it. We’re not married anymore.”

”Ruby,” he said, his voice sounding calm and collected, as I breathed out impatiently. “Seriously. Stop this silly game now. Let’s make up like good, responsible parents and sort this out. You know you can’t survive without me. I’ve worked my backside off to give you the best life I could. A beautiful house. A trending car. Extraordinary holidays. How would you keep up, doll? No average guy will be able to compare… All your friends would laugh at you. Come on, just let me come back home.”

“For what?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “So I can put up with more of your lies? Why don’t you call to speak to the kids once in a while? To pick them up? Spend some time with your sons? Really Shabeer, I haven’t even seen one thing change in you!”

”Ah Ruby, don’t be so hard,” he said, putting on his pitiful voice that I knew so well. “Baby steps, alryt? We can’t all just change overnight. Dammit, you have such high expectations. All you high maintenance women, and you’ll wonder why your husbands mess around. Don’t you ever get tired of yourself?”

“You are such a -“ I started, raging. All my aspirations to be a better person were going down the drain. Turning the tables around was Shabeer’s speciality.

”Sheeeeshhh!” Shabeer said, raising his eyebrows and waving his hand at me. “Behave yourself, woman. The lawyer is here. We don’t want any ugly words reaching his ears. He might just label you an unfit mother.”

Shabeer sniggered as he watched my expression turn to thunderous, and I honestly wanted to break him.

The man made my blood boil. He really wanted to play things this way? 

I glared at him with such venom that he promptly shut up and made his way out of my view to discuss what he needed to with the lawyer.

I knew that Shabeer needed money and wanted to sell the house, but I couldn’t even stomach the thought. He wanted to buy a flat for us, and get away cheap. There were lots of things to finalize and I didn’t want the kids to be around when we did it. Things that meant nothing to me, but I had to sort out for them. I had to get documentation in order so I could own the house, so I wouldn’t have to move out and disrupt their lives. I didn’t yet tell Shabeer about my plans, but I had enough money saved up to buy it from him, if he asked. I knew that this had potential to get ugly and I wanted to be prepared.

I sat on the couch and took a deep breath. I had to learn to breathe. Things were getting a little overwhelming for me and there was only so much I could do to stop myself from having an anxiety attack. And I knew I was that kind of person who didn’t deal very well in neurotic kind of situations, but as Shabeer finally left me in peace that morning, I knew that I had to get my act together and woman up.

And then of course, about half an hour later, just as  I finally felt the rising in my chest subside momentarily, my heart kind of shot out my mouth at the shrill ringing of the doorbell that caught me by surprise.

Of course I wasn’t expecting anyone.

The last thing I wanted while I was in enjoying my peace were people coming to annoy my life. I could just imagine what the ladies from gym would say. They would be looking at me all pitifully, talking about how I must be feeling like I’m in a prison. The facts were that it was the majority of them who were still stuck in that prison of an unfaithful marriage and chasing the world.

And sometimes I really did wish that it had turned out differently with Shabeer.  I still made Duaa that he would change some day, especially for the sake my boys. When I thought about how he had gone from bad to worse over the years, it was no wonder that my heart had changed too. I just couldn’t  feel that love anymore.

And thank goodness that as I glimpsed outside, instead of seeing half a dozen brain-eating women on my doorstep, I glimpsed the lean frame of my awesome brother who was resting  his shoulder against my front door.

He was alone, and as I pulled the door open to welcome him with the hugest of smiles (just because I was so relieved that he wasn’t Shabeer or a nosy woman who craved the latest gossip), something about the way Adam smiled back that day gave me a heads up that everything wasn’t okay.

“Assalamualaikum,” he said as he stepped in. “Where are the little guys? I’ve been missing them.”

Aadam had dropped them off the day before. Today, I had somehow convinced my father to take them for a few hours, just to kill their boredom. I wished I could be like those Instamums who did crafty arts and stuff with their kids all day long, but at this stage of my life, just the thought of paint on the carpet and glue all over the walls exhausted me. It was just hard to be at home with four kids all the time. They were literally eating my head in.

“They’re gone to mum for a while,” I replied. “I needed some time… can I offer you coffee?”

I didn’t elaborate on Shabeer as Adam nodded. Why should I bore him with my legal details?

He lowered himself into the couch, looking a little dazed while I switched the kettle on.

Now, I’ve always had an awesome relationship with my brother, and because he was generally so happy-go-lucky and barely complained about a thing, I knew him so well that if there was something bothering him, it was nothing that a good cuppa couldn’t squeeze out.

And of course, with my own neurotic tendencies, a cup of the condensed milk- sweetened version (with extra cream) was just what I needed to put all my anxiety at bay.  So when Adam sighed and rested his head back in exhaustion, I couldn’t help but prop myself up next to him with two mugs of luxury coffee, stare him down and force him to spill it out.

“You’re alone today?” I said, thinking it a bit strange since Khawlah was on holiday.

He shrugged. He definitely was not even remotely himself.

“She’s been busy,” he said, glancing at me momentarily.  “Her brother’s had somewhere to be a few days back. Some chic to see..”

”You mean Ahmed?” I said, my breathing a little stunted. He was going to see a girl? 

Adam nodded and shrugged. Goodness. My brother looked heartbroken. Maybe even more than me.

Focus Ruby. Focus on Adam.

“They didn’t tell you to come with?” I said,  really wanting more details, but also curious as to why Adam didn’t accompany them. He was married to Khawlah.

Plus, who was this ‘chic’ that Ahmed was suddenly interested in? The curiosity was killing me.

“She’s angry,” he said finally, raising his eyebrows. “We had an exchange. I suppose I didn’t think it was a big thing until I thought about it… but for her…”

I tut-tutted to myself as Adam spoke, feeling his pain, and forgetting my own inclination to know gory details of the samoosa run.

Trouble in paradise, huh? I just hoped it wasn’t serious.

“Was it something you did?” I asked him, not wanting to pry but itching to know. It was a completely tearing feeling.

“It was in the past,” he said, swallowing as he looked at me. “But I would never hurt her on purpose, Rubes. This is too much… she hasn’t spoken to me in days. She’s ignoring my calls. Doesn’t come out when I go there. It’s getting embarrassing to go there and I really don’t know what else to do…”

Adam looked absolutely distressed as he glanced at me and ran his hand through his beard. He was such a genuinely and sincerely nice person that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He placed the mug on the coffee table next to him, without even taking a sip.

Never mind. More for me.

I sighed as I watched him, looking like some kind of lost person. I didn’t know my brother’s past inside out but I had met his previous girlfriend, and I knew that it wasn’t just the kind of relationship that doesn’t leave any scars. At that time I didn’t know it was wrong. We were ignorant. The thing was, with Khawlah… she didn’t come from the type of life that we knew. The dysfunctional life that was full of gross details, ugly sins and disturbing dysfunction.

For her 16-year-self, though she was exceptionally mature, I could imagine that certain aspects of our immodest life were too sheltered to even process…

She lived in a childish fantasy where everything was sunny and earthly, and though I loved that and her idealism, the reality was that life was absolutely appalling.

Especially mine.

And just as I was about to explain that to Adam, my words kind of died on my lips as a burst of rowdiness blasted through the front passage.

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out that all four of my boys were back. I figured that sooner or later my parents would get fed up of them, and as they burst into into the room we were in, there was a series of excited jumps and greetings as Adam welcomed them with open arms and boy-like gestures. And of course it was all fun and exciting, but as they high-fived Adam, and I glimpsed my mothers face… I was already reminding myself about all my aspirations for being a better daughter.

She had an irate look on her face as she stood there, her hands folded on her chest, and for once as I followed her gaze, I was so grateful that it wasn’t directed at me.

And because I was in the clear, I didn’t even dwell on it further as I busied myself making another cup of coffee for my wonderful father, while my mother shook her head at my offer and stood there with that expression that I thought had become her inherent one.

