Wistful Waterfalls

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 56

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My word, it was enchanting.

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

Signal! Oh my goodness. It was a miracle!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did not know that I married a complete psychopath.

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

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

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

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

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

”If not now, then when?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”You must be kidding me,” I said with a fake laugh, shaking my head at the idea of even trusting him after this.

And although I was fighting it, against my will, the cool waters were doing their thing with me. I attempted to ease myself through them with Hamzah’s guidance, and I couldn’t help but feel soothed by the white noise as the water current crashed against me as we moved along, and for a moment, I began to enjoy the feeling of water surrounding me.

There was no way I would admit it. I continued to struggle but it was to no avail. I still wanted a way out, but instead, we were just moving deeper and deeper in.

And just as I was about to ask Hamzah where on Earth he was going, all of a sudden, we stopped, and as I turned,  the cascading sound of a waterfall filled my ears, as I turned to look. Torrents of water were just ahead of us, falling from a height of about fifty meters, and sight of it – like a hue of paradise- immediately made me freeze in awe. I didn’t even struggle anymore, as we edged closer, my gaze fixed on the spectacular view ahead, as Hamzah also looked almost longingly at the glorious drop of water that towered ahead of us.

It was something like I had never set my sights on before. For a minute… just a crazy minute… I wondered how it would feel to be underneath there. For a crazy minute, I actually wished that Hamzah had pulled me right under, to feel the weight of that pounding water from the top of my head.

Goodness. Hamzah’s wild streak was rubbing off on me.

And then, just as quick as the thought entered, I berated myself for thinking of such insane things because there was no doubt that he would probably just do that…

I glanced at Hamza, knowing that was exactly on his mind when I saw the raw emotion in his eyes… but it was only when he spoke, that I knew exactly why.

”I was only ten when I came here for the first time,” his voice said in my ear, as I pulled myself far enough to create a distance between us, and close enough to feel safe.

Ten years old? Seems like the guy was always crazy.

The sound of the waterfall was now even louder than before as we approached it.

“It was with Liyaket,” he continued, and I looked at him as he said it, and my heart softened. “After Hifdh class one day, we stood there, where we were, and jumped in for the first time. Imraan warned us not to. He told my parents after and my mother almost killed us both. No regrets, though. It’s the best feeling in the world… and since then, well… every year it was our thing…  and we would make this our trademark.”

“Once crazy, always crazy,” I said, shaking my head as I glanced at him.

He smiled faintly, but continued.

“Want to know something?” He said, still now, as he watched the pounding of water ahead of us. “The last time we came was… well… we came just before Zaid was born. It was like two weeks before he passed away… that he told me he wanted to come back here…”

I was quiet now, as I heard Hamzah, not even daring to look at him. I was still a tad bit angry at him, but also… well… I was kind of touched that he had brought me here.

And why wouldn’t I be?

The beauty before me was absolutely breathtaking. There were no words I could use to describe a wonder so magnificent. I had never been to a place like this before. I always shied away from nature, engaging myself in worlds that were so far from real… when it had so much to offer me. I could not believe that I had lived my whole life without seeing this before.

There were no phones, no Instagram posts and no means for diversions, but for the first time in years, I felt inspired and awakened by the setting before me, with no need to filter or replay… and I could not attribute its greatness to anything but Allah Ta’alas magnificence.

“He told me that he had a dream,” he said quietly, as he inched a little closer. “And I didn’t even think anything of it. He had seen in it that he was swimming in blue waters and there were unusual white birds flying above him. I laughed it off, you know. Told him that the only birds we’ll get flying above him here were Mynahs and they would probably give him some blessings on his head…”

I swallowed, surprised at how emotional I was getting while he said it. What an awesome dream…

“You know what I imagine him doing right now?” He said quietly, coming a little closer and for the first time in the waters, I felt completely at ease. Even though I was holding on for dear life due to the strong current, at that moment, nothing felt more safe than being right there.

I turned to look at him, because the sound of the waterfall was getting even louder now. We were approaching it from the side and he paused for a moment, droplets of water glistening on his beard, before he spoke again.

“Every time I read that ayah, it’s only he who comes to mind:

…As for those who believe and do good, We certainly never deny the reward of those who are best in deeds.

أُو۟لَـٰٓئِكَ لَهُمْ جَنَّـٰتُ عَدْنٍۢ تَجْرِى مِن تَحْتِهِمُ ٱلْأَنْهَـٰرُ يُحَلَّوْنَ فِيهَا مِنْ أَسَاوِرَ مِن ذَهَبٍۢ وَيَلْبَسُونَ ثِيَابًا خُضْرًۭا مِّن سُندُسٍۢ وَإِسْتَبْرَقٍۢ مُّتَّكِـِٔينَ فِيهَا عَلَى ٱلْأَرَآئِكِ ۚ نِعْمَ ٱلثَّوَابُ وَحَسُنَتْ مُرْتَفَقًۭا
It is they who will have the Gardens of Eternity, with rivers flowing under their feet .They will be adorned therein with bracelets of gold and will wear green garments of fine silk and brocade, reclining therein on adorned couches. Excellent is the reward, and good is the resting place.

(Al-Kahf 30-31)

It was a beautiful ayah, SubhaanAllah… that so astoundingly described the most unfiltered parts of Jannah…

“And I can almost still picture him right there,” Hamzah murmured as he moved forward, pointing toward the drop of water that was plummeting down, his chest now against my back and I could see the smile on his face while he probably held the vision in his mind. “And I only hope that he will get the most amazing kinds of waterfalls… In rivers of eternal bliss… with the most unusual birds of Jannah really flying above him… Having the time of his eternal life.
Imagine what types of rivers and falls are there, Mos… and he’s just free, in a place where there is no pain and no grief. He had so much that tied him up, so many difficulties… and yet he never complained. On the other hand, I had so much of opportunity and so much of ease… and I had gone so off track. How does it always happen that way? And after he changed his life, you know, he always said that he didn’t know how he would make up for it… but yet he did so much to fix himself. His Salaah was paramount in his life. His Dhor was flawless. He took everything to extreme levels. Lived a pure, honest life. No nonsense. No interest. No loans. He was such an example and I don’t even know how I was blessed with his friendship…”

Hamzah sighed and I didn’t even know what to say to that. I had just silent, listening in total awe…

”The thing is,” he said, glancing at me momentarily. “I think Liyaket would have liked that I brought you here. To our spot.

Their spot. I could literally see Hamzah’s mind recalling the vivid memories.

“I think he would have liked that.”

By then, my anger had already dissipated. And that was a sweet thing to say. I was already fully drenched, so why shouldn’t I just let myself enjoy the moment?

“It was the only time I saw Liyaket with no other care in the world. Free. Completely at ease,” he said softly. “I just want you to share that too, you know?”

“I know,” I said quietly, feeling exactly like Hamzah had described. Free. Not a care in this earthly existence.

“But man, Mos,” he said, almost as if it was a second thought, his honey-brown eyes twinkling even more in the sunlight as he gazed at me. “You’re a fighter.”

“No,” I said, with a wistful smile. “I’m a whole army.”

He grinned and even though I absolutely hated him just a few minutes ago, he was such a con-artist at swindling my heart, and as he came forward, his nose against my forehead as he pecked my nose gently, I knew that I couldn’t bail out now.

I mean; a few months ago, well… I would have never imagined this. In my heart… I was always a city girl. I would have never, in my wildest dreams, imagined Hamzah and I ever being out in the wildest of wilderness… in the depths of silent beauty that spoke right to my soul… having a heartfelt conversation about rivers and waterfalls of ethereal beauty, gardens of eternal bliss, unlike any others in our wildest dreams… And it was such a profound moment, in the most extraordinary setting that had awoken me, inspired me and made me see things in a completely new light…

And oh yes, the kind of world that was Hamzah’s was something like I’d never known before.

And that is when I truly realised the meaning of:

Death is a gift for a believer (Bayhaqi). 

Because for the one who truly believes, it is through the gateway of death that he finds the door to eternal contentment and happiness…

And because of Liyaket, being here was something that was really important to him, and I had understood that. All these months… so much had pained him and grieved him and just being here for now had already brought him so much of joy… the thoughts of Jannah and the Aakhirah and everything that was still to come had evidently already lifted our spirits… 

And though it didn’t lessen the heartache in any way, and the pain of loss was all fresh and devastating once again, all I could think of was how all this had come to show me a completely different sort of life… how it got us to focus on a different path and how our entire perspective had changed through the tragedy had  we both felt so deeply.

It made me ponder. I mean, we all wanted Jannah. The amazement and the splendor … the milky rivers and the most sublime kind of gifts…we all wanted that kind of abode where the purest of Malaaikah would greet us … where there is nothing but ultimate perfection to encompass for eternity…

But the thing is, were we really earning it? What was I really going to secure my final abode?

I had been so caught up in the world and it’s ornaments… so consumed by everything it had to offer… that very often, we even forget our ultimate destination.

And that’s when it came to me, and I realised that even the most trying situations come with their own goodness. That though there was much pain and strife, through Hamzah coming into my life, a whole new world had suddenly opened for me. Perhaps the sole purpose of this entire thing was not for Zaid at all. Perhaps everything that had happened till then has no relation to what it’s true purpose was. Perhaps Allah Ta’ala, through his mercy, had wanted me to come to a realisation of Him, that would change my entire world.

All my life, all I ever worried about was me. My career. My job. My life. My problems. And then this happened, and everything changed.

And I’m not saying that this thing with Hamzah was always mind blowing and mesmerising… but what I did know was that somehow, the office-loving Chartered Accountant was slowly but surely morphing into an unyielding, adventure-seeking cow-girl, and I wasn’t even resisting it. Such beauty and splendour could not possibly fall on a heart and bring forth no effect…

It was a mixture of ultimate surrender, as I felt myself lose the desire to be in control, just for that moment. It was an acceptance of such grandeur and amazement and as we both stood there, for the first time in years for me, I could barely believe how absolutely unlike anything else in the world this feeling felt.

Everyone needs a spot sometimes, a place where the world grows quiet and solace can be found in the fact that a tree is just… well, a tree. Everyone needs a moment to breathe in the magnificence of the natural beauty that was before us, gifted by the Lord of the Worlds. Sometimes it’s only in the stillness of nature, combined with the soothing scent of towering trees and wistful waterfalls, one finds a purifying bliss… and being with Hamzah, well, I hadn’t realised it before but this is what it took for me to understand who was the centre of the ultimate kind of wealth…

And that was the thing with life, in this day and age, isn’t it? We are so caught up in  emails and WhatsApp messages that we forget that there are meant to be real things that we also take much joy in. We forget those moments we could spend obsessing over the perfection of Allah in the curves of a tree’s branches, or watching a spider gracefully spin it’s web. We are blind to the beauty of a blue-bird taking flight or the crusted colours of the leaves in autumn, as they begin to morph. We forget the little things like cascading waterfalls and gorgeously bloody sunsets, capturing the heart of the one you love. We are unaware of the feeling of falling, completely and effortlessly, as those explosions that crackle away like fireworks explode within our souls, allowing ourselves a chance to love so wholeheartedly that we lose the desire to always want to be in control.

And that was just one minuscule part of it… but among the other lessons we may learn along this path— after a long road of falling, tripping, losing, failure, winning and so many mistakes—is that there will be some people you love because of what they give you and the way they make you feel. It will be for it your Nafs, and it will always be about how you feel. So if you’re chasing a feeling, you’ll always be chasing.

But, once in a while, there is another love that can exist.

This love… is not a selfish love and is the rarest type. And if it is pure, and not competing with, the love of Allah Ta’ala Himself, it will also bring about the most joy. To love in any other way is to be needy, to be dependent, to have expectations—all the ingredients for misery and disappointment.

And this is a love that you will give to the creation—not for what you can get in return from them. You will love and you will give, but you will be sufficed from Him. And the one who is sufficed by the Rabb Himself, is the richest and most generous of all lovers.

Your love will be by Him, for Him, and because of Him. That is the liberation of the self from serving any encapsulated thing. And that is freedom. That is happiness.

That is love.

---

Dearest Readers 

Sincerely hope everyone is well. Abit of a longer nature-inspired post that I did quite enjoy writing…

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to truly appreciate his magnificence when we see it… 

Please take note of our very important Sunnah reminders. 

much love
A xx

Sunnah of (Digital) Company:

We live in a world where digital media surrounds us. We mindlessly forget that we are what we feed, and these WhatsApp, instagram and twitter feeds have an effect on us.

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to be particular even about our digital company, and save us from falling into bad companionship.

Abu Musa reported: The Prophet, (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Verily, the parable of good company and a bad company is only that of a seller of musk and a blacksmith. The seller of musk will give you some perfume, you will buy some, or you will notice a good smell. As for the blacksmith, he will burn your clothes or you will notice a bad smell.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5534,

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

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When Spring Comes

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 54

I once heard a beautiful saying that went something like:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was really no need to stress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Have you seen Rabia?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The price of formula has become crazy….”

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

Back to what she was saying…

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

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

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

What is a sign of your happiness?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did she just say bloated? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can never stop Spring from coming once again…

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

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

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

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

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

Aaameen.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Greener Pastures

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 50

No-one’s life is perfect.

There are days when you don’t fall in love with being alive. When you’re not high with happiness of infinite possibilities. When your heart gets irrevocably broken, into what feels like millions of pieces. There are days when the rain pours down as if it’s never going to cease. Days when you are convinced that you’ve never felt as terrible as you felt that very day, because nothing in your life has ever hurt the way you felt pain in that moment…

No-one’s life is perfect. But the thing with perfection in this day and age, is that it’s become the new trend in the digital world we live today, and it’s becoming increasingly hard to believe that everything is really not as perfect as it seems.

And that’s why there is so much of wisdom in being content with your lot. In lowering your gaze, even in the face of a digital image or materialistic things that may catch your fancy. In thinking that, every time we want to feel bad about something we don’t have, you wonder how it would feel to be someone who didn’t have all the blessings you had and how you would yearn to actually be in your position…. and then… like a divine inspiration… you can’t help but find yourself wanting to be right back where you’re at.

The thing is, sometimes we have to say ‘thank you’. Sometimes we have to spend our lives on awareness of our blessings. Sometimes we have to realise that not everyone’s lives are as perfect as they seem.

And as I looked out at the untainted view, the winter breeze a little icier than I preferred that day, I couldn’t help but feel that little ache in my gut that sometimes started when I thought a little too deeply about my sister, and I instantly grabbed my phone to message the one person who I really needed to check on.

Mosie. Miss you. When will you be heading to our humble pastures?

The sun was almost at its highest point now, and I breathed in as the air filled my lungs, completely and incandescently in love with the outdoors that day. Although I knew that it was time to head back in, before the sun did torture to my face, I was already dreading it being cooped up.

I instantly placed my phone against the skies, capturing what I thought was one of the most flattering pictures of our mini farm estate, and sending it just below the WhatsApp message to Mos with one of my favourite hashtags whenever I took nature pics.

#nofilterneeded

 

Beep.

Mohsina: Simply beautiful. But it depends what you got for me.

Of course, I knew just what to send her. I had taken a pic early this morning while I was out at the front.

Her response was as expected.

Mos: Aww man. The only animal I will ever truly love. *in love emoji* when did you fetch him?

I felt at peace with my favourite friend, although Cocoabean was my uncles stallion that we sometimes brought over.
Whilst I loved most animals, Mohsina had only ever had interest in one. Seeing that it was way too expensive for Papa to ever keep a horse, I never asked him to buy one, despite how much we loved him.

Whilst Muhammed Husayn did most of the hard work and rode him, I loved the feeling of being outdoors, of brushing his coat and just loving him to bits. Farm life had its perks, most definitely.

I looked back at my phone, typing back to Mos.

Needed advice. Cocoabean is not being very helpful. It’s time for intervention. *hint*

There was something comforting about talking to an animal that couldn’t exactly converse back. Besides, it was well needed because it had been a busy week… firstly, with all the things my mind had been overwhelmed with and also, as I got back into the coffee shop figures and marketing plans for the new Halaal Glamping Site project that Papa had given me permission to work on.

My brain had been buzzing with new ideas. It was such an exciting concept and though I loved what went into it regarding the design, the model desperately needed my sisters input on it all.

The horse was not actually giving me any solution.

Actually, to be frank, I just needed my sister. And Zaid. And I suppose if Hamzah came with the package, I could tolerate him too.

Beep.

Mohsina: I miss farm life. We’re coming to leave Zaid at his ma. I’ll see you guys later xx

I grinned widely as I shoved my phone back in my pocket. Nothing could deter my excitement. Not even the motorbike coming up the path or the fact that Zaid wouldn’t be here, or even Nani’s voice that could be heard from the kitchen, yelling for me to come inside quickly before that boy tried to trick me into talking to him.

I could hear her muttering to my mother, and I smiled; solely because Nani actually had no idea what he was really like, and my grandmother took great pleasure in thinking that I was the most beautiful creature that anyone could ever set their sights on or resist.

The thing was, I didn’t even understand what Nani formed her assumptions on because all Zubair ever did was zoom around the area on his bike, dutifully complete his tasks and follow instructions of my father, and then retire to his house at the front without even as much as a glance anywhere else. Why Nani would think such things of him, was beyond me. And why his indifference sometimes annoyed me, was also a little beyond me too.

“Jameela,” Nani said emphatically, draping her dupatta again as she made her way to the front of the kitchen, me pulling off my cap and scarf as I walked in and she got ready for some rant. “Your mother said it’s time you learn to cook. Curry from step one. I will teach you.”

Random. Being as unassuming as I was, I didn’t think it possible that they were actually discussing my cooking skills (or lack thereof) just before I came.

“But Nani,” I said automatically. “I know how to cook.”

Nani looked at me for a minute, glanced at my mother, and then opened her mouth to give an evil laugh.

I was honestly peeved at her rudeness.

“What can cook?” She asked, still giggling to herslef as my mother tried to hide her own smile. “Cheese toast and frying polonies is not cooking. This new jaath, Bhengori, I tell you, think they know everything. That’s why Mohsina also say she didn’t cook yet. Too much motorbike food. Married for one week and she hasn’t yet chopped an onion.”

Motor-bike food. Guilty as charged.

”She’ll learn, mummy,” my mother was saying, looking a teeny bit ashamed. Maybe she was regretting telling Nani that Mohsina hasn’t cooked yet. Apparently her in laws had filled the fridge for her too.

The fact that they’ve been eating fridge food was like taboo for Nani.

“What fridge food?” She was saying, shaking her head as I went to the tap to wash up, since I could see Nani really getting the things ready for me to prep. “You young people only know phone, phone and phone. You’ll don’t understand to keep nice boy you must learn to give nice food.”