I was so busy counting my lucky stars and whipping up the perfect cup of latte, that I barely even noticed her staring with hostility at Adam’s retreating back. It was only when her screech for him reached my ears, did I fully process her unconventional attitude towards her darling son. 

“Mum?” He said, backtracking slightly and looking at her with a frown. “All okay?”

”Do I look like everything is okay?” She shot back, her face all stony and down-right disgruntled. “Have you ever seen me like this before?!”

”Errrrrr…”

That was mistake number one. I honestly wanted block my eyes. Though I completely got Adam’s point, let me just warn you that if you ever meet my wonderful mother, never… and I repeat, NEVER, let my mother know that her grumpiness has been noted before. She will never let you forget it.

“Let me just tell you something, mister!” She almost yelled, her face beet red. Thank goodness the kids were outside. “I spend my whole life trying to make both you kids happy and this is the type of payback I get!”

Jasses. Why did I get tossed in everywhere? I was the resident dump-site.  All I was busy doing was minding my own business.

“Mum-“ Adam started.

”You just listen to me!” she snapped, wagging her finger and edging closer to him as she tossed her newly highlighted hair back. “I won’t have you’ll making a fool of me. I will not be made into an unfit mother who brings up kids who can’t even hold together their marriages!”

She shot a look at me as she said it, and I cringed. I love how she blamed my failed marriage only on me. Like Shabeer was just a poor bystander. As if. 

“Mum, I don’t think you know what’s going on,” Adam said pointedly.

And, there we have it, folks. Mistake number two. 

Never, ever, tell my mother that she doesn’t know what’s going on. Even if she doesn’t know what’s going on, she still does.

”Oh, I know exactly what’s going on,” she snapped, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve had people asking me if you are also getting divorced. Already! Can. you. imagine. my. EMBARRASSMENT?!”

And I’m not even exaggerating with the punctuation there. That was exactly how she said it.

“They think there’s something wrong with me, that both of your marriages are headed for destruction! You brought that innocent girl into our home and you messed it up, didn’t you?!”

Adam was gaping at my mother like a goldfish. For once he had no smooth words to swizzle her.

”I warned you about this, didn’t I?” She continued with her resident glare. “I knew there’ll be problems. I even tried to show you before, but you were adamant!”

What? Was that what all her drama was about? I was dumbfounded.

When did the tables turn? How did people even know about the dynamics between Adam and Khawlah?

“It’s not as serious-“

”It DOESN’T MATTER!” my mother yelled, her glare still directed at Adam. “You fix this! I don’t care what you have to do or how you have to convince her. Even if it means that you sit outside her house day and night until she comes back, you make sure you put this right. You young people think that marriage is just a game! I won’t have both my kids moping around with failed marriages. I’m not an incompetent parent. Grow up and do what what it takes… or else!”

I was gob-smacked. Not to mention, absolutely terrified.

The last part was what scared me. From experience, I knew that ‘or else’ from my mother was not just a regular threat. It usually involved a helluva lot of sucking up, painful cajoling and sleepless nights of feeling like the failed and rejected child. Believe me. I know.

And despite my father gaping at her in shock yet again, and Adam looking like he really wanted to cry, with that, she tossed her glossy auburn-colored hair back, spun around on her dainty heels, and gracefully walked out.

---

 

WIll reply to all comments soon.. A longer post that hopefully makes up for the delay!

Much Love,

A xx

 

As per the previous posts, we are now on the Sunnah of Drinking Water 

1. The Sunnah of drinking water states that blowing on hot water or exhaling into a water glass can spread bacteria into the water. Therefore, it’s important that you move the glass of water away from your mouth after taking a sip so that you can avoid breathing onto thewater. Recite “Alhamdulillah” after drinking water.

 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

Ig: thejourneyingmuslimah 

#revivetheSunnahofDrinkingWater 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

 

When Responsibility Calls

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zuleikha

Responsibility. It really is a mouthful isn’t it? Not just to pronounce… but a helluva lot to digest too.

Responsibility doesn’t end. Once you get past the curfews and the glasses and the braces… the responsibility doesn’t go away. Either someone makes us face it or we are forced to suffer the consequences.

I once had a friend that used to make breaks for me. All the time. She would lie to the lecturers for me. She would hide my whereabouts from the nosy girls who wanted to interfere in my business. She had even distracted my father when he came to campus once (can you believe it?) to check on me.

She was the one who bunked lectures with me to go to movies or lunch or just to be daring and play some forbidden game of cards that was the popular hobby at the cafeteria.

At that time, she was the best friend I could have asked for. Someone who stuck by me, became my bosom bunking pal and got me out of trouble at all the right times. She was a needle in the hay stack. She was really fun too. When she had to leave because of bad grades and restricted finances, I was heartbroken. And of course, it was all in the plan Allah had for me… because someone to cover my back when I was getting out of control was never going to turn out well.

I often wondered about that friend that I had. We had lost contact over the years, and though in retrospect, I still saw her as a loyal friend… what I didn’t comprehend  was why she never told me to stop my messing around and get my act together. She wasn’t a bad girl but she never tried to guide me. Sometimes I wondered in those days of ignorance…. if I had a little guidance.. maybe I might have been better off.

But thats when I came to know the meaning of a responsibility, and a righteous friend. Friendship is not only a social construct… but a religiously significant relationship. The best ones are the ones that bring us closer to Allah. A righteous friend is the one we should aim for. Loyalty is an amazing character trait but the action of forbidding evil and enjoining good has a completely different appeal… and always triumphs, even in the long run. It was only when I met my dear friend Zaynah, that I realized what was truly worth having in a friend.

And it was only then that I saw the truth of friendship and responsibility. Although friends are supposed to be a guidance too… We can’t blame anyone else for our own downfalls. We make the decisions. We have to accept responsibility. We have to realize that maybe the only person really responsible for everything we were going through, was ourselves…

And right then, as I looked at my brother, I knew someone would have to take responsibility here.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked, because I couldn’t stand him looking at me with that emptiness that he always did. Like the world owes him something.

“Khawlah is devastated,” I continued as he looked at me blankly.  “She’s going through hell with her mother-in-law… and now, this is just making it all worse. Rubeena just told them she’s asked for a divorce.”

It had been a huge and unexpected event at her mother-in-laws place the previous night and I was absolutely appalled that Ahmed’s name had come in. I didn’t want to make any accusations but the odds were completely against him.

”I did nothing,” Ahmed growled. “All I did was answer my phone.”

”So you never called her?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows. “Not even once?”

Ahmed looked away guiltily and I sighed.

”But Khawlah said she warned you!” I suddenly snapped, trying to make him see reason. “She told you to stay away from her. She’s a married woman for goodness sake! Didn’t you know that?”

”If she acted like a married woman,” he muttered. “Then I would have believed it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

All these months, I thought Ahmed was busy with his finance course. I was happy that he was getting his act together, getting with the right people and finding some focus in life. If this was true it was going to ruin us all…

“What if it was me?” I asked him suddenly,  itching to get some sort of reaction out of him. “What if it was me who someone was speaking to? What would you have done to that guy?”

”I would have probably killed him,” Ahmed said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Exactly!”

“But then again, if you had a husband like hers who was still up to crap…”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. That was not the answer I wanted.

“Listen,” he said, his face hard as he looked at me. “When your husband was messing around, I rattled him to show him that I didn’t like it. He got his stuff together. Fast. Yes, Shabeer is an idiot, but all Rubeena said was she wants a divorce. I told Khawlah to leave me alone and I’ll tell you the same. What you guys all on about?”

”The problem is,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have become the reason for her asking for a divorce. You need to stop talking to her. Right now!”

Ahmed shrugged, not giving much away. He didn’t refute my accusation. That could only mean that he was speaking to her, right?