”But Nani,” I explained. “Everything is on our phone nowadays. Shopping, reading… everything. It’s unavoidable. We just have to use it in the right way. Even all the recipes we use-“

”What recipe, recipe?!” She said, looking appalled, tapping her head. “Here, you must keep it. In your head. You can’t look at recipe every time you cook. Now quickly, peel this potato and then I will tell you what to do. Your brother-in-law will be here just now. He must know at least one of you can make food. Mohsina must come watch and learn today. Why young girls these days act like they are big queens I don’t know. All these young girls eat from mothers house and then take. Or get take away. You know that Khairoon was telling me same thing at the waleemah.”

The waleemah. After hours in the splendid sunshine, the waleemah seemed eons ago. It had only been a week, and since the chaos and talks had died down, I think I kind of gathered from Nani’s conversation to my mother, as they went on about the alleged fanciness and how much it probably costed, I couldn’t help but figure where this sudden persistence stemmed from.

Either way, for me, the problem wasn’t really taking food from the mothers. I mean, that’s what mothers are there for, right? They had to help you out in the beginning, while you feel you way around and gets acquainted with married life. Really, my mothers food was the best. It was just constant take out issue, I supposed. Cost-wise, I mean, it wasn’t exactly effective… and also, well… who knows who was even cooking it. Sometimes it’s just the little knowledge that a single  Bismillah was recited that makes all the difference…

“Anyway, I met Khairoon’s other grandson.” Nani exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “I didn’t know the other one was studying medicine overseas, and he is down for the month. Jameela, you won’t believe … soooo handsome he is.”

I smiled, unaffected. The thing was, as happens after every function normal for every eligible to female, older aunties and grandmothers in the family will possibly sit and dissect every eligible male who they had set their sights on.
It was strange, but in some way, through match-making, it was almost as if they enjoyed the same enjoyment (if not more) on seeing you settling and building a life… and I didn’t quite understand dedication they put into it.

I, for one, had no inclination to meet this boy. It’s not that I didn’t want to get married. It’s just that… well, this particular boy didn’t really tickle my fancy.

“Think of what kind of life you will have,” Nani said, cutting and simultaneously braising the onions on the stove, annoyed by my lack of interest. Only Nani could do these skilled cooking tasks. “Married to a doctor – you don’t have to worry about anything.”

”Mummy,” my mother reasoned, glancing at me a little worriedly. “Leave her alone. And nevermind what he is, or how much he earns, he must just be a good boy. We just finished with one wedding and I’m still recovering from it.”

”Rather have it and finish up with your girls, Bhengori,” Nani said, her eyes looking like they had stars in it. I like how she said ‘finish up with the girls’ as if we were some condiment. She didn’t understand that today, there were no guarantees either way. I had always been the optimistic type but I had been hearing so many strange stories lately that it made me extremely weary.

Plus, I knew that Nani was also looking for a reason to splash out… although we obviously couldn’t afford it. The waleemah had been quite the event for her and I could already tell that she was ina  competitive mood when she asked my mother how much they must have spent on the function.

Mummy had just shrugged. It wasn’t her habit to talk about what people spent and earned. And although, by any standards, the function could not have been cheap to have, I think what Nani meant was that it was way more fancy than our simple, home-cooked meal, paper plate function held in the marquee in our garden. What Nani was missing was that by far, the simplicity had been more beloved to Allah.

Simplicity had been the only key in mummy’s plan, and Mohsina was happy with it. What was the need to please anyone else, if Allah was happy?

“We must rather look at the good they did,” Ma said unwaveringly, and I immediately admired the fact that she didn’t point out their flaws. “They were such good hosts. They fed so many poor people, and it wasn’t over the top.”

She had a point there.

Also, I had understood a while back that Allah blesses people in different ways, and allows people to serve through different means.

Yes, they had money and had spent it a generously on this function, but it was by no means what I would call extravagant. I mean, the things I had seen on Instagram were much more crazy.

Besides, I had once heard that in our quest of life, that Allah has been so merciful to accept such varying forms of worship, that it just so happens that it is  almost natural to possess at least one. And how merciful is Allah that he allows us to earn our Jannah, even through those qualities that come easily to us…

Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The generous one is near to Allah, near to Paradise, near to the people, and far from the Hellfire. The miserly one is far from Allah, far from Paradise, far from the people, and near to the Hellfire. An ignorant generous person is more beloved to Allah Almighty than a stingy scholar.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 1961

I guess what I’m saying is that while generosity may come easy to some, prayer may be natural for others. While some people may possess an innate quality of sublime character, others may be granted Jannah just because they forgive any fault against them almost immediately. Some people are most loving and easy to please, whilst others have the beautiful quality of wanting to serve others.

It were these beautiful traits that somehow attain Allah pleasure, and there was no doubt that Hamzah’s family had some amazing traits of generosity too. Their hearts were like gold, and we had heard that Hamzah’s father was a main pillar in supporting most of their poor relatives, and never being able to say no to anything that anyone asked of him. To know that my sister had married into a family so open-hearted was a relief, because Mohsina herself was someone who didn’t stop at anything to make people happy either.

“True,” Nani said with a nod, looking like she was actually regretting her previous words. “At least it wasn’t as bad as that one I went for last year and that beeeg big hall. The lights were so bright, they were hurting my eyes. Everything was that thing… what you call… personalise? Menus, tissues, chocolate even, that string they tie on the chairs… Jameela, you know even that small thing they throw sometimes on the bride and groom… had names on it!”

“Personalised confetti?” I asked candidly. I raised my eyebrows

Shame, why would people waste their money on such things?

“That’s a waste,” Ma was saying. “Hamzah’s parents are not like that. Hawa is very simple. But I heard the daughter planned most of the function?”

”Yes, Rabia,” I said, affirming what she had said, and remembering Mohsina telling me that.

In fact, Mohsina and I had had a good chat on the phone the day after, whilst she relayed to me how her heart almost stopped beating when she saw Layyanah’s sister, and I could, of course, completely understand.

I also had the pleasure of seeing the strange girl who had freaked me out at Liyaket and Layyanah’s wedding. She had spoken to me a bit more normally this time, asked questions about Zaid, before I quickly hurried off as I saw Mohsina frantically signalling to me, as if she was in a panic.

And if I had seen her first, I know I would have probably frozen on the spot too, but as I processed who it was, as Mohsina introduced us, I couldn’t help but think what she was doing there. Of all people, I had barely expected to see her, but when Mohsina had found out from Hamzah that the family had received an invitation for two from his brother, it kind of eased all the questions.
Still though, I could not believe how alike she looked to Layyanah, and seeing her must have been something completely unnerving for Mohsina.

What worried me is what they would want to do about Zaid, and that was Dahlia’s main reason for coming up to greet my sister.

And of course, I was worried, but my thoughts were already averted and gaze had already shifted outside as I looked out from where I went up to read Zohr Salaah, already hearing the familiar sounds of car doors opening and coming up the path, listening for sounds of Mohsina’s voice as she entered, really immensely excited about her being here.

And of course, even though Zaid was absent for now, I was ecstatic. Muhammed Husayn had already seen Hamzah’s car and rushed down through the kitchen as I eagerly pinned my hijab and pulled open the front door, watching them get off the car and smiling widely as they entered.

I was already watching them both as they moved toward the entrance, immediately noticing the ease with which they walked together for a bit up the path as Hamzah fell back to walk with Muhammed Husayn, and me lunging forward to throw my hands around my sister with all the strength I could muster as she stepped inside, Hamzah and Muhammed Husayn a good few steps behind.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered to her, taking in her familar scent as she hugged me back. We had gotten so close during the two months before the Nikah, and I sometiems felt as if a piece of my heart had been wrenched out when she left.

“Is everyone okay?” She asked, noticing her eyes slightly tear as we walked toward the kitchen, me eager to ask her about how marriage was treating her and all the rest.

I nodded silently as we entered the kitchen, already expecting Ma’s and Nani’s fussing over how she was looking so lovely and she was probably not even eating properly because she was already looking so thin. I could tell what Nani was getting at and I just hoped that she wouldn’t embarrass my sister in front of her new husband.

Thankfully, her and Ma were talking about something food related as we made ourselves comfortable on the nook, taking in her new cream Hijab and ivory modest blouse that she had paired with loose jeans. I loved the turn her wardrobe was taking. Her outfits were getting looser and her open abaya was always slipped over whatever she wore. Today she wore one with ivory trimming to match.

Hamzah wore kurta on most days now, and I loved that they had both changed their lives so much during the past few weeks, bringing in the Sunnah in even their dress.

”How was your week?” I asked, knowing that she was staying at her in laws house in the north before they moved to the place Hamzah was renting.

My sister smiled, looking genuinely happy.

”It’s been good,” she said with a nod, looking like she was visibly relaxing now after a week. “Gosh, it’s been hectic, though, Jamz.”

“What’s going on?”

I had already put on the kettle to make her a cup of coffee. I could see she needed it and I wanted to dissect how she had fared during her past week.

“A few new developments,” she said, pulling at her scarf and loosening it, as she lowered her voice. “My darling sister-in-law is with us from last night, but nevermind that. Will tell you about it later. We’re trying to get the new place ready, so that’s been madness. Layyanah’s sisters been in contact. I didn’t know that she tried to get into contact a few weeks back. Apparently everyone in her family told her to stay away. But the interesting part is this… Did you know that she met Zaid when he was just born?”

I shook my head, but the thought made my heart warm. Gave me some comfort. Perhaps she had really grown to love him.

”I’m not sure though,” my sister said, shaking her head. “You think it’s true? No one would have known besides Liyaket and Layy.”

I couldn’t believe that she would lie about that. She looked so much like Layyanah that it was impossible to think that their characters were much different.

She paused as Muhammed Husain and Hamzah walked into the kitchen, watching Nani immediately rushed to his service. I had honestly not seen my grandmother so obsessed with someone as she was with Hamzah. everything in our kitchen was literally coming out, onto the nook, as she forced him to sit down.

“If she said so,” I said, catching Mohsina’s attention again. “Then it’s probably true.”

Mohsina’s eyes switched from Nani to me, and she instantly rolled her eyes and then smiled.

“Oh Jameela, you’re such a dreamer,” she said good-humouredly. “Always have your heads in the clouds… think the best of people.”

”At least it’s not always in the iClouds like you,” Muhammed Husayn piped up, grinning mischievously as he passed our table to get himself a cup for tea.

Now that Hamzah was here, there was no chance he was getting all that attention he had become so accustomed to. I was just a little speechless at this transfer of emotion, that would have usually been my brothers honour. Hamzah was Nani’s absolute fav.

“Hey, I’ve improved,” Mohsina said pointedly, showing him her hands that were free from technology.

Mohsina whacked him playfully on his arm, waiting for him to go back to the where Hamzah was seated, on the other side of the kitchen, as he playfully pulled her pony tail and headed back.

“The weird thing is,” she said after a few seconds, keeping her voice low. “Apparently she told Hashim to get in contact months back. Why did he choose the day after our Nikah to call and upset us? I feel as if there’s something that I’m missing here… don’t you?”

”Maybe his feelings just changed?” I asked innocently whilst Mohsina shrugged.

”I might have believed you but… From what Hamzah told me, he was the one who spoke to the CEO of Hammonds to get Liyaket out of the company, based on nothing at all. I smell something fishy.”

I raised my eyebrows. I remembered Mos telling me about that a while back, before Layy and Liy got married. and it made sense. It did sound pretty dodgy. But now that Mohsina had mentioned Hammonds, I had to ask.

”Does Hamzah know about Faadil?” I said, dropping my voice, as she watched Hamzah refuse the millions of things.

Mohsina swallowed as I said it, silently watching Hamzah humour Nani, the question I had just asked hung in the air, as she fixed her gaze on him.

And of course I understood that she was probably swooning over her new husband, maybe a little obsessed, but even as I looked at her… I couldn’t provoke a reaction out of her, it wasn’t exactly appropriate because as Hamzah looked at her and smiled at the kind of reception Nani was intent on giving him, Ma had also just approached us, and there was no way I could get a word in further.

That was my sister. Private and unobliging. For her sake, I did hope that she had told him at least the basic truth about their involvement together. Although past was past, I knew that something that came so close to ruining her marriage shouldn’t just be swept under the rug.

And as my mother asked her the twenty-one post marriage questions that really ensued, hinting here and there about her being serious about cooking. I couldn’t help but force my mind to be rested, as they finished their tea.

And as I watched Mohsina head get up and head outside, me running upstairs to grab a sun hat so I could join them in the sunshine, whilst pausing at the bay window to watch her and Hamzah walking hand in hand, toward the sunflower field ahead… I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell with gratitude for how everything had panned out. And yes, she had stumbled, staggered and even been brought down to her knees, but amidst it all, she had gotten one thing right.

She had taken the plunge. She had put her trust in Allah, and went all in. She had surrendered her soul and come out on the other side with a heart brimming with gratitude and someone who could always bring out the best in her.

Things are not always clear cut. Yes, I was always a dreamer. Looking for the best parts of a bad situation. Hoping the good things will conquer the bad. Having my head in the clouds was always the solution for a stormy day.

The thing was, I think most people would drive themselves crazy if they had to keep on worrying about the future. Some things just require patience. Faith. A phenomenal amount of perseverance. If only we could glimpse that little flicker of light in the distance, no matter how dull it is.

And sometimes Allah lifts the veils, and we are able to glimpse the pure reality that any plan we have will never be as splendid as the ones that Allah has for us, and if only we could see how He does for His slave… if only we can see His hand in every little sign… our hearts would truly melt out of love for our glorious Rabb.

No-one’s life is perfect. Sometimes we have learn to ride the wave, to weather the storm or to face up to the battles that we are presented with, to get through it all. If you don’t stop to look for hope where you thought there was none, to see the sun that comes, even when you can’t believe how dark it was. if we knew what Allah had prepared for us… we would be much less complacent in giving up that lesser thing we so treasured…

I knew, I had sensational hopes. A constant yearning for greener pastures, no matter what the season had brought.

But some of us were dreamers. Some of us find clarity and then forget where we put it down. I just had it. We live in parallel universes where the grass is always being watered, and the sun always shines, even behind the clouds. Some of us need the relish the feeling of being on the ground, and some of us soar way too close to the sun…

And from where I stood, where everything I saw around me was evergreen… I had no idea what could ever come in between…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of being thankful

From the very beginning of Man’s creation, the issue of gratefulness and thankfulness to Allah has been debated. After refusing to bow to ‘Adam, Iblis (Satan) said:

“Then I will certainly come to them from before them and from behind them, and from the right-hand side and from the left-hand side, and Thou (Allah) shall not find most of them thankful.” [Al-Qur’an7:17]

Allah also says that only few of His servants thank Him. Let us then strive to be among these few by keeping our tongues wet with His remembrance and our hearts soft with His praise.

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

 

A Perfect Twist

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 48

Ping.

Fareeha: Ah come on, Sawls. I just want 2 test the waters. C if she may be interested.

I narrowed my eyes at my phone, grabbing a handful of choc peanuts as I walked out of the kitchen, and sitting on the couch to munch on them. See if she may be interested?

Fareeha sounded like a predator on the prowl. As if the previous evening had not been enough for me. I was at my wits end as I witnessed Fareeha literally chatting my sister-in-law up, asking her all sorts of questions, probably trying to see if she was a suitable match for her husband. I’m not even sure how normal the situation was or how sane my sister actually was.

Me: Please Far. You are giving me more stress this way. Rabia has been testing my patience nowadays and if we are related in more than one way, it may just tip me over the edge.

Fareeha: Lol *can’t watch face* That bad?

I knew I sounded mean but it was true. I snuck a glance at my sister-in-law, seated in frying of me in a cuffed jeans with a white tie-up blouse with her hair tied back in a pony, jotting down something from her phone to her diary.

She was so immersed in her task, that she barely noticed my strained expressions. Her entire existence was channeled into this one function and it made me wonder what she was going to do after it was all over.

Me: yes. Bad. Also, there will be plenty of other people there tomorrow that may be more suitable.

I didn’t want to say that I would help her find someone because knowing Fareeha, she would twist my arm to do so or follow me around relentlessly while greeting guests and insist that I let her chat up every eligible female.

Fareeha: okay fine. Just tell me one thing.

I sighed, bracing myself for more questions about Rabia, who was literally sitting in front of me now and penning down the final list of finger foods that had to be at the entrance table.

I was supposed to be helping her but Fareeha was doing a pretty good job at distracting me.

Fareeha: Am I being a crazy woman?

I stopped myself from sending another mean reply. today was better than other days.

Me: Not today.

Which was there truth. She was being a little more reasonable than usual and not pushing her agenda in true Fareeha style.

Fareeha: good. Need a diversion. I’m just trying 2 take my mind off that appointment for Uzayr on Monday. I’m so nervous. What if they say my son is beyond repair?

I internally cringed. I had completely forgotten about it.  Fareeha was taking her son to a speech therapist tomorrow for an assessment.

It was a private lady who worked with little kids, and though I wasn’t sure if it would be the solution. Either way, I was just glad she was doing something but I was equally worried for her.

I sighed, glancing up momentarily at my husband and in-laws who were in the open plan kitchen, as I made my way toward the nook again, phone still in hand. I was supposed to be checking it the events lady had started the lady’s set up today. The venue was only hired from tomorrow morning but Rabia, being Rabia, had insisted they give us time to set up today.

“I hope I didn’t forget anything,” Rabia said, looking from her phone to the notepad in front of her, and then frowned slightly. “Oh gosh. The burfee. I didn’t fetch the burfee.”

Imraan barely noticed. He too, was tapping on his phone incessantly while I quickly sent a few reassuring words for Fareeha before I placed my phone, screen down, on the center island.

everything will be okay. Trust Allah. Du’aas always xx

We never lose hope. No matter how bad or how hopeless. A believer must always have hope.

”Must I go and fetch it?” I asked sweetly, hoping the quiet time would give me a chance to think of the best way to deal with Fareeha tomorrow.

Rabia had given me a list of other things like drinks, cakes and biscuits to sort and set up for the function.

”No!” Rabia said, looking appalled that I could even suggest that. “I need your help with the drinks too. And the flowers, plus to go over the front set up. Maybe Daddy or Imraan could go?”

We had already gone over the front set-up a dozen times. It was to be absolutely immaculate, with a sparkling runner and one floral arrangement at the centre. There also needed to be a person stationed there, to make sure kids don’t mess it up.

I glanced at my father-in-law, who was sitting on the couch with Uthman, looking at a wildlife video.

“I don’t think Daddy is moving from the couch today,” I said, flashing a smile.

My father-in-law had a lot of running around that week, fetching and getting things that my mother-in-law was trying to sort out. Having a function was more tiring that we thought. Sometimes it just took these discomforts to remember the wisdom in simplicity.

If only we had gone for a function at the house or farm that was half the size but Rabia had insisted that it was necessary to invite everyone. The list just wasn’t coming to an end.

“Well, if Imraan could get off his damn phone and actually do something then it may actually help!” Rabia snapped, clearly getting agitated at how engrossed Imraan was, that he didn’t even notice her burfee dilemma.

He glanced up, phone still in hand, as he rubbed his forehead emphatically.

“Sorry,” he said meekly. “It’s just… Hamzah.”

”Ooh,” she said excitedly. She clearly was in a good mood. Rabia thrived on good stress.

“I didn’t even check my Instagram to see if Mohsina loaded any pics. Ask him how’s that place? The reviews were really good. Plus, they’re fully halaal.”

“I’m sure it’s good. He says it looks like the pics. He just has another… issue.”

Imraan looked stumped as he said it, and Rabia immediately raised her eyebrows at him.

My heart, for some reason, beat a little faster. I knew instantly when my husband was stressed.

”Trouble in paradise already?” She asked, and I couldn’t help but notice the tiny smirk on her face as she said it. “It’s about time the past came back to haunt them.”

Now, why must she be like that?

”Rabia, stop making assumptions,” my mother-in-law warned. “It’s not nice what you are saying. Wishing well on others is part of having good akhlaaq..”

Imraan shook his head.

I was hoping not. We didn’t need Hamzah in depression again. Once in his lifetime was quite enough. I had nevere seen my brother-in-law so hung up over someone, as he was when things didn’t work out with Mohsina. After he lost Liyaket, I honestly thought that he was going to lose his mind, until Zaid came to save the day.

”I’m just asking. It’s not like past events won’t pop up. How can you all just forget so easily about how Mohsina literally went awol and left Hamzah on a whim?” Rabia continued, ignoring my mother-in-law and raising her eyebrows. “Did anyone ever ask him what went on? Did anyone even wonder what really went on all these months?”

”Its not really our business,” Imraan said, and I agreed, despite the niggling feeling that Rabia wasn’t rest assured. “And Hamzah was the one who called it off and he doesn’t talk about it. Why must you worry about it?”

”Because it’s weird,” she said, here eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You guys know she’s quite a sensation on the gram. All that time her followers were skyrocketing when she was posting over-the-top content on social media. High-flying life. Most riveting socials. If I’m not mistaken, I’m sure she was probably even involved with someone in the interim-“

”Stop,” Imraan said sternly, holding his hand up. “All this is not necessary to bring up.”

I was glad he said it. That he made her stop, and verbalised it. That he made her guard her tongue, although I feared that it may have been a little late. My mother-in-law looked visibly stirred by what Rabia had just said.

Also, well, Rabia and her mouth was something that had to be addressed sooner or later. And often times, just because of the tongue, marriages and relationships are completely trashed. People are hurt. Old dust is dug up. The one muscle in our mouth is sometimes many a reason for horrible consequences.

And I remembered the story that occurred, on the occasion of the farewell Hajj, when the camel of Safiyyah bing Huyayy (RadiAllahu Abha) went lame and refused to move and she was left with no conveyance to continue.

Zaynab (RA), another wife of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) had an extra camel and the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) asked her if she would give it to Safiyya.

Zaynab, visibly displeased with the suggestion, retorted, “Should I give to that Jewess!”

It’s reported that just by the three words she uttered, Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) turned away from her in anger and would not have anything to do with her for two or three months not to show his disapproval of what she had said.

And sometimes we overlook what our mouths utter, with very little regard for how we may come across. Sometimes we have no consideration for the feelings of others, as long as our own egos are fed, not even thinking twice about the consequences of that action that may just be done in the moment…

“I was only saying what’s true,” Rabia said, flicking her hair back as she retied her pony. “When someone exposes their entire life on Instagram then it’s only natural that people will nitpick and dissect every bit of information… especially when it’s someone as popular as her.”

Hmmmm. Mohsina was on a roll with her social media the last few months, before her life completely changed. But that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?

“Let’s not forget that Mohsina had changed a lot of her life before Hamzah and her got proposed again,” I said quietly, not really wanting to butt in but knowing that it was important that she understood it.

And I wasn’t biased just because Hamzah was my brother-in-law, but Rabia had to also understand that Hamzah wasn’t a saint back when they got proposed for the first time either. Sometimes we are just too possessive over our own people to understand the truth of a situation…

“That’s precisely the point,” Imraan said, agreeing with me, as he placed his phone down. “And I hope you’re not planning on telling Hamzah any of that Instagram stuff. You know how he hates it.”

”Exactly,” Rabia retorted. “That’s why he should know about it!”

Goodness.

I wanted to drill some sense into her.

”Don’t cause issues,” Imraan said heatedly. “There’s a little baby involved. With Zaid, things are different and you know that. I think they value that more than anything. They’ve taken Maulana’s advice and it’s sure to be a source of Barakah for them because this situation is avoiding more conflict between families. They want to make this work. Obviously it will take effort and compromise and now that there’s been a call from Layyanah’s family about Zaid…“

I sucked in my breath, feeling immediately concerned. If the family had been in contact, did that mean they wanted him?

”About Zaid?” I said, my heart beating faster. “Do they want him?”

Imraan glanced at me knowingly, and I could immediately sense his own concern.

“We’re sorting it out,” he said, almost absent-mindedly, as he typed on his phone again.

But Rabia didn’t even notice that. She was still stuck on the previous train.

”Not every marriage is the same,” Rabia said bluntly, looking visibly taken aback by what Imraan had mentioned. “What if only one partner is willing to make the compromise, and the other is only intent on messing around and sucks all the barakah out of the marriage? What if the guy lies, and they say stuff about what they are and they’re really not that way? What if he acts like someone he isn’t, because he just wants to fit all the priorities you set. I have been married before, you know, and men are just disgusting  liars who take advantage of the women who love them.”

I glanced at Imraan, who was looking a little too terrified to say anything more here. Rabia was taking this a little personally.

My mother-in-law had already started talking calmly, trying to make amends.

”All Imraan was saying is that we all have to work on ourselves, our marriages, and to build that connection with Allah and to keep trying -“

”You think I didn’t work on my marriage?” Rabia almost yelled, cutting her mother off, obviously only hearing what suited her grievances and twisting the words. “Is that what you are suggesting? I worked hard. I I put up with his disappearances. With his bad habits. I did everything that I could to make him happy but he still went off with that thing from the office.”

I sucked in my breath, widening my eyes as my mother-in-law sighed, and then turned away. I knew what this was about.

What was that saying? You can take the horse to the water but you cannot, by any means, force it to drink.

There were some things we didn’t mention, and this had always been one of them. The reason for Rabia’s divorce wasn’t exactly a secret, but I did have an idea that it wasn’t only an infidelity issue on his part.

And okay, I did understand that Rabia had a tough marriage. Extremely difficult, in fact. It couldn’t have been easy, going through everything that she did. To top it off, when she had heard that Hamzah and Mohsina knew each other from the office, it was like an offence to her…

It was also evident that Rabia did harbour some resentment and found it unfair that things had worked out for Mohsina, and not for her.

”We know that,” my mother-in-law said in a soothing tone. “You did try. But also, this is not your marriage that we are talking about. We know this wasn’t easy for Hamzah either. Instead of saying bad things, rather make Duaa that this decision they made was a good one, and that their marriage is filled with love and barakah. Let’s make Du’aa that Zaid is also not taken away from them. There’s no need to wish bad upon anyone just because you had a tough time in yours.”

For once, Rabia seemed a little short of words.

”Fine,” she said, blinking back tears and rolling her eyes. “It’s not like anyone cares about me anyway. At least I still have Zaid, if Mohsina doesn’t hog him to herself. What was the reason to even take him with?! Next week I will force them to go by themselves and hold him hostage.”

She pulled her face, and I smiled because I could do see she was over the worst of her meltdown.

My mother-in-law smiled too, glad to have a lucky escape from any huge tantrum, and continued with her work, almost as if nothing had even happened. I assumed that she was a little over Rabia and her antics, and there was no-one in the room who wouldn’t say the same. She was in a better mood today than any other day, and we were grateful to be spared.

But the news about Zaid… well, that was still in the back of my mind. I did ask Imraan if we could keep him while they went away, but I understood that they wanted him with them too. I mean, it was the first time he would have them both to himself, and we had to respect their wishes.

And, now, his mother’s family were suddenly very interested in getting to know him and I wondered if it was only because Hamzah and Mohsina had decided to make him a part of their own little unit. Were they possible feeling threatened that they would never have a chance with Zaid now that he had his own family?
It was it some other excuse that had kept them from him all this time?

I didn’t want to think of the possibilities. Why was life so complicated..?

I breathed out, trying to dispel my anxiety.

Tawakkul, right? What was I just telling Fareeha. We never lose help in Allah. No matter what obstacle or challenge, Allah is always in full control.

“I’ll go for the burfee,” my father-in-law’s voice suddenly said from where he sat, eager to make an escape as he got Uthman on his feet quickly too, and headed off. The fact that my son had possibly overheard this conversation was a concern, but I was still feeling restless about other developments. The news about Zaid was unsettling me.

In fact; as the time for the waleemah approached the next day… a lot of things were unsettling me.

The conversation with Rabia that day, the things she had said, the news about her past marriage.. had unsettled me too.

And even as we continued with the next hours preparation, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I might have been a little too harsh on Rabia. That I may have been a little too quick to judge. She did have a tough time. Maybe I wasn’t giving her a chance. Maybe, by writing her off, and thinking her unworthy… I was being a horrible person that didn’t want good for anyone else either.

The thing was, after Ramahdaan, I had made a resolution to try and be better. To overlook. To make the most of the polishing that my heart had endured during the beautiful month, and keep my heart on a nobler and more purposeful path.

And how? Well, when you get married, you don’t expect your spouse to fulfill your every need. When you have friends, don’t expect friends to fill your emptiness. Seek the help of people, but realise that they cannot save you.

And if there’s one recipe for unhappiness, its that; expectations. As humans, we never ,lose hope. The problem, thoigh, is where we place our hope. My hope and expectations were in people, things and relationships… when my hope and faith should only be in Allah.

Only Allah can save you.

And perhaps that’s where Rabia, the past Mohsina, and everyone of us at some point, get it wrong.

And I hadn’t mastered it, but people around you sometimes help you to learn the lessons you need to.

And as the next day approached us, faster than we thought, and excitement in the air was mounting immensely. There was great preparation put into the entire day. My sister-in-law was very precise in her timing and had allocated a time for everyone to leave the house. The plan was for the new couple to change at the home, and my mother-in-law was desperate to see how the outfit they had bought for Mohsina would fit her, before we would leave, and Hamzah and Mohsina would follow about half hour after.

And of course, meeting the newly weds (I was just glad they weren’t late) was the cherry on the top, after seeing how rested and calm Zaid looked after his night away with his most favourite people, I was already in better spirits. I had faith. Hope that this really was the best thing. I was completely convinced that Hamzah and Mohsina would pull through, with Zaid always with them, and that everything would be perfectly all right.

And the thing was… If there was one thing I could salute my sister-in-law on, it was the fact that she had done everything to utter perfection, but still managed to keep it simple. And yes, maybe she had gone a little overboard with the entrance tables and the multiple floral arrangements on each table, but even as my brother-in-law looked cynically at it all, he couldn’t fault her.

And of course, I was glad that it was all going smoothly. Everyone was looking amazing.

Zaid was even wearing a cute mini-suit, and I couldn’t help but steal him away from Mohsina, even though he was instantly attached to her the minute he saw foreign people. He had settled down after a few minutes, and whilst Hamzah and Mohsina stayed in the car for a few minutes extra, probably chatting about the latest developments with Zaid, I couldn’t help but silently hope that everything was okay.

I knew that Hamzah had requested a security guard at the venue and Imraan had arranged it through Maulana Umar, and were being extra cautious with who was taking him. Glad that they trusted me with him, with special instructions of course, I kept his close to me, but even letting anyone else carry him.

With the new snippets of information about Layyanahs family being in contact, my heart was half in my throat as I witnessed Mohsina scanning the hall, as if for some invasion that we weren’t expecting.

The fact that something was threatening to go wrong had obviously got them on edge too, but I was optimistic that nothing could spoil this day.

And so far, as we scurried around, taking care of guests and awaiting the Du’aa and Qiraat recital, I was quite convinced that everything would be perfect.

I had just turned to see Laila and Haseena walking in together, and as I offered them a wave, maybe my thinking about everything going wonderfully was too optimistic because it just happened but none other than my lovely sister scurried in after them, chatting to Laila excitedly and then clapping her eyes on me, before she instantly came over.

And of course, I was already prepared for some dramatics as I had just excused myself from Mohsina’s family table, when I turned to my sister, wondering what she was going to start with about right then and hoping that her old ambitions of finding a co-wife were not still at the forefront of her mind.

“I’m so excited,” she said, her voice only slightly high-pitched as she pulled me aside. “You cannot believe what just happened.”

To tell the truth, I was afraid to ask.

But I would forever be in suspense if I didn’t.

”What?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders as I held Zaid a little tighter. How was I supposed to know?

“Aadil just got an SMS,” she said, her voice sounding thick with excitement. “Remember we put our name down for Hajj all those years ago?”

Hajj. My heart contracted just at the thought of the beautiful journey. Imraan and I had first gone, two years after we were married, when I couldn’t fall pregnant.

I remembered the feeling of rejuvenation I already felt, even as I stepped off the plane, being on the blessed lands for the first time in my life. I recalled the feeling of atonement, as I glimpsed the Ka’abah.. knowing it would be live at first sight. The emotion that had engulfed me, when I stepped out for the journey of a lifetime, that was both exhausting yet exhilarating and such a spectacular experience that nothing else in my life could ever have anything on it.

The cherry on the top, of course, as I had made constant Du’aa for Allah to cleanse my body of the infertility and grant me a child… when I had gotten home, I was already expecting Uthman and donned the niqaab and I already knew that Hajj was the reason that my life had to change for the better…

After all, Allah had done so much for me. He had blessed me with so much, just by virtue of that small sacrifice that I had made, which could never compare to the sacrifice of Ibrahim (Alaihi Salaam) that we were emulating,

“You’re going for Hajj?” I asked meekly, my expression unashamedly riddled with conflicting emotion. While I was so happy for my sister, my own heart felt extremely grieved that I wasn’t the one who would be going once again.

Selfish, I know. Who better than my sister to enjoy this perfect gift…

She nodded, already looking as if she was beyond happiness.

Nevertheless, I planted a smile on my face, because I did know for sure that this experience was one that would completely change her life for the better.

It was the perfect twist. I had glimpsed Rabia in the crowd, taking some snaps of the decor only, because Hamzah would have probably had her head for it if anything else… but honestly, she looked happier than she had in a while.

She was visibly excited, even as some older aunty I didn’t know came and spoke to her, and I secretly hoped that there was a son that she had for my sister-in-law who would be suitable…

In addition, Fareeha’s attention was now completely off Rabia and diverted onto the most amazing journey of her life, and I couldn’t help but feel that somehow, this would perhaps soothe her erratic nerves.

Even with her reservations and challenges, there’s nothing that Du’aa could not solve. Nothing that the polishing of the heart could not assist, and I needed to remind her of this before she embarked on her beautiful journey.

And I was so overwhelmed with emotion, that I barely even noticed someone playing with Zaid over my shoulder, as I smiled widely at Fareeha.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes as I pulled her towards me. “I have a whole list of Du’aas for you. This is going to be a journey you will never forget.”

---

Assalamualaikum dearest Readers

Please forgive me for my delay. A bit of a longer post to make up for it ❤️

Trust that everyone has a wonderful Eid ul Adha. 

Just to give a little spirit of Hajj… I thought it would be good to bring in a little reflection. May Allah grant us understanding of this great sacrifice.

I hope that during these days, where the most beloved actions to Allah is Ibaadat, we made the most of it. Every action, every charity, every right we fulfill… everything is ibaadat for a Mu’min. Just to stay away from Haraam, itself, is ibaadat. Let’s make extra effort to stay away from Gheebat, social media and all other forms of haraam.

May Allah forgive us and accept all our ibaadat.

PS. Don’t forget your Takbeer after every Fardh  Salaah, and remember to make lots of heartfelt Duaa…. especially for this sinful author.✨

Much love,

A xx

The day of Eid is a day of celebration within the boundaries of Sharee’ah.

Those that slaughter, must read,

Bismillaahi Allawhu Akbar
بسم الله، الله اكبر
Then slaughter.

Males must not intermingle with those strange females, we are not permitted to, in Islaam.

When we uphold the Sharee’ah, الله تعالى will bring about favorable conditions.

_Takbeer e Tashreeq after every FARDH salaah._

اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ لَا إلَهَ إلَّا اللَّهُ وَاَللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ وَلِلَّهِ الْحَمْدُ

Allaahu Akbar, Allaahu Akbar laa ilaaha illallaahu wal’laahu Akbar. Allaahu Akbar wa lillaahil hamd.

“Allaah is the Greatest, Allaah is the Greatest. There is no deity besides Allaah and Allaah is the Greatest. Allaah is the Greatest and all praises belong to Him Alone.”

Mission Sunnah Revival

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

The Simple Things

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 41
Mohsina

Sometimes we get so caught up in life that we forget that we don’t always need to be busy, to be rushing to the next thing or to keep on checking our phones or e-mails. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that it’s okay to slow down, to pause, to take a break and to take notice of the little things that aren’t so little.

Sometimes we don’t realize someone’s prayer that saved us from falling deeper. Or a smile that came through for us when we needed it most. Or a a simple kind word that made a difference to someone’s difficult day.

The simple things, sometimes, can take us a long way.

And yes, for me, there was a time in life when I stopped worrying about the simple things, and stopped caring what people think. When I shifted my focus, when I got detached from people, and built that wall that kept me an arms length away… at any given time.

Watching my father being held, at gun point when I was 18 years old, when nothing we had was good enough to invoke any mercy, had shifted something within me.

It was from that point on that I decided that I would be fearless. Unyielding. Unattached. I supposed that was my coping mechanism.

When it came to suitors, to family, friendships, and to Hamzah too… I never risked digging my hopes in so deep that coming out would prove to be any sorts of painful.

I always knew that people could leave. Come and go as they pleased. Leave each other, and never return. It was something I’d realised from listening to friends talking about relationships or being a little too cautious for my own liking. 

And so, instead of focusing on the One who never leaves, that’s when I shifted my focus to things. Shoes, handbags and accessories were easiest to deal with. People, to me, were the problem. 