“I’m serious,” I warned him. “This is not a joke.”

“Alryt,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Mummy.”

I wanted to twist his ear. He wasn’t even giving me proper answers. He was treating it like a joke. He didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation. She was married with four kids. Leave alone the age gap that was more than ten years…

Gosh. Did he even know what he was getting himself into? Maybe he just wanted me to think that something was going on. My brother was always a little crazy.

I googled the Hadith on my phone, about the man who came to the Prophet (SAW), requesting permission to commit Zinaa. I promptly sent it to him, not just to rattle him up a bit… but in the hope that Allah would purify his heart, if there were ever any evil intentions…

Abu Umama Al-Bahily (may Allah be pleased with him) narrated that a young man came to the Prophet (SAW) and said:

‘O Messenger of Allah (SAW), give me a permission to commit  Zina.’

The Companions turned to him and started rebuking him. The Prophet (SAW) said: “Come closer.“

When the young man drew nearer to the Prophet (SAW) and sat down, the Prophet (SAW) asked him: “Would you like it for your mother?“

The man answered; No, by Allah. May Allah make me a protection for you!

The Prophet (SAW) commented, “People also do not like it for their mothers.” The Prophet added, “Would you like it for your daughter?“

Again, the young man answered negatively. So, the Prophet (SAW) said, “People too would not love it for their daughters“

Further, the Prophet (SAW) asked, “Would you like it for your sister?” The Prophet received the same answer and made the same comment. The Prophet went on asking about the man’s paternal and maternal aunts. The young man’s answer was the same and the Prophet (SAW) repeated the same comment, “People do not like that for their aunts.“

The Prophet (SAW) then placed his hand on the young man and prayed for him, “O Allah, forgive his sins, purify his heart, and protect his chastity.“

Abu Umamah, the narrator of the hadith, said that the young man did not pay heed to any temptation thereafter. (Authenticated by Al-Albani)

And I really wanted to lecture him relentlessly, but the thing is, I knew it would just make Ahmed rebellious. I had to be patient and understanding too… gentle like the Prophet (SAW) had been when the man suggested even the most atrocious of acts.

And as it happens, I actually didn’t need to do much rattling because just as I was about to open my mouth, there was a tap on the door before my dear Khawlah pushed it open.

I looked at my sister, and I couldn’t help but notice that for the first time in months, her face was drawn and grim. The glow that marriage had brought for her had been diminished. I could see her looking from Ahmed to me in expectation.  I only hoped that this hadn’t caused any problems between her and Aadam. That would be terrible. My sister did look like she had been crying…

”How are you, Khawlah?” I asked kindly, moving aside so she could sit next to me. The was a shadow of a smile on her pretty face, but she remained standing as she watched us, almost as if she was waiting for Ahmed to say something.

Ahmed looked away and ignored her. I guessed that there had been some words between them that weren’t very pleasant. My heart ached to see the trouble that this had caused.

“Can you talk some sense into him please?” She said finally, closing her eyes and inhaling, as if the whole world was on her shoulders.

“Did your mother-in-law say how she had found out about them?” I asked carefully, still wondering how contact between Ahmed and Rubeena had gotten to her ears.

Khawlah shrugged.

“I think someone called her,” Khawlah said. “Maybe Hannah. Sounds like something she would do.”

Or maybe Aunty Nas, upset that everything seemed to be working out for Khawlah and not Hannah. Aunty Nas always had an exceptionally mean streak when it come to Khawlah. Lucky Khawlah was tough… but I think that pushed Aunty Nas more to do the things she did. At the time it was just so heartbreaking to see my little sister put up with that. She was so strong.

“Which reminds me… I need to go and see Hannah,” she said quietly. “I’ve just got so much on my head right now… My in-laws are freaking about Rubeena. I have exams coming up and I can barely concentrate…”

It was strange to see my sister so worked up. So upset. I wished I could take her into my arms, and tell her it would all be okay. I wished that this hadn’t blown out of proportion the way it did.

Ahmed didn’t say a thing. He just looked like his usual unemotional self as he looked back at us…

“Shabeer gave one Talaaq yesterday,” Khawlah said finally, looking upset. I couldn’t help but notice Ahmed’s expression change. “My mother-in-law has gone into depression. She’s not even talking to Aadam, because she thinks he’s in favor of you guys or whatever is happening. Aadam knew nothing…”

I swallowed. He actually gave the divorce? 

”Shit man,” Ahmed said, shaking his head and beginning to pace. Finally some reaction. At least now he realized how serious it was. “This woman’s making my life hell!”

“This woman?!” Khawlah retorted angrily, and I could see her step forward as she pointed a finger threateningly. “Please Ahmed, don’t act so innocent! You obviously led her on! She’s got four kids! Are you ready to take that on? You’re barely even an adult yourself, for goodness sake!”

”How the hell did I lead her on?!” He shouted back. “Do you have any proof? You can’t just go around accusing people of things. You just all cut up about Khalid so you can’t think straight… as usual. Does Aadam even know?”

I wanted to cover my eyes and block my ears. These two were really going for it. Both were being unreasonable. It had been years since I saw them fighting like this.

”Oh shut up!” Khawlah spat at him, and I could see the tears filling her eyes as she blinked angrily. “This has nothing to do with Khalid. Don’t turn the tables around and make it about me!”

”Get over yourself, goodie-two-shoes,” Ahmed growled at her. “You don’t own Rubeena. I can talk to who I want to.”

”Well, that’s where you wrong!” Khawlah screamed back at him. “You can’t just do what you feel! It’s a sin! You have to be accountable-“

”Will both of you just STOP?!” I bellowed, cutting her off and knowing that this was going to cause a huge rift between them if they continued like this. It probably already did.

I could see Yunus standing in the doorway, looking a bit shocked. Thankfully Dada was asleep. How he slept through all of this was a mystery in itself.

“Don’t you’ll see what you’ll are doing?!” I asked them, looking at them angrily. “Someone is trying to cause problems and you’ll are letting them. Can’t we just talk this through? Khawlah, please calm down. Ahmed, can you please just sort it out?”

This was getting bad. The two of them were literally at each other’s throats and I was right here in the middle of it. I knew Ahmed would never hurt Khawlah but he was getting really angry. As for the issue of Khalid… I meant to ask my sister but I never got around to doing it. I figured it was a sensitive topic but I knew that Khawlah would never hide anything important from Aadam.

I could see Ahmed’s shoulders heaving and his furrowed brow deepening as he glared at her. It was pretty scary… but Khawlah was glaring right back. They were both relentless. Two of a kind.

As for Ahmed, I knew he liked to wind people up to get a reaction. Whether he was saying all that stuff about Khalid and  Rubeena for attention was another story altogether…

”Please Ahmed,” I begged, trying to get through to my stubborn brother. “Can you just stop this nonsense?”

”Zuleikha, I swear I didn’t!” Ahmed said, his amber eyes full of  fury. “I met her once. I gave her some documents. It was a public place. All I said was I’ll help her to speak to the guys who were after her idiotic husband. It never went farther than that…”

He looked away and I couldn’t tell if he had spoken the truth. Was he just covering his tracks? Why was Khawlah so convinced about something more going on? Was there something that she knew that she wasn’t saying.

My brother and sister had a relationship where they would tell each other whatever they needed to with no reservations… but I also had a feeling they both knew secrets about each other that no-one else did.

I sighed while Khawlah stood at the door and scowled. She finally turned her back and left.

Such a huge, unimaginable mess. Obviously someone had seen the two of them together and it had gotten to the wrong ears. Or maybe someone was trying really hard to make Rubeena seem like a loose woman…

“You need to get some advice,” I said, trying to think straight. He needed to get into contact with his Maulana again. He needed to refocus his life. Maybe make another trip away from home, to get away from this.