So when the blues got to me, as I sat in my room, one day in Ramadhaan, it took me a little by surprise.

And maybe it was a combination of my mind finally attuning to reality, and also being the time of the month and the emotions that came with it… all I knew was that it felt like she had left me and the light had followed her. Simply put, whichever way I saw it, there was a gnawing ache in my body which translated to me missing Layyanah immensely.

Suddenly, the world was filled with so much of darkness that it was almost impossible for me to see at all. And as I trudged along, a flickering torch lighting much less of a path than I’d hoped, there were moments when my heart gave in completely.

How much my heart yearned for her advice, her laugh and just her general two cents, I wasn’t even able to fully comprehend, but being so busy with Zaid had filtered it for me, so it wasn’t so obvious.

But then there were the moments. Moments at night when I couldn’t seem to drift off to sleep, where I would stare at the ceiling and wonder how she could  leave me like this. At such a dead loss, completely clueless as to how to even sort out and live my own life, nevermind her little boy’s…

It was the day after Maahira had messaged, when Zaid was still with Hamzah and family, when I had gone down to see if there was anything to munch on (it was that time of the month and I was feeling a little spiritually low, and Maahira was also coming to visit after iftaar so I could explain the whole marriage saga), so I grabbed a packet of cookies just as Nani walked into the kitchen, and gave me one of her eye-balling looks.

I was being my usual unbothered self, as I strutted around the then empty kitchen, looking for something to munch on and to do whilst I heard her voice from behind me that made me jump.

“No roza?” She said with a frown, looking at me, almost accusingly. Nani was looking at me accusingly as I hid the stash behind my back.

I pulled my face slightly because next, I already had a plan to head straight to the shelf near the stove, due to the fact that for some reason, someone had left a huge slab of Cadbury Bubbly chocolate (that everyone knew was my ultimate favourite ), right in proximity of my wandering eyes.

But with Nani’s eyes now fixed on me, I slunk back to the bar stool, determined to leave my chocolate-cravings for later.

“No, Nani,” I said with a small smirk. “I’m not fasting.”

”Oh,” she said, obviously peeved that I would have the guts to even admit it.

And I got the old traditional thinking but after explaining to my brother that women take a break from certain forms of worship once a month, he now obediently turned the other way if he ever saw us sneaking a treat to our rooms. Nani obviously, thought it was appalling that he knew, but I thought it was important that he knew that we weren’t cheating.

“You missing Zaid?”

It was Nani again and I knew that was her way of asking why I was still sitting there, because it was the first time I had set foot on the kitchen after ages.

And to tell the truth, though the short break definitely had helped with my sleep deprivation, I was actually missing him so much that I pottered around my room trying to deal with myself in the best way possible. As much as I wanted to call every minute and see how he was doing, all I did was message Saaliha (maybe a bit too many times) to ask how he was… but despite her being polite, her answers were always brief and to the point.

For all I know, she had probably been given instructions by Hamzah not to over indulge me and I got that. Well, a little, except for the fact that I still thought that he was behaving like a selfish brat.

I sighed audibly, unable to contain my annoyance.

“You okay?” Nani asked bossily, and turned back to mixing the batter she had put in the metal bowl in front of her.

“Just tired,” I said half-heartedly. I still had piles of work to do and I just couldn’t seem to get around to it. Faadil had messaged me about six times this morning for follow ups on budgets but I just wasn’t feeling like getting into it. I knew that my job was on the line too, but for some reason, it didn’t even faze me.

Sure, I missed some aspects of my apartment but sitting like a lump and getting spoilt rotten had been absolute bliss.

Besides, Nani was in a particularly good mood because she hadn’t once even commented on my laziness. Maybe she was feeling sorry for me or just wanted to be nice, but when Nani actually missed an opportunity to hound me about learning to cook, I knew that the odds were in my favour.

And as she turned to look at me, a slight frown on her forehead, I couldn’t help but notice how different she appeared. It had been so long that I had really taken her in, that I didn’t quite realise how much she had aged.

Although she was still highly capable for everything that she had carried out over the years, her back was now slightly hunched and her movements were a little slower than before.

There it was. Another reminder that time was running away with me and if I didn’t say anything it would forever be lost…

And I suppose that’s why, although it was probably the best time for me to head back upstairs and either do the work Faadil had mailed me this morning, or just some general adhkaar and Ibaadat (worship) that I’d kind of made a habit of to ground me, I knew I shouldn’t.

It was just that, somehow, after the general cleansing and lightening and purifying of my heart over the weeks had taken effect, there was nothing else that I really wanted to do than bear my heart and soul and that was exactly why I sat there for another five minutes and wondered how exactly to approach the topic that I’d been avoiding with Nani for over a year.

”Nani,” I said finally, watching my grandmother whisking her mixture vigorously while the extractor hummed above her, ready to fry her mixture.

“Nani, I’m sorry,” I blurted out, already feeling embarrassed about how emotional I was already getting.

Nani glanced at me and frowned, her face slightly perplexed as she probably tried to figure out if I was just making a joke or what.

She said nothing, but as she looked at the sincerity on my face, I could see her expression ease, while she chopped carefully on the chopping board, before she finally broke into a small smile.

“What are you sorry for?” She said roughly in Guji, looking at me enquiringly.

“For everything,” I said quietly. “For not listening. For disappointing you. For causing problems. For making the wrong choices. For telling you that you have favourites…”

Yes, I had. I had accused Nani of having favourites. And I made it clear that she never treated me as one of hers.

I understood now that Nani was coming from a place where she was worried. Immensely worried and concerned that I wasn’t going all out to settle down and make a life for myself. And not get married, but that was beside the point.

Nani looked like she was shocked. But now that I was into it, I might as well go all out.

”Also, I’m sorry that things with Nadeema got so bad. Nani, I didn’t want it to be that way, but she was doing something that I couldn’t tolerate.”

There. I said it. I didn’t tell Nani what she did but I gave her an idea. I didn’t tell her that she had been speaking to the guy I was proposed to, and was even meeting him. I didn’t want to bring it all up now. It was the unmentionable things that we never mentioned.

But now I had just mentioned it.

“It’s okay,” Nani said in Gujarati. “Khair. He wasn’t right for you anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly at Nani, wondering howcome she suddenly changed her opinion.  She had been so furious when I called it off.
Convinced that I would never find anyone better.

My  entire adult life had been spent hearing about how I can’t be so fussy and picky and no-one likes educated girls, and now she was saying that he wasn’t right for me in the first place.

I wondered if the change of heart was the current situation I had found myself in. Maybe Nani had finally realised that I didn’t really need a man to have a baby. Ah. The relief. At least it will save me from more soppy, spineless Sameers.

“Really?” I asked, curious, wondering if she was for real.

She shrugged, glancing at me as she dropped spoonfuls of batter into the hot oil.

The smell of freshly fried bajias was making my mouth water. Now let me tell you, my Nani didn’t just make a simple bajia.

Hers was the type with all the best stuff in it. The type that made you do metaphoric circles around trees in your mind as you bit into their crunchy texture. The type that made you salivate embarrassingly, just by smelling them.

The type I knew I had to learn to make, when I eventually decided to get married.

She was silent for a while, while the oil spluttered and simmered, and then turned and looked at me.

“His mother didn’t like my Samoosas,” she said with a serious face, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Nani’s samoosas were legend. There clearly was something wrong with his mother.

“And he wasn’t right,” she continued. “Not your type. Too ‘small-build’ for you.”

“What?” I said, widening my eyes.

Haaibo.

Was Nani saying I was too fat for him? Okay, I know he was on the smaller side but it wasn’t like I was that huge.

She shrugged.

Oh great. I couldn’t believe her.

She had turned back to the bajias, almost as if she hadn’t just called me fat.

It was at that point when Jameela entered the kitchen, and I knew I should have just let it go, but I was quite offended, so I couldn’t just be silent.

And fine, maybe Nani had forgiven me for my past mistakes but saying I was fat wasn’t exactly a good way to end the conversation.

“Jameela,” I whined, as my sister started taking out a jug for the milkshake. “Nani said I’m fat.”

Jameela had forgiven me for my outburst about her teenage-inspired-badboy-crush but she hadn’t mentioned it since. She still blushed awkwardly if anyone mentioned him or we saw him going past.

“I didn’t say she’s fat,” Nani said, not in the least bothered. “I said that boy was too small for her. Not right for her size.”

I looked at Jameela pointedly, while she grinned.

”I told her the truth,” Nani said pointedly. “I didn’t say she was fat. She mustn’t become like your Choti kala. Weight goes up and down like yo-yo. How will she find a boy when he won’t know who she is the next time he sees her?”

I spluttered as she glanced at me, wondering what Choti Kala would say about this. I knew Nani was just messing with me but it was fun to have something else to worry about.

Besides, I knew there was a stage when I was a little on the chubbier side, but being a lot more conscious of my weight now had brought me down pretty well. I knew that this Ramadhaan, unlike others, I had actually lost some weight. I was looking better than before. I also knew that I had been through so much recently that maybe I needed to just go with the light humor for now.

And as Nani went on about “makko” men (she probably meant macho), I couldn’t help but think of what Nani would think of Faadil. Despite the fact that he was ‘office men’s’ with big, big business, he had a good build. Plus he was super handsome and charming, that he could even charm the socks of me, in the most challenging of situations.

But then again, no-one quite knew about all his other antics that he got up to when he thought he had covered his tracks so well.

Okay, trash the thought. That was my utopian mind taking over. Nani would probably have a heart attack if she got wind of who he was.

Jameela was snickering silently to herself, and I stuck my tongue out at her.

Muhammed Husayn, evidently, had also smelt the famous bajias  and had just sauntered into the kitchen to investigate.

I already knew what was coming. Great. A family affair at my expense.

He sat silently and listened, while Nani explained her very intense whole theory about how sizes matter and opposites that attract. About how size determines the type of selection available and how girls who are thinner have a better selection of the opposite gender to go with. The theory went something like: The larger you are, the less selection is available for attraction.
It was like magnetic fields all over again in high school physics, which thankfully, I had dropped in grade 10. No regrets.

Shew.

”For Mohsina,” she said, matter if fact. “She can’t have one skinny small mens. She needs one with… what you call this thing?”

She tapped her upper arm and gestured at Muhammed Husayn while he smirked.

“Muscles, Nani,” he said blandly. “Muscles.”

”Yes,” she said, thrusting her spoon in the air. “He needs muscles. Can’t marry one bichaaro boy who can’t even pull you out the car seat.”

Great. Now she was suggesting that I get stuck in car seats. I loved my grandmother to bits.

My mouth was still hanging open, but as I watched my siblings grinning at me, I just shook my head at them and rolled my eyes.

The laughter was much needed, even though I wouldn’t admit it. I stayed silent though, as they went off to get ready to break fast, and I sauntered off to the lounge, knowing that my slight disconnection was probably due to the fact that I hadn’t been immersing myself in Ibaadat as much as I wanted to.

I had pulled out my phone from the shelf I had placed it on early, looking at another reminder from Faadil, and decided to ignore it for now, opening my Instagram after what seemed like days. A host of direct messages stared at me as I closed the app again, not yet ready to go into the mundanities of that kind of life yet.

Make up tutorials. Daily care routines. Trending memes that would cause a bit of a stir and create some much needed humour…

It all seemed so far away from me.

While I was searching everywhere for peace, I didn’t know that it was right in front of me, within this glorious message that was sent from above.

There are certain things that come only from the magic of His closeness, that you are privileged to seek. I had taken pride in the wrong things. I had taken pride in my fake life, that I was trying to make greater than it really was.

Because if there was one thing that I had learnt in Ramadhaan, it was that time was something I wouldn’t get back. I knew that if i didn’t make the most of this time, I would certainly be stupid. This was the time when I had to invest. The time I had to beg, steal, borrow and make sure I take advantage of, no matter what.

And for that time, I sought refuge in Allah, battling to find that place where I could connect with my Creator m once again. I sought refuge in Allah, in His mercy, and on the hope that He may see something within me to forever make me His bosom friend.

And as I had been waking up in the wee hours of the morning to seek Him, I found myself once again. I had tasted the sweetness of Quran. Of salaah. Of Duaa.

I sought refuge in it, even though I didn’t always have the words. In conversing with my Lord, even when I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I bore my heart and soul, so much so, that my parents and siblings had actually begun to get worried.

Our beloved Nabi, salla Allahu ‘alaihi wasallam, is reported to have said:

“There are three characteristics, whoever they are found in him, will experience the sweetness ofIman; that he loves Allah and His Prophet, more than he loves anyone else, and that he loves another person, not for anything, but for the sake of Allah, and that he hates to return to infidelity, like he dislikes to be thrown into fire.”

And it was that sweetness, a bliss that had consumed me, that I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And I didn’t know it yet, but there was something quite noteworthy that it was all leading to.

Ever heard that saying, sometimes what you’re looking for comes when you’re not looking at all? 

It just so happens that there’s nothing that rings truer than that, for that particular day.

And having my family around me that day was all part and parcel of what was to be revealed. It lightened the mood. Made things simpler. Lifted my hopes.

I knew they were just poking me. Getting me to lighten up. Maybe even make me laugh. And I almost had. Nani was in good spirits, and still at it as we made our way to the iftaar table after salaah. I had been diligently frying the samoosas,  without even grabbing any testers, while Papa and the rest took a seat and made usual small talk.

Nani was going on about teaching Jameela how to make round rotis, and that’s precisely when I spotted Muhammed Husayn making his way to the kitchen shelf and grabbing the alluring Bubbly chocolate that I had set my sights on earlier.

And I know it a simple chocolate, but for a chocolatarian like me, it was the worst thing that could happen if Muhammed Husayn had just grabbed it at 6.30PM when all other chocolate stocks were low and even the slots on the Checkers app were  fully booked. With my brother, any edible would be devoured in 3 seconds, flat. For me, this was disaster.

I mean, chocolate was the answer to all my problems, especially when I was in fragile states like today.

And I really didn’t mean to stare him down so accusingly, but he must have noticed because he suddenly looked at me, and then said, almost apologetically:

“’This yours?”

And I couldn’t lie. It wasn’t really mine. But Jameela had noticed my annoyed expression and frowned at him, always quick to pick on my brother who had a bottomless pit as a stomach. Especially when it came to the finer things in life.

”Hey greedy, you had yours earlier this week,” she said accusingly. “That was Mosee’s.”

And of course, I was annoyed with him, but what else could I say besides the usual:

”Shame, no, it’s okayyy! Let him have it.”

But Jameela was like the our personal Haraam house police, and wasn’t going to have any of it.

“No,” she said, turning to look at me. “It’s really yours. Like, it’s legit haraam for him to take it without asking you. When you didn’t come down since Zaid left, I forgot to tell you. He brought one for each of us.”

”Who, Papa?” I asked, thinking of how sweet my father was. He knew just what my favourite chocolate was.

“No,” Jameela said blankly, glancing nervously around the table, while Ma and Nani watched her. They both had that look on their faces and I wasn’t even sure why, until she spoke again.

“Hamzah’s mother sent it,” she said quietly. “When they fetched Zaid. She sent a few things. The last time she came to the shop I sent a few things and… Shame, she didn’t have to.”

Jameela flushed slightly as she said it, probably thinking I might be angry about her entertainment of my ex-in-laws. I wasn’t though. It just felt strange.

”So nice of her,” Nani said, missing the awkwardness completely. “To send for all of us. I thought maybe for a special occasion like the masjid sent last week.”

“They had sent for completion of Qur’aan,” Jameela was saying. “This she sent with sooo many other things. Plus, that mosque does two khatams in Ramadhaan. Most people are only finishing their Khatam next week.”

I was secretly a little happy that Hamzah’s mother had actually sent something for me. It made me feel all fuzzy inside.

I was losing interest in the conversation but I couldn’t believe how fast Ramadhaan was going. I was just glad that by next week I would be reading again and be able to make the most of my Qur’aan. It was the one thing I truly missed during these few days.

My heart was feeling a very palpable void.

”Hamzah will finish tomorrow,” Muhammed Husayn said, almost out of the blue.

And I must have had a confused look on my face because as Jameela looked at him too, I couldn’t help but wonder what my brother was on about.

“Finishing what?” I said, still slightly confused.

”He’s reading his last part for tonight. At the house behind the new Masjid in JHB North. I went there last week. He was also talking to Papa the other day when he came and he confirmed it.”

What? My heart literally skipped a beat as he said it.

Why, oh why, didn’t I come down when they came to fetch Zaid? I was being stupid and emotional because I didn’t want him to go. But now, I missed out on this whole conversation that had happened and I couldn’t believe I had acted so childish.

”He’s a Hafidh?” I said dumbly, and Muhammed Husayn looked at me like a I born on another planet.

“Duh.”

It was Jameela’s turn to look at me in surprise. She probably didn’t know either. I mean, she would only know if I had told her.

And why on Earth was my heart beating so fast?

”Wait,” she said, looking at me again. “You telling me he’s a Hafidh and you didn’t know it?”

“We never discussed it,” I said quietly, as if that explained it, barely even believing it myself.

How could we have not even spoke about that?

How could we have never discussed that he was a protector of the most beautiful book? How could we have not spoken about what an amazing gift he had been blessed with? How did I not even see the value of that, before this…

I breathed in, not even seeing clearly anymore. For some odd reason, tears were blurring my vision, and I wasn’t even making an effort to stop them.

Of course, my brother was still giving me the kuku look, Jameela was just shaking her head at me and Nani and my mother were sitting there, with a shocked expression on their face, as if they couldn’t quite believe what had just been revealed and my odd reaction.

To tell the truth, neither could I.

This wasn’t just big. It was huge. And everything just seemed so clear now, depite my oscured vision,  and it was like everything single thing that had happened till that very point was all leading to this. It was a huge discovery that was somehow so much more important in my life than it had ever been before.

Yes, this wasn’t anything unique. There were thousands of Huffaadh around here. A blessing that each of them had, to hold the Holy Qur’aan within their bosom. It was a seemingly simple task that took years of effort and practise and healed even the most obstinate of hearts, but till that day, I hadn’t realsie the true amazement of it.

There was a huge lump in my throat that seemed to be obstructing my breathing canal. I looked up at them, with blurry vision, taking in a deep breath, and knowing that this was no coincidence. Sometimes the simple things in life are really not so simple at all.

“Excuse me,” I almost whispered, swallowing as I pushed my chair back.

I didn’t need to tell them where I was going.