I blinked as Ahmed threw on a Kurta next to me, and started putting on his shoes as if he was suddenly in a hurry. It was like something had suddenly been ignited in him, as he got ready to leave. I had a feeling that he was finally going to take responsibility for this… but I wasn’t sure if I would like what it had to bring.

“Ahmed, what are you doing?” I asked, a little confused. Where exactly was he going right now? 

“What do you think?” he said, looking at me in frustration. “You told me what I must do, didn’t you? I’m going to sort this out once and for all… and you’re coming with me.”

---

Dear readers, 

 

A little bit of drama but we are getting to calmer parts soon… 

Shukran to all for reading

Much Love, 

A 🌸 

Beloved Nabi (SAW) has said:

“The person who perfectly maintains the ties of kinship is not the one who does it because he gets recompensed by his relatives (for being kind and good to them), but the one who truly maintains the bonds of kinship is the one who persists in doing so even though the latter has severed the ties of kinship with him“. [Al-Bukhari].

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to rekindle any ties of kingship that may have been severed. It is truly a great reward and Sunnah.

 

When things are not Pretty…

---

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

There’s a great lesson that I once learnt from a pressure cooker. Yes, from a pressure cooker. And no, I have not lost my mind.

Because sometimes, you just don’t know the reality. You are blissfully unaware of the facts. I know they say you must listen to your gut and all that sentimental hogwash… but something told me that I had to open that pot, no matter what, because it was time to eat. And damn, I was hungry.

I was persistent. I battled with its stubbornness, pushing and pulling the lid… despite protests from my friend who was there… until bam… it exploded all over the stove. My face was a few centimeters away, but my hands got the brunt of it. They burned persistently for hours. It was far from pretty, but I didn’t believe it would happen until I saw it.

Sometimes you have to let go and focus on the facts. You have listen when people advise you. You have to do what’s the right thing, under the circumstance, no matter what your sometimes unruly mind (or rumbling gut) may tell you…

And leave aside the pressure cooker… which I’ll come back to later… but the thing is, you never really know the day when your whole world’s going to get turned upside down, do you? I mean, no-one really anticipates it. I don’t think anyone ever plans it.

I mean, no one really says; “Well, today, I’m going to completely botch up the normality of my world, just because it looks like fun…”

I mean, really.

And I know that I don’t have the best of reputations when it comes to getting my act together, but give me some credit okay?

I had strongly come to believe that whatever good you ever have an inclination to do, the best thing you could ever do for yourself is to do it right then and there. Don’t wait for Ramadhaan, to start wearing the hijab. Don’t wait for when you get old, to start praying. Don’t wait for your heart to become so burdened… that you fear your repentance will never be accepted.

Abu Hurayrah (radi Allahu anhu) reported that the Messenger of Allah (sal Allahu alaihi wa sallam) said, “Hasten to do good deeds before you are overtaken by one of the seven afflictions.” Then (giving a warning) he said, “Are you waiting for such poverty which will make you unmindful of devotion; or prosperity which will make you corrupt, or disease as will disable you, or such senility as will make you mentally unstable, or sudden death, or Ad-Dajjal who is the worst expected absent, or the Hour, and the Hour will be most grievous and most bitter.”

And yes, I had tried. I had really tried so hard to keep it together. For my kids… for my family… even for myself. But the thing is, sins… well, they’re something like quicksand. They have a tendency to make you think you’re on top of things when in reality, you’re sinking.

And boy, we were sinking. We were nearly underground.

“Hey hey hey, Assalamualaikum!” Adam’s voice boomed from outside. The boys had already smelt him. “Where are our little aliens tonight? Have they finally come back down to earth?”

I could hear a series of giggles and whispers as little footsteps made their way down the passage. The kids were ecstatic. It had been while since they spent time with Adam and they had missed him.

My mothers face scrunched up momentarily before she tossed her head back indifferently. I didn’t ask her what was wrong, as I exited the kitchen. I knew there was no point.

Besides, I had told myself that I was going to try and be a better person. Especially to my mother. No more rolling eyes (directly) at her. No more mocking her holier than thou attitude. No more looking down on her. Instead I was going to try and gently be the better and more refined person… and see where it gets me. I wasn’t sure how far I was going to get but hey, a girl could try right?

“Hey Ruby, Salaams,” Adam looked up at me as he emptied a hoard full of chocolates from his pocket. “How’s everything going?”

It was a normal day. It was a simple question too.

But for me, a normal day was one with regular inconveniences. The traffic to school was as crappy as always, Zia had been as sick as a dog while he brought up in the back seat (all over my new branded sports hijab) and Zaydaan had thrown a complete hissy fit in the middle of the service station convenience store (over a drink with a name that he couldn’t even pronounce). A completely normal day, by the standards of any mother.

And so when I got home and saw Shabeer already making himself comfortable on the reclining couch… I wasn’t sure what snapped in me.

All I could think of was some really uncensored words.

And in true ruffled-up-my-feathers female style, I said nothing as I started to (very noisily) unpack my grocery packet. Bottles were clanging and cupboards were banging. I knew if I raised it up one more notch, it couldn’t do much harm, but as I heard Shabeer clearing his throat in the passage to announce his arrival, I already knew that I had gotten the desired effect.

“Err, Ruby?” His voice said, a little hesitantly as he entered the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

”Yes,” I barked.

Bang went the spice drawer.

”Are you sure?” He asked, frowning as he came closer, taking the empty packets and stuffing them under the sink.

Clank went the chilli sauce on the counter.

I said nothing as I continued with my task.

“Okay what the hell?” He said, looking defeated as he shook his head at me. “Have you lost your marbles?”

”I’m applying for Hajj,” I said suddenly, looking him in the eye for a minute, taking him in. He was all pooped out from a semi-busy day at work and I could see he was a little stressed. I knew he had all these debts he was trying to sort out and he had blamed them on Hannah. I didn’t care because I knew that he was lying. I had checked up on many of his personal files in the last few weeks, and I had clear insight on what was going on. I had even contacted someone to figure it all out. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea but it put everything into a much better perspective for me.

Money. Women. Vices. Sins. I was just so sick of hearing about it, whether it was from the nosy neighbour or the woman at the gym. The gambling and the drink that I smelt on Shabeer at least three nights every week.

I had had it. Literally. I didn’t want to live this life anymore. Sooner or later it was going to take its toll. All that money… so much of it yet all so devoid of any goodness.. I couldn’t use it to nourish my kids anymore. I couldn’t use it to live a regular life. We had to change. All this Haraam was taking its toll.

The thing is, when my kids were younger, I could easily pull the wool over their eyes and act like everything was peachy. Now that my kids were bigger, how was I going to explain to them why their father was so evasive? Now that Danyaal was eight, who was going to take him to mosque? Who was going to explain to him everything about growing up and living as a proper Muslim male, when his father was completely devoid of every aspect of it.

“Really?” Shabeer said, raising his eyebrows at me. “For when?”

“Whenever it comes through,” I said casually. “I’ve already put our names down.”

Shabeer smirked.

“Is someone giving you all these ideas,?” He asked mockingly, and I could see he wanted to laugh. “I’m not ready to go all holy yet, please Ruby. Hajj is for fifty plus. Give me a break… I’m still young.”

”Look at you!” I retorted, wondering if he glanced in the mirror lately. “You look like you’re nearly 90 years old! Who knows how much longer you’re going to live?”

I didn’t care that Shabeer’s ego was visibly wounded by my statement. The way I saw it, all it would take was one overdose and he was probably going to collapse.

With all the silly young women he usually ran  after, he probably didn’t realize just how crappy he really looked. I also knew that he was hiding something from me. I had dug onto some of his recent shenanigans and realized that he had clearly not learned his lesson. Another woman. Another Nikah. The chase was never enough for Shabeer. This was, for me, the last straw. He was either going to change, the way I wanted or he needed to leave. There was no other way.

And of course, it became a fully blown argument with ugly words and accusations. I told him exactly what I thought of him and he called me, to put it lightly, a stuck up pain in the behind. I didn’t care what he was on about. He told me no-one will want to marry me now, with four kids. He tried to convince me that I was lucky to have him.

All I knew at that point was that if he wasn’t going to change, I didn’t want him. So when Aadam asked me how I was…. well, what more could I do but shrug. No use burdening him with all my sorry stories.

I smiled at Khawlah as she offered me a half wave.

How had everything been going? Besides being a little over ambitious in the eating department, slacking on the training and dwelling in the misery of probably being alone forever, I’d been been doing good. I could already feel the kilos loading on.. but you know what? I didn’t care. I liked being chubby.

“Where’s mum?” He said, squeezing my shoulder as he offered a small hug. “Did she cook up a storm?”

I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. See, I really was trying.

”Shes made that Mesh Om Ali thing for dessert,” I said, keeping a straight face. “She said she’s the only one who hasn’t tried it yet because her family never comes to visit her. She’s feeling like the unloved mother so I’m just warning you…”

”She’ll snap out of it when she sees me,” Adam said, winking at me confidently as he walked to the kitchen. I didn’t follow him because besides not wanting to get in my mothers way… I really didn’t want to answer the one question she had been raving about since I arrived.

“Where is Shabeer?”

And honestly, I had no idea why she was so on about him. Every previous time when he hadn’t come, I had told her the tale about him being busy with work and she had accepted it. It was just that today… well, today, she knew something was up. How she knew, I had no idea, but I could tell that she wanted to hear it from me.

I sighed. The other thing she couldn’t stop talking about was how she couldn’t believe that Adam had replaced us. I had kind of blanked out after that.

The kids were busy outside, and since my mum had refused any help in the kitchen, Khawlah had gone to join them. My mother was acting all hard to get as Adam tried to strike up a conversation, which was just a tad bit unusual.

It went something like this.

“How was your week, mum?”

Mum: Sulky face.

“Do you need help with anything?”

Mum: Shrugs shoulders.

”Am I still your favorite or have I been demoted?”

Mum: Stony glare.

Now if I was him, I would have clean given up by now. But I knew that Adam couldn’t stand when anyone was upset with him. A weakness, yet a strength that he possessed since he was a kid.

“Okay mum,  I’m sorry,” he finally said. “Please tell me what I can do to make you smile.”

I wished he wasn’t such a suck up.

“You worry about making everyone else happy but you forget about your own mother!” My mother snapped, and I couldn’t help but widen my eyes with the viciousness of the onslaught.

Adam was, to put it lightly, taken aback.

”I heard about how you go to that lady’s house every day. She’s not even related to you! What kind of son are you?!”

I had to hand it to my brother. He remained composed.

“I didn’t know that it upset you so much,” he said quietly. “Those people lost their son. They don’t have family here. I keep imagining if it was you… and you lost me… I wouldn’t have wanted you to hurt alone…”

I closed my eyes momentarily as my mother turned to Adam, expecting the worst.

“I wouldn’t make it everyone else’s problem,” she retorted acidly, the entire crux of what Adam was trying to say completely going over her head.

What she didn’t know at that stage was that she was going to eat her very own words sooner than she thought.

“No-one is making it my problem,” Adam said softly. “They’re really nice people. Aunty Radiyyah barely speaks to me but she always makes us comfortable with her hospitality. I’ve become really close to her husband and I just wanted to be there for him… I didn’t mean to hurt you, mum. You know I love you. You’ll always be my fave.”

And of course, like a sucker, my mother scoffed and wiped away her fake tears, because Adam was just so good at breaking her firewall. The two of them were murmuring to each other as I left the kitchen in semi-disgust, actually quite shocked that I could never swindle my mother like that.

And of course, now that the awkwardness was over, I was quite looking forward to my mother’s supper. My father was chattering away to Khawlah and Danyaal about some higher grade Du’aa I never heard of that you need to read if you forget to make your first dua… as they sat and as I began to tuck in, I really did not expect any more drama.

Despite my marriage very possibly crumbling, I was feeling completely at ease. Knowing that Shabeer was going to be out of my life was actually kind of comforting, and as I savoured my first mouth full of my mother’s butter chicken, her next words were enough to make my taste buds completely numb.

“Where did you say Shabeer was again?”

All I could taste now was chalk. The mention of Shabeer nowadays usually did make me lose my appetite. I just wasn’t ready to tell my mother the truth as yet.

“He’s not coming,” I said flatly. “He’s busy.”

”But I especially called him!” She said, annoyed that I wasn’t giving her a proper answer. “Why didn’t he come?”

“Because I told him not to,” I said simply, and I could feel all eyes on me. I swallowed my chalk roti and took a sip of powdery Appletiser.

“Why would you do that?” My mother asked, appalled as she looked at me. “He’s always welcome here!”

“Not when I’m here,” I said, raising my eyebrows at her and sitting back.

I couldn’t eat. My mothers questions were becoming too intense. I didn’t want to tell her like this but she was really pushing me to. My father was wisely trying to distract her but she was having none of it.

She was going on about how hard it was to get her family together, and the one time she does, I had to go and spoil it by opening my big mouth. I didn’t want to tell her that no-one really missed Shabeer anyway. Her words were just kind of going around in circles as she went on and on, and even though I was trying really hard to block it out, I felt like I was being hounded by the mini-demons in my head who gave me no relief whatsoever, no matter how good I was being.

The voices were kind of compounding on me, and even when I started humming to myself in the hope of ignoring it, they just seemed to get louder, louder and louder… and as my mother praised Shabeer and basically knackered everyone else who wasn’t him… I had to call it quits on my better conscience. The evil was definitely triumphing the good here and I could not even resist.

I just could not take it anymore. I felt like that bursting pressure cooker. I completely snapped.

”He’s never coming back!” I shouted, the entire table silencing immediately as I said it. And yeah, how crazy was it that now everyone was looking at me like I had gone bonkers?

“But why?” My mother said weakly, and I could almost see her bottom lip sticking out. How typical it was that she would make it all about her?

”I’ve asked him for a divorce,” I said, knowing that this was going to cause a commotion. And yes, I knew that this was no surprise to anyone, despite how my mothers lip was trembling.

What I didn’t anticipate was what happened next.

My mothers eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze around the table almost in disorientation. At first I thought it was just shock, but as she finally let it settle on Khawlah…. I knew this was no coincidence.

It wasn’t even that she had just lost her cool, as she stared at my sister-in-law. As her eyes promptly narrowed and she glared at her… I couldn’t help but cringe as she pointed a completely unnecessary accusing finger. My mother knew more than she was letting on and this was definitely not going to be pretty…

”You!” She exploded, and my heart literally shuddered as she shrieked. Khawlah obviously knew nothing about what she was on about.

Unfortunately, I was the only one that did…

“This is all your fault!”

---

Apologies for the late post 🌸 

Just a reminder of Jumuah Sunnah… I think it’s an awesome idea to set a goal for Durood every Friday. (Usually 1000+) 

Don’t forget Surah Kahaf, Friday ghusl and lots and lots of special duaas for the Ummah. Make intention for Sunnah and we will get double reward InshaAllah! 

#revivetheSunnahofJumuah

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#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

Twitter @ajourneyjournal

When Guilt Trips

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Rubeena

Divorce.

The big fat D-word.  It’s probably the ugliest seven-letter word that I’ve come across. Well, besides the ones I sometimes used in my mind, but, well… let’s not go there.

And the effects of divorce are loathsome. Divorce breaks up families. It stirs up ill-feelings. It creates dysfunctional kids. A divorce is never easy.