I think they all already knew.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

The Sunnah of Duaa…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I think the Sunnah of Duaa is one that we need to keep with us… InshaAllah

The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said, ‘Du’a is worship itself’. Then the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) recited this verse, ‘Your Lord says: “Call upon Me and I will respond to you. Verily, those who disdain My worship will enter Hell in humiliation” [The Noble Qur’an, 40:60]’. [Tirmidhi]

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

A Wake Up Call

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 21

Mohsina

Often what makes us fall into despair is focusing on the wrong things. As it often happened, in my warped state of mind, when I was in trying situations, my mind tricked me into doing things that I knew were never going to benefit me, but regardless of that knowledge, still sucked me in.

And I knew I got it all wrong. And many of us do get it wrong a lot of the time. When we’re feeling a little broken, instead of focusing on the one who can fix us, we focus on the break. Instead of focusing on ar- Rahman, the Most Merciful, we focus on our sin. When we’re in pain, instead of focusing on the One who removes pain, we dwell in the pain. In this way, when dealing with problems of this Duniya, we focus on this life, but not the perfection of Allah Ta’ala. All of our pain, our despair, our heartache… is only because we focus on creation, instead of the Creator Himself. Sometimes we have to check where our heart is at and I knew that I had some serious introspection to do. I just couldn’t drag myself out of my rut yet. Sometimes we needed a wake up call to pull us out.

And as I sat on the bench, waiting for more feedback about just father, while Ma and Nani sat diligently reading their Yaaseen, there I was, flipping the camera on my phone, taking a picture of the clinical tiles of the hospital, convinced that it was just the diversion I needed.

This needed some live footage. Plus, this was a real drama. My father was actually not critical anymore, but he was still under observation and so with the pressure easing, a quick post and update was just what I needed. I had initially posted in my stories, requesting duaas, asking for prayers… hoping and praying fervently that Papa would be okay when emotions were at their most overwhelming  .. but now that the wait and desperation was over, I knew that a good soppy post and dedication would be just the thing to fix me… right?

”What are you doing?” Jameela asked, looking slightly annoyed as she saw me tapping away.

By the time I reached the hospital, Jameela had given me the news that Papa was stable. It was a relief, of course, but it didn’t mean that Papa was in the safe zone. The doctors were running some tests and we’d know for sure in the morning if he would have to ubdergo an op or not. Ma and Nani were having dhikr-reading marathons and using their WhatsApp groups for the best while I fulfilled my own attention cravings.

“Catching up on Insta,” I replied indifferently. In my mind, it wasn’t even flagged as a a problem. I continued to type.

You always encouraged me to pursue my dreams.

You taught me that there is no substitute for hard work.

You told me to fly and I knew I could do it.
My Papa, my hero. The one who motivated me. Who helped me to get where I am today.

I love you so much and wish you the speediest recovery so that we can have you here, edging us on again. Can’t imagine life without you 💔

It was a great post and it captured my emotions perfectly, but something was missing. There was just something about social media… something that devalued the dedication… and the truth was that it just didn’t make sense because Papa wouldn’t ever see it because he didn’t have Instagram and didn’t really care much about social media.

But, that wasn’t the point. It was my refuge. I was feeling pretty battered. Broken and tired and all sorts of stressed out. Social media and people had always been my answer, my refuge and my solution, no matter what situation I found myself in. Although I had improved in some aspects, it was still very much a part of my life. Sometimes someone’s comment or words of motivation would just kind of hit home for me. Maybe someone’s DM would inspire me. But today… well today, I wasn’t sure what it was but it seemed like nothing was working.

Jameela was still throwing me weird glances as I typed away, but I didn’t care. It was easy for her to act all righteous and judgemental. She didn’t have the responsibility of work and a career and having to deal with annoying people every day. She didn’t have to come home from a long day and feel the need to zone out of reality for a bit.

I respected her for way of doing things (even her weird ideas that she was convinced about) and she needed to respect mine. My sister and I were complete opposites in terms of our coping mechanisms. Often, she would assess things quietly and then talk them through, while often for me, I would say nothing to anyone but almost everything on social media. It was my way of dealing, but this incident was testing my limits… just a little.

I sighed as I finished my long post about the past hour, sitting here, full of anxiety and slightly exaggerating how we were dealing with it, when Jameela spoke, sounding relieved.

“There’s Layyanah,” Jameela said, and I glanced up as I saw my friend and entering with her hand over her little baby bump. I was already swooning. She was so cute. “And Liyaket’”

I didn’t think they’d come. But wait, who told them?

But it didn’t matter because as I glanced again, I instantly felt a little better as I saw them … and then a few seconds later, Hamzah was following, entering behind them both.

And I did a little double take because Hamzah was wearing a light-coloured kurta and prayer hat which shocked me, but then I kind of figured that he had probably left mosque and rushed here. He had these Thursday night programmes that he had started attending that were part of his whole new journey and it was quite inspiring. Well, in theory.

For a moment my resolve weakened and I felt like crumbling, knowing that I could finally offload onto someone.

“Hey doll, Salaam,” Layyanah was already in front of me and I got up, allowing her to wrap her arms around me so I could bury my face into her shoulder, even if it was just for a few moments of comfort and salvation, while I attempted to gain my composure once again.

I had to admit, even for me given the situation, it was extremely difficult to keep it together, because at that moment, even though my father was stable for now, all the possibilities that had overwhelmed me were still very much playing on my mind. I had become all kinds of snotty and emotional for a few minutes as I drove home, breaking previous records for tissue consumption and really just going all out this time.

To tell the truth, I really could not bear the thought of life without my father. My life would be crumbling if that thought was a reality…

I greeted Hamzah briefly, a little surprised that he had come, and I could see something on his mind, but he could see Ma and Nani watching him and expecting his attention instead. And I ignored the idea of something being amiss because we weren’t married or anything and it wasn’t exactly important to me but as he passed me, going over to greet them, I could see the hurt in his eyes as he unmistakably shook his head at me.

I swallowed hard, not quite sure how to deal. He seemed upset. Disappointed. Why though, I didn’t understand.

And maybe I wanted him to say something. I mean, I was demented like that. I liked a challenge. Someone who questioned me. Disagreed with me. Pointed out my faults and fought it out. I was a unique kind of crazy but he said nothing and then went back to where Liyaket was while Layyanah stood with me for a while before the doctor came, asking simple questions about what happened and making small talk.

She was just there to comfort me but the cold shoulder from Hamzah was very palpable. After speaking to my brother he had briefly greeted Nani and Ma and left. He had basically come for them, not me. And that was okay. Who cared? 

“What’s Hamzah’s deal?” I asked Layyanah, seeing them getting ready to leave too. Layyanah just shrugged and said something about him finding out about my father’s condition from his sister, and told me she’ll chat to me later again.

And of course I didn’t want to keep her and give her my pathetic explanation, so instead, I knew just the person to bug.

And when I plopped down next to Jameela again, I was all aggro and annoyed because I obviously felt like he was overreacting and I was pretty fussed up and l let Jameela know just that.

”Can you believe Hamzah?” I said, clearly miffed. “Acting all holier than thou and then getting fussed up like I owe him something? I’m the one whose supposed to be having a tragedy here. What is his deal even?!”

Jameela glanced at me, almost as if she was unsure of what to say. Or whether she should say it.

”What?” I said, frowning. “Stop giving me that look.”

What I didn’t know was that my sister was just a little less tactful in telling me exactly what I needed to know when I did.

”You told Instagram before anyone else,” she said pointedly. “You do know that? It’s like those people who find out their family member passed away via a broadcast or WhatsApp status. Do you even know how that feels? A private and personal thing that happened… maybe you could have let him know some other way?”

I scowled. She was on his side, duh.

”Did you even tell Layyanah?”

Layyanah? What did Layyanah have to do with this? Everything was okay. Papa was going to be okay. And I didn’t get it.

“Think about how they feel,” she said. “How we feel too. It’s my father… a family matter… and you put it out there for all your followers who know nothing about our lives to see. I messaged Layyanah. She said Hamzah wanted to come but not on his own, so he asked them to come too. You should be happy someone cares about your family as much to actually come and check. He even spoke to the doctor, do you even know that?”

After a few minutes that I realised how stupid I was and how I kept on putting myself in the bush over and over again. I could share the entire details with the social media world, give them the time of day, be so open and divulging where no one truly cared… but for the people who did care… well, I didn’t care two hoots about telling them.

“We have so much to make shukar for,” she continued, sounding like she was about to launch into a Bayaan. “Ma was just saying that it could have been an instant life-changing event. We lucky it’s just a warning. To make shukar to Allah is the least we can do… by being obedient and thanking him.. by recognising what part He played here to make it all turn out okay. I suppose we all have to make changes in our life.”

I knew she was hinting at my social media obsessions and it was a low blow. I didn’t even tell Layyanah. Who was I even looking for what from?

But now I was feeling guilty. Terrible, in fact.

What I didn’t know was that hardships were not meant to overcome, blinded, just to cross the bridge and get it done with. It turns out that hardships, trials, difficulties… Allah places at certain points in our life when we need Him most, and so we could turn to Him. And yes, I was trying to be better recently. Choosing Allah’s pleasure above my leisure. Weaning myself off Netties. Trying not to be so obsessed with reels.
But the fact was that when we choose Allah, when we become closer to Him, when we put Him above everything else, when we submit… it wasn’t always an easy life that we were promised. And the story of Umm Habibah (RA), wife of the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) was one that always stuck with me, when I thought of how sacrificing everything for Allah’s pleasure often didn’t bring you immediate rewards. Sometimes we have to toil, endure and wait a little longer before we see the fruits we reap through our patience.

Umm Habibah (RA) was one of the emigrants along with her husband, Ubaidullah ibn Jahsh, who was the first cousin of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam). To her misfortune, Ubaidullah, for some reason or another, took to drinking, and converted to Christianity.
Thus, Umm Habibah had to suffer not only separation from her home and family at Makkah, but she also suffered alienation from a beloved husband. Yet, as a courageous believer, she bore all these difficulties with patience and perseverance, finding solace in the freedom she enjoyed along with the other emigrants in Abyssinia under the protection of Emperor Negus who was an open-minded Christian.

And though this was far from easy, Allah is never unaware of the difficulties of His beloved slaves. He saw to her needs, and honoured her not only by being asked in marriage to Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) but she was also honored by having the Emperor of Abyssinia himself proxy suitor. Her marriage was unique and one of its kind, and Allah Ta’ala beautifully elevated her status through it.

It was a sound reminder for me that when you choose Deen and you put Allah first and look for your solutions with what Allah has ordained, though things may seem difficult and trying, there is always a perfect ending that Allah has prepared for his righteous slaves.

And okay, I got her point. Maybe I was trying to dilute my emotions by drowning them in social media. Perhaps I wasn’t dealing with this in the best way. Yes, it was hurtful what I did, I supposed, but sometimes I just didn’t think. My heart was bursting with emotion. On one side was my father and my family, the one part of my life that had been constant and always there, whether social media featured or not, and then there was Hamzah, this new addition that I was still trying to figure out exactly where he belonged.

And as Jameela got talking to some lady next to us, I knew that the only way to break away and set this right was to stash my phone for now and make my presence felt. Going up to where my fathers ward was, I took a little detour, taking time to think and hoping they would let me in. The hospital wasn’t especially fancy. It had good doctors and their nurses were said to be pretty decent.

I walked through a deserted corridor, slowly looking around, taking in the clinical decor with a dash of colour here and there. The medical ward where Papa was, was about two rows down, and as I passed a middle aged Muslim man with a bulge under his shirt, I didn’t even think much of it, as another guy followed behind.

“Her!” The man shouted. “It’s her. The daughter! Get her!”

It took a split second after for me to realize it was the man in front that was signalling to the one behind, and before I even knew what was going on, the man behind was already slap-bang in my  path, instantly pushing and slamming me hard against the wall behind me whilst covering my mouth with his sweaty palm. I was frozen with panic, gagging as the combination of his body odour and stench of cigarette breath overwhelmed me. My scarf was shifting as he held me, and I felt myself trying to reach to cover my hair at least, as the man held me even more fiercely, but it was no use. I felt paralysed with fear.

“Scream and I’ll shoot you,” he muttered in a raspy breath, as I felt the tip of a handgun press into my rib-cage and my breath quickened substantially. I honestly could not believe what was happening, as tried to look frantically around for someone to help.

How could I be all alone in a public place? Except for the two men, the floor was absolutely deserted.

As panic rose within me, I tried with all my might to break free and run, but he was already onto me, and I was like a trapped rabbit. The guy was too strong and savage, pinning me even harder as he felt me struggle, and before I knew it, I was shoved into a side door and we were going down an emergency staircase that was even more isolated than the hospital corridor.

This was it. No one would hear me here and I could feel the tears streaming down my face as I thought of my parents, family and friends, not knowing what these two disgusting men were probably going to subject me to, or where I was going. Not knowing if they would hurt me, kill me or kidnap me… I knew that this had to do with money but I didn’t want to accept my fathers current predicament until now. There were too many fears that had been confirmed, yet too many questions marks. This was the last straw for them and I knew that these people were brutal enough to get what they wanted by any means, even if it meant hurting someone to get it.

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought of this happening to me. I had been so caught up in a world that was so far from reality. Sheltered by my privilege. Delusional by illusion. Unaware of how my situation could change in a split second, if I didn’t watch where I was headed… and that was precisely how it was going down.

Life was taking a deliberately sickening twist and it was an awakening that was going to blow things way out of proportion…

Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

---

It’s been a bit quiet and I’m sure everyones been busy… hope to hear from readers soon..

Thoughts on Mohsina? Is a wake up call necessary and will it help?

look forward to reading your thoughts…🤍

 

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival:

Sunnah of Making Salaam

It’s common nowadays that even when seeing other Muslims out and about, people are hesitant to greet. Let’s try and bring back this beautiful Sunnah and reignite the love ❤️

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

٤ جمادى الأولى

Hazrat أنس رضى الله تعالى عنه narrates that he passed by some children, so he greeted them (made Salaam) and he said: رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم used to do so (greet children).

(Bukhaaree Shareef/Muslim Shareef)

Greeting children inculcates humility, and at the same time, teach children the importance of offering Salaam.
It creates love and affection in hearts.
If there is fear of lust, by greeting a pretty girl or handsome lad, then one should refrain.

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Epilogue: Extreme Expectations

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

Whether it’s work, family, life be or friends… the reality of this world is that you will find yourself on the brink of insanity at least once. This is because the world is created such that when you have Allah, no storm is too overwhelming. If you don’t have Him, you will get knocked over by even the slightest of a breeze. 

There are men created by Allah Ta’ala who are so wholeheartedly attached to him that even Jannah, with all its bounties and eternal bliss cannot distract them from the contemplation of Allah. How then can the temporal world engage their attention? 

The thing was, to be those kind of people, we had to work at it. We had to keep reminding. Remembering. We have to keep having faith  that the One who writes our story is free from any imperfections or mistakes. That His knowledge surpasses ours and that with His Divine foresight, He has prepared a future for us that will be the answer to every Duaa. 

Duaa. Oh yes, Duaa. How our prayer can penetrate beyond the heavens was beyond me. How easy it was to just raise your hands to the one, and see the doors of His mercy opening up… I still couldn’t comprehend. And I knew this much. By Allah, He will never ignore your prayer. I knew this much before that was what she had always taught me… even as a little kid. My mother was an inspiration. Always and forever. Whenever I would look at her, all I would ever see in her was faith. Immense reliance on her Allah.

And even as I sat with her for a few minutes before the Waleema rush would start, the same smile I always knew played on her lips, but there was a deep contentment within her that was long awaited. I had barely had a chance to speak to her properly and it was no wonder…. everything in the past day had just happened so fast.

“There had been so many Duaas,” she said quietly. “So many hopes and wishes. I knew that in the end my Allah wouldn’t let me down… of course He wouldn’t. Look at how wonderfully everything worked out…”

It was just another one of His immense favours on us. Immensely magnificent favours that I couldn’t even comprehend. 

“What a rush,” she smiled, shaking her head. “It took you long enough and then it was all fast forward, huh? What’s the plans from here, handsome?”

I smiled back, placing my hand on hers. I had to prepare my mother for what I wanted to do. I still had dreams. Things I wanted to achieve for myself. It was hard to pull the plug on it all…

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe we’ll go to Egypt. Maybe we’ll go somewhere else. Start afresh. It may be difficult to start a life here where everything is lingering…”

I trailed off and her face fell. Besides teaching Deen, after all, I had been asked to go back to Egypt and continue my grandfathers legacy. There was much for me still back there. He had taught me about engineering and everything I knew to get his business going again..

“Don’t take my beautiful Khawlah so far away from me,” she whispered, holding onto my hand tighter. “Things didn’t always go the way I expected but she was always close by. Please.”

My mother’s charcoal eyes were riddled with worry as I processed what this meant. After all these years, my wife had somehow become the daughter that she never had. Since I had left, there had been a gap filled by the girl that I had always set my sights on.

And no, I wasn’t offended by her remark. There was an inkling of admiration in her voice as she said it and there was no doubt that she was right. I smiled at the irony, though, because it was just yesterday when the guy at the Masjid had made me feel like I had done the most admirable thing on earth by marrying a widow with a child. I didn’t see it that way. For me, I was the honored one. He didn’t know what Khawlah was worth. He didn’t that he was that he was way off track.

Of course, trust my mother to put it into the correct perspective for me. What I understood was that a husband had a special place with a wife. I knew that life was not always as we planned. Sometimes the processes and layouts were a little boggled up, but I was prepared to do anything to try and live up to what was expected from me.

And I supposed it was coincidence but when Maulana Umar had unashamedly praised him and said that Aadam was another Mus’ab of our time, I couldn’t help but see a parallel when he mentioned it. The lessons of that story were way to deep not to miss…

A family member of Nabi (SAW), Hamnah RA was married to Mus’ab ibn Umair (RA) who was one of the his most devoted companions. And as the story goes, His mother, Khunas bint Malik was extremely wealthy to the point of giving him the most luxurious lifestyle…

The Prophet SAW commented on this long after prophethood, when he said: “I never saw in Makkah anyone who was better looking, or who had better garments or more refined comforts than Mus’ab ibn Umair.”

Yet when he embraced Islam, his mother tried hard to persuade him to rescind his faith and go back to old pagan beliefs, but he adamantly refused. She stopped giving him anything, but he did not care for such luxuries. He remained one of the Prophet’s SAW most faithful companions.
Hamnah (RA) gave him a daughter named Zaynab.
When the Prophet (peace be upon him) and his companions immigrated to Madinah, Hamnah RA and her husband were among the early immigrants, as were the rest of her Muslim family. They were all devoted servants of Islam. The Quraysh, the people of Makkah, launched several attacks on Madinah to try to subdue the newly established Muslim state. Hamnah was one of the blessed women who went with the Muslim army to nurse the wounded and give water to the thirsty.
In the Battle of Uhud, the Muslims suffered a heavy defeat, with 70 of their people killed. She was with the army, but she was not aware who were killed. She saw the Prophet soon after the battle and he told her to endure her loss with patience.

She asked him whom he meant.

His reply: “Your maternal uncle, Hamzah.”

She said: “To God we all belong and to Him shall we all return. May God forgive him and bestow mercy on him. He is blessed as a martyr in heaven.”

The Prophet (SAW) again told her to bear her loss with patience.
When she asked him whom he meant, he replied: “Your brother Abdullah.”

She repeated what she said about her uncle.

Yet the Prophet (SAW) told her of another loss, and on her enquiry he mentioned her husband, Mus’ab ibn Umair.

This time, she screamed with grief, saying: “Woe is me! Oh, for my grief!”

The Prophet (SAW) upon this, commented: “A husband has a unique position with his wife no one else can fill.”

The Prophet (SAW) asked her afterwards why she panicked.
She said: “Messenger of God, SAW, I remembered that his children are now orphaned and I panicked.”

And who would blame her? It was a loss that was unparalleled. Her kids were still young as Mus’ab was probably about only 35 when he was martyred. The Prophet (SAW) prayed for her and them, mentioning in his prayer that God may grace them with His kindness and give them generously.

Hamnah RA later married Talhah ibn Ubaydillah RA, one of the ten companions of the Prophet (SAW) whom he favored with glad tidings of Jannah.

What was noted about him was that Talhah RA treated his stepchildren most kindly. Of course, he too was one of the beloved companions of the Prophet (SAW). 

And I found the story simply amazing because of course, I did hope that one day I wish that I too will hold that elevated rank where many would smile back and remember me too with so much of admiration.

“You do have some big shoes to fill,” Ummi said again, winking at me me now. “But I’m sure you’ll manage to.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t aspiring for that. It wasn’t about an insecurity but I knew very well that a husband will always hold a special place with his wife and I didn’t resent it at all.

”I’m not too sure…” I said softly. 

“You’re a special boy,” she murmured, nodding as she looked ahead. “Always have been. So sincere. You have something about you that draws people to you and I know I can’t give myself credit, but you have an amazing gift and I’m so glad that your Quran put you on track and you finally found your calling…”

It took a long time but even in my darkest hour, all I had to do was remember the moments when I had been inspired by the words of the Quran. His words. When I was anchored by its weight. When I was awakened to the reality of the one verse that always humbled me and brought me back down to earth.

It was the one thing I really cherished what my father had drilled into me… the pains of a parent for their child are often underrated. Every bit of sweat and pain was never forgotten- how he persisted with me through the grueling years that it took to become a Hafidh…. It was my greatest accomplishment yet… even more than the recent few years that had passed me by.

It was a moment when everything within me had come to a halt. When the chase had stopped. When reality was brought to the fore.

Has the time not come for those who have believed that their hearts should become humbly submissive at the remembrance of Allah and what has come down of the truth? (Quran – 57:16)

Indeed, the chase had to end. We continue on the pursuit of this life but we will never truly understand our purpose unless we open our eyes and realize that there has to be an end. A halt. A stop for chase and an awakening to what is really important.

And for me, the time had come. In fact, it was long overdue.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered as I held onto her. “Your father too, you know.”

I smiled. My father. He truly was one of a kind. It had taken years but to live up to his expectations and after so long it was like what I had been chasing had finally been sought. Somehow, through this fulfilment I had been released.

And it was so strange but my parents were stark opposites. Where my mother had always been warm and cajoling, my father had a streak of rigidity that pierced straight through the rebelliousness of my youth. It was the reason my mother had sent me away to Egypt, but also the reason why I had come back; so far from where I had strayed in my youth. 

Ummi was looking ahead and it seemed out of nowhere a smile suddenly dawned on her face, and as I followed her gaze, I already knew why.

“We’ll talk later,” she said softly. “For now, I think someone special is waiting for you.” 

I looked over to her and immediately smiled, because it was just natural for my heart to contract slightly as I saw her.

And I could hardly believe that it was my wife because in just a day almost everything had changed. The thing was that only when I had come back to hear that Khawlah was interested in the house, only then did I realize that there might still be hope.

And of course, the past feelings were far-fetched and ill-based but how amazing was it that the high that came with a new and Halaal love had somehow surpassed it all?

That was why when I left my mother for that moment, I knew that there was only one thing that I could say for sure. Of course, why not make her happy? I had gotten everything I had wanted anyway. 

”Don’t worry, Ums,” I assured her. “The topic is closed. You won’t have to worry about us going far away. I’m  going to ask her what she wants. Whatever Khawlah wants to do from here, I’m okay with…”

My mother smiled in immense relief and I knew that for now, I had fulfilled her request and put her mind at ease. And as Khawlah waved to my mother from where she was and I walked over to the entrance of the front garden, the look on her face took me slightly aback.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pausing to look at her anxious face. “You look worried. Where’s Khadijah?”

She looked back at me but gave a small smile. It was enough to erase my fears.

”I have a question for you.”

I grinned, relieved that nothing major had happened to upset her.

“You have a question for me?!” I asked, a little amused as I tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious, Khalid,” she said quietly, her smile fading. “It’s something that’s been on my mind…”

”Okay, okay,” I conceded, reaching for her hand. “I’m serious too. What’s up, lovely?”

She took a deep breath and averted her gaze.

”I’m thinking of inviting Hannah. Tonight.”

We had spoken about Hannah the night before. We had spoken about a lot the night before. About life. About our childhood. Even about Aadam. The whispers shared and the dreams that had been shattered. The Duaas that I had made for her and how she had spoken to Allah about me. The ambitions that we both had and the plan that Allah had that we could still not conceive…

It was an amazing adventure that had just  begun for us. A gift that Allah had sent through His mercy. My best friend and the girl I had come to love with all my heart…

“Hmmm,” I replied, pulling at my beard. That was a tough one. “And her mother?”

“I would have,” she answered, “but Hannah says that she’s abroad. Chasing some rich old guy, she says. I don’t know if she’ll ever change but I do make Duaa for Hannah’s sake, that she does. She could really use some support and her mothers sanity…”

It was a lot to digest.

“Wow,” I said quietly, my mind a little overwhelmed at her at that moment. After everything she had been through… everything that woman had put her through… she was really something to even consider it.

Khawlah’s strength and resilience stood out now more than ever. It was the thing that I had always admired and loved about her.

”Listen Khawlah,” I said after a few seconds. “You know you don’t have to? They’re not exactly family…”

”I’d grown to like Hannah,” she said quietly. “Even after everything she had done. Aadam had encouraged treating her well. It’s not her fault that her life was a little messed up. Maybe she made some bad choices. Maybe she just didn’t know what she was getting herself into…”

I nodded. Of course. 

”It’s completely your call,” I said, giving her a small smile. I wasn’t even sure if she had heard me. Her mind was still busy as I watched her… so deep in thought.

“I just don’t understand,” she finally said, glancing at me. “When Aunty Nas was married to my father, he gave her everything… but she still wasn’t happy. How much more do you have to have to be satisfied?”

To me, it was quite simple. 

”It’s not about that,” I said quietly. “The world is designed in such a way that even if you’re drowning in millions, your only source of completion can ever be Him. Maybe she just never had that…”

”You’re right,” she replied softly, her expression immediately easing as she reached for my hand with a smile. “And that was always what they were missing. I’m so glad that Hannah is finally finding her way…”

”And maybe you were the one who showed it to her?” I suggested, knowing well that my wife had the ability to shift even the most rigid of hearts. 

”I don’t know,” she said softly, shaking her head in disagreement. “I just wonder… How some people go through so much, you know? So many trials and hardships… and they have to go endure so, so much… and yet there seems to be no relief… she lost so much. Her home, her daughter, her mother, her dignity…”

I watched her expression change a she spoke, a little taken aback at how personally she was taking this. Her striking features were riddled with worry as she said it, almost as if she was waiting for some ease from this constant pain. Almost as if she was waiting for someone to offer her some relief…

And I already knew her so well that I knew that I had to be the one to remind her of what Allah’s plan is, and always will be.

“That’s the arrangement that Allah’s made with her, right love?” I reminded her softly as her eyes searched mine for some sort of hope. Something to cling onto. “It just so happens that sometimes our Rabb makes the most spectacular arrangements for us to attain Jannah. Nothing… and I mean nothing at all,  goes undetected, don’t you worry…”

She smiled, and it was as if all the burdens that she had held within her heart were completely relieved. Tests and trials were indeed a favour for the believer…

”I truly do hope that she finds exactly what she’s been looking for all this time,” I said quietly.

And as she continued to smile at me as if every weight had been lifted from her heavy shoulders for that moment, it was such a rare and amazing moment that we shared right then and I so badly wanted to savor. And even though all these years had gone by, there was still a part of me that existed within her, and a part of her that lived in me. There was so much that I had still yet to say but it just so happened that at that instant a slightly high-pitched voice sounded from just outside the gate and my wife’s head whipped around in shock, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Her eyes widened as I cocked my head to one side knowingly.

”Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t tell me. It’s Nusaybah, right?”

She smiled in agreement, because I knew that there was only one answer and I was so happy that her friend had made it for our big day. Of course, it was the one thing she had mentioned to me about Nusaybah. That she really wanted her to be here and had missed her so much. 

And of course I had to let her go because I knew that her friend being here would be the highlight of the day..

Yes. I would let her be. We had our whole lives ahead of us. There was so much I had been given… so much I didn’t anticipate that had surprised me, but the rule of this world was not that everything would go exactly according to our plan…

The thing is, nothing in nature lives for itself. Rivers don’t drink their own water. Trees don’t eat their own fruit. The sun doesn’t shine for itself. Even the flower does not bloom for itself.

Every system has its course. Every day will end. Every sunrise will end with a sunset. Lives may cease. Fears may overwhelm us. Losses may crush us. But after it all, after the pieces of our hearts have shattered, the One who made that very heart will heal it again.

Nature’s rule is that we live for each other too. We love each other. We share with each other. We hang onto hopes for each other too. When we give and love for the sake of Allah, everything in life takes on a different meaning. We smile. We bear… We sacrifice. That’s what real love was. 

Verily, the lover

submits to his beloved.

When a person falls in love

with someone,

submission and obedience

to the beloved becomes his habit

and second nature.

Disobedience to the beloved

becomes as

hard as is unwilling obedience

to one whom one does not love.’

When you love Allah, His obedience becomes the only thing that matters. When you love Allah, you see His hand in everything that comes through for you.  When you love Allah, you see provisions rising from sources you never imagined. 

Whoever is with Allah, his weakness will not harm him, and whoever is distant from Allah, his strength will never benefit him.

I do not know the measure of time or the rate at which it flowed past me. I don’t understand the weight of a moment or the duration of a year. All I know and can comprehend of the mathematics of a life that Allah had blessed me with, were the times that I’ve seen a miracle come through for me countless times in His Divine plan. It was extreme expectation, but for Allah, indeed, there is nothing that is impossible.

Expecting the best from Allah is the secret ingredient to happiness. 

So, I ask…

”What then are your thoughts about the Lord of the worlds?” (Quran 37:87)

 

---

Apologies for my delayed post… I do hope I can manage to pen one more future post at least but my weeks have been crazy…

Okay, that said, will I be forgiven if I don’t post again?  *ducks*

Much Love 

A xx

P.S. please tolerate me a little longer and make special Duaa for me in these big days.

 

Sayyiduna Ali رضي الله عنه narrates: Nabee صلى الله عليه وسلم said regarding Muharram:(as part of a lengthy hadith)

“In it there is a day that Allah accepted the taubah (repentance) of a people, and in which He accepts the repentance of other people.”

(Tirmidhi 741)

Haafiz Ibnu Rajab Hambali (رحمه الله تعالى) has quoted many statements that support the fact that this day refers to the day of ‘Aashuraa. He thereafter says: “Rasulullah (صلى الله عليه وسلم) saying ‘He will forgive others on this day’ is an encouragement for people to once again make sincere taubah on the day of ‘Aashuraa. This statement also gives hope that Allah Ta‘ala will accept the taubah of the one who repents from his sins, just as He had forgiven the previous nation.”
(Lataaiful Ma‘aarif pg. 113 – 115)

Tolerance – a beautiful Sunnah 

Allah Taa’ala loves tolerance.
Sayyiduna Abdullah bin Abbas RA narrates that Nabi SAW said to the
leader of the Abdul Qays tribe: “You possess two traits that are
beloved to Allah, tolerance and deliberation (non – impulsive).”
Sahih Muslim Vol 1 Pg 35

How easy to practice …

#revivetheSunnahofHonouringElders

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

#revivetheSunnahDuaa

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

 

 

 

Once Again

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

In a soulful place where the sun and sky meet, whilst nature embraces one glorious heartbeat, there is, within that miracle, a deep message for mankind. With the smile of the horizon, each new  spark of daylight tells a tale.

Its a reminder to us hopeless hearts. A soothing for the surrendered soul. No matter how much the darkness was, no matter how intense, it’s a prompting that there’s a hope for every sinner or broken heart. Not matter how daunting or impossible… the One in control, the One in charge… the Rabb of the universe is going to prove once again- again and again- Who gives the ultimate hope. That no matter how long the night may seem, that according to His command, the sun will certainly show its splendor once again.

And as I grew, in my semi- blissful youth, I learned what is obvious to a child, only through the beauty of creation. Through the time that passed by. Through adventure that consumed my days. I learnt that life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day was best be spent finding beauty in flowers and gardens and talking to animals. That a day spent with sunrises, refreshing breezes and dreams of Jannah cannot be easily bettered. That even after a really dark night, where the shadows of the past haunted me and vicious demons would break my spirit, the glorious sunshine was still, once again in the waiting to reveal its splendor.

But as Allah says in the Glorious Quran, what I didn’t yet know was that sublime Jannah is not attained solely by ones wishful thinking. What I didn’t know then was that there was much work to be done. Much pain to be relieved. Many trials to be overcome. More work than I had encompassed as a little mind to achieve that destiny. And then only, once it is all achieved- will it fall away to reveal a glorious pot of gold at the end of a rainbow that came after a storm.

And that’s what my feelings were, maybe a little prematurely, as I entered the room to see Yunus, Khalid and Khadijah in the sitting room waiting for me. Yes, I had hopes. Maybe more hopes than I should have, because when I saw them, two peas in a pod, with Yunus watching from afar, for a second I couldn’t help but think how natural they looked as they were.

“Khadijah,” I said to her, not entirely steadily as I entered the lounge. “Can you ask Yunus Mama to read for you?”

My daughter was perched on Khalid’s lap, and the two of them were busy reading a storybook about going to Madrassa. It was actually a little cute, also  strangely amusing if my daughter wasn’t being so persistent.

”But he’s my friend,” she insisted, holding her book up to prove it to me. “We’re reading.”

I pursed my lips, not meeting Khalid’s eye as yet. There were still so many things on my mind. So many questions I had yet to ask.

And I wanted to hug Yunus, because being Yunus, he calmly picked my daughter up and the two of them retired to the corner couch as I watched them. I looked at my baby brother and smiled. I was glad he didn’t leave me alone. Being here… with Khalid when there was so much on my mind… I wasn’t sure what I was capable of saying.

And for some reason, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. My mind was running away with me.

There were many things that I didn’t understand. That I couldn’t place. That I was scared to look for the answers to. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t tell me about the house all this time. I clasped my hands together to stop them from trembling, willing then to stop betraying me.

He still wasn’t looking at me, and even as I looked up, there was no chance that I would form audible words.

“I heard what you want to do with the house,” he said kindly. Formally. His voice sounded like I remembered, but his tone was different. It was expected.  “My father thinks it’s amazing.”

I swallowed and looked down, feeling self-conscious. His way of talking, his emotion.., his presence was still the same. Still the same as I always remembered.

I wanted to ask him what he thought.

”I want you to have it,” he said, almost as if he could sense my thoughts.

My head shot up as he said it. But I didn’t want that.

”I don’t want it for free,” I said stubbornly, suddenly finding my own voice.

Yunus looked at me as I said it. Was I being rude?

Why was I such a vicious warrior? It was like I couldn’t stop my heart from rebelling. No matter what I feel… it had to surface with a shield.

“I want a part in it too,” he said, running his hand through his dark beard and placing some papers on the table. He looked slightly uncomfortable.

He was giving it to me? 

”I won’t accept it-“

I couldn’t. Was this what my father wanted me to speak to him about? 

He stopped as I spoke.

“You won’t?”

I sensed a disappointment in his voice.

”I can’t,” I said, my voice a little softer. Less rigid.

”I didn’t want to make this about money,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t matter to me, but I can’t even place a value to it. But Khawlah, what you have in mind for the place is worth so much more. And many people may plan to do good, but not many people truly take that step to attain it. When a slave takes a step towards a good deed according to his capacity then first, there is help from Allah Ta’ala… So even if he is not able to accomplish his deed the reward will definitely be received…“

I swallowed as he said it. I wondered if he knew that it was Aadam’s dream. Hows Aadam had always aspired to achieve such rewards.

My mind had, countless times, tried to imagine the two of them meeting. What they had said. How they had communicated. I could still not fathom it.

”It’s such a beautiful place,” I said, now knowing that he had a great hand in getting it to where it was.

”It is,” he said, and I remembered how he had stopped me from going in before. “I just never expected you to ever enter it. You were always so terrified of it.“

He shifted uncomfortably as he said it. Maybe it was the mention of the past. Of the childhood that seemed to lurk somewhere within us. Of the memories under the trees, in the summers that none of us ever forgot.

“I never thought I’d go in either,” I said, concealing a smile. If he knew Nusaybah he would understand. I was trying every trick in the book not to.

”But you did…”

His voice trailed off as he said it, almost as if he wasn’t sure to continue.

I shrugged and looked away. So this was it. He wanted me to take the house, and make it into what I always dreamt it to be. It was an extraordinary gesture, no one could doubt.

Was it time to thank him and go on? I looked at the papers he had left on the table as he took a step back, gathering them together.

And just when I thought it was time for me to take them and turn away, almost as if on second though, Khalid spoke again.

“But you went in,” he said again, almost as if he was recovering from something. “And I can’t help but think that it was meant for you, in some completely unexpected way to see it… and it’s only when it happened then I began to think that every thing that already happened was all in the plan…. and even me being here right now is what was meant to be… because if only we knew, we can’t even begin to imagine how Allah sets aright our affairs in the most unexpected ways..”

I looked at him, slightly speechless as he said it, wondering how even after all these years, Khalid still sounded the same. Same kind of faith. Same belief in the plan of Allah. Same kind of hope that was so infectious…

“And I know we’re trying to figure out exactly what happened when and how we need to fix it,” he stammered, almost in a rush. “Im sure you have a lot to ask. And I have a lot to say… but we’ve waited this long…”

Oh yes. The questions I had now were consuming me. I wished I could pull myself together and just say it, but I didn’t want to be so candid.