And although the very notion of it was still detestable to me, I could not help but think that this was exactly where it was leading. The surprising fact now was that it wasn’t for the reasons that I thought it would be. Shabeer taking on another wife was never the problem. Although it was never my idea of a perfect marriage, I had accepted it and hoped for the best.

And I know that polygamy, or polygyny, more specifically, for most women is a detestable thing. Infidelity, though brushed under the rug, has become ironically, more acceptable. When at one stage having multiple wives was a common tradition and a norm, as society became more ‘westernised’, religious traditions that had been observed by the Prophets of the past and even regular people right up till the twentieth century have now became ‘unacceptable’.

And the fact that it was part of my beautiful religion too, like many others, didn’t mean that it was easy. Sharing your husband. I mean, I’d been there. But if you have the kind of husband who is willing to make it work, the way it should be done… I think that half your battle is won. The other half is trying to weather those feelings of jealousy and inadequacy that sometimes surface.

And then of course, there is a chance that your husband will have no idea what he is getting himself into. He doesn’t understand the responsibility. He lives only for that moment of artificial attraction… lured by the idea of an enhanced marital life that will somehow fix everything.

It was a rough life when your husband doesn’t know how to be fair. When he doesn’t fulfil your rights the way he is supposed to. Always feeling compromised in a marriage…

And I supposed that it boiled down to being content. For both of us. I often wondered how things would have turned out, if instead of pushing to lose those extra kilos and be in with the fitness crowd, I had concentrated on my failing marriage. I mean, I had seen the signs. Because I wasn’t content… seeing other women accomplished and living the ‘perfect life’ on social media, I was chasing an unachievable dream. I was chasing an illusion… Until I saw the light for a fleeting  moment before I skunk back into my rut of being ridiculous all over again.

What baffled me most was how I could sit on social media, scrolling through a strangers ridiculous feed with links that lead to another link and another link… and then you just have to keep clicking on more and more and accumulating more junk information and insecurities that you never cared about getting in the first place. And then you feel guilty about wasting all that time from the onset, and start feeling all completely out of whack because that person you were reading about has such a great life and you’re still stuck watching them with a nagging child literally tugging off your clothes. I wasn’t sure why it kept happening to me, but if I gave my much needed devotions the same kind of attention, I knew that I wouldn’t be in the same sick state of soul that I was in right then.

The Prophet advised his Ummah (nation) to have contentment when he said: “If you are content with what Allah has given you, you will be the richest person.”

Contentment, huh? Maybe I just felt that I needed something to keep me going all the time. The secret to happiness. Contentment was something I didn’t have… until I learnt that it was to do with the richness of the soul that I was constantly fighting to attain.

So back to the point of my chase for content, let me tell you something about Shabeer. He is not the perfect husband. Even before he had taken Hannah in Nikah, he never was. He didn’t even come close. He’s selfish. He’s obnoxious. Sometimes he’s just downright hurtful. But… despite all this, I could not control my heart.

I know that you’d probably laugh at me, but if anyone had to ask me why on earth I took him back… I can tell you right now: I really don’t know.

I mean, it’s not like I was doing anything wrong, but he had left me for weeks with four kids, and not even a phone call to keep me going. He had done it completely wrong. He had betrayed me on a level that was way beyond just marrying someone else.

But it was a weak moment. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Maybe.. just maybe… I thought that he would see it as an appealing  side of me, and fall all hopelessly in love with me all over again. Maybe I thought it could really work. Like, really.

I sound like Mary Poppins, I know.

But seriously, I was a romantic kind of girl and at that time when I met him, Shabeer did it for me. He made the cut. He did the the functions, the romance.. whatever it took. The only problem was, he wasn’t present. Not with me. He loved all the attention and glam that went with it all, but behind closed doors… I was always left feeling a little at a loss.

I would have loved to have the kind of doting husband who gave me and my kids all the time in the world. I would have been ecstatic if I was blessed with a saint-like husband that was devoted and helped me to the be the best too. But Allah knows why we choose something that sometimes doesn’t feel like the best choice in retrospect.

And of course, I was so glad that for Adam.. it was the complete opposite. Allah had picked the perfect partner for him.. a partner that would not only see the best in him, bring out the best in him… but also helped him to be the best person that he could be. I was in awe of how the two of them understood each other, compromised for each other, and saw each other’s soul in a way that I could only wish I had with Shabeer.

She had a selflessness about her that I just couldn’t digest, and I was so grateful that she had come in to literally save me that day.

And of course, as I heard my mothers voice in the upstairs passage while I lay in bed that Friday night, feeling all hollow inside, I was honestly panicking.

Now since you guys kind of know my mother inside out… Well, kind of… You probably have caught onto the fact that me and her.. Well… We just don’t along. And I’m not even exaggerating. Every single time I’ve ever tried to talk to my mother, it’s always ended up as some kind of uncontrolled world war three in the house.

We just do not see eye to eye. I actually could not even believe that she gave birth to me. Some days, I could swear that I was adopted from another mother. Actually, when I was younger, that’s what I kind of hoped.

At least that would mean that I was wanted.

”How are you feeling, Rubeena?”

That was my father. A sweet old man who asked the things a normal father asked. No big eyes. No harsh accusations. No drama.

I loved him to bits.

I nodded and smiled. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I felt like there was a ton of bricks raining on me, could I?

Besides, he looked like he was having a good day. Well, as good as a day that anyone could have, living with my mother. I didn’t want to spoil it.

“Mums here,” I said, stating the obvious. I didn’t even hear them come in.

He nodded and raised his eyebrows.

“How is she?” I asked carefully, trying to ascertain the mood today.

When I’m in my room, I could never hear what was going on downstairs. Sometimes I was grateful for that, because it meant I could unintentionally ignore the screams of my bantering children, with no guilt at all. It was bliss.

“You know your mother,” my father said, non-committally. “She’s not in the best of moods. This morning we had a big fight about the renovation she wanted to do on the kitchen….”

Gosh. Another renovation? My mother really took the trophy for most cosmetic renovations in the least amount of time.

”And now she’s taking it out on my poor daughter-in-law…”

What?!

My father got up slowly to go back down, hopefully to kill any tension, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. I didn’t even ask him more. I felt like there was a tangled up knot in my tummy now. I felt bad for Khawlah, and of course, Dayyaan chose the perfect moment to literally run in and take a giant leap-bounce on the bed, almost kicking my head off in the process.

Honestly, the boy was getting out of control. Completely.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I screamed, reaching out to smack him… clean across the face.

The smack was painfully audible, and I saw him flinch as it was administered. He just looked straight back at me stubbornly, with his narrowed eyes, almost like he was only broken inside. Not even a single tear escaped his eye as he jumped off the bed and calmly walked out my room, leaving me in just a slightly enhanced state of despair.

I closed my eyes, the guilt now overtaking. Oh, the guilt.

And I knew that these behavioural problems were because of me. Us. While Danyaal has remained pretty unaffected, due to some miracle and spending the least amount of time at home… Dayyaan and Zia had been literally tipping me over the edge. All of these challenges had only started when Shabeer had come back, and I knew that all the arguing and bickering with Shabeer being here would do no good for the kids. I just wasn’t sure if a separation was the ultimate solution.

My tummy was, all of a sudden, feeling weird as I stressed about how I was going to work this all out. I had a lot of decisions to make and it was scaring me. Was I damaging my children permanently? Was divorce really the best option?

I put my thoughts on hold as I realised that I was due for a bathroom trip, and of course, it was right then that my mother chose to walk in.

“Rubeena,” my mother’s voice said acidly. I could already tell she wasn’t thrilled, “What is going on? Is something wrong?”

“What is she doing here?” She asked, with a frown. “And her friend. Two girls alone downstairs, Rubeena. I don’t trust them.”