”Waited for what?” I asked, playing it cool. If only I could still my hammering heart.

”I want you to have it because it was always meant for you,” he said, his voice now a little more confident. Hopeful. “One day I had a desire to show it to you… but I wanted it to be done the right way. I always had that intention to make this right, but I never once took the step. Well, not like how I’m supposed to. When my father spoke to me about the offer, it taught me something that I had forgotten…”

My heart thudded in my chest as he said it, and just as the foundation of a fortified building is suddenly compromised, I felt like every wall that I had built around me was just crashing to the ground. Every barrier… every shield I had put up… was all in vain as I remembered that once upon a time, there was once a promise that Khalid had made, and it was all so clear to me.

“We were just a couple of kids,” I said softly, hoping it would justify it. We didn’t know any better.

But no one said the words that were hanging in the air. We were just a couple of kids.

But we really did love one another, didn’t we?

“Maybe I was wrong,” he said softly, regret filling his eyes as he looked at me for the first time. We were. We were wrong. “Maybe I expected too much. Maybe it was the wrong time. But I was hoping that maybe now…”

I looked at him, taking in that familiar face that had brought so much of joy and hope as a young girl and the openness that was on his face as he tried to relay to me exactly what he was feeling. Exactly what we needed to hear.

”And I’ve racked my brains trying to find a way to make this right, and everything only points me to one.”

And he didn’t have to say it. I already knew what he meant. There aren’t many ways to set a wrong right. Sometimes we just have to take it by the ears and dive right in. Sometimes we have to just take the plunge, because sometimes it’s that single dive that can stop you from drowning. Sometimes when you take that one step to rectify something, there are doors of opportunity that open up.

I braced myself for a whirlwind of emotion as he finally met my gaze, and like the rain that would come after a scorching day… the mercy that poured down on us was a relief from what seemed like an eternal drought. And as everything that had seemed to have fallen apart previously had  eventually come together that very day, I couldn’t have ever foreseen how drastically my life had changed in just a matter of hours.

He was right. Khalid would have it no other way. Where was the point in waiting around if we knew that this was what was meant to happen no matter how much we tried run away from it.

And I wasn’t sure what I owed it to but when I looked at that day, thinking back to it with torrents of emotion and the slightest bit of humor at how things had magically turned around, I still could not fathom how easy things had turned out only because we decided to do it the right way. Only because we had taken that courageous step.

And as I narrated the events over the phone that night to my best friend, I couldn’t help but feel my heart lift as a weight that I had been carried seemed to ease. Suddenly, it was like all the pain and heartache and loss of the past was dwindling away, absorbing itself into the backdrop of my life, making way for unexpected sunrises and impending dreams.

“You’re joking,” Nusaybah bellowed into the phone as I held it away from my ear. “This can’t be happening. It couldn’t have happened already! Not now! No, no, no!”

”Nusaybah,” I chided gently.  “Listen to me. Please don’t rush home-“

”Dont rush home?!” She almost screamed. “Don’t rush home?!”

I literally had to place the phone about 15cm away from my ear as she said it. Of course she was inconsolable.

”You can not possibly be serious!” She yelled. “This is the biggest news for my friend in years and you’re telling me not to rush home!”

I could see Khalid looking at me from where he stood, as he and Ahmed stepped into the lounge. They were both waiting for me. I signaled for them to wait as I turned my face to conceal my smile.

Ahmed looked at me questioningly as I turned back to them. They had just come in from the Masjid and I knew that there was still much to sort out but for now – I was completely at ease. For now there was no rush. The important part was done.

”Listen, Nusaybah,” I said softly into the speaker. “Maulana is here so-“

”Oh, so now that he’s your husband he’s be become ‘Maulana’,” Nusaybah hissed into the phone. “Ugh! You just wait till I get there missy. This has to be perfect! You just wait, let me tell Faheem to book the flight now. Faheem. Faheem. Faheem!”

I could hear her shouting as I hastily cut the call and looked up at Ahmed and Khalid sheepishly.

“Tomorrow evening,” I said, knowing that my friend was going to make some plan to get here by then. Somehow, I just had a feeling that she was going to get the better of my cousin. Honestly speaking, not many people had a chance against Nusaybah. There was no one else that I really wanted to be there. A small event with loved ones after the impromptu Nikah was all I would need.

I smiled as I thought about my friend, quite looking forward to her arrival the next day. I knew she would probably be reminding me about how I was running away from something that was bound to happen. And of course, she was right. Maybe I knew it then, but I knew it for sure now. The thing is, you would be surprised as to what is waiting to walk in to your life, once you learn to stop running. Because that’s what humans do, we run. We run from one thing to another. But once you stop, you begin to feel more. You begin to understand, what is meant to be and what is meant to run away.

And like we see in many of the amazing stories of Sahabah, it is achingly true that even though our Rabb may take something away from us during our lifetime, there is always a promise that Allah will never deprive us without recompense. It’s part of who we know our Lord to be. A caring and compassionate Guardian. A loving and merciful Creator who hears our cries. And as my mind wrapped around everything that had occurred, I couldn’t unite believe how Allah had worked my plan in such a way that he replaced every heartbreak with something so much more promising. With Mama’s passing, somehow, it had drawn me closer to Aunty Radiyyah, when Khalid had gone away, Allah had then brought Nusaybah into my life. With Foi Nani‘s leaving this world, It was around the same time when Aadam came into mine, bringing with him a hope and a light that had lasted me so much longer than I had ever imagined. And with Aadam’s fatal sickness, Allah had, in His wisdom, brought the miracle I had found in Khadijah. And yes, it was Allah knew my heart. Only Him. He knew that some day, maybe I might be a little more aspirational. He knew that someday my fortified heart may open up again.

And as Ahmed left the room and I turned to face him, I was pretty much blown away by the events that today had held for us. And yes, there was a certain comfort in the contours of his face. In his gentle smile and steely eyes. There was something about this fierce guy who I had once taken as my best friend, and never quite forgotten. He reached over and touched my hand, hesitantly, amazed that after all these years had somehow, although much had changed… so much had also stayed the same.

The ties that bind us are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties are broken. Some bonds are so strong… that they even defy time, distance and logic. And as I looked up at him, once again, I realized that maybe … some ties are just meant to be.

It doesn’t matter where you’ve gone, and how far you’ve been,  it doesn’t even matter how much you’ve been spun around and hung or left to dry. It’s all about how you come up for air. I could positively say that I had my fair share of grief and that many seasons of my life had not gone as  planned. That somehow, my story didn’t go the way I expected it to be penned… but in the end of it all, with Sabr and Shukar, it is Allah’s promise that there is a sun that’s waiting to rise, after even the darkest of nights.

Indeed, after every hardship there is ease. Ease, ease and more ease.

And like Allah commands the light to to rise even after the blackness, as I looked at him, just for a fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time that hung in the air like fireflies in summer skies, I wondered if I was in love once again.

---

Dearest Readers

My sincerest apologies for my constant delays. I am planning one more post, (of course, with more details on the Nikah!) but as I thought about what to pen, I thought it would be great to hear from you lovely ladies about what exactly you would like to read… Just so I can make sure to tie up all the loose ends and questions that are hanging in the air. I’d also like to say a heartfelt JazakAllah to ever one of you for reading or commenting (or both!) and hopefully taking some lesson that hit home. May Allah accept it as a means of His recognition and so that we may use something mentioned here to gain closeness to Him… me first!

Please do remember this sinful writer in your Duáas

Much Love,

A xx

Tolerance – a beautiful Sunnah 

Allah Taa’ala loves tolerance.
Sayyiduna Abdullah bin Abbas RA narrates that Nabi SAW said to the
leader of the Abdul Qays tribe: “You possess two traits that are
beloved to Allah, tolerance and deliberation (non – impulsive).”
Sahih Muslim Vol 1 Pg 35

How easy to practice …

#revivetheSunnahofHonouringElders

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

#revivetheSunnahDuaa

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

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Life as we Knew it

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

Nothing happens without purpose. No move. No change. No transformation. The thing is, every setback is a sign for us.  A change in the path is a sign for us. A death is a sign for us. Broken hearts, too, are a sign. Even love. Everything in life has a deep purpose that brings us back to the reality that we are often forgetting.

”Mummy, what you doin’?”

Khadijah’s speech was discerningly clear as she plopped herself on my Musalla. Her little locks were loose and vibrant as she cocked her head to one side and watched me with interest. I hastily wiped my tears away and removed her shoes, pulling her to me as her tiny fingers played with my wrist watch. They were long and slim, just like her fathers.

Oh, my heart.

She was such a paramount part of me that I couldn’t even comprehend the feelings I felt at times. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that I was a mother. I couldn’t believe that I had somehow become ‘Mummy’ to this young little lady who was such a soothing to my soul.

”Why you crying?” She asked, scrunching up her little face angrily. She wasn’t used to being ignored and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. From my family to Aadam’s… Khadijah has always been the center of attention. I just hoped that I wasn’t nurturing a spoilt brat…

”I’m making Du’aa,” I said quietly, kissing the top of her peach-scented hair. “I’m asking Allah for what I need.”

”Did you ask him for my Abba?” She asked bossily, still frowning. “Is he still there by Allah?”

Fresh tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to answer her. I was behaving like a lunatic… crying for every little thing. It had to stop.

”I think your Abba is very happy by Allah,” I sniffed noisily, feeling particularly emotional that day. Today I missed Aadam. Today I missed him a lot. I cleared my throat and trying to formulate my next sentence. “But Allah said that we can keep asking him for whatever we need. To keep your Abba happy and to give him the best home… and keep on asking and asking…”

I wished that I could teach her all the lessons that I had learnt as a young girl. The things that Mama used to tell me too. I wish that she understood it all right now as I remembered it but I knew it would take a little time before she could truly comprehend. I wanted to tell her about Du’aa. About how Allah listens. That sometimes it’s just the comfort of turning to Him that brings solace. That there is an incredible peace in submission. That’s it’s possible that sometimes when we don’t get an immediately answer, it’s never that Allah doesn’t answer us. It’s just that sometimes we need to alter our method of asking Him.

”But why you asking, mummy?” She said, her little voice sounding more curious than before. “Allah knows.”

I blinked at her, wondering if this toddler of mine really knew what she was saying.

Yes, it was true. Allah knew. Even when we don’t have the time to ask for every detail of what we need… but if we are engaged in Dhikr or Tilaawat… Allah makes it such that our innermost desires are answered anyway. Allah knows. Sometimes we don’t have to ask. But sometimes the comfort is in the very knowledge of just raising our hands to Allah…

This living and breathing piece of my heart was growing so fast. I held her to my chest for as long as she’d let me, just before she got up again and scampered off, glancing out the window momentarily as I watched the boys playing downstairs, taking in the familiar terrain that I had enjoyed as a kid. The huge oak tree still towered in its glory. The same birds still teetered above. The dusty banks where we would write on still lay bare. My heart soared at the prospect of years ahead of them, knowing that these boys too would enjoy the same kind of youth as we did and would grow up in the home that we had known and loved.

It was a month ago that Ahmed had agreed to buy our old house from Abbba, and it had been a week since him and Rubeena moved in. The boys had begged me to come and stay for a while while their mother settled in, and I knew that Rubeena could do with the help too. For Ahmed, it had taken him a while to get on his feet to start afresh, but what was more amazing for me was seeing my sister-in-law’s ease and acceptance with him. It was something that I never imagined I’d see in Rubeena. I had been watching her as she worked, seeing her in the same kitchen Mama would be in… and watching her as she would go about her day-to-day chores… just as Mama would. It brought tears to my eyes at times, yet was something that warmed my heart. It was a big step for Rubeena. It also took a lot of courage for her to agree to selling her house that she had always known and doing what Ahmed thought was best for them, because she had always been so fixated on the fancy life she had always lived.

Of course now, as I saw her, I know that Mama would have loved Rubeena. I just had a feeling that the two of them would have got along. I hoped that the Ahmed and Rubeena would have their own little bundle of joy too… but when ever I suggested that they needed a daughter, all Rubeena did was laugh. She and my brother seemed to have acquired an ease that I couldn’t have ever imagined.

As for me, in semi- defeated warrior style, since Nusaybah’s news of the imminent Nikah, I had slipped into a place where I found myself doubting my own decisions. Did I do the right thing? Was I maybe a bit too hasty in thinking life would be the same forever? Maybe Siraj’s proposal wasn’t the worst thing in the world… Maybe Abba was right and I needed to move on… To tell the truth, being the terrible friend I was, I was dreading her Nikah day, because I knew I would have to say goodbye to my best friend. Because I knew that our world as we knew it would be changed.

I sat there for a few minutes longer, begging Allah to alter my heart… to strengthen my resolve… and to make me into the kind of friend that she deserved. She had done so much for me. The least I could do was wish her the best.

“Khawlah.”

It was Ahmed’s voice from down the passage. I looked up as he came into the room I was in, holding a small paper bag in his hand.

I looked up at him questioningly. He had matured so much. He had made an amazing father to the boys and I wasn’t just saying that because he was my brother. Those boys were unimaginably close to my heart and I would have taken on anyone who didn’t give them what they deserved. Of course, over the few years Ahmed had been faced with many challenges along the way- a bit too many for a guy nearing his mid twenties- as well as Shabeer wanting to take custody of his kids after realizing that Ahmed was a better father than him… but Ahmed had fought him in a custody battle that eventually sentenced him to a rehabilitation center for a few months. Though I was glad that the boys were still with their mother and Ahmed, I couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness about their situation. Shabeer was still their father after all. I prayed that he would get his act together and make some real effort as they grew.

For now though, despite Dayyaan’s initial resistance and missing their uncle unmentionably, with the stability that Rubeena and Ahmed provided them… I was quite certain that they were growing into the most amazing young men. I still loved them to bits.

”Rubeena found something the other day,” Ahmed said, looking at me a bit strangely. “I think it’s from when we were staying here…”

He said no more as he narrowed his hazel eyes slightly, looking at the package briefly before coming forward and handing it over to me. I adjusted my burka and eyed the package out, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar.

And of course, as I stuffed my hand in to pull out the contents, I could already feel my hopes soar. The book was as it was when I had first laid eyes on it and I felt my heart rate accelerate as I caught sight of its simplistic cover with the solid bold writing.

Khawlah Bint Al Azwar

An Extraordinary Heroine

Gosh. I couldn’t even remember how many years if had been. I looked up at my brother, feeling a little dazed by this coincidence. I couldn’t even fathom how the book had lasted so long.

And like a reminder of what I needed at this moment in time, it felt like it was just waiting for me to find it again after all these years, bringing to life for me the courageous aspirations of the stories of the woman who I had drawn so much of strength from as a young girl. It was a time when I had learnt patience. When I would aspire for their endurance. It was their courage that kept my mind focused on the true purpose of this world.

My thoughts wondered as I found myself pondering about that girl back then. Wondering when she had lost her spirit. Where all her gallantry had gone to. Where that drive had been displaced. Where the will to keep fighting had been sucked out… Had it all been exhausted through the pains of life, it was it maybe just waiting for an opportunity to surface once again…?

I clutched the book to my chest, my heart lifting as I thought of how it had inspired the lost and broken girl that had lived within me at some point.  I read some parts immediately, some aloud to my daughter over the next few day’s and some over the quiet periods when she would nap. I was lost in its magic, once again, as I read and reread the stories that had inspired and brought me through the darkest days of my life. All over again, I gained strength and fervor and willed myself to live up to the amazing women that featured in the stories.

And as the week sped by and I found comfort in the stories that brought back so many memories and emotions, the end of that week also brought my another surprise to my brother’s new home for a visit. Seeing each other had been a constant part of our days and since I barely spoken to her since her proposal week, we had a lot to catch up on.

The buzzing of the doorbell on Friday afternoon brought her armed suspiciously with a jumbo-sized chocolate cake topped with gallons of her delicious Bar One sauce over. I could already tell that my friend had spent half the day in the kitchen making comfort food. The only worry was that I wasn’t sure why…

”How did you know how to get here?” I asked her, thrilled at her presence yet not sure how she found the house.

”Yunus,” she said. “Shame, I think I woke him up. I just had to see you. He gave me the address in his sleep.”

I had nearly forgotten that my brother was back. I had spoken to him briefly on the phone earlier in the week, but knowing he would probably be jet-lagged, I had said I’d speak to him properly when I was back home. I was itching to know about his trip.

”Is that a celebration cake?!” I asked her, teasing her purposely as she barged into the house with a no-nonsense frown on her face.

”No,” she said bluntly, not offfering any more information as she dumped the dome on the table, plopped into the chair, cut herself a slice and then gobbled it up in about 7 seconds flat. She promptly cut another slice and started the process of devouring again. And again. And again. Six whole times.

It was painful to watch. What was going to be more painful was her complaining about her weight when she was done. Nusaybah was usually something of a health freak when it suited her.

”Okay, Nus, what’s going on?” I said, widening my eyes as I watched her.

Like really? Did she just come here so she could have company whilst she OD’d on her main anti-depressant?! It was crazy.

”It’s not going to work,” she said bluntly, crossing  her arms over her chest grumpily as she collapsed on the couch next to the kitchen.

”What?” I said, not getting her. She grabbed a bag of chips from the tray and stalked outside to where the boys and Khadijah were playing, popping it open as she sat there, and staring ahead of her in some kind of daze.

“The Australian,” she muttered with a distasteful look on her face. “We spoke yesterday. He’s too… unemotional.”

I wanted to laugh.

Unemotional?! What did she expect him to do?

”You know me, Khawlah,” she said with a huff, still chewing noisily. “I’m a crazy woman. If I don’t have a macho guy to hold me down I’ll snap out of control. I can’t be marrying a guy who beats around the bush and lets me do as I please. I’m not all refined and pious like someone we know. I’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at my friend.

“I’m not sure who you’re talking about,” I said.

Pious? Psssshhtt.

”Topic’s closed,” she said, stuffing her hand into the chips packet again and getting up. “I’m done talking.”

So she’s just going to bury her sorrows in food? Great.

“Why can’t I just find my own Mr Perfect?” She said softly, glancing over at me at she stashed the chips away.

I looked at her, expecting my heart to feel the usual stab that it did when she mentioned him, but today… well, today the pain wasn’t as severe. Today it was more of a pulling at my heartstrings. A dull ache, but also a warmth that engulfed me, making me appreciate with so much of me that I had the experience to love and be loved in that beautiful way.