I rolled my eyes internally. It would have been too obvious to do it literally.

“Khawlah’s here to help me, mum,” I said, sounding tired. “I’m pregnant and I’ve asked Shabeer to leave. Anything else?”

If my mother’s mouth could have dropped open wider, I’m sure a tennis ball might have fit in there. I had a feeling she had more to say, but I had shocked her out of it. It was the first time in my life that I had been so straight with her… so brutally honest. And it was about a time she knew the truth too.

“You asked him leave?!” She yelled, when she finally recovered. “Are you mad?! He’s rich and good looking. Shabeer is every women’s dream! You’re literally throwing him away to the dogs!”

“Let them have him,” I retorted, unfazed.

Now he was every women’s dream? How even?

“Why didn’t you call me?” She asked now, finally saying what she needed to. “If you needed help, I’m your mother. Why can’t you tell me?! I’m family.”

”Khawlah is also family, mum,” I said instantly. “And no matter how much you don’t want to accept it, the more I will remind you of it.”

Because annoying the crap out of my mother gave me a weird sense of satisfaction.

But of course I didn’t say that. I wanted to live.

“Hmph!” She said, turning her face away to show me a point. I honesty didn’t have the energy to argue with her right now. If she wanted to be upset, she was really welcome to be. She looked like she was about to walk out and I got up, hoping to pursue that much needed trip to the bathroom.

But of course, my mother was one in a million. Even when she was angry, she knew exactly how to rub it in. She could never be ignored. She stayed put and glared at me, while I put my bedroom slippers on, trying to remain oblivious to her death stare.

”Tell her to leave,” my mothers icy voice said.

I blinked in surprise. This time, my mother had really lost it.

“Tell her!” My mother pressed, standing up and putting her hands on her hips bossily.

I shook my head and frowned.

“Ma, I’m not in a state to deal with-“

”I’m here now Rubeena!” She practically screamed. “This is not for everyone to see and talk about! They’ll just make fun and then the whole world will know that Shabeer left you! And then I… and you… you’ll be so embarrassed.”

I raised my eyebrows. I was sure that there was more to this. This had nothing to do with my embarrassment. It was all about her.

“Just tell her to leave or I will!” she snapped

Oh goodness. My mother was really something else. And all this time, my bladder was taking the toll.

”Okay, okay!” I said hastily, really annoyed. “Just let me use the bathroom and I’ll speak to her. Just… wait. Don’t move!”

I had to be clear with my mother, before she took things into her own hands. Why was it that only I get into predicaments like this? Was there a sticker on my forehead saying “guilt me… I’m easy”? Maybe I took things too personally.

And of course, as I contemplated the words I would use to tell Khawlah to leave, I didn’t expect what would be waiting for me as I took my much needed trip to bladder relief.

And to spare you the gory details, it wasn’t just a false alarm. This was big stuff. I supposed it kind of explained the mood swings and everything that usually came with it.

My heart was frantically beating in my chest, as I rebuked myself for all those times I complained about the pregnancy. All those times I wondered how I could be so stupid. I wanted to kick myself for every moment I had spent in despair, wondering how I was going to handle another baby. And now, as I digested the obvious, I couldn’t help but think about how much would change now… if there was no more baby on the way…

Had I brought this upon myself? Were all my decisions and presumptuous actions finally catching up with me?

Oh, the guilt. The guilt was eating me alive.

I hastily pulled the door open, knowing that my mother would probably have a lot more on her plate now that she bargained for. My body was feeling limp as I swallowed, trying to formulate the words to say what I needed to. I just hoped my mother didn’t send Khawlah away as yet.

Well, even if she did… She kind of asked for it, didn’t she? 

She wanted to be the one  in control, and now she was going to really have to step up.

“Mu-um!” I screamed, my voice sounding scarily shaky, even to myself. “MUM!”

“I need to…”

My mother came into view, from where she was sitting, looking at me like I was a crazy screeching woman. If only she knew. I breathed in again, trying to steady myself.

” I need to get to a hospital,” I said shakily, unable to control my panic. “And fast!”

---

So, I got in a bonus post. Next post will probably be after Saturday. I will try and keep to twice a week, Insha Allah! Much Love, A

Sunnah Reminder

I’ve often heard that the personality of Nabi SAW was such that he spoke when necessary and always gave an attentive ear.

Aisha said: And this is how Allah’s Messenger used to utter (so distinctly) that if one intended to count (the words uttered) he would be able to do so. [Muslim]

We have been given two ears and only one mouth for a reason. Whenever somebody wants to share a story or just wants to talk to you, turn to them and listen to them attentively, as if only the two of you were in the room.  When somebody talks to you, really make them feel that you are interested in what they are saying.

How easy to practice- being a good listener is part of good akhlaaq!  

Let’s revive this Sunnah Insha Allah.

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah

How easy to practise!

#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

 

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

Twitter @ajourneyjournal

 

Pants on Fire

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Rubeena

“So how did it go?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments while I momentarily stopped what I was doing, leaving the jug with the cupcake mixture aside, while I took a moment to contemplate.

I was trying to do more for my kids. Trying to be a more available… a more ‘involved’ mum. The rainbow cupcakes I had promised Dayyaan could wait a few minutes more, though. I had to phrase my answer carefully.

“Well,” I started, glancing at my brother as he tried to read me, like he always did. Adam was an excellent judge of character, but I wasn’t giving anything away in my expression.

“I think it went okay,” I said, a little hesitantly.

Adam raised his eyebrows at me.

“Really?!” He said, sounding like he didn’t believe me. “So she just smiled and forgave them without reservation, yeah?”

Gosh. He was so cynical.

I pursed my lips, and picked up the bowl of batter, avoiding eye contact. It was time for a diversion.

I could hear Adam approaching me slowly but I continued with what I was doing as he sidled up to me, and suddenly wound up in such close proximity to my face, that I wanted to swat him away.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

He chanted it directly in my ear, stepping back now and shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

I jumped back when he made his accusation and blinked in annoyance. I wasn’t sure how he knew it, but Adam was the one person who knew exactly when I was saying something that wasn’t exactly true. My little brother always had a way to make me reflect over my words… I was quite peeved that he picked it up so fast though.

“So, did she take it as well as I did?”

I scowled.

Adam was smirking but there was noting funny about what he was saying. He was broken when he had found out… and even more upset when he realized what a huge scandal it turned out to be.

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him.

“Shut up,” I said to him impulsively, the irritation getting the better of me.

It just so happened that it was at that very moment that the kitchen door swung open and Danyaal waltzed in… of course an expression of shock on his face. He was obviously unhappy about something he had heard.

And of course, there was no way he would let it go.

“Mum!” He said in shock. “Did you just say ‘shut up’ to Uncle Aadam?!”

I looked at my son apologetically. He had started to call Adam, ‘Aadam’ from a few weeks ago. He had this perception that we were saying his uncles name wrong and I hated to admit it, but my seven-year-old son was right.

He stared at me accusingly now, almost like I had betrayed him. I didn’t like them to use language that was less than polite. I mentally kicked myself as I realized what a fine example I was setting. I often heard that kids don’t learn from what you tell them… they learn from what you do.

“I’m sorry,” I said impulsively, looking at my son guiltily.

Danyaal gave a sheepish grin, nodded as a sign of acceptance and then turned to Adam.

“Uncle Aadam, will you help me with my madrassa work please?”

Adam nodded and smiled. I wasn’t annoyed that he didn’t ask me. Danyaal valued Adam’s input because he knew what he was teaching them… and he did it so well.

When it came to schoolwork, I was always on top of things, but when it came to Sabaq… Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I was even saying the words properly, because I had been so lax with regard to my Islamic knowledge.

I knew I needed to work on it, but I had so many things going on. I felt my spirits lift as Adam told Danyaal that he’d see him in five minutes, and he scurried off to get his Madrassa bag.

I watched my son in awe. He was so sincere… so genuine in his efforts. He portrayed such passion and devotion, I knew, that was so hard to see in a little child. It wasn’t just his age. I knew that he was special. Different. Khawlah had told me this on different occasions, but the question that hung in the air was what brought me to tears almost every night.

What had I ever done to deserve this?! Such a star of a child? A lover of the Quran? For a kid of his age… with Television so easily accessible, and everything of the best at his disposal, even I could not fathom how he had turned out to be so committed… such a fanatic of Deen… so in love with every piece of Islamic history that he had read about.

What had inspired this, of course I knew…. but what I didn’t often want to think of, was that it definitely had nothing to do with me. It was just that I had, by some miracle, made one right move by bringing someone into their lives who would impact such a change.

The fact that I was still struggling so much wasn’t important, right? I mean, wasn’t it true that Musa (AS) was brought up in the home of the most abhorred tyrant? What defined him was that within it was his own mother, who was a woman who received Wahy from Allah, and who had  maintained contact with him, so he could grow into a Nabi and Rasūl of Allah. And of course who could forget the Queen of that palace, who through him acquired such unshakable faith in the face of her enraged husband, which was so recognized in her pursuit of truth, that she will be regarded as the best of the women of the world, till the end of time.

It was like my eyes had been opened after an eternal darkness. It was as if a clear vision was now brought right in front of my eyes. Seeing things differently now…. How lucky I was that my Creator was actually giving me a chance to try again….? How lucky I was that I had kids who were so focused and willing to learn..?

What did I even do to deserve so many favors..? Despite the trials that brought me closer to Him, and despite those things that I didn’t understand back then… how was I even entitled to such perfect ease…?

Lost. I had been so lost.

I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes before Adam noticed my emotion. I didn’t have to worry though..  Adam was caught up in his own thoughts, staring into space, in a world that I honestly wished I could get a glimpse into. There was just something intriguing about the way he was so pensively leaning on the kitchen counter right then, with his chin cupped in his hand and a thoughtful frown on his forehead.

I clicked my fingers in front of his face now, curious to know what was on his mind.

”I’m was just wondering,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing as he snapped out of it and spoke a little hesitantly.

“Did you talk to mum?”

My mother? I went blank for a moment.

“About um…”

I was still oblivious.

“About Khawlah,” he almost mumbled, clearing his throat.

I couldn’t help but notice how  he was so awkward when he said her name. It was so sweet, right? Like he was even modest about how he mentioned her.

But wait. What was he asking me again?

I mentally kicked myself. Again.

Uh-oh.

I swallowed as my brother looked at me, running his hands through his ash brown  hair and shifting uncomfortably.

This was awwwkwarrd.  

“Um,” I started, feeling like a crappy sister.

With my own drama that seemed to be unfolding endlessly for the past two months, I had completely forgotten that Adam had asked me to do.  I knew that there was great wisdom in consulting with learned people too. The following week was a meeting with a Scholar that Adam knew, who would advise me about divorce or what to do about my failing marriage, but the thought of speaking to a pious stranger about it was stressing me out.

Speaking to our parents too, had completely slipped my mind. More specifically, our mother. Everyone knew that a man could be easily persuaded by his wife, but mum was a force to be reckoned with. If I could just get her to be accepting about what Adam wanted, and his plans for making Nikah, I knew that my father would change his mind in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, she had not heard about the outrageous scandal. Yet. And if she did, I knew she would not hesitate to let me know about the less than worthy girl who I had introduced into her precious sons life.

“I spoke to her,” I said carefully, trying to save myself but not wanting to lie. “And she was a little better than before. Like, she was more… open.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked away, avoiding eye contact with my brother. I felt like how I had felt a few moments ago. Like a traitor. I couldn’t lie. I didn’t want to.

“Yeah?! Really?”

Adam was looking at me with a hint of something unrecognizable in his eye. I knew I was going to hear more than I bargained for.

“So is that why she forced me to accompany her to her friend’s little ‘coffee date’ last week, so I could meet her incredible daughter?”

Busted. I was only trying to protect him, right?

Ah, fish. Ugh.

Adam’s expression was definitely not a pleasant one. Of course it wouldn’t be if my mother was still trying to set him up with random girls who he didn’t have any interest in.

This time he stood where he was and crossed his hands over his chest in a huff.

“Rubes, I just have one thing to say to you,” he said in a monotone. I braced myself for it.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

I wanted to giggle because instead of this super-intelligent nearly twenty-one-year old, he was behaving like a sulky four-year-old. Adam was clearly not happy with me, and honestly, I did feel bad about it… but really, he was making it so hard to maintain a straight face. I stifled my laughter as Dayyaan ran in, looking for his brother, and then looking from Adam to me as he noticed me finally give away to the giggling.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I finally said, looking Adam in the eye. His expression was stony and I tried to put on a straight face as I spoke. “I promise I’m going to speak to her. Can we just get Khawlah in a better place first? Like, let’s just wait for this whole thing to die down… so it’s not such a huge scandal doing it’s rounds. I’m just giving it some time….”

Adams face softened. Danyaal would be waiting for him, and I knew that he had to get going too, but I needed to clear the air first. I just hoped he had it in him to forgive me…

“Rubes,” Adam said suddenly, and I couldn’t help but notice that look in his eyes. That mastermind web developer look that he often got, when I forgot that my brother was such an genius of a business man and not just my little brother. This time, I could tell he was onto something big.

He was pacing the floor now, ignoring Danyaals erratic shouts for him from his room and Dayyaan literally running round in circles around the kitchen table. Zia had somehow found his way to us and had joined in the fun too.

Adam was completely oblivious. He was definitely onto something really big.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before!” He said, completely bewildered by whatever his train of thought was. He was pulling at his beard methodically before he finally stopped in his tracks and looked at me.

“I’m going to clear her name,” he said, with a faint smile on his face.

“But how?”

Indeed, how could he possibly clear a rumour of such ferocity? 

Oh, the lies. I sincerely hoped that someone’s pants were going to catch on fire.

“I have to go,” he said sharply as Danyaal screeched again. “But we’ll talk after. Your son is losing his cool.”

I was about to follow him but the sound of the front door opening caught my attention, and my heart involuntarily thudded in my chest.

After the burglary incident, I was still a little ruffled up, and I had made extra sure to keep everything locked. My heart was almost in my throat as I rounded the corner and saw a figure in the entrance hall, closing the door behind him.

Relief flooded through me as I exhaled, wondering if I was seeing right. Shabeer.

And then, of course, I just got furious.

“Hey babe,” he said as he saw me, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood there in expectation. “I missed you.”

After 10 days of no show, he waltzes in, almost as if I owed him something.  I wanted to twist his reddened ears.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

I wanted to shout it out, as he came toward me, leaning forward for some kind of welcome home. I made a resolution right there and then to never say anything untrue, even if it was to protect someone I loved.

I took a step back, giving him the most thunderous glare that I could manage.

The audacity.

“Please Ruby,” He said, with a look of sudden desperation now on his face.

I didn’t budge. I just wasn’t prepared for what he would say next.

“Please… I want to come home.”

 

————————————-———————-

P.S. Wonder if Ruby should let him come back…?   

Revive a Sunnah 

Revive the Sunnah of Not Over-eating 

Miqdam bin Madikarib said: “I heard the Messenger of Allah  say:

‘A human being fills no worse vessel than his stomach. It is sufficient for a human being to eat a few mouthfuls to keep his spine straight. But if he must (fill it), then one-third of food, one third for drink and one third for air.’” [Ibn Majah]

It is an underestimated fact that food has a dramatic effect on your body’s and brain’s performance.

This Hadith clearly highlights that overeating is a reprehensible quality we should avoid.

How easy to practise!

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

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