”Maybe life is not about finding Mr Perfect,” I said simply, thinking about the last few days. “Maybe we just need to find the One who helps us to find our own version of perfection…”

Her eyes lit up as she looked at me, suddenly spurred on by my words.

”Thats just it,” she said suddenly, her voice suddenly all psyched up. “You’re spot on! I’m sick of looking for someone to save me. To help me follow my dreams. To be who I want to be. You and I both, Khawlah… we can’t be sitting here like this indefinitely…”

I glimpsed the fire in my friends eyes,  and like that first time I ever saw her, her glowing face was joyful, but behind that, a certain rigidity made her catch my attention in a completely different light. I could already tell that she was on to something and she wasn’t going to back down. It reminded me of the strength she had displayed throughout our friendship. Her words. Her encouragement. Her constant battle in keeping me afloat was something I still had no idea how to pay back,

“You know why I’m not worried, Khawlah?” She said suddenly, her eyes still shining. “There just one reason.”

I looked at her questioningly.

“Rabbi Inni Limaa Anzalta Ilayya min Khairin Faqeer,” she said simply.

I was familiar with the Du’aa of course. It was the Du’aa of Musaa (AS). His pleading to Allah when he was at his very lowest… and then Allah granted him so much that he was relieved of every hardship that he had experienced. Through that Du’aa… he had been granted a home, provisions, a family, a wife…

Oh my Lord.. I am in desperate need of whatever goodness you bestow on me…

Just the words of that Du’aa was enough to make me reflect. To elevate my hopes. To build my sincerity.

“This is Allah’s wisdom,” she said pensively as we walked the garden path, me fully aware of the natural surroundings that were my refuge right now. “It’s Allah’s plan and it’s also a sign of His goodness. It’s Khair. You just reminded me… and suddenly… I got an epiphany.”

“Khawlah, I’m tired of sitting and waiting for my Mr Perfect,” she said with a hint of annoyed independence. “It’s not what we’re meant to do. And I’m tired of watching your life on pause since Aadam left. I can’t bear to see you all fixated on your past. And yes, I know it was wonderful and Aadam was the perfect love of your life but you’ve been living in this bubble for too long and it’s time to break those barriers you’ve so carefully built..”

I breathed in as she said it, not sure how to respond. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to start living again. Really living. Going places. Having clean fun. Taking walks to the park. Appreciating the beautiful sunsets that Aadam had shown me, once again. Riding horses like we used to do when I was married. Teaching my daughter how to savour the greatness of Allah that Aadam had been just as obsessed with. Taking in the moments that made every day.

Maybe we needed to allow ourselves to let go too. Maybe I just needed to stop living in the hope that somehow Aadam might come back and revive all the dead parts of me and teach me how to live again…. so I could learn to do it myself…

The truth was that Aadam was gone. He wasn’t ever coming back. He was gone. The question to me though was I going to continue living in that shadow… of distant memories and hopes that I  might eventually become that kind of girl that I once was… or was I truly going to change my situation and be that l fierce and nature loving girl that Aadam loved… determined to make the most of everything that I had…

Being out in the garden right then was exactly what I needed. Reconnecting with my passions. Nusaybah and I had many things in commmon, but our love for nature always topped the list. It was a lovely day and there was plenty to sit back and soak in. Our garden hadn’t been as vast as Aunty Radiyyah’s but it had a fair share of space. The boys and I had been working on giving it a facelift this week and I dare say we did a  wonderful job. I had taken some shoots of the flowers Aadam had planted at the apartment rooftop and used them here.

There were also a variety of seeds that he had bought way back when he was working on making the place look amazing , and watching the little sprouts peep out from the sand made me feel like I was a new mother all over again. Somehow, I had found a strange sense of comfort in old hobbies over the past week…

”Maybe you’re right,” I started. I looked around me as I said the words, trying to spot Khadijah as she had just been following us a minute ago. I looked behind me at the boys, wondering if she had gone back to them, but when I asked them all I saw was a blank look on their faces.

”But she was with you,” Danyaal said obviously.

Dayyaan’s eyes looked worried as he looked at me.

”She asked me for water,” he said carefully as he swallowed. “I told her it’s by the store room…”

I widened my eyes at him, knowing that Khadijah was fiercely independent. The shed was out of sight and I immediately felt my heart hammering away as he said it. I just hoped she didn’t get her hands on anything dangerous.

”I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” Dayyaan stuttered, seeing my expression as I hurried toward the back of the yard.

I shook my head at him, not really focusing on what he was saying as I hurriedly scanned the store room. Of course I didn’t blame him. Khadijah had her mind of her own, but she was nowhere in sight.

I glanced behind at the little patch of sand that was wedged between the wall and the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. All kinds of crazy thoughts were going through my mind. Had she been kidnapped? Lured? Wondered off as I had been so focused on my own conversation?

”Khawlah, I think you should see this…”

I turned to where Nusaybah was standing and immediately felt my heart rate accelerate as I followed her gaze. She was already heading out to the opened gate, and as I stared at the latch, I could not even fathom how my little daughter had managed to get it open by herself. It had been ages since anyone had used the back gate, and due to pur negligence, no-one had even checked on it since we were here.

I sprinted out, just as I had those many times as little girl… but this time it was different. This time there was a serious and life-threatening task at hand. This time, unlike any time before, I prayed silently in my heart, asking Allah to keep my daughter safe. This time, with my heart in my throat, I was filled with fear over what would be the outcome…

What I didn’t know was that through this little escapade, despite the trepidation that had gripped my beating heart, life as we knew it would be significantly altered…

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A little bit of a longer post! Shukran for ALL the comments… really gets the inspiration going… will reply ASAP

Much Love

A xx

A new Sunnah. Consideration for beggars and Needy.

Especially in these surreal times, we sometimes forget that there are many out there who are in compromising situations and genuinely need assistance.

It is narrated that Sayyiduna Husain bin Ali  used to express joy upon the arrival of a beggar. He would say: “The beggar is transporting our goods to the Hereafter.”

SubhaanAllah. The Sunnah of giving was one that was second nature to Nabi (SAW).

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

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

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Another Goodbye

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

My sister was looking at me skeptically as she folded her arms over her chest.

”You said no?” She asked with raised eyebrows. “Why?”

I shrugged again. It wasn’t the first suggestion of a proposal but it was the first of note.  Besides, the whole thing had been done without my in-laws knowledge. Somehow, it just didn’t feel right.

”A few reasons,” I said vaguely. “There were rumors of him getting a divorce for completely unrelated reasons but I don’t want to be the reason that it happens either. I think he needs to sort out his domestic business before he thinks of another marriage…”

Zuleikha’s eyes lit up as realization dawned.

”Don’t tell me we’re talking about the doctor?” She said, looking a bit gobsmacked.

I gave an obviously cynical smile.

”Goodness, Khawlah,” she breathed. “He loves Khadijah. Like, on another level. Plus, despite the fact that he’s in his 30’s, he looks almost exactly like Aadam. In theory, it’s absolutely perfect. Everyone will think she’s his daughter…”

She was right. Any stranger could see the resemblance. And of course, it was no secret that whenever my daughter would be at Aadam’s parents, Siraj would inevitably pop in for hours on end. Somehow, even with his busy schedule, he made so much of time for her, even if it was several times a week. He spoilt her with gifts, sweets and even the most expensive of toys. He was really like a good guy… and he loved my daughter… but whether I would be able to be who he expected of me… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if I was ready to be married to someone just so to fulfill one role. I knew that he probably desired to have kids of his own and I had a good idea that his reason for  proposal centered around that sole factor.

I mean, why else would he suggest this when it could cause so much of drama?

”The topic is closed,” I said simply. “I politely said that he can see Khadijah whenever he liked, but Nikah won’t be a good idea. Ahmed said he seemed to take it surprisingly well…”

I held fast to the notion that he wasn’t for me, and I knew that I had made the right decision. The thing was, as the three year mark of Aadam’s death came, I couldn’t help but feel the pressure from those around me.

And then there were times when I sometimes couldn’t believe what had happened. Moments when I would still wake up in the middle of the night, dripping with sweat because the dreams of him would seem so real. Of course, my heart was still endowed with love for him. As time passes, the memories of a loved one become even fonder. You forget the little things that once annoyed you or the arguments you had. All I remembered was how beautiful those last few weeks were… when I thought that I had no idea of how soon he was going to leave…

And the painful truth was, I think I knew. I knew deep in my heart that he had prayed that final Salaah… as he made his Salaam… and then glanced  up at me… something in his eyes told me that he knew that his final hours had come. The signs were evident. His escorts were already there… and it was as if Aadam could see exactly what awaited him after…

It was surreal, and as he drifted off and his tongue moved silently with viable force, the sound of the Kalimah being read seemed to intensify and I couldn’t help but let out a heightened whimper of palpable grief as he bade farewell to this world..

So young. So unexpected.

And then… he was gone.

Aadam was gone.

Aadam was gone.

Aadam was gone.

I felt my own world caving in from all sides… as if in slow motion…. And I could see myself once again… 

The girl who stood and watched him as he looked back at her running out of the rain, the moment bared his soul and asked if she would marry him …

That girl who threw her head back and laughed as she watched him galloping away on horseback, wondering if he was crazy if he expected her to do the same.

The girl who had watched him scream out to the gorges that he loved her, just before the fall that had changed everything…

I could see myself again, grinning at the contentment apparent on his face when he had been relayed the news that he was going to be a father…

His one dimpled smile. His crooked eyebrow. His quirky comments. Everything I loved about him and that made me feel so much more alive was now gone forever…

Tears streamed down my face as the reality of it hit me. And though I knew this was a test and a part of life, I was still struggling to understand why.

His leaving was a blast that sunk my soul to the murkiest of lows. The scent of calico and camphor lingered in the air, as I gazed at the white sheets. The muffled tears that were heard amidst the beating of my grieving heart, were a constant reminder of the loss. The random whispers piercing the shocked silence were like a puncture to my soul. It was almost like a dream that I willed myself to wake up from, yet blatantly refused…

And then was the moment when he was lifted, as. a sudden feeling of  overwhelming disbelief overcame me as my brothers and his cousins lifted him, wanting to bolt after them and pull him back to shake him awake, begging him not to leave.

Dont leave me, Aadam, my heart silently cried. Please don’t leave…

I remembered my fathers face, as he watched me, with tears running down his face. Like that moment he watched us when Mama had passed away, except that this time, it seemed that much more raw. Unfiltered. Real. I always thought that  Mama’s death would be the worst that could ever happen to my family…

At that point I couldn’t understand it, but when I thought about it, I realized exactly how Abba felt.  To see your child go through that kind of pain, knowing that you could do nothing to ease it… well, it was a million times worse than going through it yourself.

Rubeena was inconsolable for days after. We could barely talk without her tearing up. I had forgotten about the baby for a few days, as I sunk into grief. Aunty Radiyyah had come along… making this more stark than anything before. She was lost for words. As she sat there, her grey eyes filling with tears. I couldn’t quite believe that my husband had an effect on so many people in his short life.

It was a whirlwind that had changed our lives, but not only for now. His effect was one that lasted way after. I could almost hear him consoling me. Telling me that it was all going to be okay. Telling me that no, he wasn’t scared. Why would he be scared? It was on, over the horizon of this temporary abode, where things were so much better. Exclusive. Enteral. Why should I be scared for him? The houses were more elite. The nourishment was in another dimension. The entire life thy he had lived would be a testimony to what awaited…

Surely his passing had been blessed. Surely Allah had provided him with the best of signs for us to seek consolment from. Surely he wanted to hurry to his final destination…

I will love you. In every moment, in every time. In any moment, in any place. I will still love you. Till Jannah and beyond. And even if I don’t wake up tomorrow, Khawlah… I love you so much. 

It was the words that had stuck with me through those years. When I felt the first movement of a little life within me. When his voice would sometimes talk to me between my dreams. When I held our beautiful daughter in my arms for the first time…

Like a jolt out of the blue… a sudden awakening from the slumber that I had thought I was in, Khadijah’s existence was a reality that brought my entire home alive. 

And as she grew and blossomed into this beautiful child that captured our hearts, there was so much that I could be grateful for. I busied myself with her and motherhood, teaching her the gems of Deen and doing the best I could to make her into a child that would be Sadaqah Jaariya for her beloved father. After all that time of giving her everything…

Somehow, as the three year mark hit, after so long, I found myself sinking to a new low. The initial strength that everyone had admired about me was wavering, and the memories of Aadam would sometimes get me down. It hadn’t been easy but I had exuded a confidence  that no-one had expected. Now that Khadijah was growing up and demanding a little less attention… I found myself finding more time… reliving the past in a way that broke my spirit.

It was at that point when Abba had decided that it was time for me to move on. He felt that I was holding back. That I had put a huge full stop at the point in my life, when I refused to look forward. Abba was worried that  I had sunk into a pit that no-one would be able to pull me out of, and being a father, he did what he thought would be the right thing for me.

He tried to find me a suitor.

And I loved my Abba for that. I loved that he wanted me to be happy again, but my heart was no longer as pliable as it had been when Aadam had first found his way in. I was harder now. More rigid. Difficult to please. Being with Aadam, though it was one of the most amazing eras of my life, also put him on a pedestal. To me, no-one else would ever be able to match up.

”Can we just forget it?” I eventually I said to Abba, as I declined the fifth option he had put forward to me that month. “Is it that much of a problem having me here? If it is I can always move into the flat. It’s lying empty anyway.”

”Khawlah,” Abba said softly, shaking his head. “You know it’s not that. We love having you and Khadijah here. It’s just that now Yunus is gone, you’re stuck with two old people here and I can see that you’re not the same as you used to be…”

Yunus had commenced with an Aalim course since school had finished. Now that Ramadhaan was nearing and he was off for a month, he had decided to go to the Middle East to improve his Arabic for a few weeks. I was so proud of my little brother. He had followed his dreams. From being the quiet youngest brother who seemed so lost, I could see now that he was going to be the anchor that held us all down…

”I’ll never be the same, Abba,” I said quietly. “Life’s taken a lot out of me. It’s been a tough ride. But Alhumdulillah…”

Abba looked at me and swallowed. His strong features were still the same but the creases at the corners of his eyes and the slightly more distinct lines of his frown gave his real age away. His olive skin didn’t look as vibrant as it used to and his smile wasn’t as striking, but Abba was still Abba. The man who had, in my books, fallen from grace at some stage but had now, over these few years, worked his way up to the pedestal again.

I ventured to my room again, knowing that Abba meant no harm but feeling a little down nonetheless. At times it happened. Sometimes I missed Aadam more than other days. Khadijah being around sometimes made it harder. She was so much like her father that I sometimes could not even bare it. While at times it gave me pleasure to see her make people laugh and bring so much of joy to others, it also pained my heart ever so slightly as I thought of how Aadam would have chuckled at her silly banter and unpredictable comments.

”Where is that gorgeous daughter of yours?” Nusaybah asked later that day as she pushed open my door and collapsed on my bed, propping herself up on one hand and eyeing me out. “I’m missing her sparkle. You’re like a stunned chicken compared to her. Boorringgggg….”

”She’s gone to Aunty Radiyyah for the afternoon,” I said, not paying attention to her insinuation that I’d lost my own sparkle. “She’s missing Yunus too much.”

”Those two get along really well, don’t they?” She said quietly. “Can we gatecrash?”

“I’m not really in the mood,” I said in a monotone. “I just feel like relaxing today.”

Aunty Radiyyah was so good with her. She would teach her such wonderful things. She always came back knowing some new Hadith or Surah or Du’aa… it made me a little sad that Aunty Radiyyah  would never have a grandchild of her own to teach all these wonderful things to.

”When are you ever in the mood for anything?” mumbled Nusaybah after a few seconds, almost to herself.

I swallowed as she said it, biting back emotion at her comment. I knew she wasn’t being mean on purpose but sometimes her big mouth was a little too vocal for my liking. I rolled my eyes and turned away. She didn’t know what it was like. She had never been married. She had never lost a husband.

I knew I was being ugly, but my thoughts were that as far as I could see, she had had it pretty easy so far.

”I’m sorry,” she said softly as I silently sorted out some of Khadijah’s toys that stayed in the room. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.”

I turned and met her eye. I felt like sometimes I just needed to cry and let it all out. But the overwhelming need to be strong and fore bearing  almost always pushed through.

“On the up side,” she said, as she gave me a sultry grin. “Maybe I can make you smile. I have some good news…”

I smiled already, forgiving her instantly. When Nusaybah smiled there was no way I could stay angry with her. It was just that sincere.

”Tell me,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “Is it about the application?”

”Gosh no,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My father said they only time I’d be able to go to a university is if I find a husband to agree to it…”

Nusaybah had passed her matric exams exceptionally well. It had always been her dream to do medicine, but her father was completely against her going to campus. She was currently studying a bachelor of science through correspondence, still waiting to take up the opportunity of ever she got her lucky break.

”Well, I hope he comes along before you get too old!” I joked with her.

”That’s the thing,” Nusaybah said, her voice suddenly turning serious as she met my gaze. She bit her lip slightly nervously. “Remember the guy that I wrote off two weeks ago?”

”The Australian?” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.  Nusaybah had a few proposals coming her way, but no one had really caught her eye before the “Australian”. He was bulky and bearded and just her type. I had giggled when she described him to me in great detail. When he didn’t phone to propose she was a little miffed, but she got over it within a day or two. Only now… it looked like the topic wasn’t completely closed…

”Did he call?” I asked, my eyes wide and not quite knowing how to react.

She nodded surreptitiously.

And she did so, my heart kind of sunk to my toes as I felt like the worst friend in the world. Of course I was happy for her, but this was something I wasn’t expecting to happen so soon. I didn’t expect things to change so fast. After everything, there had been a few constants in my life that I expected to remain this way. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her yet. I didn’t want to let her go to some stranger who lived way under, not knowing when I would see her beautiful face once again…

I bit back my tears as she smiled, swallowing as I processed the pure joy in her glistening eyes. Frankly, I wasn’t yet ready for another goodbye…

”I think he’s the one Khawlah,” she said softly. “I’m going to say yes…”

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Shukran for all the comments,❤️  I will reply ASAP.

Much Love

A xx

A Sunnah Drink Called Nabeez

• Soak dates for a night in a packed container. If not the dates, then you can simply soak Golden Raisins instead of Dates too.
• Remove the seeds from Dates or Raisins, and grind it with water. You can add honey, but it’s totally optional
• You can also drink without grinding the dates and can eat dates separately.
• DO NOT MIX RAISINS AND DATES WHILE MAKING NABEEZ.
• It is an ideal drink for Ramadan, especially in Suhoor. It helps people keep their energy during a day-long fast.

How easy to practise!

allahuma baarik lana fi Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

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

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

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

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas